nycky

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Cause it’s you

a/n what the hell is it with Kazzle Dazzle that always makes me write a full ass story inside of a simple little blurb… chokehold.

request: kaz brekker x reader one bed trope on a heist 🙏🙏

warning: blood, injuries, touch aversion, one bed.

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Kaz was tired. Bone deep tired. That kind of tired that made you drag your legs through the pavement. His cane was taking most of his weight tonight, and truthfully, Kaz was ready for the day to end. And end as soon as possible. “So… Who’s going in to buy the rooms?” Jesper let out a painful breath. His ribs had to be black and blue by now. He did cover for most of the team during the job, and the way he was leaning on Wylan clearly showed that the adrenaline was wearing off.

“I would, but if I moved even the slightest, they would see blood all over my dress," Nina’s sugary, venomous voice shouted as she glared at Kaz, clearly still annoyed that her perfect dress, not to mention that Kaz bought the said dress, was ruined because of the job gone slightly wrong. Inej didn’t even move from her shadows. She and Kaz had a falling out while the pack trotted through the damp streets, and neither wanted to let go of their grudges.

“I’ve got it, guys," you said softly, catching everyone’s attention. “We all need a hot bath and a good night's sleep." You rested your hand on Nina’s shoulder as you peeked out of the alley. “Flirt your way through it," Jesper whispered. “Get us extra perks, please." The rest of the team snickered quietly.

You were about to respond when Kaz’s cane blocked your way. “No one is flirting, and you’re not going alone." His voice was way sharper than he usually used when he was talking to you. “I can handle myself, boss," you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Yeah, but a lady alone in the shithole like this... Would be too suspicious," Kaz breathed, stepping out and looking back at you.

A couple of hours later, you were finally drying your hands after patching everyone up. Girls had jumped into sharing a room and had walked you out while wiggling eyebrows that you greeted with a middle finger. Wylan was, of course, sharing with Jasper, who had been complaining about the single beds ever since he stepped foot into the room, so you had helped Wylan push them against one another.

It’s not like you hadn’t shared rooms with Kaz. You two grew up together in the slums. You were the one to pull him out of the water when he finally floated to the shore. He had his ever-going addenda of pushing you away ever since, but you had always stuck around. You had always tried to be his voice of reason. "Shit," you muttered once you flicked the light on. “No, no, no," you breathed out, rushing forward. This had to be a joke. What were the odds of getting three rooms and one of them having a double bed? Maybe you could pull them apart; maybe there were two. You yanked the duvet covers off. Fingers searching for a split in the mattress.

“What did that poor bed do to you?" A voice from behind you startled you, making you lose your footing and go face-first into the covers. “Great now, street grime is all over the sheets," he grumbled. “Well, if you weren’t sneaking behind my back, this wouldn’t have happened," you huffed, climbing off the plush sheets. “It’s my room," Kaz breathed out. Your gaze found him as you narrowed your eyes, “Our room, you mean?”.

He held your gaze. Strong. Unmoving. “I’ll take the chair," he muttered under his breath, stepping deeper into the room and starting to undo his jacket. “Like hell you will, your legs will be killing you tomorrow," you huffed, bending to undo your shoes. “And your shoulder won’t?”, Kaz huffed. “Speaking of which," his movements halted as he turned to face you. “Stand up and undo your shirt," he motioned with his hand. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Kaz Brekker, you’re trying to get me naked?”, you teased. Kaz simply tilted his head to the side, his face emotionless. Before he stepped closer, “You have two choices," he said quietly. “Enlighten me," you muttered under your breath. “You take it off willingly, or I will cut it off your body." You could feel his breath on your skin, making a shiver run down your back. “It’s nothing," you breathed. “Prove it," he dared you.

You held his gaze in silence. You knew that it was probably more than bad. You could barely lift your hand, and your shoulder blade was throbbing. It was almost funny how not the fact that you had to strip in front of him made you anxious but the fact that he would see you weak. You hated being vulnerable. When you finally clawed out of the street, you had sworn to never be vulnerable again. And Kaz hated weak investments. He didn’t do deals that weren’t beneficial to him. And now you...

You felt the cold metal tip of his cane slip between the two buttons right in between your breasts. "Hey," you jerked back, turning away from him. “Show me that fucking shoulder, YN," Kaz practically growled. “Or, I’ll...”. But he didn’t get to finish as your hands clumsily moved to undo the handful of buttons until you were practically panting from the panic cursing through your veins. Turning back to him, you yanked the dirty fabric from your body. "Happy," you hissed.

Kaz clenched his jaw. He didn’t even allow himself to blink as he looked at the crusted, angrily red cut and a handful of bruises littering your skin. He forced himself to put them all into his memory. Because this was all his doing. All his games had gotten you hurt. “Wipe those fucking tears off your cheeks," he huffed harshly. Too harshly, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn’t. Physically couldn’t watch you cry. It felt as if someone was carving out his chest. Your shaky hands clumsily wiped the damp patches beneath your eyes.

“You got out. We both did," Kaz muttered because he knew the demons that were clouding your brain now. He had met them too. You nodded. Wrapping your hands around your torso, it only just now hit him that you were standing in front of him topless. Kaz turned around so quickly that he nearly gave himself a whiplash before muttering, “Go, take a bath.”.

Your fingers were crinkling from the time you had spent laying in that hot water. You had hurried off the moment Kaz dismissed you. You knew he would never take advantage of you. And that bodies in general made him uncomfortable, but the way he had turned away from you. As if you were the most ugly creature that he had seen. Now your only salvation was that he might just be asleep by the time you stepped out of the bathroom.

Kaz, however, was far from sleeping. He had lost count of how many times he had walked up to the bathroom door to listen that you were still rustling around. He had lost his jacket and gloves. His hair was messy from all the pulling he has done. The slow turning of the key made him look up. Your hair was done up and still damp. Feet bare. You looked so small, like this. And that deep desire to keep you safe shifted gears without him even realizing it.

“You’re not asleep," you muttered, barely meeting his eyes. “It looks like I’m not," Kaz said quietly. There was no one else whom Kaz trusted the way he trusted you, yet here you two were as if you hadn’t spent the majority of your lives together. “Did you fix your shoulder?” Kaz asked, clearly stalling. You nodded, and he followed suit. “Then get into bed," "Kaz," you huffed. “I didn’t ask," he said, narrowing his eyes at you. You wanted to fight him, but you simply didn’t have enough energy to do so, “And you?”.

You saw something glistening in his eyes for a heartbeat before he swallowed, “I..." and let out a labored breath. “You can also lay down," you muttered. “I will keep to my side; we can put pillows in between." There was a note of hopefulness in your voice. One that held Kaz in a chokehold. “Lay down, woman," he said through gritted teeth. But you caught it. There was that part of him that he hid. So you wasted no time, doing right as he said.

He watched your every move. Watched your frame disappear between the sheets. Only then did Kaz step closer, his breathing hitching in his chest. The tide was rising. threatening to swallow him whole. “Kaz...”, and here it was with that same velvety voice. One that always pulled him right out. Chasing away all of his fears. He blinked a couple of times only to meet your beautiful eyes looking right at him.

“Close your eyes," he breathed, making you frown. “I didn’t know that you getting into bed was such a big secret," you teased. Kaz felt the corners of his lips turning upwards. "Smartass," he whispered under his breath as he swung his legs over the mattress. And for some reason, this didn’t feel too bad. It didn’t seem all that scary now that he was in bed. With you. You. It was because of you. Kaz turned his head to the side, watching you watch him. And for the first time, he let himself look. Not only look, actually see you. And fuck if you weren’t the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

“You’re okay?”, you muttered, your fingers slowly moving toward the center of the bed. Kaz watched them getting closer, but he didn’t feel like stopping you. “When am I not okay when I’m with you?" A light gasp left your lips at his words, your lips disappearing between your teeth. “Don’t do that," he grumbled, his fingers only lifting and grazing yours, and you instantly pulled them away. Not wanting to cross his boundaries. "Sorry," you shook your head. “Not your fingers," Kaz protested. “Your lip," he pointed out, making you frown. “What about it?” You brushed your fingers over it, trying to see if you had bitten too hard and drawn blood. “Because if you’ll continue to do it, I’ll...", Kaz swallowed. “I might lose my restraint in holding back." And then he reached out, his shaky fingers brushing over your plump lips. It took all the self-control you had to not whimper at the touch. Savoring the way his fingers felt, you only let your eyes close for a second, and then there was nothing. As if you had imagined it. You had barely caught Kaz practically jumping out of bed. Reaching for his jacket and cane. "Kaz," you breathed, pushing the covers off your body. But your plea was met with a slam of the door.

[nycky-b]

Beneath the Stars

Warnings: jealous harry, fred being a flirt, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers, Christmas!

Paring: Harry Potter x Reader

Wordcount: 2.769

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Chapter 3

The Burrow hummed with the joyful chaos of Christmas Eve, a home so full of life it seemed to pulse with its own heartbeat. The warm, comforting smell of freshly baked mince tarts drifted from the kitchen, where Molly Weasley, her sleeves rolled up, was orchestrating her usual culinary masterpieces.

“Now really, boys, was this entirely necessary?”

The faint sound of Mr. Weasley’s voice carried through the window as you stirred in bed. Curiosity piqued, you got up and leaned against the windowsill, your breath misting the cold glass as you watched the scene below.

“It’s a Christmas miracle, Dad!” Fred’s voice rang out, full of mischief. He gestured dramatically at the two snowmen he and George had enchanted to duel with tiny broomsticks in the garden. One of the snowmen had just lost an arm, and George was doubled over with laughter. “We’ve been improving the neighborhood decorations,” Fred added with a grin.

“Improving! They’ve already chased the gnomes into the kitchen,” Mr. Weasley shot back, exasperated but clearly amused.

Behind you, the rustling of sheets drew your attention. Hermione sat up groggily, rubbing her eyes as she mumbled, “What’s going on out there?”

“Fred and George,” you replied, your eyes still fixed on the garden spectacle. “They’ve enchanted snowmen to duel in the garden.”

Hermione sighed, her lips curving into a small, tired smile. “I am not surprised. Are you always this nosy?”

You turned to face her, matching her smile with a wide grin of your own. “Only when there’s a Weasley twin involved.”

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Hermione sat cross-legged on the overstuffed armchair in the corner of Ginny’s room, her copy of Hogwarts: A History resting forgotten on her lap as she watched you rummage through a tin of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans on the bed.

“Honestly, Y/N, how can you eat those without fear?” Hermione asked, wrinkling her nose as you popped a green bean into your mouth, promptly wincing.

“Grass,” you said, sticking out your tongue in exaggerated disgust to annoy her. “Not the worst, but not exactly Christmas pudding either.” You leaned back on your elbows, sighing. “This place is incredible, isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded, her expression softening. “It’s nice to have a proper family Christmas. Even if Ron and Harry spend time arguing over who enchants the tree better.”

You gave her a knowing look. “Speaking of Ron…”

Hermione immediately turned a shade of pink that matched the baubles on the tree downstairs. “I saw the way you looked at him during dinner yesterday when he was trying to wrestle the last roast potato from Harry. It’s like you were watching a noble knight preparing for battle.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Hermione said, though her voice lacked conviction. “He’s… infuriating! Half the time, he doesn’t even notice when—”

“When you’re staring at him with those heart-eyes?” You interjected, laughing harder as Hermione threw a pillow in your direction.

Hermione smirked brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “What about Harry?”

You continued carefully sorting the Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans into neat little piles. “What about him?”

Hermione perched on the bed. “Oh, you know, when you and Harry were outside last night.”

You froze mid-motion. “We were just talking. That’s all.”

“Talking?” Hermione teased, her smile growing wider. “You two? Can you even go a single conversation without arguing about something?”

Your eyes narrowed, but a nervous flicker crossed your face. “Oh, please,” you said, rolling her eyes and trying to sound nonchalant. “You’re imagining things, it was nothing much.”

Hermione tilted her head, studying you with a knowing look. “Really?” she pressed, her tone light but playful. “Because from where I was standing, it seemed like there might be something–”

A knock interrupted them, you exchanged a glance with Hermione and Fred's voice rang out from behind the door. “Ladies, open up! Come see our gifts of holiday cheer.”

You swung ithe door open, revealing the twins standing there, with a mischievous grin across their faces.

George bowed dramatically. “Ladies, your presence is requested downstairs for a demonstration of pure genius.”

Hermione led the way on the stairs, George following closely behind. You and Fred exchanged glances and fell into step behind them.

You turned slightly “What’s the grand idea this time?”

Fred leaned in, lowering his voice. "We’ve enchanted the mistletoe so it follows people around the house. And when you least expect it, bam—you’ve got a kiss landing on your cheek."

“You’re trying to get your parents to kill you today, aren’t you?”

Fred grinned. "Not at all. Just a little holiday cheer."

The group reached the living room, where Ron, Harry, and Ginny was chatting. Harry’s gaze lifted instinctively, his eyes meeting yours, his breath caught, his chest tightening. He couldn’t look away. But you did, turning your head as a subtle flush crept up your neck.

"Right, everyone!" Fred called to the room. "Gather round! Today, we’re giving the Burrow a little festive upgrade."

"Fred, not more of your nonsense," Ron groaned. "Mum will have our heads if we get her in trouble again."

"Oh, relax, Ron," George replied with a smirk. "This is just the perfect gift for everyone."

George handed you a small jar of glittering mistletoe. "Here, Y/N, go on and try it out on someone. Ron looks like he’s about to pass out from the idea already."

“This will be fun,” she muttered. It wasn’t long before you spotted your first victim: Fred. With a mischievous grin, you slipped the enchanted mistletoe into position just above his head.

“Hey, Fred!” you called out sweetly, a hint of mischief in your voice.

“Well, well, what’s this? Can’t resist my charm after all, Y/N?” Fred teased, winking at you with exaggerated flair.

Harry, perched on the arm of the couch, went still. His eyes flicked toward you, his grip tightening on the cushion beneath his hand. He told himself it didn’t matter—Fred was always a flirt, and you were… well, you.

You rolled your eyes, though you couldn’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “Don’t flatter yourself,” you retorted, playful but dismissive.

Above Fred, the enchanted mistletoe twinkled before dropping into place, hanging over his head. Fred let out a surprised laugh, and you couldn’t help but join in, the sound bubbling out of you.

Harry’s stomach churned. That laughter of yours—bright and unrestrained—felt like it was aimed directly at him. He clenched his jaw, trying to look indifferent, but he couldn’t stop his gaze from trailing back to you, absorbing every detail.

The firelight danced across the golden tones in your hair as you tilted your head back to laugh, the sight twisting something deep inside him. Then Fred, ever cheeky, leaned in and planted a quick kiss on your cheek.

“Lucky I’m feeling generous today,” Fred said with another wink, clearly enjoying the attention.

You wiped your cheek in mock exasperation, shaking your head. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, though your voice betrayed your amusement.

From across the room, Harry’s expression darkened. His hand dropped from the cushion to rest on his knee, his fingers drumming in an uneven rhythm. He told himself again it didn’t matter—it was Fred, just Fred. But the knot in his stomach stubbornly refused to loosen.

Determined not to let Fred have all the fun, you turned your attention toward Ron, a devilish grin spreading across your face. Hermione deserved a kiss, after all.

“Oi, Ron!” you called out, your voice dripping with mock innocence.

Ron’s eyes widened in horror. “Not again! Get that thing away from me!” he shouted, twisting and ducking as the mistletoe homed in on him.

The twins doubled over with laughter, and you joined in, your cheeks flushed with the thrill of the moment. But even as you laughed, you felt a strange prickle of awareness, like being caught under a spotlight.

The relentless mistletoe cornered Ron near Hermione, and the chants began. “Kiss her, Ron! Kiss Hermione!” Fred and George shouted in unison.

Hermione’s face turned crimson as she squealed, “Ron! Don’t you dare!”

Ron groaned, a look of sheer defeat crossing his face, before leaning in to press a quick, awkward peck to Hermione’s cheek. The room exploded with cheers and howls of laughter.

Fred and George collapsed against each other, gasping for breath, while Hermione clutched her cheek in horror. “Oh my—Ron!”

Ron, bright red, grumbled under his breath, “You two are the worst.”

You shook your head, still grinning as you joined in the laughter. But as the room’s chaos carried on, you couldn’t shake an odd feeling—an awareness that someone’s attention lingered on you.

Almost instinctively, your gaze shifted, seeking the source, and your eyes met Harry’s. He wasn’t laughing. His green eyes were fixed on you, his expression unreadable, but his intensity made the air around you feel heavier.

The moment stretched, and you felt a sudden shiver run through you, a warmth spreading through your chest even as your smile faltered.

Harry quickly turned away, his shoulders stiff as though he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t. He stood abruptly, pretending to fuss with the decorations on the mantel.

The laughter around you carried on, but you couldn’t fully join in anymore. The room felt just a little too loud, a little too chaotic. Your heart thudded unevenly in your chest, no matter how much you tried to focus on the twins’ antics.

But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t forget the way Harry had looked at you—or the warmth that lingered in its wake, unsettling and undeniable.

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Night had fallen. The garden lay quiet, with the soft glow of the Burrow's windows casting long shadows across the snow-dusted ground. You leaned casually against the low wall, a grin spreading across your face as you remembered Hermione’s awkward attempt to downplay Ron’s kiss. The way she stumbled over her words, her cheeks flushed a deep red, was pure entertainment. You and Ginny had laughed together, teasing her until her irritation bubbled over. It was all in good fun, but eventually, you’d slipped away, seeking a brief moment of silence.

Your gloved fingers traced patterns in the frost as your gaze wandered to Harry, standing a few feet away with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight, Potter,” you said, your voice lilting with mock concern. “Brooding again? Or did Fred steal the last of your self-righteousness along with your dignity?”

His lips twitched, but he didn’t rise to the bait right away. Instead, he tilted his head, narrowing his eyes slightly as he studied you. “Is that supposed to be funny?”

You grinned, a mischievous glint in your eye. “It’s a little funny. You’ve been sulking all night like someone stole your favorite broomstick. Or maybe you’re just jealous Fred is better company than you.”

The words were meant to tease, to provoke, but they landed differently. Harry straightened, his stance shifting, and when he turned to look at you fully, there was something in his expression that made the air between you feel suddenly charged.

“Jealous?” he echoed, his voice low and edged with challenge. “You think I’m jealous?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the intensity in his tone, but you recovered quickly, leaning into the moment with a smirk. “Aren’t you? You’ve been glaring at me all morning like I’ve committed some grave sin by laughing with Fred. It’s written all over your face.”

He took a step closer, his boots crunching against the snow, his eyes never leaving yours. “Is that what you think?”

There was a shift in his voice, almost dangerous, that made your breath hitch. Still, you refused to back down, raising your chin in defiance. “It’s what I know.”

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice dropping even lower as he took another step toward you.

The space between you shrank, the crisp winter air around you charged with tension. You found yourself holding your breath as he closed the gap, his presence suddenly overwhelming.

“You want to know what I think?” Harry murmured, his words deliberate, his eyes locked on yours.

The teasing smile faltered on your lips as your pulse quickened. “Enlighten me,” you managed, though your voice was quieter now, uncertain.

“I think,” Harry said, his face now inches from yours, “you enjoy getting under my skin.”

His words were soft, almost a whisper, but the intensity in his gaze made your heart race. You could feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek, the tension between you so thick it was almost tangible.

“And I think,” he continued, his voice barely audible now, “you’re just as infuriating as you are—”

He stopped abruptly, the words hanging in the air as his gaze dropped to your lips for the briefest of moments. Your breath caught, your heart pounding in your chest as the silence stretched between you, heavy and electric.

Neither of you moved, neither dared to speak. The world around you seemed to fade, leaving only the quiet rhythm of your breathing and the unspoken weight of everything left unsaid.

Harry’s gaze, intense and unrelenting, stayed locked on yours, and for a moment, you thought he might actually say something profound. Your heart pounded in anticipation, a mix of defiance and something much more vulnerable swirling in your chest.

But then, just as the moment teetered on the edge, his lips curved into a slow, deliberate smirk. The sharp shift in his expression sent a jolt through you, scattering the fragile tension in a way that left you reeling.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice low and maddeningly casual, “you’re not as clever as you think you are.”

Before you could respond, he stepped back, his smirk widening as he shoved his hands into his pockets and turned toward the house. “Goodnight, Y/N,” he called over his shoulder, his tone almost lazy, but the sensation lingered.

You remained where you were, your breath shallow, your mind racing as you tried to process what had just happened. The cold bit at your cheeks, but it was nothing compared to the warmth that had surged through you when he’d been so close.

You let out a shaky breath, muttering under your breath, “Unbelievable.”

But even as you tried to steady yourself, you couldn’t shake the way his smirk had made your stomach flip or the lingering sensation of how he’d looked at you—like he could see everything.

And you hated that part of you wished he hadn’t walked away.

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As the morning light streams through the windows, the Weasley’s home bursts alive with the excitement of Christmas Day. But you find yourself lost in the quiet aftermath of the night before. The lingering sensation of Harry’s closeness, and the strange, electric tension between you, still clings to your thoughts.

You blink away the memory, forcing yourself to focus on the cheerful chaos around you. Everyone is exchanging presents, their laughter filling the air.

Nearby, you spot Ron handing Hermione a beautifully wrapped gift. She unwraps it carefully, revealing a small charm bracelet with a tiny golden book dangling from it. Her cheeks flush a brilliant shade of pink as she glances up at him.

“It’s beautiful,” Hermione says softly, her fingers brushing the charm.

Ron shrugs, though his ears are as red as his hair. “Yeah, well… you like books, don’t you?”

Hermione smiles shyly, fastening the bracelet around her wrist. “Thank you, Ron. I love it.”

You watch their exchange with a knowing smile before your gaze shifts toward Harry. Your stomach twists at the way Ginny hovers near him, her bright smile aimed his way.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Molly approaches, carrying a small package. “Y/N, dear, this one’s for you—from Harry.”

You blink in surprise, your gaze snapping to Harry. “From Harry?”

Harry straightens. “Er, yeah. Just something small.”

Carefully, you tear open the paper, revealing a leather-bound notebook with your initials embossed in silver on the cover. Your fingers trace the smooth surface, your expression softening.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, looking up at him. “Thank you.”

Harry shrugs awkwardly. “You mentioned once you liked to write, so… I thought you might use it.”

You stare at him for a moment, your usual teasing demeanor replaced by something quieter, more surprised. “I will. Thank you.”

The room seems to hum with a strange energy as your eyes meet his, neither of you quite sure what to say next.

Mrs. Weasley’s voice cuts through the moment, “Alright, who’s next?” She beams at the group and waves a hand to usher the gift exchange along.

[nycky-b]

today is Jesus' birthday!!

merry christmas! 🤍🌲

[nycky-b]

Beneath the Stars

Warnings: angst, enemies/rivals to lovers, slow burn, harry a bit sad, setted in the half-blood prince, no spoilers.

Paring: Harry Potter x reader

Wordcount: 2.376

A/N: it's almost Christmas!!!!! it's my favorite holiday and birthday of the most special person who came into this world! Merry Christmas, dear reader🤍

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Chapter 2

The fire crackled in the Weasleys' cozy living room as laughter echoed off the walls. The scent of mulled wine and roasted chestnuts filled the air, making the small Burrow feel like a sanctuary from the harsh winter outside. Christmas season was always a magical time, but this year, it felt... different.

The group had gathered around the hearth, the familiar faces of Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley, and, of course, Harry Potter filling the room. You had joined them, as you often did these days. Your easy camaraderie with Hermione had been a natural bridge to getting to know the Weasleys better, and you had quickly become a fixture in their gatherings.

You had also become quite close to Ron over the past few months. Your shared competitive streak, particularly in wizard's chess, had turned into a mutual respect and friendship. Your sharp wit and quick thinking had made you a formidable opponent.

“Checkmate,” you said, your voice dripping with smug satisfaction as you slid your knight into position on the chessboard. Ron groaned dramatically, leaning back in his chair, his hand covering his face in mock despair.

“You’re impossible,” he muttered. “How do you even do that?”

You leaned back, folding your arms and giving him a playful smirk. “Simple. I’m better than you.”

Hermione, sitting nearby and reading a book, looked up with a grin. “Finally someone,” she whispered conspiratorially to you.

Ron let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled his eyes, but the corners of his mouth betrayed him with a crooked grin. Your laugh bubbled out, soft and unrestrained, a warm sense of belonging unfurling in your chest. You hadn’t expected to feel so at home here so quickly. The crackling fire in the hearth and the faint scent of cinnamon from the kitchen added to the cozy scene, wrapping you in comfort.

But your gaze drifted, drawn to Harry by the frost-rimmed window. He stood motionless, hands stuffed deep into his pockets, the soft glow of the snow outside reflecting off his glasses. His eyes, however, were fixed on some distant point, his brow creased as if the weight of the world pressed on him. A faint unease seemed to ripple in the air, his tension radiating off him.

You were about to comment on it when a voice broke through your thoughts.

“Oi, Harry,” Ron called, stretching out on the couch. “You good, mate?”

Harry startled slightly, then turned to face his best friend. “Yeah, just thinking.”

“You’ve been thinking all evening,” Ron teased, arching an eyebrow. “You know, you can talk to me about stuff. No need to hide it.”

Harry’s eyes flickered to you before quickly looking away. He shifted uncomfortably. “I’m fine.”

Ron didn’t look convinced, but before he could press further, Ginny walked over, her eyes lingering on Harry just a second too long. “What are you two talking about?”

Ron looked at Ginny with a knowing smirk. “Oh, just the usual. You know, Harry being all mysterious. Might be easier to crack than a tricky chess game.”

Ginny’s lips quirked upward. “Well, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“I’m fine,” Harry said, his voice clipped, his gaze flicking to you for just a second before he quickly looked away. “Just need some air.”

And with that, he left the room, disappearing through the back door that led out into the snow-covered yard.

Your gaze lingered where he had been, and you weren’t someone to show concern over anyone—least of all Harry Potter with his annoying hero complex. But something about the way he had looked tonight, distant and tense, made you feel uneasy.

“Well, that was weird,” Ron muttered, mostly to himself.

Your decision was instinctive. “I’ll be back,” you murmured to Hermione, who barely noticed as she turned a page in her book.

With a quiet sigh, you left the warmth of the Burrow and stepped outside into the cold, your breath forming a mist in the crisp night air. The yard was quiet, save for the sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the soft crunch of snow underfoot. Harry stood near the edge of the garden, his hands shoved into his pockets, staring out at the starry sky as though searching for answers, perhaps, or just a moment of peace.

You approached cautiously, unsure of what exactly to say. Why were you even out here? You couldn’t stand his self-righteousness most days. Yet his quiet isolation tonight pulled you closer.

“Potter,” you called softly, your voice cutting through the silence.

Harry stiffened, not expecting you to be the one to find him. He turned, his expression unreadable. “What do you want?”

“I noticed you’ve been quiet tonight. That’s unusual for you.”

He looked at you, and for a moment, weighed whether your words were an observation or an accusation. He sighed, adjusting his glasses. “I’m fine,” he said flatly. “Just—just had a lot on my mind.”

You stood there, studying him, trying to ignore the strange concern bubbling in your chest. “If you need to talk—” you began, only to cut yourself off. Why were you offering? You weren’t exactly known for your empathy.

Harry let out a soft laugh, though it lacked humor. “Yeah, sure. That’s what everyone says.” His eyes flickered briefly to your face, an unreadable expression flashing in his eyes before he looked away. “But there’s nothing to talk about.”

You could see he was closing himself off, as he always did when something bothered him too much. The deflection irritated you more than it should have. You crossed your arms, your tone sharpening. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

Harry turned to you fully now, his frustration simmering just beneath the surface, the tension still palpable in his posture. “Why do you care, Y/N? Since when do you care?”

You almost flinched at the harshness of his words, but you stood your ground, crossing your arms. “I don’t,” you admitted, voice quieter now. “Maybe I don’t. But something’s off with you, and it’s... noticeable.”

“Noticed by who?” Harry shot back, his voice edged with bitterness. “You? Or is everyone waiting for me to crack?”

Your chest tightened at the weight behind his words. You took a step closer, your voice softening despite yourself. “You don’t have to carry it all alone, Harry.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond. He just looked at you, the guarded walls he always kept up wavering slightly. “Sometimes,” he said finally, his voice low, “it feels like I’m not really here. Like I’m just... waiting. For the next battle. The next loss.”

You blinked, the weight of his words hitting you harder than you expected. You wanted to say something—anything—to break the weight of his confession, but no words came. Instead, you simply stood there, feeling a strange kinship with his solitude.

“I get it,” you said after a long pause. “More than you’d think.”

Harry’s gaze met yours, and for the briefest of moments, the tension between you softened—and it made your heart beat faster, your mind racing. But before you could say anything else, a voice broke the tension.

“Harry? Y/N?”

It was Ginny, standing at the door, her eyes flickering between the two of you. You felt an unexpected pang of guilt, though you couldn’t understand why.

Harry’s expression shifted immediately, and he straightened, wiping away whatever emotion had been there. “I’m fine,” he said quickly, his tone reverting to its usual guarded self. “Just needed some air.”

Ginny nodded, her gaze lingering for a moment on you before turning back to Harry. “Dinner’s almost ready. You coming in?”

Harry gave a curt nod, his posture stiff. “Yeah. Thanks.”

You stayed rooted in place, your arms crossed tightly as you watched him disappear into the warmth of the Burrow.

Alone now, you exhaled slowly, your breath misting in the cold air. You couldn’t explain why you’d followed him out here, why you’d felt compelled to stay. You only knew one thing: whatever had passed between you two tonight wasn’t over—not by a long shot.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

The warmth of the Burrow wrapped around you as you walked back into the living room. The familiar sounds of your friends filled the space—Ron laughing about whatever Fred had said, Hermione flipping through pages of a book, and Ginny’s voice cutting through the chatter as she spoke to Harry.

But your mind wasn’t on any of them. It was on what had just happened outside. The way Harry’s voice had softened, the way his eyes had met yours when you’d said what almost felt like a confession.

You could still feel the flutter in your chest from the moment he had looked at you, like there was something unspoken between you.

But you weren’t going to entertain that thought. Not now. Not when there were more important things to focus on. You had friends here, real friends. You should be concentrating on that, not on whatever strange interaction you had just shared with Harry.

“Oi, Y/N! You coming?” Ron’s voice pulled you back to the present. He was holding out a snowball, having apparently started another fight with Fred and George.

You forced a smile. “Yeah, yeah, just got lost in thought for a moment.”

You joined the rest of the group, doing your best to push away the nagging thoughts of Harry. Yet even as you laughed with your friends, you couldn’t help noticing how Ginny had been watching Harry. The way her eyes lingered on him whenever he was near, the way her voice took on that certain tone when she addressed him.

“Oi, are you coming or not?” Ron repeated, pulling you back into the present.

“Coming, coming!” you said, but your thoughts were still on Harry.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Harry wasn’t sure what had happened outside. All he knew was that he had felt a sensation—one he hadn’t expected. When you had approached him, he’d been in his usual place, alone with his thoughts. He wasn’t really thinking about much, except how overwhelmed he felt.

It had been an odd moment, to say the least. He wasn’t used to people seeing through him like that, especially not someone like you, who usually seemed so indifferent to everything. But when you asked if he was okay, he cracked open. It was easier to push it down, to bury it, but in that moment, he had wanted to tell you everything—the burden of everything that had been weighing on him.

And the way you had spoken to him, the way your eyes had softened for a moment... It stirred an emotion he wasn’t ready to face. Your words had lingered in his mind, even after he left.

He felt guilty, even though he didn’t know the reason. The way you had looked at him, despite everything between you and your misunderstandings, made him question thoughts he had never allowed himself to entertain. You had always been against each other—always at odds with one another. But now, he wasn’t so sure.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Dinner at the Burrow passed in a blur. You tried your best to enjoy the evening, to focus on Mr. Weasley talks about the Muggle objects he admires, Hermione correcting Ron, the teasing of the twins, and the light-hearted chatter that filled the room. But you couldn’t ignore the nagging thoughts that still lingered inside you.

You knew Harry had his difficulties. Everyone did. He was the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the hero who had faced more danger than most people could even imagine. Now, it strucked you differently. The fame, the titles, all the things you had resented about him—they weren’t privileges. They were weights pulling him down, burdens he couldn’t escape.

You had spent so much time throwing it in his face. His fame. His hero complex. The way people adored him, followed him, and trusted him to save them. It had been so easy to hate him for it, to see him as someone who basked in the attention. But now, all you could think about was how tired he had looked outside, like the weight of it all might crush him at any moment.

You glanced over at him and couldn’t help but notice the way Ginny had been looking at him. It was obvious—Ginny liked him. It was clear in every glance, every smile, and every little comment she made when Harry was around.

You weren’t sure why, but a knot twisted uncomfortably in your chest at the thought. You weren’t sure why, but it hurt—this tight, uncomfortable feeling. You had no claim on Harry. You never had, and you certainly weren’t about to start pretending you did. Still, seeing Ginny’s hopeful gaze whenever Harry was near stirred a strange feeling.

“Oi, look what we have here!” Fred’s voice cut through your thoughts, and you turned to see him and George enter the room, grinning widely. They were carrying a large bundle of their latest creations from their joke shop.

Fred grinned at you. “I think you’ll appreciate these, Y/N. Some of our finest work!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the twins’ antics. You always felt comfortable with them, their humor infectious and their endless supply of pranks making everything a bit lighter. “What have you got this time?” you asked, curious.

George winked, his usual mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’ll see. We’ve been working on some new... er, enhancements for the holiday season.”

You leaned back slightly, crossing your arms as the twins set down a large bag that jingled with the unmistakable sound of something inside. “What’s in here? Another set of Skiving Snackboxes?”

Fred laughed. “No, no, something much better.” he leaned in, lowering his voice for dramatic effect. “This time, it’s all about holiday cheer—we’re talking about the best prank gifts for anyone on your list.” He pulled out a small jar with a label that read: Instant Laughter Potion.

“Just add a drop to any drink, and you’ll have them laughing for hours,” George said. “Works like a charm.”

“You two are unbelievable. I can’t wait to see what else you’ve got in store.”

As Fred and George continued their antics, your thoughts finally drifted from Harry.

[nycky-b]

Beneath the Stars

Warnings: angst, enemies/rivals to lovers, slow burn, no book and movie spoilers, setted in the half-blood prince and english isn't my first language.

Paring: Harry Potter x reader

Wordcount: 1.131

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Chapter 1

Your knuckles whitened as you gripped your wand, the dimly lit dungeon casting long shadows across your tense frame. Standing opposite you, Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, and the bane of your existence—was looking at you with that infuriating mix of defiance and smugness you had come to associate with him.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Harry taunted, brushing dust off his robes, his lips quirking in a half-smile that made your blood boil.

You gritted your teeth. He always knew how to get under your skin. Since your first meeting in your fifth year—when you had bested him in a duel during a Defense Against the Dark Arts class—you had been at each other’s throats.

“Oh, don’t worry,” you snapped, your voice laced with venom. “I’ll do much better. Try not to fall flat on your face this time, Potter.”

Harry’s smirk deepened, his emerald eyes glinting in the flickering torchlight. “Big words for someone who couldn’t even block a simple Stunning Spell five minutes ago.”

You took a step closer, your boots clicking sharply against the stone floor. “That’s rich coming from you. Need I remind you who disarmed you in the last duel? Or have you conveniently erased that from your overinflated memory?”

Harry straightened, his wand spinning deftly between his fingers. “Ah, yes, your one lucky shot. Remind me—how long did it take for you to even get close again? Five, ten attempts?”

Your jaw tightened, your wand twitching in your grasp. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, but you refused to let him see you flustered. Instead, you raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a sly smile.

“At least I don’t hide behind my fame when I mess up,” you said, your voice low and taunting. “Tell me, Potter, do you practice that sanctimonious tone, or does it come naturally?”

Harry’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but he recovered quickly, stepping closer until you were mere feet apart. His shoulders squared, and his grip on his wand tightened. “I don’t need fame to back me up, L/N. I’ve got skill. Something you’re clearly still working on.”

You tilted your head, your hair falling over one shoulder as you studied him. Your gaze was sharp, your lips set in a defiant line. “Skill? Is that what you call it? Because from where I’m standing, all I see is someone who can’t handle competition.”

Harry’s brow furrowed, and for a moment, silence hung heavy between you, broken only by the faint dripping of water in the distance. His jaw clenched as he took another step forward, invading your space.

“And from where I’m standing,” he said quietly, his voice cutting through the air like a blade, “all I see is someone too stubborn to admit when they’re outmatched.”

The tension crackled like a live wire. Your breath hitched, but you refused to back down. You held your ground, your chin lifting defiantly.

“I’d rather be stubborn than complacent,” you shot back, your tone sharp enough to slice through steel. “Unlike you, I don’t rest on my laurels. I actually work for my victories.”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed, his chest rose and fell with steady breaths, but his composure was slipping, and you could see the flicker of frustration behind his confident facade.

“Careful, L/N,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “You might just provoke me into proving you wrong.”

Your lips twitched, a mocking smile dancing across your face. You leaned in slightly, your voice dropping to a whisper. “I'd like to see you try, Potter.”

For a moment, neither of you moved, your gazes locked. The silence between you felt deafening, broken only by the faint sound of your quickened breathing. Harry’s lips parted as if to speak, but no words came.

“Is this what you two call practicing?” came a sharp, incredulous voice from the doorway.

Both Harry and you turned your heads sharply to see Hermione standing there, her arms crossed and a look of exasperation etched across her face. Behind her, Ron peered in, eyebrows raised.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Ron muttered, stepping into the room. “We come down here to make sure no one’s dead, and what do we find? You two glaring at each other like in a bloody eye contest.”

Hermione stepped closer, her gaze flicking between Harry and you. “Honestly, do either of you know how to de-escalate? Or is this just your default setting?”

“I wasn’t the one who started it,” you said, your wand lowering slightly but your tone still sharp. “Potter decided to lecture me on what constitutes ‘real skill.’”

Harry let out a short laugh, crossing his arms over his chest. “And you couldn’t resist making it about my so-called fame, could you? Some things never change.”

Hermione sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Some things, indeed,” she muttered. “Alright, enough. Whatever this is, sort it out without turning the dungeon into a war zone.”

“I thought it was sorted,” you quipped, shooting Harry a pointed look. “Unless he’s planning to lecture me some more?”

“Tempting,” Harry replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake!” Hermione interjected, throwing her hands in the air. “Do you even hear yourselves? You’re both impossible.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “I’ve been told worse.”

“Same here,” Harry added, his tone light but his eyes still locked on you.

Ron, who had been quietly observing the exchange, finally spoke up. “You know, I think I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” Harry and you asked simultaneously, both turning to him.

Ron grinned, his expression maddeningly smug. “You two don’t hate each other. You just like winding each other up because it’s easier than admitting you fancy each other.”

A stunned silence followed his words. Harry’s face turned an alarming shade of red, and you blinked, momentarily at a loss for words.

“That is ridiculous, Ron. Do you hear yourself?” you said quickly, your voice a little higher than usual.

“Completely absurd,” Harry muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

Ron shrugged, clearly pleased with himself. “If you say so.”

Hermione shook her head, muttering something about idiocy as she grabbed Ron by the arm. “Come on, Ron. Let’s leave them to their ‘practicing.’”

As the door closed behind them, Harry and you were left alone once more. The tension, though now tinged with embarrassment, remained.

“You know he’s wrong,” you said after a moment, your voice quieter but still firm, stepping toward the door.

“Absolutely,” Harry agreed, his ears still burning as he followed you out.

But even as you both left the room, neither of you could entirely shake the lingering warmth of Ron’s words.

[amiableness-deactivated20250806]

Only Me

Pairing: Theo Nott x Reader

Summary: Desperate to get a persistent girl off his back, Enzo and reader kiss. But when the kiss unexpectedly turns heated, Theo loses it.

Word Count: 4184

Warnings: Jealousy, a bit of possessiveness, reader kisses both Enzo and Theo (separately), and language. Let me know if there’s anything else!

A/N 💌 This idea has been bouncing around in my head for awhile! Thank you to @moonpascal for reading and giving me pointers as always <3

The common room buzzes with the familiar hum of conversation, groups of students either buried in classwork or indulging in gossip. Outside, snow is falling, making it all the more comforting to be curled up by the fire in your favorite armchair. Your knees are tucked tightly to your chest, and your book is balanced on top, though you haven’t turned a page in what feels like forever.

Your mind keeps wandering to Theo, who sits across from you on the couch, his attention seemingly on Enzo’s animated storytelling. But despite the lively chatter around you, your focus is entirely on him. For the past hour, you’ve found yourself sneaking glances in his direction, unable to tear your thoughts away.

His laugh rings out, warm and infectious, pulling your gaze to him as if by instinct. The sound is so captivating that it seems to fill the entire room, making it impossible not to look. As his laughter fades into soft, lingering chuckles, his eyes suddenly meet yours, and your stomach flips at the unexpected eye contact, the intensity of his gaze holding you in place.

He raises his eyebrow at you, his expression a hint of curiosity mixed with amusement. He finally breaks the silence, his voice low. “You know, you don’t have to sit all the way over there.”

“And where would I sit instead?” You ask, your voice lightly tinged with amusement. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Blaise arch an amused brow at your tone, clearly picking up on the flirty undertone. 

The other boys don’t seem to notice, too absorbed in their conversation. Whatever they’re discussing has them completely engrossed, their voices animated and intense. Normally, you’d eavesdrop, but today, you’re too distracted by how undeniably good Theo looks to focus on anything else.

Theo’s lips curve into a small, almost gentle smile, one that’s reserved just for you. He pats the empty space beside him on the couch, “With me, dolcezza.”

You sigh, feigning annoyance at the thought of moving, but in reality, you’re trying to suppress the flutter in your stomach as you stand and make your way over to Theo. He greets you with a grin, and you roll your eyes in response, though you can’t quite hide the smile tugging at your bottom lip, which you quickly bite down on.

You aim to sit a reasonable distance away from him, but before you can settle in, Theo surprises you by reaching out and pulling you closer, so close that you’re practically sitting on his lap. The sudden contact sends a jolt through you, catching you completely off guard.

His name slips past your lips in a breathless gasp, drawing Blaise’s attention from across the room. He looks over, his grin widening with amusement as he takes in the scene. You’re nestled closely against Theo, your body practically molded to his, with one leg draped over his lap. His arm is securely wrapped around your waist, holding you close, while his fingers lazily toy with the hem of your skirt, tracing light patterns that send shivers up your spine.

You’re so focused on steadying the nerves fluttering in your stomach that you don’t even notice the girl approaching your group. She lingers just a few feet away from Enzo, but he’s too engrossed in his conversation to see her. It isn’t until Mattheo nods in her direction with a smirk and makes a remark about the “pretty little visitor” that Enzo finally catches on.

He swivels around in his armchair, and you notice his smile falter ever so slightly before he quickly recovers, masking his reaction, “Oh, hi.” He doesn’t even bother to conceal the disappointment in his voice.

You close your eyes, wincing in disappointment as you hear Theo chuckle softly. 

“I wanted to know if you wanted to read our project before I turned it in.” The bundle of parchment crinkles in her grasp, the edges slightly rumpled from handling. Enzo’s eyes drop to the papers, his expression shifting as he takes in the sight.

“I’m good. Thanks, though.” Enzo starts to turn back to the boys, his tone polite but firm, signaling the conversation’s end. But before he can fully disengage, she takes a step forward, determination in her eyes.

“That’s fine! Maybe you’d like to do something together outside of class?” Her voice is laced with hope, almost too eager, as she tries to bridge the gap between them.

Enzo hesitates, his discomfort evident. “Uh, I don’t think so,” he says, wincing as a flush creeps up his neck, his cheeks turning pink. He glances around, clearly uneasy with the situation. “Like I said last time, I’m just not interested.” His voice softens, an attempt to let her down gently, but the awkwardness hangs in the air, making the rejection all the more painful.

“It doesn’t have to be a date.” She persists, her voice tinged with a hopeful edge. You glance over at Draco and Mattheo, who are laughing to themselves, clearly amused by the unfolding scene. She doesn’t seem to notice; her focus is entirely on Enzo, and her determination is ruthless.

“You know what? Let’s just talk about this tomorrow.” Enzo sighs, trying to find an easy out. Her face lights up at the mere mention of tomorrow, a hopeful smile spreading across her lips. She eagerly agrees, practically spinning on her heel to leave. As she walks away, Enzo lets out another sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

“Salazar, mate! That was pathetic.” Mattheo laughs.

Draco smirks, leaning back casually, “Honestly, Enzo, you’re being too fucking nice. She’ll keep coming back if you don’t tell her to fuck off.”

“I’ve tried!” Enzo protests, sending him an exacerbated look.

“Enzo, you can just say no directly.” You chime in, your tone light but pointed. 

Enzo looks over at you, shaking his head, “Sweetheart, I’ve tried.” Theo’s eyes narrow in annoyance at the pet name, but Enzo doesn’t notice.

“Grab a girl and make out in front of her. She’ll get the hint then,” Mattheo suggests nonchalantly, shrugging as if it’s the most obvious solution. He leans back in his chair, an arrogant smirk playing on his lips. “It’s worked for me plenty of times.”

“Are you hearing my problem? I don’t need another girl becoming attached.” Enzo snaps. Draco immediately scoffs at the mention of Enzo’s popularity with the girls of Hogwarts—it’s clearly always bothered him.

“Merlin, Enzo. Just ask one of the girls, then.” Draco huffs, his impatience evident in his tone. He rolls his eyes, clearly exasperated with the ongoing discussion. Sitting beside you, Theo tenses up slightly, his posture stiffening as he shifts uncomfortably.

“What the fuck, mate? Pans and I are together.” Blaise says, sending him an annoyed look. Draco just shrugs indifferently.

“She’d probably say yes.” Draco mumbles. He dismisses the glare Blaise throws his way.

Mattheo’s gaze drifts to you, and a sly, amused smile spreads across his face, carrying a hint of something darker in his eyes. “Well, love,” he drawls, his tone teasing, “looks like you’re the one who’ll be kissing Enzo.”

“No,” Theo grits out, his voice strained with protectiveness. His fingers spread out as he firmly grasps your hip, his fingertips creating dimples in your skin. His eyes lock onto Mattheo with a stern glare. “She isn’t.”

Theo’s reaction doesn’t catch you off guard. He’d always been protective of you. In the beginning, you chalked it up to his feelings for you, but as the years passed without anything more, you let that theory slip away.

“Unfortunately,” Draco drawls with a smirk, his voice dripping with mock sympathy, “that isn’t really up to you, mate.”

“You don’t have to,” Enzo says, his tone soft and reassuring. “That’s a lot to ask.” His words carry a gentle understanding, and Theo visibly relaxes.

Your gaze shifts to Theo, who is watching you with a furrowed brow and a trace of irritation in his eyes. You’ve been absorbed in your feelings for Theo for so long that you’ve avoided pursuing anything with anyone else. You’ve had a few kisses here and there, but they were disappointing. Kissing Enzo wouldn’t be awful. Probably the exact opposite. You’ve heard the giggles and whispers around school about how good it is to kiss Enzo. Much more than just that, actually.

Maybe things with Theo would never work out, and you’d always just be his best friend. You could accept that. But if that’s how it was going to be, he didn’t have the right to tell you not to kiss Enzo.

“I’ll let you kiss me.” You say, your voice firm. The boys exchange stunned and uneasy glances, their eyes darting nervously toward Theo, who stares at you in wide-eyed disbelief. 

The room feels charged with tension as Theo’s expression darkens, “Dolcezza—”

“It’s not up for debate, Theo. If Enzo wants to kiss me, he can,” You assert, pulling away from Theo and turning so you’re directly facing Enzo. Theo’s frown deepens, his hands clenching slightly as he struggles to suppress the urge to haul you back onto his lap. The tension is palpable as he watches you with frustration and reluctance. You glance back at Enzo, your voice softening as you add, “I don’t mind, Enz.”

“Are you sure?” Enzo asks softly, his voice barely audible. Theo shoots him a sharp, warning glare. Enzo casts an uneasy glance at Theo before turning his attention back to you.

“I trust you.” You say with a soft smile, your eyes meeting his. Enzo’s tension eases a tad as he returns the smile.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

You arrive at your usual spot in the Great Hall well before the rest of your friends, hoping to settle in for a quiet breakfast and then head straight to class. Just as you begin to relax, Pansy slides into the seat next to you with a grin, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she catches your eye.

“I just heard the most scandalous thing.” Pansy says with a sly smile, leaning in as if sharing a secret.

“Did you?” You ask, taking a slow sip of your tea and watching her with a hint of amusement.

“I heard that Theo Nott’s girl will be making out with his best mate.” She hums thoughtfully, casting you a knowing glance as she carefully fills her plate.

“I don’t think Theo Nott has a girl.” You give her a pointed look as you speak. Pansy sighs, clearly tempted to launch into one of her usual lectures about how Theo feels the same way. But before she can say anything, the boys start to trickle in, their expressions groggy.

Theo’s mood is already sour and only worsens when he narrows his eyes at you, his gaze honing in on the subtle sheen on your lips. “Are you wearing lip gloss?” he asks, suspicion lacing his tone.

You hum in confirmation, a small, carefree sound that only makes Theo’s stomach churn harder. He feels a wave of nausea rise, the thought of you putting on lipgloss to kiss someone else—especially Enzo—causing an unsettling tightness in his chest. His jaw clenches as he struggles to keep it together. Mattheo and Draco watch him closely, clearly entertained as their eyes dart back and forth between the two of you.

His food sits forgotten as he stares at you incredulously, “Why?”

“What do you mean why? If I’m kissing Enzo, I want my lips to be soft for him.” Enzo flushes a deep red, and Theo stares at you in disbelief as the rest of your friends erupt in whistles and teasing comments, reacting to what you’ve just said.

Even though it seemed a bit unnecessary, you had applied some lip product and brushed your teeth for an unusually long time. The last thing you wanted was for him to think poorly of the kiss. 

“Careful, Nott. After this kiss, she might not be your girl anymore.” Draco snarks with a smirk, his voice laced with amusement. You hold your breath, anticipating Theo’s reaction, but to your disappointment, he says nothing.

.·。.·゜✭·.·✫·゜·。.

Theo’s mood simmered down throughout the day, and you guessed it was because you hadn’t needed to kiss Enzo. You spent the entire day without catching even a glimpse of the girl Enzo was avoiding. Throughout the day’s classes, you remained on edge, ready to put on a show with Enzo if necessary. 

But as the hours passed and she failed to appear, it became increasingly clear that you might not need to kiss one of your best friends today. With hardly anyone in the halls, you hadn’t anticipated crossing paths with her again.

“How about a girls’ night tonight?” You ask, throwing a pointed glance at the boys trailing behind you. “I need a break from them.”

Pansy grinned, “Even Nott?”

“Oh, fuck off,” You laugh, playfully swatting at her arm with your free hand while balancing your book in the other. “Even Nott.”

“I would. But Blaise and I are hanging out.” Her tone is suggestive, and you respond with a knowing glance.

“Make sure you—” Your words are abruptly silenced as a firm grip pulls you backward. Enzo’s arm wraps securely around your waist, hauling you against his chest. The sudden, intimate contact leaves you breathless and disoriented. Before you can fully grasp what’s happening, his lips are on yours, hot and demanding. The sheer intensity of the kiss makes your heart race wildly, and a startled moan escapes from deep within you.

Your hand, momentarily frozen, then moves with a mind of its own, sliding into his hair. Your fingers bury themselves in the soft, silky strands, feeling the slight tremor of his breaths against your skin as the kiss deepens. Enzo’s other hand finds its way to the side of your neck, his thumb brushing along your throat. The tender, intimate touch sends a jolt of desire through you, making you gasp softly. Your book slips from your grasp, thudding heavily on the floor, but you’re too absorbed in the moment to notice. With your other hand now free, it instinctively reaches up to clutch his bicep, using him to hold yourself up.

Enzo’s lips trail a heated path from the corner of your mouth, inching toward the sensitive spot just below your ear. Each kiss sends a shiver through you, leaving your body feeling as though it’s melting into his touch. The intensity of the moment is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, and you find yourself lost, feeling his lips on you.

Clearly, you hadn’t picked the right guys to kiss before.

“Theo is going to beat my ass for touching you.” Enzo’s breathy whisper grazes your ear, sending a shiver down your spine before he begins to pull back. To his surprise, you instinctively lean forward, your eyes fluttering closed as you chase after his retreating lips, your breath mingling with his in a shared moment of longing. Just as he’s about to close the gap and kiss you again, Theo’s hand shoots out, gripping the collar of Enzo’s shirt with a firm hold. He yanks Enzo away with a decisive tug, his eyes blazing.

He’s absolutely furious.

“You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m letting you kiss her again. She ran off the second you grabbed Y/n.” Theo snaps, his tone icy and edged with contempt.

It takes a moment for you to register that Theo is talking about Enzo’s relentless former class partner.

His gaze locks onto the lip gloss smeared across Enzo’s lips, and a dangerous glint flares in his eyes. The flicker of anger in his gaze sharpens as he takes a deliberate step forward, his posture radiating barely contained tension. His fingers twitch at his sides, visibly itching to confront his best friend, the promise of retribution clear in his stance.

Enzo remains silent, but his eyes shift to you, conveying a mixture of regret and concern. Theo’s gaze follows, landing on you. Your lips are swollen from the intensity of the kiss, your chest rising and falling with uneven breaths. Your eyes, still wide and slightly glassy, remain fixed on Enzo.

You look wrecked, and Theo despises it.

Without a second thought, Theo takes a decisive step forward, his jaw clenched tightly and his fingers digging into his palms. The sudden movement is charged with barely contained anger, his eyes locked onto Enzo with a fierce intensity.

“Nott!” Blaise barks, clapping a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “It was just a kiss.”

“Quite the kiss, though.” Draco adds with a smirk, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Mattheo lets out a low whistle, clearly entertained. Theo responds with a withering glare, his expression darkening.

Blaise shoves Theo back forcefully, his voice cutting through the tension. “Take your girl and go cool off.” He commands, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theo fixes Blaise with a scathing glare, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he shoves past him, grabs your hand with a firm grip, and pulls you down the hall toward his dorm, his movements fueled by anger and jealousy.

You protest, urging him to slow down, but he disregards your words, muttering curses in Italian under his breath. With a fierce shove, he throws open the door to his dorm. You trail after him, and as soon as you step inside, he slams the door shut behind you. As you watch, he paces the room, his hands running through his hair in frustration.

You’ve never seen him like this before—raw and seething.

He spins around to face you, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and distress, “What the fuck was that, dolcezza?’

There’s a moment of silence before you murmur, “A kiss,” as you lean against the door. Theo’s eyes follow your hand as it gently touches your swollen lips, and he sees the distant, reflective look in your eyes.

A flash of something dark and possessive ignites in his gaze. He clenches his jaw, the flicker of jealousy sharp and stinging. The sight of you lingering on the memory of Enzo’s kiss twists in his gut, fueling an intense surge of anger. He can’t stand seeing you so absorbed in someone else’s touch.

“That wasn’t just a kiss.” Theo snaps, his voice clipped.

“It was a bit much,” You reply with a resigned sigh, your gaze meeting his. “But it felt good—”

“Kissing him felt good?” Theo interrupts, his voice dropping to a strained, dangerous whisper. Each word cuts through the space between you with an intensity that makes your heart pound. He steps closer, his eyes blazing with anger and disbelief. You falter, your words catching in your throat as you watch him. “Is that really what you think I want to hear?”

“I don’t know what you want to hear.” You admit, your voice barely above a whisper. You meet his gaze with a defiant look, trying to hold your ground even as your heart races.

Theo’s eyes darken, and he takes another step closer, his face inches from yours. His breath is warm against your skin, mingling with your uneven gasps. 

“I want to hear that it meant absolutely nothing to you.” Theo says.

“It didn’t.” You confirm, eyes fixed on his, your breath catching in your throat. This is the closest you’ve ever been, the closest you’ve ever allowed yourself to imagine that he might actually kiss you.

“It didn’t?” He repeats, his voice low and dangerously soft. “Because it sure looked like it did.” The intensity in his eyes is almost overwhelming, and you can almost feel the heat of frustration radiating off him.

“It was just a kiss, Theo. It wasn’t real.” You say, looking away, a slight hint of exasperation to your tone.

“Are you sure he felt that way?”

“Enzo?” Your eyes snap back to him in disbelief. Theo stares blankly at you. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“Am I?” He retorts, his voice shifting from anger to something softer, almost vulnerable. “Because the girl I love is standing in front of me, talking about how kissing my best friend felt good.”

The words hang in the air, and your heart stutters as you struggle to take it all in. The anger that once fueled his every move is now mingled with something else—something that feels like hope. The intensity of his confession leaves you momentarily stunned, your mind reeling as you try to make sense of it. Theo’s eyes hold yours, a storm of anger, hurt, and vulnerability brewing just beneath the surface.

“Theo…” You begin, but your voice falters, and you struggle to formulate a sentence. All you had ever wanted was for him to confess, and now that he had, you found yourself at a loss. The moment you’d imagined so many times was finally here, yet the reality of it left you frozen, uncertain of how to respond.

He steps closer, his hand lifting to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. The space between you is almost gone now. His gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the conflict in his eyes—the tension between the desire to hold you close and the hurt of picturing you with someone else.

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve loved you, dolcezza?” Theo’s voice drops to a whisper, thick with emotion, as he gently traces your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. The delicate touch sends a shiver down your spine, your breath hitching in response. His gaze flickers from your eyes, filled with desire and uncertainty, down to your parted lips, lingering there as if trying to memorize every curve and tremble. “Years,” he breathes, the word heavy with longing, his thumb still grazing your lip as if he’s afraid to let go.

The air between you feels charged, thick with emotions that have been kept buried for far too long. Theo’s confession hangs between you like a fragile thread, one that could break with a single wrong move. His thumb continues its gentle path along your lip, the contact sending a rush of warmth through your body.

“Years?” You echo, your voice wrecked as the realization sinks in. The word feels foreign on your tongue, like something you’ve never quite understood until now. 

Theo nods, his eyes never leaving yours. “I tried to push it away,” he admits, his voice low and raw. “Tried to convince myself it wasn’t real, that it was just some stupid crush I’d get over. But it wasn’t. It isn’t.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding in your chest. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

His thumb stills against your lip, and his expression darkens with regret. “Because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. I didn’t want to risk losing you. But now…” He trails off, his gaze dropping to your lips again, his resolve wavering. “But I can’t stand the thought of someone else touching you, kissing you, when I’ve been waiting all this time.”

“Theo…” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, as you reach up to cup his face. Your fingers brush against the rough stubble on his jaw, and he leans into your touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment.

When he opens them again, they’re filled with a desperate kind of hope, one that makes your heartache. You whisper, “Will you please just kiss me?”

He moves with an intense determination, his hand sliding up to cradle the side of your head, fingers curling possessively just beneath your ear. The raw intensity in his gaze overwhelms you, a mix of longing and vulnerability that feels both foreign and intimately familiar. The depth of emotion in his eyes constricts your chest, an unexpected surge of feeling threatening to make you tremble.

His thumb trails a fiery path along your cheek, the warmth of his touch igniting a wave of sensation. As he leans in, the air between you becomes electrified with tension. When his lips finally connect with yours, the kiss is a fierce collision of need and tenderness—a deliberate press that lingers.

Your fingers clutch the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer, and he responds by pressing you firmly against the door. The proximity makes you draw a sharp, shuddering breath, a sound that mingles with the deeper kiss as he intensifies the connection. His lips are urgent and demanding, yet tender, each movement sending a shiver down your spine. His other hand braces against the door next to your head, anchoring you both in this intimate, electrifying moment.

The space between you disappears, replaced by the searing heat of his body against yours, drawing you irresistibly into him. Breathless, you’re lost in him, more exhilarated than you’ve ever been. His lips against yours send your mind reeling, and you know that if you weren’t pinned against the door, you’d cling to him just to stay upright.

When you finally pull back, breathless and dizzy, Theo’s forehead rests against yours, his eyes still closed as he savors the moment. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

You smile softly, your heart swelling as your throat constricts with emotion. “I’ve loved you for just as long.”

please consider reblogging or leaving a comment! it keeps me motivated to write! 💌

[tootiredtobekind]

[elainiisms]

i want you carnally *shoves a knife into your abdomen*

[shelbybyr]

When you've already read all the good fanfics

[muresetivoire]

If you don't have an ornate dagger strapped to your thigh while waltzing with your most despised enemy, then what is the point of life

[wonting]

[nycky-b]

just found out I'm visexual and I've never been happier

(I'd seriously let this woman rail the fuck out of me)

[best-of-reblogs]

Oh no. It’s our 15th anniversary.

Oh god. That’s 1 5 years of your nonsense. Don’t worry—it comes as a surprise to literally all of us that the world continued to do its thing, bringing us to this point.

So, how you been keeping since we celebrated the big one-oh, well, five years ago now?

A bratty teenager at heart, Tumblr has remained the same hellsite you’ve always made it: with your faves, aesthetics, and fandoms, your blogs and sideblogs, your reblog chains and tag conversations. Some of you will have been here for The Dress and the ball pit; some of you know those as lore but only come here for the sexymen and, idk, bees, the bee movie. And you’re all valid.

Throughout February, we’ll be reblogging some of the most iconic reblog chains from our time here with you to @best-of-reblogs. To kick it all off, here is a selection of ~moments~ y’all have manifested. You obviously don’t need us to talk about this—you do that enough among yourselves. But, for heritage purposes, here’s the lowdown anyhow. Don’t mind us while we lurk in the back with the popcorn.

~

Friends.

We all learned that friends come in many shapes and sizes—some of your favorite friend shapes are frogs, Furbies, worms-on-a-string, and orbs.

You asked your faves a bazillion questions.

You’ve asked Neil Gaiman about your ineffable husband headcanons, Joseph Gordon-Levit for filmmaking tips, and Taylor Swift about re-recording her albums and the provenance of Meredith and Olivia’s names. All ask answerers have remained equal here, where follower counts are private, and “influencer” is a dirty word.

Standing up for what’s right.

In the last five years, you continued to fight for net neutrality. You worked towards making the internet a safer, kinder, and more joyful space. You’ve celebrated and lamented three very different US presidents. You’ve rallied in the face of racism, learning from and educating each other.

All the memes.

From Superputinelection to the disruption of the international shipping trade, you learned about real-world happenings right here on Tumblr. You remixed reality with the best of ’em in a celebration of new traditions and old—some now illegal to scroll past without reblogging, while reblogging others constitutes a crime. Then there’s the homegrown variety lurking in the depths of tags and posts that couldn’t go viral anywhere but here.

Cottagecore Aesthetics.

You started craving the simpler things in life—the woods, frogs, dresses with aprons, gingham, homemade pies—in an unforeseen age that made living those dreams impossible outside of moodboards, Animal Crossing, and Stardew Valley. Your cottagecore hopes and dreams fueled the Radar and log-in screen.

Destiel goes canon.

In what became one of the biggest moments on Tumblr in the last five years, Destiel went canon. Many times. In many languages. In memes, on your televisions, on your blogs. For decade-long fans of Supernatural and non-fans with transdimensional cracks in their dashboards, November 5 became A Day in 2020.

~

In the 15 years since we celebrated our launch, you created 170,926,810 new blogs, made 40,798,681,685 new posts, and liked 75,280,353,933 posts, both old and new. You made each other cringe, celebrated the mundane and the extraordinary with your Fuck Yeah blogs, and shared many cursed things we are unable to utter here.

All this to say, come celebrate with us. Stay tuned for some historic reblogs throughout this month of February in the year of the orb, 2022.

Stay weird, Tumblr. You’re doin’ great.

[oleria]

Before you...

[always-on-fire-for-sara]

By sketchzaddy

[blushy-doll]

If you look like them..

Hmu pls <3

[overexerted-blog]

screenshot to see ur nickname!

[nycky-b]

Lil indie girl