"Nothing Promised, No Regrets"

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[bubybubsters]

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[obsessedwithceleste]

Eye Candy

Blaise Zabini x reader

Blaise’s Banquet

Summary: One moment you’re minding your business browsing the aisles in Honeydukes, the next a round of Wildfire Whiz-bangs is exploding throughout the store. Clearly you missed a chapter because how on Earth did this all get pinned on you and Blaise Zabini?

word count: 6.4k

©️obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Smoke, sulfur, and burnt chocolates were definitely not on your top ten list of scents you'd expect to find at Honeydukes. In fact, the popular candy shop was rather infamously known for its sickenly sweet, over the top treats that filled the air with notes of exotic spices, fruits, and sugars that rotted teeth just by inhaling the smell. Though to be fair, you also definitely did not expect to be cowering beneath the service counter of the candy shop as a round of Wildfire Whiz-bangs tore through the store with fiery determination either.

You supposed you should be surprised, but, after years spent at Hogwarts, nothing really shocked you anymore. This really was just another Saturday at Hogsmeade. With a sigh, you resign yourself to simply waiting out the chaos of above, hoping that someone with more than a few brain cells to rub together would eventually realize that vanishing spells were clearly making an already bad situation worse.

That's when another body ducks into your hiding spot, shoving you unceremoniously into the corner.

"Hey! Find your own spot. Move," you hiss, shoving back at the person who was very much invading your personal space.

"Shove off. I don't exactly fancy the idea of being burnt to a crisp," the person snaps back, twisting around to face you, a scowl clear across their face.

It takes a moment to place him, but you recognize the boy. Blaise Zabini. Trouble tended to follow him wherever he went. And by trouble you specifically meant Mattheo Riddle. Again, you probably should have been surprised, but Blaise Zabini being at the scene of the crime was about as expected as the centuries old rivalry between the snakes and the lions. And it was just your luck that he had to bring his problems to you. Admitting defeat (you didn't need his blood on your hands), you scoot over a bit giving him more room to take cover.

"So, I'm assuming you know who started this whole mess," you say dryly, trying, and failing, to ignore the way Blaise's leg was pressing up against you.

"No," he replies curtly, face remaining unchanged as he pointedly avoids making eye contact with you.

You raise a disbelieving eyebrow and Blaise must be able to sense your skepticism because there's a short pause before he lets out a low grunt, begrudgingly looking over at you.

"I don't know what happened. I ditched Mattheo and the rest of them when we got to Hogsmeade. Didn't feel like serving another detention for something I didn't do," he says.

You don't know if it's the sheer exhaustion laced in his voice, or the unanticipated sincerity in his eyes, but you believe him.

"Well. At least you acknowledge that Mattheo is a problem," you say with a sigh, trying awkwardly to lighten the mood as the sound of rogue explosives continues from above.

Blaise snorts and you swear you even catch a glimpse of a smile. You might have imagined it though.

"I live with them. I am no stranger to the fact that Mattheo has a nasty habit of making his problems, everyone else's problems." He pauses. "It's really Theo you have to watch out for though. He'll scheme right alongside Matt, but he's never the one that gets caught."

His words hang in the air. You couldn't remember there ever being a time where you'd heard Blaise string that many words together. You'd kind of always thought he was a quiet one. Always watching, analyzing, staying three steps ahead of everyone else. It had never occurred to you that maybe he was the one really worth talking to. The fireworks last for several more long minutes which you and Blaise spend in silence—aside from the occasional intake of breath when a loud crack sounds just a little too close.

When all the noise finally subsides, Blaise is the one to peek his head up above the counter first before extending a hand, wordlessly helping you to your feet. The shop is a complete and utter disaster. Rows and rows of shelves have been blasted over, boxes of product are scattered across the floor—burnt, torn, completely spoiled. Even the lights overhead were flickering, the occasional spark threatening to start a whole new problem.

"Bloody fucking hell." The words escape your mouth without a second thought as you stare at the carnage in shock.

You figured the damage would be bad. But this was brutal.

"There! It must have been them!" The voice you vaguely recognize as belonging to the shopkeeper rings out across the store.

Your head swivels as you look around, trying to spot the alleged troublemakers when you realize that the store is completely empty except for—oh. Oh no. The pieces seem to click for Blaise too, as he begins shaking his head.

"It wasn't us. We went for cover under the counter as soon as the fireworks started going off," he states as Minerva McGonagall appears next to the shopkeeper with her arms crossed and a glare already burning a hole through the two of you.

"Really?" The shop keeper scoffs. "Then how did you two know to hide straight away, hmm? And if you were hiding, how did you know it was fireworks being set off?"

"Well, the hiding part was mostly a result of our above average self-preservation skills, and the knowledge of fireworks bit probably came from the fact that we have functioning ears," you reply dryly, agitated by the fact you were being accused of something you clearly didn't do.

Beside you, you hear Blaise try to suppress a snort and can't help but feel pleased that you were able to amuse the boy once again, but that was far from your greatest concern at the moment. The shopkeeper doesn't look convinced. She turns to McGonagall, fists clenched and her mouth in a thin line.

"These two were here before all the explosions started, and they're still here now. I just know it was them and I demand something be done. They cannot be allowed to get away with something like this, my shop is in ruins!"

You have to feel a bit bad for the old woman, her shop had definitely seen better days. And really you couldn't blame her for being so upset. But it just wasn't fair that you were being blamed when you had simply been in the wrong place at the wrong time. You stand there just stewing in frustration as McGonagall apologizes profusely for the wreckage, promising that everyone involved would be held accountable.

"What do you expect us to do? Pay for all the damages?" you ask, crossing your arms in defiance.

Looking around, your family definitely could not afford to essentially rebuild the entire store from ground up. And quite frankly they shouldn't have to. Because none of this was your fault. Blaise perks up a bit at the suggestion however.

"Yes! My mother would be happy to pay. We can cover all the costs, no need to even involve y/n," he says, a charming smile gracing his face even though the rest of him remains tense.

But McGonagall shakes her head.

"No, no, no, Mr. Zabini. I will not have you believe that you can just throw your family's money at problems to make them disappear. Absolutely not. You and y/n will complete volunteer hours. Here. Starting this week," McGonagall says sternly.

"But Professor, it really wasn't us," you try to protest.

"Well, unless you have the names of the students who did this, the evidence against you is strong enough—"

"What, her just saying she saw us so she knows we did it is enough? That's bull—"

"That is enough. Unless you would like to serve a detention as well, I highly recommend you stop while you are above water," McGonagall says coldly.

You want to argue more, but Blaise's hand on your wrist stops you in your tracks.

"It's not worth it," he mutters under his breath, giving your wrist a light squeeze.

You bite your tongue, but not before shooting a nasty glare the shopkeeper's way. Apparently finished with the two of you, McGonagall turns to working out logistics with the old witch, leaving you and Blaise to scurry off to await your fates.

Your first afternoon spent at Honeydukes was awful. You didn't want to be there. Blaise didn't want to be there. And the shopkeeper? You had words to describe her that would probably get your sentence increased by at least a few months. You had thought she was a sweet, little old lady before, but now she was just miserable to be around—constantly snapping at you and Blaise and ordering the two of you around, then getting upset when you did exactly what she asked. It was infuriating, and you could tell that Blaise was at his wits’ end too by the end of the day.

When you finally returned to the castle that night, you were exhausted. All you wanted to do was fall face first, down onto your bed and promptly pass out. But you had more work to do. A charms assignment, a full translation for ancient runes, 12 inches due for potions, you were going to be up all night. You knew Blaise would be up too. He pretty much had the same class schedule you did. These hours at Honeydukes would probably wear down on him too. Or maybe not. He'd always seemed a bit super human to you. Always above everything.

You force the mental image of Blaise out of your head, willing yourself to focus on the work in front of you. Worrying about him wasn't going to do anything to help you. In fact, it was kind of what got you into this whole mess in the first place. You shake your head to clear it. Focus. Charms. Right. Your quill is just about to reach your parchment when a sharp knock jolts you forward, splashing ink across the blank page. Damnit.

With a huff, you drag yourself across the dorm room, swinging your door open, ready to tear into whatever poor soul is waiting on the other side. Except—you blink. Blaise Zabini is standing there looking rather disheveled. A far cry from his usual clean-cut, pristine presentation, you almost don't recognize him. Gone is his usual perfectly crisp, white button down and tie, and in its place is a worn down jumper that had definitely seen better days. His trousers are loose and wrinkly and it appeared as though he hadn't even bothered to tie one of his shoes. In short, it looked like he'd been run over by a hoard of wild hippogriffs.

"Are you— are you alright?" you ask, unable to keep your shock from seeping into your voice.

"I'm fine," Blaise replies, deadpan.

You give the boy another once over.

"Are you sure? You look awful."

"Tactful as always," Blaise says dryly, ignoring the barb and pushing his way into your dorm without so much as an invitation.

You want to protest, but honestly you're too tired so instead, you close the door and turn to find Blaise seated on the very chair you had occupied just a mere minute ago. You still don't have the energy to fight it though.

"What do you want Blaise, I have so much to do," you find yourself sighing as you lean back against your door.

Blaise mirrors your movement, leaning back in the chair and raising an eyebrow as if to challenge you.

"If you're just going to sit there, I'm not doing this. Please don't waste my time," you huff, feeling yourself growing more and more agitated.

"I'm never a waste of time," Blaise replies plainly, still refusing to elaborate on why he had shown up at your door so late at night.

"Yes, yes. I know. You're god's gift to the world and you're better than everyone else. I should be groveling in your presence. Can you please tell me why you're here, or leave me to work in peace."

You can't quite read the look that flashes across Blaise's face at your words, maybe hurt? Begrudging respect? You can't tell, but Blaise opens his bag that you hadn't really noticed before and pulls out his own stack of parchment.

"We're going to work together," he says as if the decision had already been made unilaterally.

"Are we?" you ask, arms crossed as you tilt your head at the boy.

You weren't exactly opposed to the idea. Blaise was wicked smart, you knew he was right up there competing for top marks in most subjects. But he was also Blaise Zabini, and while he might be nice to look at, his reputation certainly preceded him. Though he had surprised you a fair bit in the few interactions you'd had with him so far.

"We are. Look, we both have a heavy course load this term and with all the extra hours we'll have to spend outside of Hogwarts, I've done the math and there's just no way we'll be able to get all of our course work done without working together," Blaise says bluntly.

As much as you hate to admit it, you know he's right. Just thinking about all the work you had to do before Blaise had knocked on your door filled you with dread. Looking at Blaise, you can tell he already knows he has you so you let out another sigh, throwing your hands up in defeat.

"Fine. But you're taking the lead on ancient runes. I'm horrible at it."

Blaise was exceptionally difficult to get a read on, you were coming to understand as you spent more and more time with the boy. For the first few weeks of your mandatory community service at Honeydukes, you had been particularly bitter and it seemed like Blaise was on the same page. It simply wasn't fair that you and Blaise were taking the hit for something neither of you had done, and you made sure to make that point perfectly clear. But for Blaise, nothing seemed to affect him. It was like he didn't even care.

As the weeks went on though, you came to find that you didn't really mind the work you were doing—it was actually a bit therapeutic. The reason you were there aside, it wasn't actually so bad and getting out of Hogwarts was a nice perk. And Blaise, well, you were making progress with him you supposed. He wasn't nearly as snarky with you as you'd seen him be with others and you could swear you'd caught him staring before. But he was still…aloof. Hovering, as if he could never quite find the right words.

When the two of you did speak, words between you and Blaise were exclusively related to work: what aisle was stocked with exploding bon bons, which price tags went with the fudge flies, who was going to take the arithmancy notes, and who was going to write up the summary on the 6th—or was it the 7th—Goblin War. So it was a surprise to you when Blaise was the one to bring up a topic outside of your usual subject matter. Of course it was quidditch.

It was something about Malfoy being his usual primadonna self on the pitch and Riddle and Goyle, the team's beaters, making a pact to use him as their moving target for the day. Apparently they bludgered too close to the sun and Malfoy went down. Dramatically. In your personal opinion, the boy probably had it coming, but you didn't voice that particular opinion. Blaise had just been venting and honestly, you were happy to let him do so. It made him so much more…human.

Of course you had to pick his brain for all the details, because please, it was hilarious, but Blaise insisted that he didn't know what Malfoy had said in the locker rooms that day to get Riddle so pissed off, or how Riddle had then successfully roped Goyle into the whole mess.

"Blaise, how could you not think to ask what got the whole thing started? Mattheo got Gregory to turn on Draco, I need to know everything that happened. This is historic," you'd insisted between giggles.

Something about the whole thing must have been infectious, because Blaise was smiling too now, and you'd decided then and there that you liked it very much when Blaise smiled. His whole demeanor softened, seeming to draw you in.

Of course the lousy shop keeper had had to go and ruin it all, snapping at the two of you to work more and chat less.

"Rest be assured, we will be circling back to this," you'd told Blaise before turning on your heel to continue stocking shelves.

And then Blaise actually did. Later that night when Blaise was once again at home in your dorm room, he'd turned to you, quill hovering above parchment, eyes lighting up as if he'd just remembered the most important thing in the world.

"I found out what happened between Malfoy and Goyle," he'd announced proudly, eyes gleaming as your face lit up.

"Tell me everything."

"Apparently Malfoy took the whole 'Goyle can't read' bit a little too far."

"You're joking."

You don't really remember a lot of that night because you and Blaise stayed up so late that you didn't realize that you hadn't gotten any work done until the sky started to turn light again. It was worth it though, because by the time the two of you were ready to head down to the Great Hall that morning, it felt like you'd known Blaise your entire life. It was strange to think that just a few weeks ago you'd known so little about him.

As the weeks stretch on, you develop a bit of a routine. Go to class, stop in the library, report to the Headmaster's office to floo to Honeydukes, grab a late dinner, wait for Blaise's knock on your door. It was nice. And your relationship, if you could even call it that, with Blaise was nice too. He wasn't always as snobbish as people made him out to be and really, his haughty attitude could be rather comedic at times. Not that you'd ever let him know that, his ego was already big enough for the both of you combined.

You feel a soft jab at your arm.

"Are you going to do your side, or are you going to make me do it since I'm clearly the more talented wizard," Blaise quips, a taunting grin on his lips as he glances down at you.

"Oh shove off, would you."

With a roll of your eyes, you quickly cast a levitating charm and watch as the last of the glittery, pink banners that normally decorated the shop floats up to its familiar position on the ceiling.

"I'd say we did rather good," you decide, standing back to admire your work.

You'd spent much of the day redecorating the shop and it was almost looking back to normal if you did say so yourself. And you did.

"Of course it looks good, I did most of it," Blaise teases, his smile only growing.

If you were delusional, you'd think the boy was flirting with you. In his own twisted way. So you roll your eyes again, and shake your head disapprovingly.

"What do you even do when you're not being an absolute headache," you sigh dramatically.

"Look pretty." Blaise's shit-eating grin is unmistakable now.

"Ugh. You deserve this place. We could put you on the shelf, call you eye candy," you scoff before fully thinking through your words.

"So you agree, I'm pretty?" Blaise preens, looking all too smug.

You needed to get this back under control.

"If I actually thought that, I wouldn't let you know. Your head is already too big as is."

With that, you quickly turn your back to the boy, hoping he'd missed the heat that was now creeping up to your cheeks. You really needed to get your head on straight. But it was hard. Now that you were actually thinking about it and watching as Blaise's lean, quidditch muscles flexed as he moved boxes around the shop—he really was the definition of a pretty boy. It was almost mesmerizing watching him.

Seeing Blaise sprawled across your bed had to be some kind of sick joke. It had been meant as just a lighthearted, harmless quip, but since that afternoon at Honeydukes, all you could think about was how freaking attractive the boy that you'd been spending all of your time with for the last several weeks was. Of course you'd always seen it, but now you just couldn't get it out of your damn head. You wanted to bang your head on the wall. Or climb him like a tree. You weren't sure which. But there he was, none the wiser, lounging on your bed like some kind of godly entity. Sick.

You really needed to clear your mind. Slumping back in your chair and silently chastising yourself for being so distracted, you crack open your potions textbook. Surely a deep dive into bezoars would take your mind off things, or at least be so dull you'll have no choice but to focus on not falling asleep.

Laying across your bed, scribbling away at a translation for ancient runes, Blaise was riding high. Your words "eye candy" echo in his mind as he writes. You thought he was attractive. His chest tightens at the thought. See, Blaise was many things. Observant and decisive were two of those things. And what he had observed for the past year was someone who was cheeky and intelligent and fit, and what he decided was that they would be his. You would be his.

Of course in order to make that happen, Blaise would have had to actually do something about it. And he always told himself he would, he just…never did. And his pride wouldn't even allow him to consider why that might be, but now he had a chance. You thought he was attractive. You might even like him. He would take it. For now.

Glancing up, Blaise had to stifle his in take of breath. You really were perfect in his opinion. And he had high standards. But looking at you now, the way your eyes slowly scanned the pages of your book, the soft curve of your lip as your tongue flicked out to wet your fingers as you turned the page, it was almost enough to make Blaise want to combust right then and there.

Instead he clears his throat, pulling your eyes away from your book and towards him, exactly where he preferred them.

"There's a quidditch game tomorrow," he mentions casually in that cold, steady tone that was so practiced it was basically second nature to him.

"Oh, exciting. Who's playing?" you ask, head tilting in a way that told Blaise he had your full, undivided attention. And he reveled in it.

"Slytherin and Hufflepuff."

"Right, well, good luck in case I don't see you in the morning."

There's a moment of pause.

"I thought you might like to come watch," Blaise finally spits out, desperate to hold your attention for even a few moments longer.

"Why, because you're playing?" you ask, a small smile playing on your lips.

"Especially because I'm playing," he responds with a cocky grin.

"I suppose I'll be there then."

Your eyes lock back in on your book and for once, Blaise thinks it might be for the best because his grin is now threatening to take over his entire face.

Blaise was thoroughly convinced that the world was on his side. It was a perfect day for quidditch—warm but cloudy enough that there was no sun beating down, barely a breeze, and stands packed with spectators. And of course there was you, right there in front surrounded by Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire. Oh. That might actually be a problem, but he would have to mitigate that particular issue later.

"Blaisey!"

Blaise is greeted by Mattheo with a thump on the back.

"Don't call me that," he monotones, his familiar scowl finding its way to his mouth.

"Oh don't be like that, I heard you finally got that special someone in the stands. Eh? Exciting day," Mattheo sings, voice intentionally loud enough to draw the attention of the rest of the team.

Blaise was going to murder him later. Painfully.

"Oi, Riddle. Shut your trap and stop trying to sabotage your own team, yeah?" Flint shouts.

He was still pissed about Malfoy getting mauled, but at least ferret boy had been cleared to play today.

"Sorry, sorry," Mattheo relents, holding his hands up in surrender, but that troublemaker grin doesn't fade from his face. "I'll be expecting a thank you at the wedding though," he taunts quietly as he passes by.

The quidditch stands are crowded and you aren't exactly sure where you're meant to be as you're funneled forward through the wooden rows. Somehow you manage to end up right in the front, standing next to a girl with short, sleek hair and a brunette boy that looked like he could be on the cover of a magazine. Pansy Parkinson and Lorenzo Berkshire. You knew the two of them ran in the same circle as Blaise, but you weren't exactly sure how friendly they all were. It seemed you were about to find out though as Lorenzo leans forward on the rail to get a good look at you.

"You here for Zabini?" he asks. "Took him long enough, been wondering how long it would be before you started coming around."

You blink. You'd never talked to Lorenzo Berkshire before in your life and you had no idea what he was on about. Thankfully, Pansy comes to your rescue.

"Ignore him. Bloody idiot, that one," she sighs as if it were a common disclosure she gave out often.

Lorenzo seems completely unfazed by the comment, so maybe it was.

"You know the rest of the team?" Pansy asks, making easy conversation.

You didn't want to seem ungrateful, but you were surprised by how willing these two were to ease you into their little group.

"I know a few of them. A bit hard to tell though from this distance," you reply timidly.

"That's fine. Only thing you really need to know is which one Zabini is anyway. But look down there," Pansy points to the group of boys in emerald green down on the field. "Obviously that one is Blaise, I'm sure you're familiar," she says with a smirk, "The two he's standing with are the other chasers Nott and Pucey. Then the blonde who's not paying attention? That's Malfoy. The two next to him are the beaters, Riddle and Goyle. And that last one who's been monologuing this whole time is the team captain Flint. He's the keeper."

Your eyes follow Pansy's movements as she lists off each of the players, doing your best to soak in the information. Seemed easy enough, especially once Pansy put a name to the faces you hadn't quite recognized. Pansy and Lorenzo bicker back and forth some more as you watch the players on the field get ready to begin. It had been a long time since you'd come down to watch a quidditch game.

Once the game starts though, you realize that there was one thing you hadn't taken into account when accepting Blaise's invitation to the match. And that was his quidditch uniform. Sweet Salazar, you hoped no one noticed you salivating over the way his robes clung to him as he soared through the sky. And every time he flew past you caught a glimpse of that cocky smile of his that was growing to be all too familiar. It was definitely worth coming out.

The match is a quick one, and according to Lorenzo, the matches against Hufflepuff usually are. By the time Malfoy finally catches the snitch, Slytherin had already scored enough points that it wouldn't have even mattered if Diggory had been the one to catch the snitch first. You can't quite bring yourself to hoot and holler like Enzo when the match finally comes to an end, but the way Blaise's eyes find you as soon as the whistle blows tells you that you didn't have to. He knows you were there and he's the only one that matters.

After, you stand with Pansy and Lorenzo and wait for the team to trickle out of the locker room. Draco is one of the first ones out and when he spots Pansy, is quick to scoop her up into a hug. Mattheo and Greg are next, quickly joining Lorenzo off to the side where he's busy chatting up some of the Hufflepuffs. Then, finally you see him—hair still damp, either from sweat or a shower, but practically glowing as he spots you waiting there for him.

There's nothing grand or romantic about the way he saunters up to you, and there's no sweeping hug like when Draco greeted Pansy, but you can't help but feel your heart flutter as Blaise appears before you, perfect as always.

"Did you enjoy the game?" is the first thing Blaise asks, his hand brushing the back of yours as he stands in front of you.

You feel yourself short circuit for a split second at the contact before quickly recovering.

"Yeah. It was fun. You looked good out there," you hear yourself mumble as you try desperately to cling to the feeling of Blaise's skin against yours.

"Did I?" Blaise preens, that shit eating grin appearing once more.

He'd been doing that a lot recently. Smiling. Or at least a lot more than you'd ever seen. Not that you had really noticed before of course.

You reach out and give the boy a light shove on the shoulder.

"That's not what I meant," you reply as heat rises to your face, but even you can tell there's no sincerity behind your words.

"It's alright if it was." Blaise's voice is lower now. Hungry almost as he takes a step closer.

You feel your heart stop while your mind races at a mile a minute, repeating Blaise's words in your mind over and over making sure you heard right. That you weren't imagining it. But before you can respond properly, a voice calls out, pulling Blaise away while words sit at the tip of your tongue. All you can do is watch as Blaise turns away to rejoin the rest of the team, throwing one more parting glance your way before his face returns to its typical stoney expression.

You would think that, with its magical organization system, the Hogwarts library would be much easier to sort through. Yet here you were on what seemed like a wild goose chase, trying to track down the one book that would help you to complete your transfiguration essay. You'd been searching for nearly forty minutes now and it really was frustrating because the more time it took for you to find the blasted book, the more time your brain had to microanalyze every interaction you'd ever had with Blaise Zabini. You were driving yourself mad.

"What do you think the chances are that Zabini completely fumbles, despite everything we've done?"

Wonderful. And now your delusions were causing you to hear voices talking about Blaise out loud. Would you ever escape—wait. You take a step closer to the shelf, holding your breath as you try to hear through the rows of books.

"He better not. You know how hard it was to sneak those fireworks into the school? Told him today that I expected a thank you at their wedding. Course he doesn't know that we're the masterminds behind it all yet. Expect he'd be a little more grateful if he did, yeah?"

That voice you distinctly recognize as belonging to Mattheo Riddle, and, peering through the gaps in the shelves, there he was sat directly across from none other than Lorenzo Berkshire. But fireworks? Whose wedding? What did Blaise have to fumble? Your brain goes into over drive, straining to put the pieces together, and when it all starts to click you let out a breath you didn't realize you had been holding. Huh. You could confront the two right then and there, but instead you decide to take your new found discovery and file it away for later.

As it turns out, 'later' would actually be later that night. It's dark out when Blaise finally knocks on your door. You were expecting it of course, but this time he marches in with his usual confident swagger before you even have the chance to roll off your bed.

"Hey," is all he says as he drops his book bag on the ground before taking a seat next to you on the bed.

The mattress dips beneath him causing you to slide towards him until your legs are pressed against each other. You're not sure if you should curse gravity, or thank it.

"Hi," you squeak out, acutely aware of how close the two of you are sitting.

"Did you ever finish that transfiguration essay? I thought we could swap ideas," Blaise says, bending down to pull out parchment and a quill.

Your mind stutters at how inhumanly calm Blaise is while sitting so close that you could smell every individual note in his expensive cologne.

"Yeah, but, I don't think I want this to end. Once we've stopped going to Honeydukes and have more free time again," you blurt out. No plan, just words cascading out of your mouth.

Blaise doesn't even look up, just continues scribbling his name onto his parchment.

"That's fine. This arrangement has been working well."

You shouldn't feel surprised at this point, but you were always a little bit stunned by how nonchalant Blaise could be at times.

"No. I'm saying I think I like you," you try again, hoping to get your point across.

"Obviously. What's not to like?"

If it weren't for that obnoxious smile that had grown on you so much over the past weeks you'd have thought he was being an arrogant prick.

"You're an absolute headache. You know that?" you pout, giving the boy a smack and jolting his quill sharply across the page.

With a wave of his hand, the parchment and quill are magicked back into his bag as Blaise turns to face you know, eyes burning.

"A good looking one though, hm? That's what you were going to say this morning no?" he asks, as he slowly moves closer.

You shake your head no, but you both know that it's a lie.

"I decided that you would be mine a long time ago. It was just a matter of getting you on the same page, so of course you like me, you've always been mine."

You simply don't have the words to respond. All you can do is remember how to breathe as your eyes fully train in on the way Blaise's mouth moves as he tells you exactly who you belong to. And then that mouth is on yours and you forget how to function all together.

It's soft and sweet, and much more gentle than you ever imagined Blaise capable of being. As the kiss deepens, you feel Blaise pull you closer, hand sweeping against your thigh, guiding it until you're seated on his lap. His lips trail down your jaw, your throat, fingers pulling at the neck of your jumper as he nips at your collar bone.

"Blaise."

His name slips out from between your lips—breathy, airy and Blaise growls. His touch feels like it's burning away at your skin yet you still press yourself against him, desperate for the feeling. His mouth finds yours once more, kissing you until your lips are swollen and you're left gasping for air. When you finally pull apart, Blaise is looking up at you with something that can only be described as pure, unadulterated admiration.

In that moment you wonder how long Blaise had had his eye on you. How long you'd unknowingly pulled his attention. How long you'd occupied his thoughts, driving him mad just as he had been to you these last few weeks. You'd have to find out another time.

You shift your weight in Blaise's lap until you're at eye level, a teasing grin pulling at your lips. One that clearly said 'I know something you don't'.

"Blaise?" you ask, voice sing-song as you look at the boy with wide, innocent eyes.

"Yes, angel face?"

You feel your nose scrunch up.

"Is that a no?" Blaise chuckles, breath warm against your cheek.

"We'll circle back. But I heard the most interesting thing this afternoon in the library. Do you know what it was?"

Blaise shakes his head.

"I'm sure there are lots of interesting tidbits to pick up in the library, sweet cheeks."

You give him an unamused look.

"That's just bad and you know it," you huff, giving the boy a quick peck on the lips. "Now hush, I know who set off those damn fireworks at Honey Dukes."

Blaise raises an eyebrow and you can tell you have his interest piqued.

"It was your beloved teammates. Riddle and Berkshire. They outright admitted to it in the library earlier. Were worried you would fumble after 'all the hard work they did' to get you some alone time with me," you chirp, giving Blaise a playful poke on the shoulder. "Said you should be thanking them."

"Is that right?" Blaise asks, eyes suddenly dark as his expression becomes unreadable.

You feel yourself hesitate at the change in Blaise's demeanor and it seems like Blaise picks up on the shift because his face immediately softens again.

"I'll have to handle those two myself," he mutters. "But first—"

His hands make a trail down from your waist, dragging tantalizingly against your thighs, and hooking behind your knee caps before he yanks you close once more. Your arms wrap around his neck as a laugh escapes you. It's quickly smothered though as lips collide and you find yourself lost in a hazy bliss once more. You decide in that moment that if Blaise isn't going to thank his friends for framing the two of you, then you just might.

…But probably not.

big, big thank you to @puddlesoffrogs and @i-await for the beta reads🫶🏽

[satoruined]

when nobara gleefully drops the #funfact that megumi fushiguro spent his middle school career systematically beating up delinquents, your normally poker-faced boyfriend frowns, looking a bit disgruntled. he then tugs at the high collar of his uniform—a telltale tick for when he’s self-conscious—and promptly averts his gaze upon noticing you staring at him with newfound intrigue. even his dark hair seems to bristle more than usual, making him look more like an sea urchin than ever.

“wow… megumi, so you were like a vigilante?”

“…don’t listen to kugisaki. she’s exaggerating,”

despite the dismissal, the truth reveals itself through the efficient beatdowns he delivers to any creep who dares to harass you. watching him work makes two things very clear.

1. nobara wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest.

2. you are safer than you’ve ever been.

the logic is quite simple, actually. pure, even. megumi can't forgive himself for letting you get hurt even more than he can't forgive the person who dared to lay a hand on you.

[indecisivemuch]

Translated works without permission (mine and possibly other tumblr authors)

3 of my works have been translated without my permission and it is among the 373 translated tumblr fics on this Wattpad account @ Mel_Potter_Black. Based on my case with them, I have a feeling that they also have not approached and asked for permission from a lot of tumblr authors.

Their translated works include: 186 Theodore Nott fics, 40 Percy Jackson tumblr fics, 50 James Potter fics, 25 Luke Castellan fics, 49 Mattheo Riddle fics, 23 Draco Malfoy fics.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

First and foremost, I have explicitly stated on my pinned Tumblr post that I do not want my works translated or redistributed elsewhere.

Long story short, there were a lot of red flags that this account has displayed.

They blocked someone who had questioned them if they had my permission to translate my works.

They have never even reached out to me asking for permission.

They translated my works even though I have stated very clearly that I do not want my works translated.

They never replied to me and even deleted my comment politely asking them to remove my work because they never had my permission and that I don’t want my works translated (though, fortunately they did remove the translated works as asked, so at least that’s the plus side). This once again wiped clean evidence of permission issue on their account, very much continuing a “covering up their track” behavior.

They also translated one of the original author’s usernames into Portuguese too, which is strange and improper crediting because that defeats the whole point of crediting overall, as readers won't even be able to trace back to the original author at all (especially if you are not linking to the original work or the original author’s page, which they are not doing).

Given their highly questionable and suspicious behaviors to my case (did not ask for my permission, translated works from an author who does not want their works translated, attempted to hide the fact that they have never gotten permission from me (the original author), blocked those who question it, shows signs of improper crediting), I have reasons to suspect that many tumblr authors of the other 370 translated works on this Wattpad account also do not know that their works have been translated, and that this Wattpad account have translated without their permission and/or improperly credit them.

I did contemplate for a while whether to write and publish about this too. However, I feel like it’s all too suspicious for me to just ignore and 300+ fics is a lot. Also, the fact that they straight up blocked the person who questioned if they had my permission implied that they must feel like what they are doing is not right.

So…if you are a tumblr writer of any of the characters mentioned above (especially Theodore Nott because 186 is INSANE if most of them don't have the original author's permissions and/or authors don’t want their works translated), just be aware that your works may have been translated without permission. And if the issue of translation without permission is personally important to you, maybe check to see if your works are on their account and ask them to take it down if you want to.

PS. Though, please don’t send them death threats or something like that. They could be a child who doesn’t know any better for all we know.

[obsessedwithceleste]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 🌻💚🌞

The Feline Fables Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw! reader

Fed up with the long list of "lovers" constantly vying for your attention, you decide to propose a little challenge. The first person to present you with the ribbon that was tied around your cat’s neck would win your company at Hogsmeade.

All's Fair in Love and Quidditch Theodore Nott x Ravenclaw! reader

All’s fair in love and quidditch. At least until Mattheo’s poorly aimed bludger knocks you off of your broom.

The Stages of Grief Lorenzo Berkshire x f! reader

They say that when you experience grief, you go through five stages. And after being partnered with Lorenzo Berkshire for your latest potions assignment, rest be assured, you were experiencing all five.

Finding Sunshine Lorenzo Berkshire x gn! reader

soulmate! au in which the writing on your skin will appear identically on your soulmate.

In Between the Lost and Found Blaise Zabini x gn! reader

Soulmate! au— From a very young age, Blaise had always been taught to value his possessions. Because if you lose something, it winds up in the hands of your soulmate and you very well may never see it again.

Celeste's masterlist

[bubybubsters]

neighbor!azriel texts

a/n: idk if these flow well lol ENJOY THOUGH

strangers to friends to lovers (imagine some time between some of the texts)

HOPE YOU ENJOYEDDD

likes comments reblogs are loved <3

[mynaemsophie-deactivated2026031]

reblog to bap prev with your paw

[xtramizukii]

Woke up today and thought about Megumi

I got ran over today and thought about Megumi

I showered today and thought about Megumi

I'm eating and all I can think of was Megumi I am not well

[miunicornfluff]

coming back on here 2 say this

fuck I.C.E

fuck tr*mp

fuck ep*tein

fuck shitrael

fuck sexism

fuck k*rk

fuck pro-life

fuck white supremacy

fuck racism

everything is political.

no one is illegal on stolen land

arrest everyone mentioned in the files

i love immigrants

free palestine, cogo, venezuela, etc

abortion is healthcare

blame the predator, not the victims clothes.

no uterus no opinion

love is love

trans woman = woman

trans man = man

mental health matters

all addictions matter

[beardedmrbean]

[theman]

I GOT A FUCKING RAISE THE POTATO WORKED WTF

[tattooedzombigirl]

This potato works. Every. Fucking. Time.

[imanutcase-10]

Then bring me luck

[thirddeadlysin]

the day after I posted this last time I was notified that I was selected for a really cool mentorship gig and got an unrelated glowing review at work

[ropuszysko]

listen i am in the trenches rn i am not risking fucking up even more bc i skipped a tumblr chain post.

[thefingerfuckingfemalefury]

<3 Help me out here potato of luck <3

[bubybubsters]

please please please

[obsessedwithceleste]

Ethically

Mattheo Riddle x Theodore Nott

week 1 of @acourtofchaos 's Festival of AUs

Summary: next door neighbor! au— In which Mattheo and Theodore’s methods for spending time with each other aren’t always the most ethically sound

word count: 4.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Mattheo had always thought that the worst part of moving had to be all the fucking boxes. You had to load up all your shit into dozens of flimsy cardboard boxes, break your back moving it all, and then deal with the mess of reversing your previous hard work and unboxing all of it. But standing here outside his new apartment, boxes piled up lining the hall as he repeatedly tries jamming his key into the lock, he’s beginning to realize that it can in fact, get worse.

“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” A voice asks, causing Mattheo to jolt back, his key clattering to the floor.

“Fuck. No. I’m trying to get into my apartment, but this bloody key doesn’t fit the lock,” he replies, bending down to snatch the key off the ground, not bothering to glance at the stranger who’d snuck up on him.

“That’s probably because you’re at the wrong door. Empty apartment is one door over,” the voice says, clearly trying to hold back a laugh.

Mattheo freezes, blinking once before slowly turning his head to glare at the apartment one door down the hall, and then finally turning fully to face the stranger. His plea to not call the cops on him is quickly replaced by a sharp in take of breath as he gets a good look at his new neighbor.

Tall with soft brown hair, sharp eyes, and a devious smirk grinning down at him; Mattheo feels his chest tighten, bobbing his head in a quick nod before shuffling over to the correct door, a cold sweat washing over him. Why did it have to be him? He wonders to himself as his key finally turns allowing the door to swing open.

"Name's Theo by the way. If you ever need anything," his neighbor calls out before disappearing into his own apartment.

As soon as Mattheo steps into his new home he wants to melt into the floor. Great first impression he thinks bitterly to himself. New neighbor is hot as hell and the first thing he does is try to break into his apartment. Unknowingly to be fair, but still.

Not allowing himself to dwell too much on it, Mattheo begins lugging boxes inside, letting a pile grow in the middle of the would-be living room. It was going to be a long fucking day.

The first thing Mattheo notices the next morning, other than the pain in his lower back from sleeping on a mattress on the floor, is the distinct lack of anything edible in his new home.

He hadn’t wanted to deal with the hassle of moving food and all the nasty smells of spoiled, rotten food that could come with it. But by the way his stomach was now rumbling, he was beginning to see why that had been rather short sighted.

With an agitated groan, he rubs the sleep from his eyes, barely making the effort to brush his teeth and throw on a new hoodie before venturing out to find some food. As soon as Mattheo exits the apartment complex, he’s blinded by the early morning sunlight. Grumbling, he makes his way over to his car, an old beater sure, but one of the first he’d ever worked on.

The door closes with a gentle thud, and Mattheo turns the keys, the engine slowly spurring to life before sputtering out just as quickly.

“Oh for the love of-“ Mattheo throws his head back, groaning as he swings the door back open.

Stupid spark plug had probably come loose again. He really needed to find time to fix that, it was starting to get annoying. Opening the hood of his car it’s clear his suspicion had been correct and he’s about to adjust the damn thing once more when a voice calls out behind him. Startled, Mattheo jumps, the back of his head slamming on the hood of the car as he lets out a string of curses.

“Need a ride?”

Mattheo turns and of course as luck would have it, finds Theo standing behind him, once again attempting to hold back a laugh, his own set of car keys dangling between his fingers. Why did the world hate him?

“Ah, no! Nope! Everything’s fine over here, thanks,” Mattheo replies, tripping over his words as if he’d never strung a sentence together before.

Theo just raises an eyebrow at him, looking between him and his rather beat up car unconvinced.

“It’s really not a problem,” Theo says, tipping his head towards the car parked directly next to Mattheo’s.

“I—“ Mattheo pauses, looking down at the loose spark plug.

It would take him seconds to fix. But what the hell? If his smoking hot neighbor wanted to give him a lift, who was he to decline?

“You know what? That would actually be great,” he hears himself declare, closing the hood of his car with a dull thud.

Theo looks rather pleased with his answer, unlocking his car and gesturing for Mattheo to hop in.

"I never actually got your name," Theo trails off as Mattheo gingerly steps into the cars.

"Mattheo. Matt. Whatever you want," he rushes out, mentally face palming as Theo lets out a soft laugh.

"So where were you headed?" Theo asks as the car hums to life.

"Just to pick up some food and stuff," Mattheo mumbles back as he takes in the tidy interior of the car.

Clean leather seats and not a single piece of trash littering the floor. It was nothing like his own beater, but that car had been the only constant in his life these past few years.

"Convenient. I was headed to the store myself," Theo replies easily as he backs out of his parking spot.

Mattheo can feel his heart stop when Theo's hand lands inches away from him, resting on his seat as Theo turns to check out the back window. He can't tell if his mouth has gone completely dry or if he's salivating uncontrollably as his eyes lock in on Theo's forearm and the veins protruding from it. God he needed to snap out of it. Get a grip.

Mattheo spends the rest of the ride trying to survive awkward small talk and looking out the window at the new city he found himself in. When they finally pull into the parking lot, he finds himself following Theo inside like a lost puppy. There's an awkward pause where Mattheo isn't quite sure if he's supposed to go off on his own or not, but Theo answers that question when he gives him a strange look.

"Never been to a grocery store or something? Come on," he says, grabbing a basket.

Mattheo feels like he’s shopping with his mother, carefully putting items into the basket and hoping he doesn’t get any strange looks or raised eyebrows. Theo on the other hand goes about as if it’s business as usual, tossing this and that carelessly into the shopping basket.

It all feels terribly domestic, especially for two people who’d barely ever spoken before, but somehow, with each aisle they meander through it grows increasingly more comfortable.

When they finally make it to check out, Mattheo has to fend Theo off, insisting that he’ll pay.

“Can’t hijack your grocery run and let you pay,” he grumbles, shoving his card into the reader.

The following weekend Mattheo finds himself pulling yet another batch of cookies out of his oven. The sugary sweet aroma filled his apartment and flour coated every surface of the kitchen. He’d always liked baking growing up and seemed to have a bit of a knack for it. That was a lie. He did not like baking and he was actually terrible at it. But Theo didn’t have to know that.

Unfortunately, Mattheo’s first batch of cookies had come out hard as rock on the outside, but still raw on the inside. He had no idea how that was even possible. The second batch had almost caused the fire alarms to go off after he’d gotten distracted and forgotten them in the oven. But this batch. Well, they looked normal, tasted normal, and Mattheo hadn’t immediately gotten sick after trying one so they’d have to do.

Over the course of the last week, Mattheo couldn’t keep track of how many times he’d accidentally run into Theo. He swore he’d never seen any of his other neighbors this frequently. It seemed like every time he turned around, Theo was there with his smug grin and some little quip that made Mattheo putty in his hands. It was driving Mattheo insane.

Not to brag, but Mattheo had always considered himself to be a smooth talker if he did say so himself. Charming, charismatic, the works. So to be left a blubbering fool every time Theo so much as breathed in his direction. Well that simply wouldn’t do.

Carefully picking out the best looking cookies from the pan and dumping them into a plastic container, Mattheo is ready for battle. He straightens his shirt and smoothes out his hair one last time before swinging his front door open and marching the twenty feet over to the neighboring unit.

Taking a deep breath of determination, Mattheo steels himself before giving a solid, firm knock on the door. A moment passes. Then two. Maybe this was a bad idea. Another moment goes bye. Mattheo is about to turn tail and flee back to his apartment when the door swings open, revealing Theo leaning casually against the door frame.

Nothing could have prepared him for what was waiting on the other side of the door. Nothing. All the confidence he’d built back up. Gone.

Theo’s eyes burned into him leaving scorching trails, his god forsaken smirk dancing across his lips as he stands in front of Mattheo in nothing but a grey bath towel that clings dangerously low on his hips. He doesn’t even flinch at the way Mattheo’s eyes rake his body up and down before forcing their way to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere else.

“Can I help you?” Theo’s voice comes out smooth, but Mattheo can still detect a hint of a snicker as his neighbor continues leaning on the door frame as if it were just another Tuesday.

“Uh, yeah, I mean no,” Mattheo hears himself stuttering like a bumbling idiot, and forces himself to stare at the ground, trying to compose himself. “I made cookies. Thought I’d bring some over as a thanks for the ride.”

He can feel the bob of his adam’s apple as he shifts awkwardly, thrusting the container out and trying not to ogle his neighbor’s very bare chest.

“I’d let you ride any time,” Theo replies, that sinister smirk securely in place as he accepts the container of cookies.

His fingers brush against Mattheo’s for a moment too long as Mattheo feels his brain short circuit. So much for being cool, confident, and collected.

“whAT,” Mattheo wheezes, sure he must have misheard.

But Theo just tilts his head cockily, eyes raking over the curly haired boy in front of him.

“You can ride any time. I know car stuff can be— inconvenient,” Theo replies smoothly, clearly enjoying Mattheo’s flustered state.

“Right! Yes. Thanks again. I’ll just— be going now,” Mattheo responds, tripping over his words once more before retreating back to his own apartment, Theo’s eyes burning into the back of his head.

As soon as the door closes behind him, Mattheo feels himself sink to the floor; face red, palms sweaty, and heart beating out of his chest. The hell was that. He was being messed with surely. There was no conceivable way a guy like that was flirting with a guy like him. No, he needed to calm down, and chill out before he embarrassed himself further.

God, what had he become.

Theodore Nott generally liked to keep to himself. He observed others from afar, kept his head down, and minded his business. He liked it that way.

What he did not do was greet new neighbors. And he definitely did not offer them a ride in his car, much less to go grocery shopping with him. And answering the door half naked and sopping wet? Absolutely not. So how he had gotten to this point, he really didn't know.

It had all started when Theo had returned home one day to find Mattheo jamming a key into the lock of his door with a look of sheer rage and determination. From the stacks of boxes lining the halls, it was clear that this was his new neighbor.

“Are you— are you trying to break into my apartment?” he'd asked, trying to make light of what was surely about to be an awkward situation.

What he hadn't taken into account was the fact that his new neighbor was ridiculously attractive. Theo could feel his chest tighten, feet shifting awkwardly as the new neighbor fumbles with the key, clearly agitated as Theo directs him to the correct door.

He does his best to keep his eyes from raking the new stranger up and down, but he can't help the way they lock onto the soft brown curls, or the faint scar on the bridge of his nose.

The new neighbor doesn't even spare him a second glance when he calls out his name before Theo escapes into the safety of his apartment. Well. That was enough social interaction for the week. Humbling as always.

Theo has no clue what comes over him the next morning when he sees his handsome neighbor bent over his car, the hood propped up, shielding him from the early morning sun. When he offers him a ride, he's sure the curly haired boy will say no and they'll both move on with their day, so he can't help the perhaps overeager grin that spreads across his face when the boy gives in.

He finally learns his new neighbor's name, Mattheo, on their drive to the nearest grocery store, and really Theo is too focused on the mantra of 'stay calm, don't be weird' repeating in his head to pay attention to much else other than the giddiness of being within arms reach of Mattheo for an extended period of time.

When it comes time to pay, Theo tries to insist that it's no big deal as he pulls out his wallet, but one look from Mattheo has him melting into the floor. His cool, care-less attitude had Theo in a choke-hold, and paired with those big, brown eyes? Theo feared he was in over his head.

What Theo had now dubbed 'the cookie catastrophe' truly felt like an out of body experience in which Theo had no choice but to watch on in absolute horror.

The knocking had started shortly after Theo had stepped out of the shower. He was going to ignore it like he usually would, but against his better judgment he shuffled over to the door, peeking through the peephole to find Mattheo waiting on the other side. Not a single thought was running through Theo's brain as he swung the door open, not realizing until it was too late that his hair was sopping wet and he hadn't even had the decency to throw on sweatpants.

He tried to play it cool, leaning casually against the door frame and just hoping that if he didn't acknowledge it, neither would Matt. He watches though as Mattheo's eyes widen slightly, taking in the sight before him and clearing his throat. A hint of red appears in his cheeks and Theo can't help but grin as Mattheo stutters a bit over his words. But as soon as Mattheo presents him with homemade cookies, Theo just knows he's done for.

He doesn't even hear the words come out of his mouth, “I’d let you ride any time,” until Mattheo is sputtering in front of him, cheeks burning red as he laughs nervously, arm reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

Theo can't help but admire the flexed bicep before quickly jumping to clarify that car issues could be annoying and hoping he'd saved any of what little dignity he had left. When Mattheo finally retreats back down the hallway, Theo slams his door shut with a resounding thud, the past several minutes feeling like a blur. What was wrong with him? He thought to himself, ripping the lid off the container and shoving a cookie into his mouth.

That's how he ended up here though, towel slung over his shoulder and clutching a bottle of shampoo in his free hand as he knocked shakily on Mattheo's door. He couldn’t help it. The only things he’d been thinking about these past few days were the way that blush had creeped up onto Mattheo’s face when he opened his door, and the way his muscles had flexed when he had reached up behind his head. But oh god, what was he doing here?

It's clear Mattheo is wondering the same thing when he opens the door, brows furrowing as his head tilts. Theo lets out a nervous cough.

"Ah, sorry to bother, the water's out in my apartment and I just got back from a run so I was wondering—" he lets the question hang in the air and Mattheo blinks once before rushing to pull the door open further.

"Yeah, of course, I mean sure. No problem," he replies, that familiar tinge of red once again painting his cheeks as Theo brushes past him. “Bathroom’s just there,” Matt says, directing him past the living room.

“Right, thanks,” Theo replies, taking his time to subtly glance about the apartment.

There was a sofa that looked like it had seen better days, a coffee table with take out containers littering the surface, the television had some movie flickering across the screen, and more boxes that needed to be unpacked.

As soon as the bathroom door closes behind Theo, his head falls back, a dry laugh escaping his lips. What had become of his life? This was psychopath behavior he thought wryly to himself. But he’d come this far.

Quickly switching the water on, Theo takes what has to be the fastest shower of his life before stepping out and doing his best to dry himself off. His sweatpants go on and then he looks at the ratty old shirt he’d worn over, another scandalous plan forming in his head. He really shouldn’t.

When he exits the bathroom, Mattheo’s head snaps onto him from his spot on the couch and Theo watches as the blood rushes to his face once more. He would never get tired of that.

“Whatcha watchin?” He asks, trying to keep a casual, straight face as Mattheo’s eyes noticeably lock in on his bare torso.

It takes a moment for Mattheo to respond and Theo can feel himself preening at the attention.

“Uh, whatever you want,” Mattheo replies, still openly gawking.

Theo raises an eyebrow, a smirk spreading across his face, a newfound confidence beginning to grow.

“You inviting me to stay?”

The question seems to shake Matt out of his stupor as he finally seems to realize he was staring and blinks up at Theo.

“Only if you want. I don’t want to hold you hostage or anything,” he jokes with a sheepish grin.

Theo finds himself letting out a low chuckle, humoring his neighbor as he takes a seat next to him, his shirt and towel all but forgotten in a heap on the floor.

“I’ll order us a pizza. Least I can do since you let me rack up your water bill.”

Mattheo knew that he was going crazy. He'd accepted it really because every time he closed his eyes, visions of his shirtless neighbor eating pizza on his couch and laughing at his bad jokes flooded his mind. It was like the images were burned into the back of his eyelids.

This however, was an entirely new level of insanity, even for him. See it started simple enough, Theo had caught up to him in the parking lot and walked into the building with him. Only when Mattheo had gotten to his door, he'd reached into his jacket pocket for his key only to come up completely empty.

His frantic search had apparently caught Theo's attention because his neighbor had turned towards him, head tilted in that annoyingly sweet way and asked if he'd forgotten his key. And then of course his neighbor had to be all benevolent and chivalrous and offer to let Mattheo stay over in his apartment because the office was closed and calling a locksmith would be annoying and expensive. And how could Mattheo possibly say no when Theo was looking at him with eyes like that?

Mattheo was just about to bashfully accept the offer when his hands slid into the back pockets of his jeans, fingertips grazing across the cool, hard metal of his key. Clutching his fist, he shoves the key deeper into his pocket before following Theo into his apartment.

And now here he sat on Theo's pristine leather sofa eating Chinese takeout while being hyper aware of how often Theo's knee was knocking into his own.

"I can grab you a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans," Theo is saying, breaking Mattheo out of his thoughts.

"Sorry?" Mattheo mumbles, clearly having not been paying attention to Theo.

Theo just laughs though, setting down his box of noodles.

"I was saying that you could borrow a pair of shorts or something so you don't have to sleep in jeans. Unless you like sleeping in denim of course."

"No, no, that would be great, thanks," Mattheo replies quickly, shoving another bite of eggroll into his mouth before he could say anything else stupid.

Theo lets out another soft laugh, his head shaking slightly as he gets up and disappears into what Mattheo would assume to be the bedroom. He reemerges just moments later with a pair of black athletic shorts, tossing them onto the couch next to Mattheo.

“I’ll find a movie or something to watch if you want to get changed. Bathroom’s over there,” Theo tells him.

It only takes Mattheo a minute or two to change and settle his heart rate before he re-emerges, settling back down on the couch. He knows he must look stiff as a board sitting there, but he can’t not focus on the way Theo’s eyes flicker as he watches the television, or the way his arm is slung casually across the back of the sofa, his hand mere centimeters away from the back of Mattheo’s head.

Mattheo could not tell someone a single plot point of the movie they’d just watched by the time the screen goes dark. He was far too busy over thinking. Too busy in fact that he barely hears Theo announce that he’s going to run to the bathroom.

“Hey, you left your jeans in the bathroom,” Theo calls out as he opens the door.

As he goes to toss the crumpled pile of fabric, to Mattheo’s absolute horror, a gleam of metal shines through the air before clattering onto the floor. Two pairs of eyes lock onto the familiar looking metal key. Mattheo lets out a nervous laugh.

"It was in there all along?" he chuckles, decently sure that there was fear written across his face.

But Theo just raises an eyebrow, a smile growing on his lips.

"Yeah, you know that's crazy. I'm sure you didn't just happen to forget it was there so you'd have an excuse to hang out with me," he replies cockily, inching towards Mattheo like a lion hunting its prey.

Mattheo gulps.

"Nah. No. That would be crazy," Mattheo laughs.

Theo is directly in front of him now, bent down to look him straight in the eyes.

"Crazy like pretending the water is out in your apartment so that you can use your hot neighbor's shower instead?" he asks.

Mattheo can feel his eyes widen slightly at the implication, his mouth opening and closing like a fish as he searches for words.

"I have never baked cookies before in my life. Also, that day you gave me a ride to the store, it was just my spark plug that was loose. I could have fixed it in two seconds," he blurts out.

Theo is laughing now, collapsed on the sofa beside him as Mattheo also lets out a loud laugh, the insanity of it all finally crashing down on the both of them.

"That actually feels really good to have off my chest," Mattheo says once they'd both calmed down.

His head is resting against Theo's shoulder and his hand is entrapped between Theo's fingers.

"I hope you know I think you're a psychopath," Theo says, though there's no real bite to his words.

Mattheo just snorts in response.

"Oh you're one to talk. By the way, who the hell answers the door half bloody naked? What was that about?" he asks.

"I was excited to see you," Theo defends.

Mattheo can hear the sheepish smile in his voice as he tilts his head to rest on top of Mattheo's and it's quiet for a moment.

"So does this mean I can convince you to sleep in the bedroom tonight instead of on the couch?" Theo asks.

"Won't take a lot of convincing," Mattheo replies.

A silly little idiots-in-love piece that’s completely unserious because I can’t get these two dorks out of my head🤪

[bubybubsters]

tips on how to write a personal statement?

esp for university apps or internships pls

[wreckofawriter]

better

pairing: regulus black x evans!reader

word count: 3.3k

warnings: swearing, angst, make out scene

request by: @upchurch-funk

summary: being a muggleborn dating Regulus meant you had to keep it a secret. When your older sister finds out she raises fear of heartbreak in both of you

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

    You and your sisters had been born jealous. Petunia turned to envy first as the attention that had been solely given to her was split between two other daughters. She had always been bitter towards you and Lily, never forgiving you for interpreting her perfect young life.  She had taken your things, broken your toys and ripped your clothes trying to punish you for being born and turning her from an only child to the eldest.

    Lily was next when she realised she wasn't the only one who could sprout fire from her fingertips. She had accused you of faking your magic for years, doing everything she could to best you even if she never fully understood her powers herself. Luckily she outgrew this jealous fit and by the time you shared a cabin on your way to Hogwarts she was beaming ear to ear. 

    It was you who was last to realise what the burn in your chest really meant. The feeling came heavy like thick rain drops as you watched your sister fall so effortlessly in love. Each time she gave James a quick hug or leaned onto his shoulder your eyes narrowed, fury irrationally rising in your throat. 

    This wasn’t because you wished James was yours instead. In fact you had considered him an idiot since you met him and would have rather drown yourself than date the loud mouth fool. You were instead jealous of the simplicity of their relationship. Envious of how they could be carefree, how they could dream of picket fences and happy futures. You hated that they could still be stupid kids. How they were given the freedom to make out in hallways and sneak into eachothers dorms with their worst consequence being a slap on the wrist and week of detention. Nothing hurt more than watching your sister live a simple life you knew you never could. 

    You stared across the room locking eyes with Regulus for only a brief moment before his darted away. Charms was dreadfully boring, the lecture practically putting you to sleep, you knew you should have been paying attention, but watching the younger Black perform the spell with ease was far more interesting. The flick of his wrist was an addicting, dull look in his eyes far more attractive than it should have been. He had woken up late that morning, his hair messier than usual. You thought it looked adorable, the way a few strands drooped in front of his lashes. He only got cuter as he blew them from his face with a pout. 

    “You have a staring problem.” Levi muttered from beside you. 

    You rolled your eyes, “Do you ever mind your own business?” 

    “Please, you make your thing for Black everyone's business.” He muttered and you kicked him under the desk. 

    Cussing at you he glared, leaning down to massage his bruising shin. 

    You wondered briefly how he would have reacted to the reveal of your relationship with your “hopeless crush” as he liked to call it. The surprise on his face would have been sweet as honey. 

    Regulus was watching you now as you continued to talk to your desk mate, he had never liked the boy, call it jealousy or anger, something bitter always rose in his throat when he saw you with him. Maybe it was because he knew your life would be so much easier if you had loved him instead. 

    “I don’t get what you see in him anyway.” Levi said, looking across at Regulus whose eyes had quickly retreated back to his parchment. 

    You grew brittle at the statement.

    “I mean I know he's attractive but if it's really about looks why not go for his brother?” He grumbled.

    You scoffed, “Please, Sirius is a piece of work.” 

    “And he isn't? I’m surprised he hasn’t called you a slur yet.” 

    Rage bubbled in your stomach, your chest feeling hot, “Shut up.” 

    Levi was either oblivious to the anger set in your tone or unbothered by it “I mean really y/n, you have a crush on a purist? It's sickening.” 

    You screwed your eyes shut in an attempt to stop the hot tears building behind them. You wanted to scream at him, slap him across the face and shout how Regulus would never do such a thing. You wanted to tell him how wrong he was, make him regret ever speaking such cold words.  But instead you looked away, wiping your tears as they came while your boyfriend sat across the room pretending you didn't exist. 

   

    You were used to it, you knew as a muggleborn dating a pureblood from a family like his would never be easy but the words still stung. That night you sobbed into Regulus’s chest as he held you in your usual hidden courtyard. 

    As your tears soaked through his sweater he felt nothing but the cold grip of guilt. He had never meant to fall in love. He had known it was a mistake the second it had happened. Even now he knew he had been wrong and stupid and naive to let himself feel so deeply for someone he could never truly be with. He would never forgive himself for forcing you into the hellish life he lived with a simple confession. He hated himself every day for it, he didn't deserve to indulge in his emotions knowing it would cause you nothing but pain. He didn't deserve you and he had known that from the start. 

    Yet every night you met, kissing under the pale moon until your lips grew numb. Everynight he found himself falling deeper and deeper into you until you filled his dreams and nightmares alike. So he forced you closer to him, knowing he would cause nothing but hurt. And you were so childishly in love you let him. 

    Later as you lay asleep on his chest, legs tangled beneath a blanket he let his own tears go, silent apologies dripping down his cheek as he tightened his grip on your waist. 

    Lily watched you from where she sat at her table, green eyes narrowed as she tried to read your mind across the dining hall. 

    “Something is definitely off.” She mumbled turning to James who stared at her with a  dopey grin. “You haven’t been listening to a word I said have you?” 

    “How can I when you’re so beautiful?” He murmured back and she scoffed, face darkening.

    Sirius gagged, “You guys are disgusting.” 

    “Christ Black, how old are you?” Lily spoke with the roll of her eyes. 

    He scrunched his nose and pretended to mock her silently only earning a sigh from Remus who sat beside him. 

    “Something is wrong with y/n, I can just feel it.” Lily continued content on ignoring Sirius. 

    “Maybe she's dating that Callahan kid.” James offered. “There’s been tons of rumors.”

    Lily scoffed, “Please, she has told me multiple times she has absolutely no interest in him.” 

    “A few months ago you were telling her you had absolutely no interest in James.” Remus offered not to look up from his book.

    Lily sputtered blushing heavily again, “That is completely different.” 

    “Sure it is.” Remus drawled, eyes peering over the cover at her. 

    Lily furrowed her brow, “But why wouldn’t she tell me? I mean I thought we've always been close.” 

    “Maybe it's not that serious.” Sirius shrugged, “Maybe they’re just fuck buddies or something.”

    Lily pulled back in disgust, “Don’t talk about my little sister like that!” she hissed as Remus kicked him under the table.

    “What? She’s almost 17! It's not like she's 12 or something, Godric.” Sirius complained and James threw a spoon at him. 

    “You know if you’re really that curious we could always just check the map.” James said looking over at Lily who was trying to set Sirius on fire with her glare. 

    She considered it for a moment, “Isn’t that kind of..” she paused “intrusive?” 

    He shrugged, “She's your little sister.” 

    The sky was dark that night as you met with Regulus. The moon was new leaving only the blinking stars to light the ground beneath you. 

    You grinned when you saw Regulus leaning against the small statue in the middle of the courtyard. You quickened your pace pulling him into a brief kiss as you met.

    “Hi.” You whispered against his lips and you felt him smile.

    “Hi.” He responded, hands on your waist pulling you closer once again. 

You tasted sweet like the nectar of the gods, soft and tender in his arms. Your hair smelt of pomegranate, your flowery perfume engulfing him. There was nothing more addicting on this world than your lips. 

You both pulled away breathless and grinning stupidly, “Your hair looks so cute like this.” You mumbled running your hands through it and tugging lightly on a curly lock that had fallen down his forehead. 

Regulus practically purred, melting into your touch. He dipped his head low to hide his blush, lips skimming the skin of your neck. 

You giggled as he mumbled a bashful thank you before nipping slightly below your ear. He was always careful to never leave marks that could be seen the following day. You wished he wasn’t. 

You felt his hands on the back of your thighs lifting you off the ground. You wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your nose in his hair as he walked until your back hit the wall of the castle. You scratched your nails lightly against his scalp and Regulus groaned. You gasped at the feeling of his tongue on your jaw as he pressed you further into the stone. Your legs now wrapped around his waist as he left sloppy kisses on your collar bone. 

It was then you heard the shuffle of footsteps. 

“Regulus.” You whispered and he broke away to look up at you, his lips red and glossy , “I heard someone.” 

He slowly lowered you to your feet, “You sure?” 

You nodded and you both stood silently, ears craning for another sign of life among you. After a minute you sighed, “Sorry, I must have been hearing things.” 

Regulus just shook his head grinning lightly, “ ‘s fine babe.” words slurring, intoxicated by your taste. 

Your lips reconnected, his teeth grazing your bottom lip as you began to work on the buttons of his shirt, tugging on his tie to loosen its knot. But there it was again the soft sound of feet, closer this time. 

You both paused Regulus pulling away leaving your skin feeling cold in his absence. 

“Who’s there?” He demanded into the darkness, wand lit. 

There was no response and you grabbed his hand to pull him back to you. Regulus stood his ground so you leaned into him, lips ghosting against his ear. 

“It's probably just a mouse or somethin’.” You murmured hands coming back to undo the remaining buttons of his shirt.

Regulus glanced around once more before looking down at you, “You’re probably right.”  he said before he began to untuck your blouse, hands sliding slowly under it. 

It was that which finally broke Lily, her vision going red. She stepped from beneath the invisibility cloak ignoring James' protests. 

You let out a small yelp as your sister appeared from thin air, Regulus who had his back turned to her immediately drew his wand pushing you lightly behind him. His eyes went wide as he found himself inches from your older sister. It was your turn to pull Regulus behind you. 

“Lily, What in bloody hell are you doing here?” 

When James sheepishly appeared as well you gasped, “What is wrong with you both, are you stalking me?” 

Lily looked stern, her arms crossed, “Why are you with him?” she seethed.

Your eyes narrowed, “None of your fucking buissnes. Now take your dog and leave.” 

Regulus almost didn't believe it was you that was talking. He wasn’t accustomed to the harsh tone you used, your anger hardly ever directed at him. 

“This is most certainly my business!” She spoke shrilly. 

“It is most certainly not. Now get out.” You shouted.

“How can you expect me to leave when you're getting all touchy feely with a purist?” She hissed, grabbing at your wrist to pull you away from the boy behind you.    You slapped her away so hard the sound echoed off the walls, “Call him that again around me and you’ll fucking regret it.” You growled. 

Lily stepped back surprised by your sudden aggression but not backing down, “Please y/n, I’m just calling it as it. The sooner you realise that the better.” 

Regulus felt his throat tighten as he listened, teeth biting into his lip as he had nowhere to look but his feet. 

    You stepped closer to your sister inches from her face, “Leave.” your voice struck heavy. 

    Lily responded just as harshly, “No.” 

    James shifted behind his girlfriend feeling like he was intruding on the fight which was taking place. Sensing his awkwardness you looked back at him with a searing gaze. 

    “Get out Potter, you have no place here.” You spat.

    He was planning on shuffling away when Lily turned back to him angrily, “No James stay.” 

You scoffed as he did as he was told, “Fucking pet.” 

“Don’t speak to him like that.” Lily scolded. 

“You're the one who's calling my boyfriend a purist.” You growled your mouth bitter at the taste of hypocrisy.

“Because he is one!” She bit back. “You really think he actually loves you after being raised how he was? With a mother like his?” 

Regulus felt like he had been slapped, his cheek stinging as the older girl spoke. 

 “Don’t you dare bring up his mother.”  You were shaking with rage by now, your face streaked with angry tears, “And how dare you speak ill of Regulus simply because of his upbringing as if his brother isn't one of your closest friends. How do you think Sirius would feel hearing what you just said?” 

This took Lily back a step, her rage cooling a bit as she realised her mistake, “It’s different,” She tried to recover, “He isn't with his family anymore. Sirius has already broken away from them. He made the choice any good person would.” 

Regulus felt her eyes on him as she spoke. She was no longer interested in her sister and instead focused on him. He felt like he was choking under the pressure of her stare. When he glanced up to meet her gaze he inhaled sharply. He hadn’t seen such hatred in a long time.

Your lashes were thick with tears by now, disgust and fury morphing your face, “Go fuck yourself Lily.” You spat.

She ignored you, gaze locked on Regulus, she had no intention of speaking to you anymore, “You stay away from her.” she demanded, “If you truly love her you stay away from her.”

You shouted lunging forwards and shoving your sister backwards. She stumbled back catching herself. 

It was you who fell, your feet tangling, forcing you to the ground. You hit hard, hands and knees scraping against stones and moss which made up the floor. You couldn’t find it in you to stand up simply letting exhaustion and misery take you where you lay. You shook with sobs, voice cracked and raw. Lily immediately dropped beside you, hands circling your neck as she drew you into a hug. You fought her as you always did but she held on, letting you beat her chest with your fists until you stilled.

Regulus took a step forward but was stopped by your sister whose glare told him everything he needed to know. Tears pricking his own eyes he stumbled past the two of you and disappeared into the darkness of the dungeons. He didn't hear James shout for him over the sound of the ring in his ears. He wasn’t sure where he ended up, somewhere deep in the depths of the sprawling castle, dust coated the staircase he collapsed onto. Only there did he let himself cry, choking sobs rubbing his throat raw as he looked for someone to blame. His mother for forcing him into the terrifying world of dark magic? His brother for abandoning him in his abusive home? Or your sister for pointing out the truth he prayed you would never see? Regulus wished he could pass the blame off to anyone but he wasn’t stupid, he knew he had no one to hate but himself. 

Regulus disappeared entirely for three days. Three days you spent desperately avoiding your sister who seemed just as adamant to talk to you again. You skipped meals opting for hunger instead risking meeting her in the hall. She would show up outside your classes forcing you to scramble out the back way or sprint away like a child running from punishment. 

On the fourth day of your boyfriend's absence you felt yourself beginning to panic. Fear of him never returning, filling your head with irrational thoughts. It wasn’t like you could ask around for him, your relationship needed to remain secret despite the difficulties you were facing. It was then Lily cornered you. 

You stared at the redhead as she blocked your only exit. “Lily, move.” You sighed exhausted by the past few days, sleepless nights not improving your condition. 

She didn't listen, “Y/n we need to talk.” 

"About what?" You scoffed, "I have nothing to say to you.” 

“I just want you to understand why I,” She paused, “Why I said what I did.” 

“I don't care why you said it Lily.” You said, “I don’t care if you think you were protecting me or saving me from some hopeless relationship. I honestly don’t care.” 

Her eyes swelled, “How can you say that? How can you not care? I love you y/n I just want you to be safe.” 

You stared at her, “I just don’t understand why you couldn’t just let me be happy.”

“He’s dangerous.” 

You shook your head, “No, his family is dangerous. His situation is dangerous. He’s not.” 

“Y/n please.” She begged, for what you did not know. 

“Just stay out of my shit Lily.” you mumbled pushing past her and back into the hallway. 

You spent the night where you always had, the small courtyard hidden between two towers of the castle, a statue of a woman draped in vines and flowers at its center. The moon was a small sliver, a dusting of clouds blocking the stars from your view. The shuffle of footsteps brought your eyes from the ground. 

There stood Regulus, his face shining in the pale light. His hands were stuffed in his pockets, nose pointed at the floor as he refused to meet your gaze. 

You stood quickly throwing your hands around his neck. He leaned into your touch burying his head into your shoulder as his hands found your waist. 

You smelled delightful as always, your lips soft against his cheek and hands in his hair. Regulus hadn’t realized he was crying until you began to comfort him. Sweet words whispered into his ear as you only held him tighter. 

“She’s right, you know.” He croaked, lifting his head to look at you. “You shouldn’t be around me.” 

You shook your head feverishly, “You’re wrong Reggy.”

“I don’t deserve you y/n, I don’t deserve to be with you.” He sobbed, “I could never deserve you.” 

“You’re right, love.” You mumbled, smiling through the tears that coated your cheeks, “You deserve so much better.” 

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

taglist:@accio-rogers @roslea @k3nz-doodl3 @theseuscmander @sleepingalaska @chloe-geoghegan1 @coldlilheart @suseptiable-bur-siriusexual @the-natureofme @trickylittlewitch @layaa-layaaa @rosieweasleyy @dracosgoodgirl @inglourious-imagines @princess-jules47 @daedreamss @d22malfoys

navi

[maased-out]

Hi everyone! Get ready for another year of SJM fun! Below, you'll find a list of events for 2026.

NOTE: These events are meant to foster positivity within their respective fandoms. Negativity towards any specific event is not welcome.

NOTE: If you would like your event to be included on the maased-out calendar, please click here. We do not respond to asks/comments left on this blog.

January:

February:

SJM Romance Week (February 8- February 14)

March:

Elain Week (March 1- March 7)

Nyxlin Week (March 16- March 21)

Beron Vanserra Weekend (March 20- March 22)

April

Poly+ SJM Week (April 5-April 11)

Tamlin Week (April 12- April 18)

Nesta Archeron Week (April 19- April 25th)

Rhys Week (April 25- May 2)

May:

Elriel Month (May 1 - May 30)

Emerie Week (May 10- May 14)

June:

Azris Week (June 7- June 13)

Gwyn Week (June 15- June 19)

July:

Elucien week (July 16- July 22)

Cassian Week (July 19- July 25)

August:

Gwynriel Weeks (August 9- August 22)

Elain Archeron Appreciation Week(August 30- September 5)

September

Eris Vanserra Week (September 13- September 19)

Nessian Week (September 20- September 27)

October

Feysand Week (October 11- October 17)

Acotar Omegaverse Week (October 25- October 31)

Valkyrie Week (October 26- October 30)

November

Azriel Appreciation Week (November 8- November 14)

Lucien Week (November 16- November 22)

December

[fckmyylife]

unspoken rules | 16

(Itoshi Sae x female reader)

Switching from one job to another as a maid wasn't easy when you had no home to go back to and your many bad experiences with previous employers. Somehow, you'd ended up as the maid for Itoshi Sae, a famous footballer. He was back in Japan to train for an upcoming match and needed someone to take care of things at his estate. You kept things in order as best as you could, in fear of his intimidating presence. As a few mishaps occur here and there, you're convinced Sae despises you even more - but he doesn't fire you, for some reason.

• shy reader, angst, anxiety/worrying, intimidation, hurt/comfort, Itoshi Sae is bad at feelings. inspired by this story!

previous | masterlist | read on ao3 | taglist + rules

comments & tags are appreciated!

check out my edit of the fic!

SAE'S POV

Sae's thumb dropped from your lip, almost inching back to reality. He was still under the haze of you, although it came to him that he'd been intense for what seemed to be your first kiss.

If he wasn't your first, then he hoped whichever man who was lucky enough to catch your interest was someone better than him.

Hands released from his hair and shoulder as you caught your breath. Sae had half a mind to not ask you to put them back. He didn't move and neither did you, despite the absence of physical contact from just seconds ago.

He didn't doubt his lips were pinker now; unintentionally a mark of your territory on both his mouth and heart. He felt the same heartbeat in his lips that he'd felt on yours, if not harder.

After all, Itoshi Sae was just a man.

He'd attempted to stomp on the small flame that had lit between the two of you, but it exploded and he couldn't avoid it any longer.

"So, I'm fired?" you asked, voice slightly hoarse.

He felt another small smile on his face, a rarity for Sae. "I hope you don't put that on your resume."

Despite his relief that you didn't regret the kiss, Sae also felt trepidation upon finding out you'd been upset from missing your interview.

If only he'd taken the time to master the art of speaking to you, just like he did to be a footballer, then perhaps he would have extinguished his reticence ages ago.

Sae kept everyone at arm's length, with the world in his palm. Yet, your feelings were out of reach and he found himself wanting and wanting like a spoiled child.

"What about you, Sae?" you murmured, breaking him away from his discernment. "What are your plans here?"

He blinked away from your lips. "I'm going to be a mentor at Blue Lock."

Your irises widened, and Sae found himself glancing to the headboard behind you for a moment.

Of course, you were beautiful. That was a fact ever since the day he'd come home and you'd been there at the door for the first time. Impossibly, you were even more beautiful after he'd kissed you.

"Oh, wow," you replied. "How did that come about?"

"Ego-san and I are similar," Sae spoke. It wasn't a difficult role for him to get. Blue Lock was a concept that interested Sae, as well as Rin in the program - which had made Sae stay in Japan in the first place.

With Sae's input and after Blue Lock had won against the U-20s, perhaps there was hope for Japanese soccer. Teaming up with Ego seemed to be right since they both had connections outside of Japan.

You gave a nod. "Is…that where you've been lately?"

The hesitation in your gentle voice sped Sae's heart with guilt, so suddenly that he didn't believe his body to be capable.

Your presence became his comfort before he'd realized it, especially since Spain where the two of you spoke more. Yet, he'd taken advantage of your presence by not telling you anything at all, because of his insecurity that you'd leave him.

But, somehow…

I lied too.

I have a reason. It's all you.

"Yes," he answered, attempting to ignore the wound of guilt in his chest.

"What about…ReAl Madrid?" you added, quietly. "How long will you be a mentor?"

Sae's teal eyes trailed off in thought. He didn't worry too much, neither did ReAl Madrid.

He'd talked things out with his ReAl Madrid manager over the phone, who thought it was a good idea for Sae to become a mentor at Blue Lock.

He'd never taken a break from playing football, but he'd step back from the stage to ensure the spotlight was on Rin. Sae didn't doubt his own abilities, nor did he believe they would diminish, especially if he was still working within football.

He simply knew his own limits, which was why he could no longer become a striker, as much as Rin still hated the idea.

"It'll always be an option for me to return. Just not now," he answered. "In a few years. In the meantime, I'll be at Blue Lock for as long as Ego-san wants me."

Rin pushed Sae back to Japan, but you held him down like quicksand. He wondered how you'd learned to read people, or if it was simply that you were more complicated yourself - that others seemed translucent.

"I see. What will you be doing as a mentor?" you asked.

"Train the players, test and rank them with Ego-san. I'll be more involved in their training than he is," he spoke with a nod.

"And, what about you?" he added. Your brows lifted at the question. "Whatever plans you wish to make, it's up to you now."

"What do you mean?" you questioned.

"If you want to live elsewhere or find another job, I'll help you. Nothing is stopping you anymore," he began. He understood if you didn't want to live with him, if you wouldn't be working here anymore - he could just only hope you'd stay in contact. "If you want to do nothing, that is fine."

"But I'm already fired…" you mumbled, puzzled at his words.

"I mean, change career," he clarified.

He didn't want you to return to this field of work if you felt you had no choice.If it were entirely up to him, he'd want you to rest here for almost forever to make up for all the rest you'd missed from working.

At the beginning, you must have feared that he was the same as the men from your previous jobs. The ones that didn't separate you from a piece of meat.

You blinked, confused at his words.

Were you so accustomed to working as a maid, or was the thought of leaving here so absurd?

The latter felt like Sae's pipe dream, but it was clear the former weighed down your options.

He'd had it easy and he never realized just how much. It seemed that you weren't given the opportunity to even find what you enjoyed, let alone how Sae had made a successful career from football after being scouted when he was thirteen.

"You don't need to answer now," he said, glancing to the duvet.

"But…what happens to me now?" you whispered, hopelessness glimmering in your eyes. He only wished he had the answers to the future for you.

"No work here. Aside from that, whatever you want. You can stay here and take your time."

Your expression flashed with bewilderment.

Sae wished he could reach out and smooth the worry from your face, but he kept his hands in front of him.

All he wanted to give you was choice, which is what he failed to do from the beginning.

"But I…have nothing," you repeated the words from before he'd kissed you. You let out a small breath, looking all the more perplexed. "Nothing to give you, Sae."

"I'm not here to exchange with you," he responded.

There was nothing you needed to give him.

The words hung over him like a cloud, falling into silence again. Sae considered if it was time to leave you for the night. The tea he'd brought you still lingered with steam, and you hadn't drank much yet.

You didn't seem to have been settling to sleep when he'd walked in with the tea, nor was it late, but you must've felt overwhelmed from his words regarding your future and…the kiss.

"Sae," you said, surprising him that you'd broken the silence again.

"Hm?"

Your eyes flickered to the copy of North & South he'd moved aside, when he told you he would stay in Japan forever.

"May you read to me?"

YOUR POV

You surprised yourself with the request, but not as much as how Sae offered to go in his room again.

He'd even said you were free to go in his room whenever you wished, for however long you wanted. You almost got whiplash at how opposite things were from just months ago.

He sat at the end of his bed, North & South in his lap. His deep voice read long sentences of heavy text with effortless ease.

It was the most you'd ever heard him speak. His tone ever so slightly inflected for dialogue, but only in a way where you'd notice. He definitely wouldn't be favored by literature teachers with his lack of emotion, but it made you smile at how he tried to make it somewhat clear when characters spoke.

He was sat in the same place you were the other night, before you'd both ended up in your "almost kiss".

You, on the other hand, were currently sat on his window seat to avoid spilling the half-drunken cup of tea all over his bed. The coral peony candles flickered from the unlit fireplace beside you.

With the distance, it could not have been obvious that you'd kissed earlier on. The space was enough coexistence to let a thought intrude into your mind.

For the first time, you would need to pull yourself from the state of inertia.

You wanted to stay at the estate with Sae; that was nothing new to you. But if you were fired and you finally had a place to live, what would you do with yourself now?

There was a place that you could eventually call home, and that alone was a lot to comprehend. Continuing to work as a maid elsewhere didn't seem right for you anymore, as foreign as that concept seemed. You didn't have a barrier between life and work ever since you started in his line of work.

"Is it too much so far?" asked Sae, referring to the book.

He must have noticed your blank gaze while your thoughts wandered off. He'd been reading for about fifteen minutes so far.

The chapters of North & South were long, with even longer sentences, that there was enough room for your mind to partly drift. Still, you could deduce conversations and slow plot that was happening.

You shook your head, glancing to your now empty cup. "No, sorry."

He paused, before closing the book. "My throat is getting dry."

He stood from the bed to take a sip of water. It gave you a moment to collect yourself, before he sat back down.

"What are you thinking?"

"Just…about what I should do," you answered, honestly. "How did you decide to become a mentor at Blue Lock?"

The sleeves of his white shirt slightly crinkled as he folded his arms, considering your words. "I missed a lot of Rin's life. That was all I thought."

You tried to apply something similar to your life - but you couldn't think of anything. You had no one like a sibling or family.

He must have noticed your difficulty, adding, "It's different for everyone."

Regardless, you were relieved Sae went to this extent of making amends with Rin.

The day Sae found out you'd involved yourself into his and Rin's business, you felt like you'd destroyed something you weren't supposed to even know. You'd wondered into his private garden and trampled over beds of flowers.

You sighed and nodded, wrapping a hand around the empty mug tightly, like it kept you grounded to the earth. "I'm just not used to having time."

He shifted slightly, but he didn't pick the book back up, continuing to glance at you from the bed.

"May I ask about," he hesitated, which wasn't common for Sae whose words were typically unapologetic, "your life before?"

For once, you didn't feel the nerves bubbling in your stomach, or the erratic beat of your heart at the mention - because you felt there was nothing to fear in telling him.

"The orphanage was really fine and normal. Nothing bad happened," you answered quietly.

It was an orphanage in a small, rural village. Daily life there was simply fine, the staff were normal. They never had much money to take the children out often, but you had fond memories of your first trip to the beach when you were six, or visiting a farm and petting cows.

You couldn't help but look back on the orphanage as a place where everyone filled a role. Perhaps it was because of how quickly you'd gone into full-time housekeeping work to support yourself that you noticed it. The staff who looked after the children as their day job, and the children who attempted to enjoy their childhood.

You, on the other hand, had no role. Since you were a little girl, you'd felt you were nothing, not even a spec of dust.

"And after?" he asked.

"I found a job for housekeeping with boarding," you began, throat drying while you recalled how it all started. "Each job let me go, so I always ended up moving around to the next one."

"That's why you thought I'd let you go?" he asked, putting pieces together. You nodded.

The tentativeness of his words made you feel both humongous and small, that he'd continue to remember instances of your worries.

You weren't sure if he was referring to recently, with him almost moving to Spain, or the other times you'd worried about things that were trivial to you now - like breaking the china cup.

Back then, you couldn't have pictured Sae to be half of what he ostensibly was.

"Was every employer the same?" The baritone interrupted your thoughts of the man in front of you.

You knew what he was referring to. He'd already figured it out without you ever explicitly telling him. You'd wondered if you'd been obvious, or if it was common enough for men to act in such a way with young female employees.

"Almost," you mumbled.

You only had a few good employers of elderly couples, but those jobs were always temporary and short. They needed assistance due to their health. You'd filled in the role of their usual housekeepers who were on leave, making you envious that the other housekeeper had kind and normal employers. Their duties followed a routine that was to make their lives easier, not to humiliate you.

You felt like you were helping them, instead of being a trophy of status for rich men.

"Did they…."

You shifted against the window seat, feeling the cold of the window against your back despite the small curtain behind you. "They didn't do anything to me. Not…anything physical."

Sae lightly rubbed at his forearms, while his eyes narrowed.

"But they said things, didn't they?" His tone was not short of revulsion.

"If I'd stayed any longer, it could have escalated further," you added, your words indirectly answering his question.

It was a thought you'd never voiced, not even in the space of your own mind.

In a way, the reasons and situations why previous employers let you go were a blessing in disguise, like bankruptcy or divorce. You hoped they stayed that way forever, so they would never have the means to hire another young girl to bother again. You hoped you were the last.

"I can't imagine," he muttered.

Sae was at a loss for words, without a solution. The events had passed and you were left with mental scars that were healing with time here.

SAE'S POV

When Sae was around a lot of green grass, he tended to be taken away.

Since he was a child, he was in his element. He'd had the grass to hold onto when he'd left for Spain at thirteen, or the first night he'd returned to Japan and rejected Rin as his brother.

Now, as he stepped beside Rin in the school field, the grass did nothing to keep Sae grounded. He was hyperaware of every leaf that crunched under his shoe or every sniff from Rin's nose.

It was the same school field they'd played in as children and teenagers. Sae played football, with an even younger Rin adorably playing with his toys behind the net. Rin soon switched toys for footballs, as soon as he watched Sae play.

If only Sae hadn't made Rin grow up so quickly, perhaps Sae would still see the same light in his eyes from when they'd played soccer together.

His magenta hair blew in all directions of the winter wind, as did Rin's dark hair. They slowly strolled along the outskirts of the field through the wind, both in winter coats with their faces freezing.

The artificial grass for soccer behind the net was occupied by a group of young teenage boys. Some wore blue jerseys and some wore red ones to establish two teams.

The game gave Sae something else to look at, in attempt to get used to how his brother was back by his side again, with his increased height.

"I wanted to tell you. Before you go back to Blue Lock," Sae spoke, over the wind that he almost wished blared more, so he wouldn't have to talk. Sae never felt he had to talk, and maybe that was his problem.

He'd visited their family's home earlier on to tell Rin that he'd be a mentor at Blue Lock, before Sae invited him for a walk.

They walked to where their feet led their bodies, ending up at the soccer field they'd spent their childhood in. Pass the convenience store and along the bridge where the sun used to shine; when the days had a feeble grasp on the summer's warmth.

They didn't get ice lollies to see who'd won another free one like they'd used to, with how cold it was. Rin always won and Sae always sulked by telling him he was wasting his luck on something trivial.

If Sae was going to be a better brother, it was right to do things clearly. He didn't want Rin to think that he was mentoring at Blue Lock as a threat or taunt, or to let him find out Sae was a mentor without even telling him beforehand.

Sae had already joined the U-20s for the game against Blue Lock and stayed back in Japan without telling Rin personally.

Still, Sae didn't miss the confusion on Rin's face when he'd told him about Blue Lock. He didn't doubt the younger was contemplating if this was another test.

Sae figured he'd ease Rin's mind slightly by going on a walk, but he wasn't sure if memories of the field would make things better.

Rin gave a nod, keeping his head forward. "I hope you like it, Nii-chan."

"You should get to know the other players, since I'm going to be mentoring everyone," Sae spoke. He stepped on another leaf, but its crunch wasn't as satisfying as he expected.

The trees at the edge of the field were bare, branches blowing in the wind with stray leaves on the slightly muddy grass. He wondered what you were up to at home, or if you'd gone out in this cold.

You were relaxing in the living room when he'd told you he was going to visit Rin. You were finally using other rooms in the house, instead of just the kitchen and your room, now that you were officially fired. Sae hoped you utilized the library more, at least.

Days had passed since the kiss. You hadn't done it again, even if Sae wondered day and night about what your next kiss would be like. He would slap himself if he was as impulsive as he'd been against your lips the first time.

Things had warmed up between you two. He spent the days with you, since Sae hadn't began mentoring at Blue Lock yet and the players were still on break. He'd now completed all preparations for his new role, but he wouldn't join until the program reached a new phase.

Before going to Spain with you, it was normal for him to be out all day when he trained with the U-20s. But after Spain, he'd grown addicted to your presence and attention, and wondered how he'd gone without it. He gotten withdrawals since you'd both returned to Tokyo, when he'd been out for most of the day to arrange for his new role at Blue Lock.

"What do you mean?" asked Rin.

"They're only a threat on the field," Sae responded, but he knew he didn't take his own advice.

He never saw anyone from the U-20s as a threat - one would be foolish to do so - but he'd never bonded with them because they were simply unlikeable to him. Hell, he'd even had contracts to cooperate with them; the ones you'd retrieved and brought to the training grounds when a fight was about to break out with Aiku.

Rin lightly scoffed. "You sound like Isagi Yoichi now."

"If he wants to talk to you, then you should."

"Yeah, right," Rin muttered.

"Is there anyone you like?" Sae asked. Had he rubbed on his brother this much that Rin was also antisocial? Sae didn't recall Rin talking with any of them after the Blue Lock vs U-20s game.

Then again, Sae had acknowledged Isagi Yoichi right to Rin's face just after the game.

Rin slightly sighed, giving it a thought. "There's one with blue hair. He's fine."

"Then talk to him," Sae said.

"You do not like anyone either," Rin pointed out quietly.

"I know."

"Anyone aside from…" Rin trailed off. Sae knew who he was referring to; he did not need to say your name. "Oh, how is she?"

The last time Rin probably heard from you was the day Sae had gotten angry at you for meeting with him. "Better."

Rin simply gave a nod in response.

They'd almost walked a lap around the field. The team of boys wearing blue jerseys had scored two points. Sae wasn't sure which team was in the lead, since the group were there before the brothers had arrived.

"You don't need my permission to talk to her. You still have her number?" asked Sae, and Rin nodded again.

You'd probably be happy to hear from Rin if he contacted you again. Maybe he found it easier with you. Sae didn't blame him.

"What's going on between you two?" asked Rin.

Sae slowed in his footsteps, coming to a stop by the fences. His lips were cold from the wind, while Rin's nose was red. Still, Sae's face wasn't quite frozen enough to hide the shock of the sudden question.

He, himself, didn't know the answer, but he wasn't sure he needed to. He wanted you, and that was all there was to it.

"Shall I tell you?" asked Sae, more of a question to himself. He wouldn't tell Rin details of your past - that would be strange. "If I do, you may hate me again."

After all, when you'd began working for Sae, he'd been the villain in his own story.

Rin shrugged, continuing to slowly walk. "Never did."

Butterflies released in Sae's stomach at the comment, before he began strolling beside Rin again. "You should have."

"You told me the day before you left for Spain, that no one would replace you, Nii-chan," said Rin.

"Stop viewing me as your idol, Rin," Sae replied. Many put Sae on a pedestal. He'd never opened up about his struggles to Rin while he was in Spain, so he must have seemed untouchable - hence why his decision to be a midfielder instead of a striker was sudden to Rin.

"But you were already thinking about your future," Rin responded quietly. "Since we were young."

"I had my limits," Sae said. There wasn't one instance or reason that had caused him to give up the dream of becoming a striker. Sae never felt the difficulties of being a midfielder that most definitely did exist, but he felt it with being a striker. He couldn't settle by coexisting with strikers from different countries that were better than him.

Unlike Rin, he couldn't see himself surpassing them.

A cloud of condensation released in the air from Rin's breath, glancing to the football game behind the net. "I don't believe it to be true. Would you ever try being a striker again?"

Sae inhaled through his mouth, feeling himself wanting to deflect again. He'd wanted you to believe in yourself more and he wanted the same for Rin. But had he been believing in himself, this entire time? Or, had he been pretending to?

"Maybe one day," he muttered.

Rin turned his head to Sae with wide bright eyes, the only vibrant color on the grey day where even the green grass was faded beneath their feet. "Really? That's great, Nii-chan."

Sharing a dream with Rin was all it took to bring the smile back to his face, but it was Sae's responsibility to understand his brother was more important than any dream - a responsibility he had failed.

In Sae's tough love, he showed Rin no love. If Sae hadn't been harsh, there was the possibility that Rin would have never joined Blue Lock. Then again, Rin was always good at soccer, with rage or not. Sae didn't doubt Rin would have gotten scouted somewhere regardless.

Throughout his time with you, Sae learned that nothing was permanent. He'd held onto the fantasy of you for long, ultimately leaving you in the dark of whether he'd stay here or leave for Spain, instead of confronting his feelings.

If nothing was permanent, then neither was his drive to continue to be a midfielder. He'd taught Rin to always want more, while hypocritically not doing the same himself. Maybe Blue Lock would teach Sae things about himself and his own career.

"I don't know what the future holds," Sae responded.

Rin blinked, subsiding the happiness in his expression. "Of course, I'll always look up to you."

Sae's heart thumped behind his coat and he clenched his jaw at how unsteady Rin's words made him feel.

"I'll always be your brother. Everything else is fleeting."

Rin didn't respond and sniffed. For a moment, it sounded like the boy was crying, but in actuality, Rin's nose was still runny.

Sae gave a small tut, slowing in his tracks again.

"Idiot. You didn't being your scarf." He unwrapped the black scarf from around his own neck and looped it snugly around Rin's. He'd just had you ill at home, he couldn't have Rin going back to Blue Lock with a cold too.

Rin's body stilled. Sae avoided his younger brother's shocked gaze that he could be kind.

Rin's eyes trailed to the grass as Sae stepped back, as if it could keep him grounded too. "Weren't you going to tell me about you and her?"

"You really want to know?" Sae raised his brows.

Rin nodded. "I want to know how my brother finally fell in love."

Sae let out a scoff at the word finally, a light smile morphing onto his face because it was true.

You were the forefront of his mind, and now his life. He wanted to step back from himself for a change and perhaps caring for you would make him discover himself too. His feelings for you unfolded without him noticing, until he'd fallen too deep.

"I'll tell you from the beginning."

YOUR POV

"Is there anything you wish to do?" asked Sae, as he flipped through a football magazine. "A trip?"

You were beside him in the living room, North & South between the two of you and in front of the TV playing daytime television quietly in the background. TV was something you were not accustomed to yet, and it didn't cure your boredom as you found nothing you wanted to watch.

Sae wore a white button-up today, with a few undone buttons and his hair down. Strands that usually framed both sides of his forehead fell in a natural short fringe instead. The color was lighter without the dampness of gel to darken his hair into the crimson shade.

Did he say another trip?

You shook your head. "No, that's really okay. I love the house."

"But you're bored," he said, blinking.

If you had other hobbies, you wouldn't be so bored. Or, someone to visit. Sae had gone to see Rin the other day, maybe you could have met up with Aiku.

You still felt guilty for bothering Aiku last time, so maybe you'd message him later on first, to talk over text and see how he was doing before asking to meet up. You wondered how he'd react at the developments between you and Sae, although you hadn't kissed again.

While you were a housekeeper here, you'd been bored enough when it came to cleaning - seeing as how you and Sae barely used the house, but at least you had his meals to cook as a routine.

Now, you lived in the house and simply looked after it, and Sae did the same. You hoovered when it needed it and cleaned up after yourself. You would have done more, but Sae would offer to do it instead or tell you you weren't allowed to work.

You woke up later now which was your favorite change, no longer a walking zombie. Your body ached less with a full night of sleep that didn't require you to wake up as early as Sae used to for training.

Besides, the two of you cooked and ate together now. It was both a drastic and calming change to when you ran out of ideas to cook him, or made sure everything was prepared before his arrival.

"If only the weather wasn't so cold. I'd love to go in the gardens," you said, imagining days where the breeze would smell like flowers.

You loved the winter, but in your current predicament, you were stuck with nothing to do inside.

"The flowers are probably dead. You can plant some more when the time comes," Sae offered. You wondered if he'd tended to them before, if the flowers were dead from the weather, or if he didn't have time for it.

Your brows rose, imaging colorful beds of flowers. "Really?"

"I don't see why not," he nodded. "Do whatever you want with the house and gardens."

"I couldn't…"

He let out a small sigh, closing the magazine, as if it were absurd you still felt this way. "It's worth making this place into a home."

You paused at the words. It was true that nothing in the house, aside from Sae's room, felt lived-in. Lately it began to feel homey. Both of your presence lingered in rooms you were absent in, with your cardigan on the couch, or his books left on the kitchen island.

It made you wonder…

"Sae…" you started.

"Hm," he responded, glancing up from his magazine again.

"I'm actually curious about the house," you started, but you weren't sure what to say. Did he buy it? Have it built? "The entire estate."

He rested his jaw on his hand, the silver watch on his wrist glimmering. "The house was already here, but I had the area built into an estate."

You nodded at the information. "When was that?"

"Few years ago. When I first came back to Spain," he said.

Your eyes traced over his magenta brows, as well as his bright eyes - making sure your curiosity didn't steer him uncomfortable. Nowadays, he was open to answer any of your questions, and you were more relaxed in asking him.

"Did you stay for long?" you asked.

He shook his head. "No. I had no purpose here."

You expected him to talk about the hopelessness of Japanese football. Instead, his answer was more existential than you assumed someone like him would feel.

He must have been around eighteen when he first came back to Spain. You didn't doubt his wealth for the estate had come from his hard work at an early age, since he'd joined ReAl Madrid.

Still, you always thought it was a huge place for one person. That was why you thought Sae must've had a spouse, in the beginning.

"Do you…prefer Spain?" you hesitated, remembering all your observations of how he'd kept himself close to Japanese culture and language, or even the geographical location of his belongings.

You knew the answer was obvious. Yet, you wanted to hear what else he had to say.

"I don't prefer either," he answered deeply, making your brows furrow. "I tried to make myself think I did."

His unexpected answer went against any introspection you had of Sae. Everything he'd said in his interviews about Japanese soccer seemed to be his true belief, but the reality was that he actually did not prefer Spain as a country. Perhaps he preferred neither because they both seemed to carry aspects of himself.

"Why?" you whispered.

"I fell out with Rin on the night I came back from Spain. I told him I didn't want to be a striker anymore," he said, telling you the events Rin had explained to you before. "Then, I stayed in Japan for a while and had the estate made. Living here still seemed pointless, even after that."

Maybe, there was the possibility that Sae wanted to live here with Rin, or that the idea of it would make him feel closer to Rin, than he actually was.

Despite his relaxed posture beside you, with ankles loosely crossed, you didn't miss the flexing of his fingers that rested against his jaw.

"I used to feel like I didn't belong anywhere," you responded, softly. You weren't sure how to comfort his past feelings. They were new to you that you didn't want to overstep.

His head turned, intently. "And now?"

Your gaze trailed to the book between you, instead of remaining on his eyes. "Like you said, it's worth making a home here."

Silence descended upon the room at the implication of your words. You believed it to be the end of conversation, until he spoke.

"Any ideas on what you want to do next?" he asked, and you knew he was referring to your future.

You let out a breath and shook your head, sheepishly. "There is nothing I'm passionate about."

You spent night and day trying to think of a job you'd both enjoy and be good at. Nothing seemed appealing to you.

Retail or hospitality had aspects similar to a housekeeper, such as organization, cleaning, cooking or serving food, so you weren't sure if you wanted to stick to those in a different environment.

An office job seemed out of the question when you had no experience or knowledge of anything to do with it, regardless of the role or sector.

"What about university?" he asked.

He'd brought it up before, but you didn't think he was serious, nor did you consider it in your contemplations.

It seemed out of reach. Sure, you enjoyed reading, but your grades from high school were simply good - not outstanding. Would you be good enough for a degree?

You weren't even sure what to study either, but perhaps it was a place to narrow things down. If you were to go, you weren't sure what you'd do with a degree. Then again, you'd heard most people felt that way.

"I haven't been in education for a while," you hesitated. "And…isn't it too late to enroll?"

He shook his head. "The semester begins in the spring."

"I don't think I have enough qualifications for it," you said, adding more excuses.

"You can take some courses for more qualifications, if you would like," he said. "Even if you don't want to go to university."

Your brows rose. Somehow, you didn't consider that to be an option either. That would be a good way to ease yourself back into education, especially at the caliber of degree-level. "Really?"

"Yes. I'm assuming you'd want to commute to university, if you did go?" he asked. All you could do was nod. You hadn't thought that far yet, but he was lightyears ahead. You weren't even sure which university you'd go to, let alone how you'd get there. "There is no public transit around here and taxis are unreliable. How do you feel about driving?"

You blinked. Everything was happening so quickly, but Sae made things sound less difficult than they were.

You pictured yourself driving to university in the morning, out of the forest and along the highway, to a lecture. The thought was freeing, albeit fearful, both from the vehicle and building a life for yourself.

This was your chance to live for you, something that had been a daydream while you'd been busy serving others. You worked so much that it became a distraction to not put yourself first, let alone discover yourself.

"I've never done it…" you started. The idea of being behind a wheel made you nervous. Sae made it look so easy that you couldn't picture yourself to get to that stage. "But I could try."

Satisfaction washed over his face and he gave a nod. "I'll teach you as much as I can. When I begin mentoring at Blue Lock, we can find an instructor. And courses or classes for you to take. Maybe after that, you can think about university or not."

Just from one conversation with Sae, you felt like you were ready to start a new chapter. At least, you had enough hope to do so. Your heart warmed at how much faith he had in you, and how practical things were with him.

You let out a small breath, nodding.

"Thank you, Sae," you said gently, "For everything."

His eyebrows twitched, as though there was more he wanted to say. Despite the recent transparency of both of your feelings, it didn't change who you were and how the two of you held back at times. It would take longer for you to become fully open and that was only natural, yet it was an intriguing part about your current bond. "Don't be foolish."

A chuckle escaped you. His gaze flickered down and took the copy of North & South in his hand, shifting so his body faced you.

The action brought you out of your vision of the potential future, shifting uncomfortably from being sat for too long.

He must have noticed, with how he lightly patted his lap. "Lie here."

Sae was still the man he was when you'd first met him. Now, there was a large amount of room in his heart for you, but you were still shocked he openly initiated something physical.

It had been days since your kiss. You didn't think it would be the extent of your intimacy with him, although the kiss he'd given you was so passionate, but other instances of closeness were still foreign to you.

You turned to position yourself, leaning back so your body lay on the couch. The warmth of his lap relaxed your head immediately, feeling the strength of his thighs under your neck to ease any tension of your muscles. He opened North & South to the page of your bookmark.

Admittedly, you wanted to turn your nose into his leg and breath in the expensive cologne of his that lingered on his clothes, but that would be animalistic of you.

It was a relief he wasn't staring at you while he searched for the paragraph he'd last left off from reading to you, giving you a chance to rear your head up to him instead.

The glimmer of silver caught your eye. You unconsciously reached up with slight trembling fingers. He hadn't began reading yet and noticed your movement, breaking his gaze from the book.

As he did, the red pendant floated out from his white button-up shirt. It hung between you like it did when you'd almost kissed that day.

"You're still wearing it," you said, softly. You lightly touched the pendant, causing it to swing like a wind chime.

His teal eyes glanced down at you with content. "No reason not to."

You lightly smiled. He placed the book back beside you, instead of returning back to the pages.

His body shifted slightly, so his face was more parallel to you. You didn't dare utter a word, and neither did he. You only hoped you were thinking the same thing as him, how he was peering at you with a particular glint in his teal eyes.

You rose your upper half from his lap and his hand wrapped around your back. He allowed you to relax while he held you up. Your lower half remained sat on the sofa, but any more and you'd be on his lap. Impossibly, more warmth spread through your body at his touch, or it was your nerves.

Your own hand went to his neck this time, and the other on his bicep, that you expected would travel around his body. You couldn't believe you were touching him before you'd even kissed, to draw him even closer.

Then, you saw it. His peruse to your lips.

He was still somewhat leaning over you, but he didn't need to crane his head to yours as you were more raised. His necklace dangled between you like before, not as complex as a red string of fate anymore. The string was loose, for either of you to tie together at any point, yet it still held on while you waited to give each other what you wanted.

The close-up of his long eyelashes made you certain others were jealous of them. The bottom ones were naturally long, black and defined, adding soft allure to his usual hard eyes.

Your breathing was gentle while his other hand trailed under your chin. His thumb trailed up and relished in your lip balm-coated lip for only a second, while his intense gaze felt like an eternity.

You weren't sure why he'd examined you so much last time, and now - with how he watched you. It was as though he was debating with himself whether to give you what you so ardently desired, or even, what he desired.

"Beautiful," he spoke.

Electricity shot through your body. Your lips parted in a small gasp, giving him the chance to tilt your head and kiss you.

He always took you off guard. You felt your face warm at the compliment and his lips. He was slower than last time, but it didn't make you less overwhelmed, not with the light stroke of his hand on your back, or the skilled move of his lips.

The shock of his lips wasn't dominating, it was the perfect amount of gentle that could keep you to earth, even if you were dizzy already. His lips were soft and he tasted like fruits he'd eaten earlier on, yet his kiss became firmer.

Your hand trailed to his strong chest, while the other traveled back to the back of his hair, returning to run your hands through like before. Your lips hadn't separated as you pulled each other even closer.

His lips blended with yours to the point where you couldn't tell where his exhale ended and your inhale began.

Something warm and moist trailed along the inner corner of your lip. You could only open your mouth, aided by the light squeeze of his hand around your chin. Your fingers in his hair tightened, almost as an anchor to not shy away from him.

His tongue gently rolled over and under yours, not quite fully inserted and locked in your mouth just yet, until you felt the sudden coldness of steel and the feel of a chain against your lip.

You felt his smile form against your mouth, as his necklace pressed between the kiss. You lightly exhaled in response, making him more aware of your breaths.

Before you could taste the steel, he pulled back.

You were left breathless, with the taste of grapes and pineapple against your tongue. Your eyes darted around to his chest, where your hand lay while your other hand loosened from his hair. His heart was doing back flips just like yours, which you would have never expected.

You thought you weren't quite ready to look at him and gauge his reaction, but it seemed he felt the same way. Your bodies hadn't parted from their nearness, only his lips did.

In turn, Sae's head dropped and hid into your neck.

"Sorry," he breathed, chest raising as he gently inhaled.

You stilled at the focus of contact, despite how he'd almost massaged his tongue into yours a moment ago. Your hand didn't move from his head, tracing to lightly stroke the back of his hair and your other one wrapping around his shoulder, before you could think.

The touch only made him nuzzle his head into your neck. You heard him inhale into your neck and he let out a low, muffled sound at the scent. It relieved you that you'd put on your perfume that day in the exact spot.

You swallowed, both from breathlessness and shock.

"For what?" you managed to say.

"I went too far. Again," he said.

"Never," you murmured, stroking over his hair again.

The action only made him pull you closer, with his arms heating your shoulders. Your eyes trailed to the forgotten book.

He eventually rose his head, and you both slowly pulled apart, settling back. There wasn't much space between you to begin with, so you shakily returned to resting your head on his lap while he picked up the book again.

He got to the paragraph he'd been looking for, but he didn't ignore the contract from just moments ago. His hand reached down to stroke and caress your head, beginning to read.

[bubybubsters]

sometimes i hate happy endings cause some part of me thinks it just shouldn’t be they easy but i also cant stomach angsty endings cuz i cant stand the hurt

[hibi5cus]

There’s no heartbreak worse than losing a fic that actually altered your brain chemistry 😔