Synopsis: Regulus Black, pureblood Slytherin playboy and Fleur Everwood, a booksmart half-blood Ravenclaw find themselves thrown together in the Room of Requirement one fateful night in their third year. After a year of covert meet-ups, their friendship deteriorates. That is, until Regulus mysteriously fails to return to school for the first term of sixth year. When he reappears during the Christmas holidays, everything changes.
Warning: Panic attack, fluff, sexual tension, kissing
Any engagement is greatly appreciated <3 Sorry this part took a little while!
I wish I could report that the repercussions for Regulus’s deranged cousin were severe. Quite the opposite, in fact. Druella and Cygnus Black were summoned to the school and Alice Modigen and myself were escorted to Dumbledore’s office the day I was released from the hospital wing.
In short, Modigen was adamant that Bellatrix Black was not her attacker, and that she didn’t recognise whoever cast the choking spell on me. Bellatrix’s parents twisted the narrative to conclude that my memory of the events should be disregarded as I’d suffered a loss of oxygen and was therefore unreliable.
And thus, it was settled.
Professor Horpike and Professor Dumbledore kept me behind once the others had left, Modigen shooting me an apologetic look as she passed me. I looked away in contempt. I felt slightly bad for being unsympathetic— I mean, she was obviously having her arm twisted, but she clearly hadn’t thought about the consequences of having a lunatic roaming the school with no accountability.
“Ms. Everwood, my dear, do not be disheartened by this verdict. I want you to know I take this very seriously and we’ll be keeping a close eye on Bellatrix” he said softly.
“Oh really?” I snapped, and then stopped, surprised at myself.
“I’m so sorry Professor Dumbledore. I didn’t mean to be rude” I apologised. He shook his head, smiling.
“I completely understand. It’s being handled, try not to worry” he said, giving me a final head nod in dismissal. Even coming from the world’s greatest wizard, this gave me no comfort.
I left the Headmaster’s Tower once again in a state of distress. Since my throat had healed I kept finding intermittently that I couldn’t breath— that I felt the brick in my throat even though there was nothing there.
It happened again now and my eyes started prickling as I felt myself slipping into a panic attack. Determined to keep walking to hold it at bay, I charged through the corridors, focusing on each step rather than the mounting anxiety in my chest. I didn’t even register where I was headed until I arrived.
The Room of Requirement.
I pushed into the room, and once the door had closed behind me I burst into tears. Loud, ugly sobs. Even as I wailed I cursed myself for being so weak. I hated that I cried all the time. I wish I could be strong, like Irena. She never cried. She swore a lot, and she could be really moody, but she never broke down like me. And here I was, in a heap on the floor.
I heard chair legs scrape across the stone floor from the far corner of the room, obscured from view by the mounds of antiques. I wiped my eyes hastily, praying my companion was any other student than the one I knew it to be.
Regulus came around the corner. No sarcastic comment. No rude remark. Just solemn appraisal as he approached. I clambered to my feet as he advanced, trying to decide whether or not to turn and run.
To my complete and utter shock, he held his arms out. I took a step back, wary. He dropped his arms as he rolled his eyes— wait, were his eyes glassy?
He closed the space between us in two quick strides, pulling me into his arms tightly and snaking his hand up into my hair as he pressed his face into the crook of my neck. At first, I was frozen in shock. But then, instinctively, I slid my hands around him gingerly, breathing him in.
Then, I exhaled deeply, like all the stress of the last couple of days had just evaporated in that moment. I knew in my head that this tranquility would be short-lived. Any second now he was bound to say something cutting or mocking and he’d go back to being the dangerous, vindictive boy who dabbles in the Dark Arts, and not the boy I’d met here three years ago.
He drew back to look at me, studying my face intently. He moved his hands to cup my face, wiping my tear tracks with each thumb. His eyes glistened as he swallowed and exhaled tensely, forcing an uncomfortable smile and a stiff half laugh. Straightening up, he let his fingers glide down the dark hair framing my face as he dropped his hands.
I studied him sadly. He frowned and bit the inside of his lip, the way one does when they’re thinking about something that’s about to make them cry. He dropped his gaze.
His fingers found a snag in my jumper where the the thread was hanging loose. He toyed with it for a moment, avoiding my eyes. I lightly brushed his arm in comfort, my fingertips tracing his tricep softly. He froze. His eyes flashed up at me through his long, black eyelashes, his green eyes intense.
Then he kissed me.
He held my face as his lips met mine with an urgency that overwhelmed me. His hands slipped under my arms and up my back, pulling me into his chest once more. I wrapped my arms around his neck, drawing him closer as we deepened the kiss.
He pushed me backwards until my back hit the door, his hands sliding down my body and over my hips, one hand snaking back up to cup my face, the other seizing my waist. He pressed this thigh in between my legs and I broke away from the kiss in surprise as he moved to trace my neck with his lips. I felt heady with lust. But, in amongst my giddy enjoyment of our intimacy, alarm bells started ringing in my head.
“His allegiance is with the Dark Lord now” came Sirius’s voice. That feeling of dread came flooding back.
“The last thing you want is to be involved in anything that might draw attention to yourself from the wrong sort”.
Does a fling with one of the Dark Lord’s supporters count?
Supporters— the word stuck out to me as if it wasn’t quite right.
A sudden feeling of awful foreboding seized me. Was he just a supporter?
Regulus brought his face up level with mine, his eyes ablaze. I watched his gaze move from my eyes to my mouth, his lips slightly parted, hungry.
I froze, as his lips met mine once again, the word Death Eater ringing in my ears.
I don’t know what made me do it.
I seized his left wrist. He pulled away sharply from the kiss, shooting me a look of betrayal as he tried to snatch his hand back. Determination had made me strong, and I held his gaze as I held my grip. I twisted to the side, shouldering him back as I yanked his sleeve up.
There it was. The Dark Mark.
I gasped, dropping his wrist like it was on fire.
He stood proud, jaw clenched. He was breathing heavily as he looked down his nose at me, fixing me with a look of utter contempt. I stared at him, mouth slightly agape, horrified. We stood watching one another, the air thick with tension.
“I’d better get back to my studies” he said coldly, pulling his sleeve back down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. I backed away, eyes prickling once more as I watched him storm back the way he’d come.
He whipped his wand out of his back pocket, and with a sharp wave the door flew open behind me.
“Leave” he ordered.
Preface | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 |
‘The French Dispatch’ - Wes Anderson.2021
I just watched Don't look Up
and holy fucking shit!! What if we all die one day?? What of we just vanish, all species on our planet extinct??? The whole planet just fucking gets destroyed????
FUCK FUCKKK now I'm gonna go cry
Summary: timothee and the reader have been dating for 2 years. They go to a party and when Janet comes around things become clear to y/n.
Don't you know I'm no good for you?
"So are you ready baby?" Timothee asked me and I finished up my lipstick. "Yep" I say popping the p. We got into timothees limo and rode to the building for the party. I was wearing a red sparkly dress with gold hoop earrings and gold heels. Timothee was wearing a matching red sparkly suit with a gold undershirt and black shoes.
I learn to lose you can't afford to.
We made it to the party and we walked up to the doors hand in hand. "Timothee chamalet and y/n l/n" timothee said to the body guard. We were let in and I was in awe. Everything was so beautiful and shiney. It all looked so expensive. "Y/n Come here I want you to meet an old friend of mine." Timothee said grabbing my hand and leading me to a women sitting on a chair drinking champane from a glass.
Tore my shirt to stop you bleeding.
She was beautiful. Her blue eyes and long brown hair. She had perfect boobs and an amazing body. Her lips looked soft an the red lipstick was done perfectly. She had on a gold dress that went down to the top of her knees. She had silver hoop earring on and gold heels.
She was perfect.
I followed Timmy and stood akwardly as the girl stood up and kissed timmys cheek. "Y/n this is Veronica. Veronica, this is my girlfriend y/n." He told her. Veronica gave me a smile that you could tell was fake. "Hello y/n it's nice to meet you" she said. Her eyes had jealousy in them and she turned back to timmy.
The rest of the night i sat on the couch and drank wine. Timmy and her spent the whole night conversating. He didn't look away from her once.
But nothing ever stops you leaving.
I gasped as I saw pictures on Twitter of Veronica and Timmy kissing. I saw other tweets saying that the two were back together. They were together?
I shook my head and packed a bag. Timmy walked in the room and looked at me. "What are you doing?" He asked. I shrugged, "leaving. You have veronica now." I said
He cringed, "you saw the tweets." He said. I shook my head yes. "Fuck you timmy. I thought you loved me." I said walking out of the house.
Driving away I could still hear his cries and pleas trying to get me back. But I was done. He hurt me. Badly.
"Elio. Elio, Elio, Elio, Elio..."
"Oliver. I remember everything."
This song reminded me of them...
I remember everything
ˀ̣ ご愛猫ス 𝗹Ꭵ𝗸𝗲ᩚ 𝗼𝗿 𝚁𝖾𝗯𝗹꩜𝗴 ! ꉂ 𖤐 ⋮ !ꐚ 𝗰𝗿𝟑𝗱𝗶𝘁𝘀 ლ𝕖. ─ Timothée Chalamet & Florence Pugh ☆★ ¡ଡ଼ⴰマミとモ𑇛ᩚ䨻䕽›᠉︵ இ 💭🌑🖇・⍰コ ᦰ 🥥꒧ⴰ ⍣ 爱❛◞ <3′
“your death was so unremarkable and boring. i can’t remember the details apart from one thing. you’re gonna die alone.”
i fucking love fingerling potatoes
Beautiful Boy (2018)
Director: Felix van Groeningen
Based on the memoirs Beautiful Boy: A Father's Journey Through His Son's Addiction by David Sheff and Tweak: Growing Up on Methamphetamines by Nic Sheff.
Meu primeiro post aqui !!!
Queria deixar claro que eu vou apenas postar coisas aqui por diversão, apenas diversão.
Mas aqui vai ser praticamente uma página de declarações de amor a Taylor Swift, Emma Stone, Timothée Chalamet e Andrew Garfield, meu lindinhos <33
៸៸ ✿䕽옽﹌☆⸝ᰢᩚ 𝗻ᴥᩨɯ 𝗉𝗼𝘀𝘁̲.˘ꕤᩨ̫ꜜ◟斘๑.゚｡°⩩🌳🐢📠📗[甜୧ 𝗹𝗶𝗸ᴥᩚ̲ 𝗼𝗋 𝚁𝖾ᩨ𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗀. ⟡｡ﾉ 𓍊𓋼⊹🝮៳⟦▓⃗⃞ 🕳