#then he baked 'a surprise' that turned out to be the stuffed buns (in the shape of little totoros 🥹) that he baked for our first date | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

supercriminalbean · 1 year

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NO SECRETS WITHOUT LIES

CHAPTER TWO --- Team Drinks

Aaron Hotchner x GN!Reader.

Summary: The team goes out for drinks and enjoys themself for the first time in ages.

Words: 4.4k

Warnings: Swearing. Drinking. Violence. Crying. Fluff. (If I’ve missed anything let me know)

A/N: Sorry for the late update this week has been busy, barely anytime to rest so no time to edit until today cos I took a day a sick day. So sorry about the delay I am trying. I hope you all enjoy this chapter is just a fun time for the team.

Sitting in the car, out front of your apartment building, after leaving Hotch's place an hour ago, stopping at the grocery shop on the way home. You didn't want to get out, because that means having to walk past her door. It's your main reason you hate coming home, why you avoided coming home whenever you could. You never invited anyone inside anymore, not wanting them to experience the same pain you do every time you walk past her door, the memories of her flooding your mind every damn time. Taking a deep breath, you get out grabbing your bags of grocery, making it inside your apartment building and into the elevator. Your apartment was on the same floor as Emilys, at the end of the hall, 3 doors past hers. Walking into your apartment, placing the bags on the counter top.

~~~

Today, you decide to do your washing, repack your to-go bag, and manage to clean your apartment. Which was easy to do, seeing as you have barely been here for the last month. As the day carries on, you start finding yourself being bored, so you decide to do some baking. It's been awhile since you’ve had time to bake. You used to bake every week, turning up to the office with something different every week. You learnt what everyone in your team likes, and when someone was having a bad day you would make their favourite, just so you could see a smile on their face, it brought you joy. Turning the music on, grabbing your apron, and deciding you were going to make some buns. Vibing along to the music as you mixed everything together. Dancing away crazily, as you knead the dough, smiling. Enjoying the way the joy fills your body, for the first time in a long time. While the dough rests, you look through the cupboards deciding what to make next. Settling on making red velvet cupcakes with cream cheese icing, they were Emily's favourite. Singing to yourself as you start mixing everything together. Thinking about this morning and how you were feeling broken, but now, after making a new motto with Hotch as you were walking out his door, you feel repowered.

If living for yourself is too difficult, then live for those that will never get to see you make it.

You liked that idea, you can live for Emily. She believed in you when others didn't, and you were not going to let her down. Not this time.

~~~

You were brushing your hair, fixing the last few things with your outfit, before you were ready to go. You have about ten minutes before Reid would be picking you up, which is good, because the buns are still baking away in the oven. Sliding your shoes on, as you hear a knock on the door which surprises you. Reid never knocks on your door, he always waits down stairs for you, texting you when he's here. Opening the door, your surprises to see Rossi standing there.

“Oh hey, I was expecting Reid to come get me” Opening the door wide for him.

“Nah sorry Kid you get me instead” He gives you his signature smile. “What smells so good?” Walking into your kitchen, chuckling as you follow him.

“I made red velvet cupcakes, cookies, oh and also your favourite pesto stuffed buns” Laughing at him, as he picks up a cookie dropping it as it's hot, he glares at you playfully.

“You could have warned me they were hot” Shaking his head smiling as he tries a cupcake instead.

“I could have, but that's no fun, honey” Laughing as you opening the oven, pulling out the trays filled with loaves of bread and buns.

“Don't call me Honey” Shaking his head at you as he eats the cupcake. “I missed your baking, you better bring me the buns when they cool down, or else” He warns, wagging his finger at you, making you laugh.

“Fine, only cause it's you” Smiling as you cover the baking,then grab your jacket as you follow him out.

~~~

As you get in Rossi's car, turning his radio on as he starts driving. You sway along to the music, looking out the window.

“So kid, how are you holding up?” Rossi glances at you. He had talked to Hotch earlier, asking if he was coming out tonight. That's when Hotch mentioned you weren't doing good. You glance at him, sighing softly.

“I'm doing my best, but I miss her”

“I do too, but she's safe and I like to think she's happier now” Rossi speaks normally, and it feels nice. Not having to walk on eggshells around someone, and not have someone try to force you to open up.

“I know, I like to imagine she's somewhere drinking wine, petting a cat, while watching over us” smiling softly, Rossi looks over at you, returning the smile.

“That sounds like her ideal heaven”

“With a partner of course” Smirking slightly.

“Can you keep anything Pg?” He asks, shaking his head laughing, as he parks.

~~~

As the night starts you decide you aren't going to get drunk, because drunk you only has two moods, neither of which the team needs to see tonight. You were laughing at something Will had said, while JJ turned red trying to change the subject as Morgan and Garcia teased her. It was a good night everyone had come out apart from Hotch. Your phone went off so you picked it up to check and your blood felt like it had turned to ice. A mutual friend of yours and Emily had just sent you an email with a photo of you three. The guilt and pain of her death fills you up again, you place the phone away, just wanting to forget about the pain you feel.

~~~

Looking back up to the group, tuning into what they're talking about. They seem to be debating on what they should do for the night.

“Okay okay, who is up for a little contest?” Morgan asks, laughing standing up.

“Ohh what type” Garcia's face lights up, everyone eyes lands on Morgan, cautiously.

“Why do I feel like this is going to go bad?” Reid shakes his head, sipping his drink.

“Oh lighten up pretty boy, drinking contest, who ever can skull their drink first, gets to pick what we do for the night”

“That's boring Morgan, it should be whoever can do the most shots in row should pick” Giving him a mischievous grin, knowing he never backs down from a challenge.

“Shots, really (Y/L), thought you weren't drinking tonight.” Morgan sniggers looking at you.

“You're right, but if it means, I get to win against you, I am in” Smirking at him, knowing he's up for the changelle.

“Oh now this sounds interesting, I'll go get the drinks.” Rossi laughs getting up.

“Oh this is going to be a disaster” JJ sighs leaning into Will.

“What is?” A mysterious voice, making everyone turn round. Seeing Hotch stood there, pulling over a seat.

“Hotch you made it” Reid beams up at him.

“Jack got invited to a last minute sleepover, and I figure I can do paperwork tomorrow” Hotch smiles, as Rossi walks over carrying a tray full of shots, and a couple drinks.

“Aaron, finally you made it” Rossi chuckles as he hands one of the drinks to him, sitting back down. Hotch eyes widen looking at the shots.

~~~

“Do I want to know whose idea this is?” Hotch smirks slightly, shaking his head.

“Well Morgan and (Y/n) are having a competition, whoever can drink the most gets to choose what we do next” Garcia giggles slightly. Already on the edge of tipsiness, sipping on her cocktail.

“You are going down (Y/L)” Morgan sneers, laying the shots out in front of both of you.

“Oh no way baby boy, Imma win this” Smirking at him, as he rolls his eyes.

“11 shots, whoever gets number 6 wins, now no cheating, we ready?” Rossi claps his hands together. Picking up your first shot, keeping eye contact with Morgan, waiting for the magic word.

“Go!”

You swiftly tip back the first shot, wincing slightly as the tequila burns. Keeping up the pace you pick up the next glass, drinking fast. Trying your best to block out everything that's going on around you. You could still hear Garcia and Reid cheering you on, while JJ and Will teases Morgan. Hotch and Rossi shake their heads watching this happen, knowing they will have to deal with a drunk you and Morgan later on.

Your hand shoots forward, grabbing the last shot on the table, just as Morgan puts his empty shot glass back down. Groaning in regret as he sees you drink the last one. Cheers erupting from the table as you laugh, smiling smugly at Morgan.

“Told you I would win, prettyboy”

~~~

The night continues as you pick Karaoke as the activity for the night. Heading down to the Karaoke bar down the street. It takes about an hour and a half for the shots to hit you, hard. By that stage you have also had three more cocktails. The more you drank the better you felt inside. Forgetting the pain you were drowning in earlier, watching the team having fun just felt right again, almost like nothing could pull them apart. Sipping on your fourth cocktail of the night giggling as you watch Garica and Morgan singing loudly on stage. In between them stood an awkwardly tipsy Reid, trying not to fall over as Morgan wrapped his arm over his shoulder. Morgan's drunk self puts too much pressure on Reids shoulder making you laugh, as they almost toppled off the stage. JJ and Will were getting ready to head home, to relieve the babysitter, while Rossi and Hotch were filming the three on stage. You were sitting at the table, already having said your Goodbye to JJ and Will. You wanted to go join Rossi and Hotch but you did not trust your legs to be stable enough to walk straight.

~~~

“Well hey there cutie” Turning your head to see a cute guy sitting down opposite you.

“Hey there handsome” Giggling slightly, sipping your drink watching him.

“I'm Mike, I've been watching you tonight. I thought I should introduce myself” Smirking at you confidently. You had noticed him early checking you out, you thought he was cute and now that he is closer, damn. He may be hot with those shiny blue eyes staring directly into yours, you could see a few tattoos on his arms when he leans towards you. He's definitely your type for a one night stand, and you could use something else to distract you from the pain for a few hours. But you know deep down you can’t go home with strangers, your job has taught you what could happen when you do.

“Well hi Mike Im (Y/n)”

“Well (Y/N) Your name is just as hot as I thought it would be”

“Oh yeah” Smirking at him, “Well my names not the only hot thing about me”

“Oh trust me I know that” Mike chuckles softly, his eyes quickly sliding down your body. “You know I'm thinking you should come home with me”

“What so soon?” Laughing, slapping him softly on the shoulder, flirtingly with him. You never go home with strangers, with your job, you know better. But flirting right now seems harmless and always fun to do.

“Oh come on baby, I'll make sure you have a good night” Mike winks at you, making you cringe a little.

“I think I'll pass but thanks” Shaking your head slightly, his flirting was so weak, plus you know his type they last for five minutes and you never feel any pleasure, at all. Mike's face drops, looking angry.

“Seriously, I flirt with you and you turn me down. Thats some bullshit”

“Yeah, I'm serious, I'm with my friends dude” Rolling your eyes at him, ready to snap at him, boys like him are the reason you do your job. Mike scoffs, reaching over and pushing your drink over as he gets up.

“You're such a stupid slut, dressing the way you do” He steps closer to you, towering over you, making you stand up quickly, glaring at him.

“Excuse me?” Your blood is boiling, and when you are drunk you don’t control your anger well. You smirk smugly at him, as you watch the guys quickly approaching him from behind. Hotch grabs Mike by his arm, yanking him backwards. Mike turns around instantly, ready to shove him away, but immediately stopping, his face drops realising he's in trouble. When he comes face to face with Hotch, Rossi, and Morgan standing right behind him ready to throw him out of the bar.

“I suggest you get out of here while you can,” Rossi tone coming out deep and angry, glaring daggers at him. Mike nods slightly, hastily escaping from Hotch's tight grip on his arm.

~~~

Sighing as you flop back down, Hotch takes the seat beside you as Morgan and Rossi follow Mike, making sure he leaves.

“Thanks Hotch, fuck men suck” You groan annoyed, cleaning up your spilled drink.

“Are you okay, he didn't do anything, did he?” Hotch studies you closely, he had turned around to walk back to the table. When he had seen that guy knocking your drink over and he rushed towards you protectively. No one messes with his team, let alone you. He always makes sure to look out for you the most. He tells himself it's because you're the youngest, being only 22 when you first joined the team. He still thinks of you as the baby of the group, but if he was honest there was always something else about you.

“No he didn't, I'm just pissed he spilled my drink over” Sighing you rest your head against Hotch's shoulders, he smiles shaking his head slightly, wrapping his arm around your shoulders bringing you in closer.

“Well I think Garcia has that covered”, Looking up you see Garcia holding a couple drinks, walking back over with the other guys following behind her. She places a drink down in front of you.

“For you my darling, you need it after that asshole” She giggles lightly sitting down beside Morgan. Leaning into him, as he wraps his arms around her protectively.

“Yeah he was a dick, thanks for your help” You smile softly at them as you sip your drink.

~~~

It's after midnight and you are definitely drunk when it's time to head home, you and Garcia are being helped off the stage after your final song. You two can’t even walk straight, you're in a fit of giggles as a drunk Morgan is trying to help Garica, but they both end up falling over. Reid and Rossi managed to get them out to the cars, as you follow behind them. Hotch has his arm around your waist as you wobble around, getting you in the front seat of his car. He's sober so he can drive you and Reid home while Rossi gets to deal with Morgan and Garcia.

The ride back is nice, you have the window down. Enjoying the wind on your face cooling you down. Reid sits in the back talking about something he found fascinating. You picked up on a few words, but you're too drunk to pay attention. Hotch dropped Reid off first, then pulls up outside your apartment. You look out the window and staring up at the building. Fuck, you hate this place sometimes. You don't move, feeling frozen inside your own brain. A hand on your arm, pulls you out of your mind, glancing over at Hotch. Your eyes starting to water, your emotions are heightened due to the alcohol in your system.

“(Y/N), what is it?” His words are soft, watching you concern. He doesn’t understand why you're so upset all of a sudden.

“I can't go inside Hotch I can't do it again” Your voice is weak as a couple tears slide down.

“Why? Why don't you like going home anymore?” His eyes soften, as he wipes the tears away, his hand staying put on your cheek.

“I can't walk past her door again, It's too hard” Your words confuse him for a few seconds before his heart drops as it clicks in his mind. He had completely forgotten you used to live next to Emily. He pulls his hand away and turns the car back on, pulling back onto the road.

“What, where are we going?” Looking back up at him confused, wiping the tears that managed to escape down your cheek.

“You're staying at mine tonight” He smiles softly at you, his mind filling with regret. How could he never realise how hard it would be for you, walking past Emily's door everyday. You two were so close, staying at each place was such a normal thing for you both to do. Guilt starting to reenter him, knowing that all those memories would be in your mind everytime you think of your home. He promised Emily he would be there and help you, but instead of doing so, he completely ignored how difficult it has truly been for you.

~~~

Hotch helps you inside his apartment, you’re so tired fighting hard to stay awake. You stumble a little, Hotch's arm firmly wraps around your waist, while he's helping you into his bedroom, placing you down on his bed.

“Thank you Aaron” Smiling weakly. “I should sleep on the couch though, this is your bed” You try arguing with him as your eyes close, trying to kick your shoes off.

“No, I'll take the couch, the bed is more comfortable and you need the rest” He speaks slowly, knowing drunk you take some time to process words. Helping you take off your shoes as he noticed you struggling.

“No you need rest too, join me” You drunkenly demand him, earning a chuckle from him.

“(Y/N) I don't think so”

“What it's not like we haven't shared before”

“Fine” He helps you under the covers, “But only if you drink some water okay?”

“Yes I win” Giggling drunkenly at him. He laughs quietly as he’s walking out, returning with a bottle of water for you.

“Drink it all” He hands it to you, then walks out to his bath to change his clothes. When he returns, you have drunk half the water and were snuggling down half asleep.

“Goodnight (Y/n)” He whispers, pulling the blankets up over you.

“This isn't how I imagine being in your bed” Your words come out slurred together quietly, but still Hotch heard you. Smirking slightly, as he closes his eyes. You always made inappropriate jokes, but a small part of him hoping you weren’t.

~~~

Groaning softly as you open your eyes, closing them as the light hits. Fuck, your body feels on fire, heading pounding like it just had been hit by a truck. You know you must have drunk a lot, because you don't remember coming home. Last thing you remember is Hotch helping you into his car. Hearing noise coming from the kitchen, which ends up confusing you, as you live alone. Opening your eyes again only to realise that this room is not your bedroom at all. Looking around trying to find a hint of where you are, finding that the room looks half familiar. Your eyes land upon a framed photo beside the bed, a photo of Hotch, Jack and Haley, Smiling softly seeing how happy they were, relieved that you now know you're somewhere safe. Still confused as to why you are here in his bed and not your own. Hoping drunk you didn’t try to make a move on him, of course you found your boss hot and feel safe with him but he is your boss. But somehow that never seems to stop the inappropriate thoughts you have. When you look at his hands, just picturing them wrapped around your neck.

~~~

Walking into the living room slowly, as your head is still pounding. Squinting at how bright the lights are, stopping in the middle of the doorway leaning against it. Hotch and Jack stand in the Kitchen making pancakes together. Jack makes a mess, giggling as he tries to wipe the batter on Hotch cheek. Making him laugh trying to take the bowl out of Jack's reach, spilling some of the mixture on the bench. You laugh softly watching them, which grabs both of their attention, they turn around to catch you standing there, watching them. Jack comes racing over to you, his face breaking out in a giant smile.

“(Y/N) you're awake” The excitement in his voice, brightening up your morning as he hugs you tightly.

“Morning buddy” Smiling happily as you're hugging him back. As soon as you let him go, he's running straight back towards his Dad.

“More like afternoon” Hotch teases, smirking faintly at you as he wipes down the bench.

“Oh come on it's only” Rolling your eyes as you pull out your phone. “10am, what the…. fudge” Laughing nervously, as you manage to catch yourself from dropping the F bomb. In front of a child who loves to repeat everything, which earns a small head shake from your boss.

“Alright, Jack, go clean up while I cook these, okay buddy?” Hotch smiles down at him softly, you love seeing him so relaxed and happy when he's with his boy. This side of Hotch you don't get to see often so when you do, you savour it, appreciating that he does have a separate part of his life, not just work.

~~~

Sitting down on the kitchen stool in front of the counter, watching Hotch cook.

“Um so Hotch, not that I mind at all, but why was I in your bed this morning” Smiling at him,

“Oh you don't remember?” Chuckling teasingly, as he raises his eyebrow.

“Last thing I remember is leaving the bar” Sipping the water he passes you with some pills, smiling faintly as you take them.

“Well I went to take you home but, after a small talk in the car, I thought going back to my place would be easier for the night”

Looking at him confused trying to remember what you said to him, then it came back to you. How you were crying in his car about Emily.

“Oh shoot, I'm sorry Hotch, I get emotional when I drink” Feeling the blood rush to your cheek. Feeling embarrassed as you sip on your drink trying to avoid the subject.

“Oh that's why you were telling everyone you loved them, I just thought we were all special to you” He laughs softly, as he flips the pancakes, groaning weakly as you start remembering more of the night.

“Oh no, no wonder my head hurts, I blame Morgan”

“I don’t think it was him who took all those shots” Rolling your eyes looking for something to change the subject to. As if right on cue, Jack comes running back in.

~~~

You three sit down and eat breakfast, full of laughter and jokes. Jack tells you a few funny things Hotch does, which makes Aaron blush lightly, awkwardly laughing at certain things. Laughing along with Jack, noting a few things in your mind that you will definitely bring up in front of the team. Always needing more things to tease and black mail this man with. After breakfast you're doing the dishes as Jack watches tv, Hotch had walked to his study to take a phone call. As you're cleaning your singing softly under your breath, dancing a little as you. You're putting the dishes away as Hotch walks out, leaning in the doorway, watching you. He can’t stop the smile forming, taking you in, liking the way you're being so carefree and happy in his kitchen. Watching you closely as you swing your hips while dancing to the music in your head. He enjoys seeing you like this, he was worried how you would be after yesterday morning. He knows there's going to be moments when you won't be okay. But he's no longer going to let you suffer alone, and could only hope when it's all over you will be able to forgive him.

~~~

“We have a case” His voice makes you jump, not hearing him approach, turning around you see him laughing. “Sorry didn’t mean to scare you”

“Well you don't look sorry about it at all mister” Smiling softly, rolling your eyes back, “What's the case?”

“Three missing kids in Chicago, we’ll meet the team on the jet” Sighing softly, hating cases involving kids, they always hit everyone hard, especially because time is against you.

~~~

Hotch had dropped Jack off at Jessicas and was now driving you back to your place so you could grab your bag and change quickly before meeting everyone on the jet. He pulls up outfront your building, turning to him,

“I won't be long, ten minutes tops” Smiling softly at him as you see him taking off his seatbelt.

“I'll come up with you” He speaks as he gets out, giving you no time to argue. Sighing as you get out and following him inside. Staying quiet in the elevator, distracting yourself from talking by pulling out your keys. Walking briskly down the hall and to your apartment, glancing slightly at Hotch when you pass by her door, seeing him only briefly look at her door, with mixed emotions in his eyes. Walking into your apartment, you excuse yourself as you go to your bedroom and change into somewhat more professional FBI wear.

~~~

Walking out, with your to-go bag freshly packed slung over your shoulder. Noticing Hotch is sitting on the couch, talking on the phone which sounds important, most likely involving the case. Deciding to walk past Hotch, giving him some privacy for the call, heading into the kitchen to pack the baking you did yesterday. You're just putting the last of the buns into the container as you hear footsteps approaching behind you.

“Pesto filling buns, you trying to be Rossi's favourite?”

“Oh I don't need to try Hotchy” Smirking at him, using the nickname he acts like he doesn't like. Which results in being given the unimpressed amused look, grinning cheekily up at him as you walk out.

~~~

Taglist: @lalalove-56 @ssamorganhotchner @montyfandomlove @lilozg-123 @hola-you-blog @lmg-stilinski24 @kakashis-formal-simp @yourdryadwife

#no secrets without lies #criminal minds #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss fake death #aaron hotchner x gn reader #criminal minds x gn bau reader #aaron hotchner Series fic #aaron hotchner dom

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oattytrees · 2 years

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Lonely Together

Mipha X M Reader (Age of Calamity BOTW)

[Requested by @cosmicartistowo]

Ahh ty for the long wait.

You put a batch of dough into the stone oven and grab a cloth to wipe the sweat you've built up. The buns didn't take long to cook, so you leaned against the wall, watching it like a hawk. You place the towel in your apron and sigh.

____________________________________________

Today was officially the busiest day you've ever come across. In fact, it was for all the businesses in Hyrule Town. The many wooden tables around were filled with hungry and cheery people. Gorons, Hylians, Zoras, Ritos, and Gerudos all had the same big smiles, some with food stuffed in their mouths.

By all means, that wasn't a sigh of distress. Everything just felt so....surreal. Just being here, standing, baking for the celebration of Calamity Gannon's downfall.

Of course, everything wasn't the exact same as before the Calamity. The damage of castle town was still being worked on and some businesses couldn't quite open yet. Your boss' stall was lucky and got its essential stuff fixed quickly. Having a handyman brother did have its perks.

Mentally slapping yourself about almost forgetting the buns, you quickly pull them out of the oven. The tops of the buns were perfectly golden brown and smooth. You place 3 in a bag as ordered and rang the bell to grab the attention of your co-worker. She smiles at you and grabs the bag to give to the starved customer.

You go back to continue stuffing buns in bags, only for an arm to grab your shoulder. Quizzically, you look behind you to find your boss.

"You, Break." She signs, smiling kindly. The staff around here didn't know much sign, but they made the effort to learn some words to communicate with you, which you appreciated.

You look at her with surprise and uncertainty. Today was a very busy day, wasn't everyone needed? She read the expression on your face and took a nearby notepad. "Go out and have fun. I'm letting you and Jula take a break for 20 minutes. You two look exhausted."

Before you could protest further, she adds "Don't worry your little head. My husband's coming soon and I'm gonna ask him to help while you're gone." With that said, she shoves you and your co-worker out of the stall, into the bright lights and crowds of people.

Well...what should you do now? You turn to Jula to find her already rushing in the other direction. Well, she always was an excited one, wasn't she? Welp, you didn't mind. You could always find your own fun.

You start walking through the festival.

You knew there was so much to see, so it's time to get moving before break's over.

---

Along the way, surfing through the crowd, you hoped to run into someone you knew. Alas, all the smiling faces you saw belonged to strangers hurrying along.

A fresh-baked smell stops you in the middle of the sea of people. A display of a fruit cake rests on the front of the booth. You heard there was a booth that had the royal castle's recipe for Zelda's favorite cake. Although, was it worth waiting in the long line?

You walk past the booth, staring at the hard workers baking, chopping, and frosting to meet the high demand.

All of a sudden, all the chefs and customers tuned their heads to the side in surprise. A second after following their worried gazes, something sharply dug into your leg. You gasp in pain as you watch the loose wooden wheel lose its momentum and fall flat.

You bend down to reach your shin, the lightest grazes making you hiss. You could feel drops of blood trickling down your leg and staining your trousers.

Quickly, a gray-bearded man bends down to your level and you read the frantic apologies from his lips. You smile and wave it off to ease his worried expression. He stands up and offers you a hand. Suddenly, his eyes lock behind you as his expression turns into shock. You look behind you, only to wince from shifting your leg.

Through the sting, you gawked at the princess of the Zora's herself: Princess Mipha. Instead of the calm expression you've always seen from afar, she looked worried and rushed to you. She started bending down to your leg as she spoke. Before you could try and show her you couldn't understand what she was saying, you felt a cooling sensation on your shin. You looked down and stared at her concentrating her magic. You realized that Mipha was indeed healing you right now.

After a few more minutes, she stood up with a smile. You were frozen in place in front of the champion as she started speaking again. Dear Hylia, you couldn't move or try to show her you couldn't hear her. After mustering a few nods, she waves goodbye and leaves the area.

You only stare as she walks away, pain no longer in your shin.

------

After that eventful injury, you explored the festivities until it was time to head back to your stall. You baked batches of bread and fed hungry customers till' the sun was starting to set.

You smile at the orange and pink tones in the sky. Those colors meant that your shift was coming to an end. Your smile grows as the night shift baker arrives and sets his bag down. You grab your bag and wave goodbye to everyone.

Finally, time to unwind and enjoy the festival. Maybe you'd bump into someone you knew and invite them to try that cool ax-throwing activity or try those fresh Gerudo volfruit smoothies. Whatever activity, it would be nice to try something new with good company.

After an hour, it proved to be harder than you thought.

With no luck, you walk around again, only to wander to the outskirts of castle town where there was rarely any action or people. You were pretty disappointed with not finding anyone available and sat by the moat, staring down at your reflection in the water.

Suddenly, from the water, a pair of yellow eyes met yours and scared the life out of you. You gasp as you start to lose your footing and your weight shifts to your front. You close your eyes as you fall into the deep moat below, praying for life.

Your whole body became cold as the water shallowed you whole. You open your eyes a little and see a red blur. Something hugs you from behind and you feel yourself being dragged upwards. Your back hits solid ground and a pair of hands quickly pushes on your chest in rhythm and a pair of cold lips exhales into you.

It stops when you sit up and cough in a fit. You look up at the person who's rubbing your back. You stare in confusion then surprise at the worried Mipha. She's talking again, this time more frantic than before. This time around, you start signing that you're okay.

Her eyes widen as she signs back, "Are you sure you're okay? Nothing hurts?" Her hands start to glow a comforting green. "You're just full of bad luck today, aren't you?"

"You know sign?"

"Yes." She starts to calm down, "Looks like nothing is broken. I'm terribly sorry for scaring you."

"May I ask, what are you doing here alone?"

Her eyes droop a bit, "Don't worry about that; You almost drowned!" She caves into your worried expression. "I know sign because that's how I talked to my childhood friend. He's...occupied at the moment with someone else."

It doesn't take a genius to know she was talking about the silent knight and the princess. By her sad expression, you could tell she was somewhat feeling lonely, and a tad bit jealous.

This was dumb but you were gonna ask anyway, "Wanna get Volfruit smoothies with me?" She was a princess, but she was just as lonely as you were tonight.

"Oh! Champion Urbosa loves those, yet I haven't tried them."

That answers your invitation.

You and Mipha start walking around and enjoying each other's company, still soaking wet.

#mipha x reader #botw #breath of the wild x reader #breath of the wild #x reader #fanfiction

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hoodharlow · 3 years

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Holiday Surprise

El Novio Quarantine Edition: Part 7

AN: Quick reminded in Song of the Year I previously said that Claudia was 20 weeks pregnant, but bc I want them to have a Taurus baby I moved pushed everything by 4 weeks. So in this part she's now 20 weeks pregnant and in SoG she's 16 weeks pregnant. Also tyy to @wastelandcth for letting me run ideas with her ilysm Gemma

Requested? No

Warnings: overall fluff with an angsty ending, briefly jealous!Cal, pre-sex (no smut!), Mitchy, mentions of violence, an argument bc someone can't follow basic CDC guidelines and went out to party, and talks about deathtolls/covid cases

Word Count: 5.9k words

Claudia waited for the nurse to print her a few copies of her ultrasound. Christmas was in three days. Since her and Calum were staying at his house for Christmas, they decided on sending out care packages to their families. In the boxes they planned on having envelopes with their Christmas card and a picture of the newest member of the Hood-Santos family. But that they should wait to open them together via Zoom because Calum and Claudia were going to find out the sex of their baby.

They had made a compromise. If baby's sex is female then Calum is naming them because the Hoods' firstborns are always female. Whereas in Claudia's family the Santos always have male firstborns so if the baby is male, she is naming them.

They were nervous. This was the biggest secret both of them have ever kept from their parents. Claudia felt queasy just thinking about how her parents were going to react, especially her parents. She doesn't want to disappoint them.

Sure Diego and Soni, and her brothers started their families at a young age, but there was an underlying pressure for Claudia. She was the only girl and the first in her family to graduate from a four year college, her mom had gone to community college and studied fashion merchandising. Her parents hadn't said it outloud, but she knew that it was expected of her to have a career before even thinking about settling down to start a family. She was supposed to get her master's then teach for a few years before moving her way up to school administration. Getting pregnant just during her first year of grad school was not the plan she and her parents had.

"All set." the nurse said, handing Claudia the envelopes.

"Thank you. Hope you enjoy the cookies and happy holidays." Claudia said, stuffing them in her bag.

She pumped some hand sanitizer before she exited the doctor's office. She pulled Calum's flannel tighter and made her way to the car where he was waiting. He got out and helped her up.

Claudia clicked her seatbelt and turned to Calum. "Can't you drop me off at your house and you go down to see my parents?" she asked.

"No you're going with me. I'm out of excuses." He said. He squeezed her hand, reassuringly before he backed out of the parking spot. "We're just going to drop off their box and say hi. After that we'll get hotdogs under the bridge at that place you like."

"Fine." she sighed, giving in. The things she did for some hotdogs from Barrio Dogs down in Chicano Park.

On their way to the post office, Claudia finished up packing the boxes. Once they arrived, Calum helped her seal them with packing tape before he took them inside to get mailed out. While she waited for him, Claudia texted her mom that she and Calum were going down to leave them a box for them to open on Christmas Eve.

She rubbed her stomach. She was almost twenty weeks pregnant and still couldn't believe it. It feels like just last week Danny had come over to fight the cat and accidentally found her pregnancy tests on the bathroom sink. Which was why she was nervous to go over to her parents. One look at her and they would know Calum got her pregnant. Luckily for her with Calum's big t-shirt and his zip up jacket that she packed, she was able to mask her growing belly.

She shifted in her seat, trying to get somewhat comfortable when Calum unlocked the car to get in. He squeezed her hand and rubbed her belly. He passed her his phone so she could play some music as he pulled out of the parking lot. She played EL ÚLTIMO TOUR DEL MUNDO, and quietly gushed to her belly that Calum helped Bad Bunny produce the album and that he played all of the instruments in Yo Visto Asi.

She reached for the pillows she had in the backseat; as best she could she curled up. Claudia spent the whole night baking. She needed something to keep out of her mind while she waited for final grades to be posted. She knew she did good, but the waiting is what got to her.

When she first started grad school, she made a vow to be a fast grader and to have a good grading system. That way her students would know what their grades were in real time. She even managed to get everything graded for her classes the day her students turned in their finals. Unlike half of her professors who haven't updated grades since Thanksgiving.

Her eyes fluttered closed and began dozing off, with help from Calum who played with her hair. He gently shook her shoulder, waking Claudia from a nap that felt like only five.

"We're here." he whispered, kissing her cheek.

"No, I just fell asleep." Claudia whined.

"C'mon," he said, kissing her.

He got out and grabbed the last box left. He stopped by Junior's house first. Though while he was there Damian overheard him and Junior talk about Claudia and her pregnancy. Calum just hoped that Damian kept his pinky promise and wouldn't tell anyone.

Claudia waited for Calum to make his way up the steps before changing into his t-shirt and zip up hoodie. She kept the thin long sleeve top and layered his shirt over it. She got out and grabbed the hoodie, putting it on as she went up the steps.

Calum slammed the front door, looking pale as if he saw a ghost.

"I just saw your dad's ass." He shuddered. "Didn't know he was the type to get an ass tattoo."

"How long did you look at his ass?— you know what, I don't wanna know." Claudia said, lifting her hands up in surrender.

A minute or so later, Diego opened the door, buckling his belt. "Do you know how to knock?" He scolded Calum.

"You didn't knock?" Claudia asked him, awkwardly hugging her dad.

"I did, but I used your key to get in since they didn't open." Calum explained. He held up his UCLA lanyard out to them. Claudia's San Diego Chargers key stood out against all the other silver ones.

"Now that that's sorted, can we go in? Tengo frío." Claudia said.

Diego took a step back and let them in. He motioned them to the kitchen where Soni made a pitcher of agua de nanche. She set down the ladle and went to greet Calum and Claudia.

"Can I have some?" Claudia asked her mom.

"Agua de nanche?" Soni gave Claudia a confused look. In the twenty-two years she's known her daughter, she never willingly asked for agua de nanche. She placed her hand on Claudia's forehead. "Are you okay?"

She giggled nervously, hugging herself. "Ay ama. It's just a little craving I have."

"A craving?"

"Yeah… craving."

***

Calum still couldn't wrap it around his head that Claudia's pregnancy made her eat pickles. She absolutely dreaded them before. One time, before the pandemic, they went out to a burger place and she sent back her burger because she tasted the pickles in the bottom bun. She could tell that they took them out before bringing it to her. Now seeing her pregnant and scarfing them down was something that left him both surprised and confused.

"Claudia?" a voice called behind Calum.

"Oh my god, Luis!" Claudia squealed excitedly.

When the guy approached their table, Calum felt like he had seen the guy before. He just couldn't remember where he saw him.

"Cal, this Felix' brother, Luis. He's the one who's mine and Danny's age." Claudia explained.

Calum smiled politely and introduced himself. He sat back and watched them talk. Luis leaned closer to Claudia, laughing at whatever bad joke she said. He noticed her voice slightly went higher.

It was her 'I'm not really flirting, but oh shit you're hot as fuck' voice. She used to use that voice before they became an official iten. The last time she used it was when they were at lunch with the guys, their old producer friend named Jon and Tyler Posey. On the drive home, she went on and on about how Tyler Posey was the sweetest and funniest guy ever. It drove Calum mad.

"It was nice seeing you, Claudia, but my friends are waiting." Luis said, making Calum smile.

"Same, and congrats on getting into med school. I saw Profe's post the other week." Claudia smiled.

"I find it weird you call my mom Profe." He teased.

"It was an old habit." She laughed. She turned to Calum. "We should go right? With traffic and all."

He nodded. "I'm going to pay and bring the car over." Calum got up and nodded to Luis. "It was nice meeting you."

"Back at you." Luis said leaving to his table without telling Claudia goodbye.

Calum helped her up and hand in hand they went to the booth to pay. He signed the receipt and dripped a very generous tip in the tip jar.

After thorough convincing, Claudia waited for Calum as he jaywalked and went to get his car from the public parking lot. She replied to a series of messages from Danny asking why she drank agua de nanche and that Luis texted him telling him he just ran into her and that she looked pregnant. She gave him a vague response and put her phone on silent. After eating three hotdogs and a side mac and cheese, the last thing she wanted was to answer more messages from Danny.

Calum pulled up in front of her and got out of his side to help her in. It was more of him standing back and being there in case she fell, so she'd fall into him, breaking her fall. Once she was in he circled back and got in.

He missed the street that took them to the I5 and now had to drive a bit further to get on the I15. Just before he got off the ramp, Claudia's soft snores filled the car. He pressed a few buttons and made her seat lean back. With one hand Calum moved her so she was laying on her side. As best he could, he placed the pillows around her back and stomach.

The drive went by quickly. Calum got off the freeway and started driving through the streets. His phone began to ring. Ashton's face lit up his phone screen. It must be about their management. Calum had asked him to call him once everything was sorted with their lawyers and teams. He connected it to the car and answered.

"Hey, mate, I'm driving right now. Claudia and I are almost home. Call you in a bit." Calum said before Ashton got a word in.

He hung up as Claudia stirred awake. She groaned and shifted in her seat.

"I have to pee." she said.

"We'll be home in about five minutes. Can you hold it?" He asked her, intertwining his fingers with hers.

"Yeah," she said, stifling her yawn. Claudia rushed out and went to the guest bathroom when they arrived. Calum took advantage and returned Ashton's call.

"Claudia, I'm going to be in my office if you need me," he called.

"I might be in here a while, those hotdogs didn't agree with me." she murmured.

"There's an air freshener in the sink." Calumteased.

He greeted Duke and Cherry as he made his way to his office. Ashton answered and went off in a tangent about a melody that was stuck in his head. He paced around, agreeing and humming in response as Ashton went on and on. Calum didn't want to cut him off and ask about their contract, so he listened.

"...so I talked to Renee Hastings, that lawyer that does a lot of work on this and she said that she can get us out of our contract. She even has—”

“Are you serious?” Calum asked, cutting him off.

He desperately wanted and needed to get out of their contract with their management. Especially with what they’re asking him to do. There’s no way he’s going to do what they want.

"Yeah, everything is going to be finalized in the next few weeks." Ashton went on. "I'm glad we're out. Even more so that you won't have to… you know."

"It's a relief honestly. I can just focus on music and raising my baby with Claudia." He sighed. He reached for a small picture frame of him and Claudia from when they went hiking at some waterfall they accidentally found while out hiking.

"Speaking of baby, do you know their sex? I have compiled a list of names. Of course, my top five are Ashley, Asher, Ashton, Ashe, and Ashlyn on said list, but I found some other names." Ashton said, earning a snort from Calum.

He set the picture frame down and chuckled as Ashton listed more names. He spotted the new contract their old team had made for him. He grabbed it and stored it in a drawer under a package of printer paper. Calum caught Claudia's shadow as she waddled past his office, making her way to the kitchen.

"Hey, I gotta go. Claudia just scurried past my office so I have to hide her hot chips or she's going to complain all night that she has heartburn.

Ashton chuckled at his comment. They bid each other goodbye and agreed that he was taking Calum to the studio in a few days after spending the holidays in the snow with KayKay and Penny.

Calum went out to the kitchen and found it empty. But there was a stool in front of the cabinet where Calum hid Claudia's Turbo Flamas and Takis. The two large chip bags were missing.

He cursed and searched around the house for her. He found her once more in the kitchen sipping on a Hi-C pink lemonade juice box while she watched her frozen Italian style meatballs heat up in the microwave.

"How many times do I have to ask you to not climb on stool to reach for things? You're already clumsy as is, Claudia." He scolded.

"I didn't use the stool. I was going to, but I didn't see my chips." Claudia explained. She got up and grabbed her plate. "So now I'm gonna shove some balls in my mouth."

"I have some you might like more."

Claudia gave him a glance over. She didn't get it. She was almost twenty weeks pregnant and somehow Calum's cock was as hard as the kitchen's marble counters. Did it have to do with the fact that she only wore his flannel and some panties? Yes, it still surprised her that she had that effect on him.

She bit into one of her meatballs and watched him. Once she swallowed, she walked up to him and gently patted his hard on. "And they say pregnant women are the super horny ones."

***

Christmas Eve rolled around a few days later. Calum spent the better part of the morning at the studio with Luke and Michael then he spent the afternoon driving around dropping off and picking up things for their little Christmas celebration. Claudia baked and made sure their house was ready. Danny, Medelyn and Sebastian were coming over to their house since Claudia and her brothers divided which holidays they spent with their parents. Danny got thanksgiving, Junior got Christmas and Claudia got left with New Year's.

Calum entered the house and his nose was filled with the smell of warm gingerbread cookies and the tamales Soni had given them when they visited. He quickly rushed to the guest room and changed into some clean clothes. With Claudia being pregnant they knew that she was more at risk of exposure, so they took extra precautions for her to be safe. He took his clothes to the laundry room for a quick wash.

He went to the kitchen and was surprised it was empty. Calum was sure he was going to find Claudia decorating some cookies or baking some elaborate pastry she couldn't pronounce. He found their dogs in the living room intently watching 102 Dalmatians. They didn't even notice him when he arrived.

Calum jogged upstairs and heard a faint buzzing sound in their bedroom. He knocked a few times so she could let him in. Other times he would have sneaked in and playfully scold her that she knew better than to get started without him. That usually led to him telling to keep going until she was very sensitive then he'd go down on her and do other things to her that they both enjoy. But with a human growing inside of her, Claudia has gotten a bit self conscious about her body.

He knocked a few more times and there still wasn't a response. He opened the door and found her naked in a sitting position. She was fast asleep with her vibrator in her hand.

Calum took the vibrator, turning it off, he cleaned it and stored it in her drawer with her other toys. He fixed her pillows and slowly moved her into a more comfortable position. He covered her with her Snoopy blanket and smoothed her hair out. He kissed her forehead and let her sleep.

He went back down and worked in his office. Now that the band was without any management and team, they had a lot of paperwork to prove that they were management-less. Once he was done with the paperwork he decided to do some in depth investigation[long cash]lurking— on the lawyer that helped them get out of their contract. All he knew about her was that one of Michael's best men gave him her number because she was well known in the NFL among the wives of the NFL players. He looked her up on Google and it showed that she is married to a retired NFL player who she had three children with, one son and two daughters. Her husband played for the San Diego Chargers until the team moved to Los Angeles where he went and played for the 49ers. He had retired just last year. In his rabbit hole investigation he ended up on Renee's Instagram page. He was about four years deep when he saw a familiar face. Claudia.

She was posing with, who Calum assumed was, that Isaiah guy. He had his arm around Claudia's shoulders while one of her hands was on his chest. They both had big smiles.

Calum scrolled down and read the caption. Noting that Isaiah's @ was in the caption, he clicked it. He cursed when he saw that his account was private. He went back to Renee's and kept scrolling. He saw more and more of Claudia. From school fundraisers to family barbecues, Claudia and her family were there.

It hurt him, not in 'she looked so happy with him' but more of how he knew their families can't have that relationship. Mostly because Calum's family lived on the other side of the Pacific Ocean. They couldn't just arrange to meet up for a barbecue or a dinner. There was so much to plan just for them to be in the same place. And with the ongoing pandemic, it made things rough for them.

Calum and Claudia's parents briefly met via Zoom when Joy and David thanked Soni and Diego for taking Calum in. After that there were quick Zoom calls or just Calum or Claudia passing along their parents' regards to the other. The more Calum thought about it, his parents had better relationships with Diego and Soni than Marlene and Medelyn's parents. From what Claudia told him, Marlene's parents kicked her out when she was sixteen after finding out she was a few months pregnant with Guito. Diego and Soni stepped in and took her in. Her parents eventually came around, but according to Claudia, the tension is very present whenever there's a family party and Marlene's parents attend. But it's much better than Medelyn's parents. He witnessed first-hand how her parents want nothing to do with her or the Santos family.

"Hey, you okay?" Claudia asked him, bringing him back from his thoughts. "I knocked a few times and you didn't answer."

"Ye-yeah, I'm good." He said. He motioned her to come in. She took a seat in front of Calum.

In other circumstances, he would have dropped to his knees, but those circumstances are probably why Claudia was pregnant.

Calum pushed her t-shirt and gently kissed her belly. "How are my babies?" he asked before blowing raspberries into her belly.

"We are good." Claudia gently patted her belly. "This one was in the mood for tamales."

"What time are they showing up?" He asked.

"In like two hours. I'm so hungry." She fake cried.

"The lighting is good right here." Calum noted, ignoring her hunger comment. He unlocked his phone, accidentally revealing to her that he was lurking. He exited the app and looked for the camera icon. He quickly took a few pictures of him with Claudia's belly. He passed his phone to her and let her see the pictures.

"You think showing me cute pictures of my belly is gonna distract me from the fact that I saw my ex's mom on your phone?" She asked as a matter of factly.

"Kinda?" He laughed nervously. He sat back and ran his hand over her thighs. "Now that I got you here. I have something to talk to you about that involves her."

"Oh?"

"You know how we dropped our album and that our management fucked up the release, making us debut a week early and all that?" He asked her. She nodded in response. She remembered clearly tweeting Billboard and cursing them out. Calum took her hands and intertwined her fingers with his. "Well we decided to part ways with them. Thanks to Renee, we got out of our contract drama free. So now we have more freedom with our music and lives."

"Oh my god! I'm so happy for you and the guys!" Claudia smiled. She carefully hopped off the desk and sat on Calum's lap. "Mrs. Hastings is such a badass. I'm glad she was able to help y'all."

"It's a relief. It's nice to break apart from a group that never had your back." He said.

Claudia smiled to herself. It's been a while since she saw Calum look so relaxed and content. She was happy to see that he found peace of mind. She knew how exhausting their management was. Especially when their relationship was exposed. The band's team was quick to tell him to break up with her. They were desperate to keep his image of the one single band member. But Calum was very adamant and refused.

"My question is why were you on her Instagram?"

"I was bored. I have a question too."

"What is it?"

"The dress you wore to your prom, is that the one you had planned on wearing with me?"

"No." she giggled. "I had convinced my mom to take me to Saks up in HillCrest because I wanted to impress you and maybe you know with you."

"Weren't you seventeen?"

"Yeah? Wh— oh yeah nevermind."

***

Calum paced around his office, waiting for his dad to answer. Earlier Damian had accidentally spoiled Calum and Claudia's surprise by asking if his tía Claudia already had her baby. They came clean and told their parents they were having a baby.

After an unexciting baby and sex reveal, their moms tearfully congratulated them on their baby girl. Diego came around after a few jokes from Junior and Danny. He even shed a few tears after it finally hit him that his baby was having a baby. Which only brought more jokes about how he doesn't hide the fact that Claudia is favorite. The only parent that didn't have much of a reaction was David.

Calum quickly noticed the change in his demeanor as Joy and Soni gushed about the thought of being grandmothers to a baby girl that had both his and Claudia's dark brown curls. He texted him, letting him know that he was calling him. He stepped out and was now waiting for his dad to answer.

"Llo?" David answered.

"Hey, dad." Calum said back. He didn't know where to start. The last thing he wanted was to argue and ruin Christmas for them. But he wanted answers.

"You're really going to be a dad, huh." David spoke up, breaking the silence.

Calum laughed nervously and leaned against his desk. "Yeah, we were a bit surprised at first but we're excited now."

"Isn't it soon? You've been dating Claudia for what? A little over a year and now you're having a child? I never thought you'd settle."

"If you're implying that she purposefully got preg—"

"I'm not… children are a huge responsibility, Calum."

"I'm aware." He scratched his arm. "This is something we've already discussed. We had agreed on waiting a few more years, once Claudia was done with school and working, but it kinda sprung on us. We know the timing isn’t ideal, but we want this. We want her.”

“Alright,” David sighed.

Calum braced himself for what was going to come.

“I want to be called pops though, I’m too young to be called grandpa.” he said, earning a chuckle from his son.

Both of them ended up talking for what seemed like hours. They caught up on how things were going for them. They even joked about having a serious talk with Felix, Mali's boyfriend and a family friend of the Santos family. Calum didn't even notice Claudia walk in and leave him a plate of tamales de rajas con queso and a mug of ponche Navideño on his desk. After another half hour, Calum and David hung up, agreeing to talk later in the week.

Calum made his way back to the living room where Claudia, Danny, Sebastian and Medelyn were while he scarfed down his tamales and ponche. After he finished, he took his dishes and placed them in the sink, letting them soak. He joined Claudia on the floor, letting her lean against him. An hour later, Danny, Medelyn and Sebastian left since in Los Angeles there was a strict curfew. Calum and Claudia offered them one of the guest rooms, but they declined. It was now just the two of them.

By the time they finished cleaning, it was well into midnight. Claudia had changed into a simple yet sexy, panty and bra set, covering it with a silky robe and settled in bed. She scrolled through one of her favorite stories on Wattpad while she waited for him. She was at the part where the main characters established that they are enemies when Calum entered the room with a small plastic box.

"Merry Christmas." He offered her the box.

"We agreed to open presents in the morning." Claudia said.

"I know but I couldn't wait. Remember a while back I found out it was you that I was supposed to take to prom?" He asked.

Claudia nodded. She vaguely remembered the talk, but she did remember that afternoon he posted a screenshot of that Tweet and picture of them in the pool. There were mixed reactions. Some fans were confused why the pool was green, not knowing Ashton was in the midst of working on his album. Some gave them positive responses while others continued with their negativity.

"Anyways," He said, bringing her back from her thoughts. "I found the corsage and I wanted to give it to you. There's also something else in there."

Claudia carefully opened the box. It was beautiful. The flowers were dry, but she always liked dry flowers. To her they represent memories and experiences. She gently ran her finger over the ribbon that matched the dress she had originally bought. She still remembered their team asking her to link the website of her dress so they could get an exact color. She lifted the corsage only to reveal a BVLGARI ring box. Her eyes widened.

"No." Claudia shook her head. She passed him back the box. "Just because I'm having your baby, it doesn't mean you should propose."

"Umm, well good thing I'm not proposing." Calum awkwardly chuckled. He opened the small box, inside was a rose gold serpent ring. It was similar to the necklace he first gave her and the bracelets. "I wanted you to have the complete set. It fits your pointer finger, not the ring finger."

"Oh, thank god." She exhaled, relieved.

"Why that reaction though?" He asked her.

"I've seen too many couples get engaged for the wrong reason and end up miserable. Not that that would be us, but I don't want you to feel obligated because I’m having your kid."

"What do you think about marriage?" He shifted so she could be more comfortable.

"The overall thought of spending your life with someone and stuff sounds great. It's the fact that the government and/or church have to get involved to verify that gets me. Legally speaking it makes sense why they get involved. You?"

"I agree for the most part. I don't need some piece of paper to tell me that my feelings for you are valid." He said.

"Well thanks for the ring." Claudia said, showing him how it looked on her pointer finger. "I love it. Also I have something for you to unwrap."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." She giggled as she stood on her knees in front of him.

Calum slowly opened her robe, revealing her bra and panties.

"You're my favorite present." Calum said, before gently pulling her down to kiss her. "The best thing that has ever happened to me."

***

"Check his left pocket." Ashton told Luke while he held Calum up.

Luke nodded and slipped his hand into Calum's pants. But in his drunken state, Calum pushed him away. He shook his hand and tried yo

"I'm flattered, but I have a girlfriend." he went on. "She's amazing. She also has a great ass and even more phenomenal brain. She's having my baby whilst getting her master's at UCLA."

"C'mon you cunt, just cooperate with us. Claudia is going to kill us." Luke grumbled. "Where are you are your fucking keys?"

"I have a spare under the potted cactus." Calum said. He yawned and rested his head on Ashton's shoulder.

Luke gave him a look and crouched under the potted plant. He lifted the pot and retrieved the keyes. He opened the door, holding it for Ashton to carry Calum in. They guided him to the couch.

Duke and Cherry jumped on Calum wanting to get cuddles from him, but he wasn’t in the mood. He grumbled and rolled on his stomach.

“We need to get ice on his hand.” Luke whispered to Ashton.

“Why does he need ice on his hand?” Claudia asked, startling them.

She stood on the doorway with a plate of sliced green apples drizzled with honey and warm peanut butter. She was pissed.

Calum had told her he was going to go to the studio with the guys. Only he didn’t. She was mindlessly scrolling through the explore tab on Instagram and saw a picture of Mitchy with Calum in the background. Claudia wasn’t mad that he was out with Mitchy. She could care less about him. What pissed her off was that he thought it was okay for him to be out partying in the middle of a global pandemic.

“He punched Mitchy.” Ashton said as if it was something Calum normally did.

“He WHAT!” Claudia yelled.

“That’s what Luke said. I don’t know. I was home sleeping when he called.”

“I was in the other room when it happened and when Jordan came to get me, he didn’t tell me what provoked him. They were just held back by a few other guys.” Luke explained.

“Did anyone else see?” Claudia asked. She was worried about the video getting out and that their old team could use it against it.

“No, there were like three other guys in the room when I got there. Everyone else was out in the yard. There guys were smoking and Cal was helping Mitchy get more drinks.”

Ashton patted Luke’s arm. “We should get going.”

“Bye Claudia and congrats on having a girl.” Luke said before he left with Ashton.

Claudia sighed when she heard the door close. She went over to Calum and got him out of his clothes. She grabbed a blanket and covered him, leaving to go upstairs to sleep.

Calum woke up hours later. His whole body was in pain. He couldn't lift his head up from the pillow at how heavy it felt. Though when he caught a peek of himself in boxers he jumped up.

It took him a minute to realize he was at his house. He didn't even know how he got home. The last thing he remembered was punching Mitchy for calling Claudia a bitch. He glanced down at his hand, even against his brown skin, his knuckles were still red. He opened and closed his fist, cursing at how it hurt.

He heard hushed voices coming from the kitchen. He recognized the voices instantly. Danny and Claudia were arguing in Spanish. On the opposite end of the couch were a t-shirt and sweatpants neatly folded. He put them on and went to the kitchen.

He barely made two steps in the kitchen when two hands shoved him hard.

Danny, what the fuck!" Claudia yelled. She pulled her brother back, letting Calum regain his composure.

"You don't come to my house and fucking start shit." Calum snapped at Danny.

"No, but I do come over and take my sister home with me because her baby daddy is an irresponsible headass." Danny sneered.

"What did you just say?" Calum asked.

"Are you fucking stupid?" Danny began. "Claudia is fucking pregnant and you think it's cool to go out and party. You're putting her life and your baby's in danger. Hell, even yours. You're fucking selfish."

Calum didn't know what to say. He felt like shit.

Danny gently reached for his sister's arm. "Claudia te vienes conmigo."

She shrugged him off and crossed her arms. "I'm not leaving."

"Me vale verga."

"She said she's not going." Calum spoke up.

"Cal, don't say anything right now." Claudia said defeatedly. "Danny, go home. We're going to resolve this."

Danny looked at Calum then to Claudia. "Fine." he said, knowing she wouldn't budge. He reached for his keys on the counter. "Me hablas al rato. Y más si este pendejo anda con sus pendejadas."

He hugged Claudia and went through the back to avoid getting close to Calum. Seconds later the front door slammed shut.

"Claudia,"

She lifted her hand up, stopping him. "I don't wanna hear Calum. I'm exhausted. I stayed up all night because I didn't know where the fuck you were. Then you come home late, so drunk that Luke and Ashton have to hold you up. Don't get me started on the fact that you got in a fight. I don't want to know what caused it, but it better not repeat.

What am I going to tell my parents this time? 'Yeah we can't make it because Calum decided that it was okay for him to party in the middle of a global pandemic where there were thousands of people dying and being hospitalized in just the city we live in. Feliz año.'"

"Claudia,"

"What?"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sure you."

Taglist: @suchalonelysunflower @f-mu @another-lonely-heart @sunshinebabycal-deactivated2021 @calumscalm @karajaynetoday @cherryxwildflower @ashtonsunflower @idontneedanyone @findingliam-o @5-secondsofcolor @mulletcal @polycashton @fckingpernico @2fangirl4u @calpops

#calum hood fluff #calum hood angst #calum hood one shot #calum hood blurb #calum hood imagine #calum hood fanfic #calum hood imagines #calum hood oneshot #calum hood fanfiction #el novio quarantine edition

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hot-wiings · 3 years

Text

The One Where It's Shouto's Forgotten Birthday. Alternatively, The One The Author Rushed Out Thirty Minutes Before Midnight.

Edited: 1-11-2021

It was the same every year. As early as he could remember, Shouto Todoroki was separated from his brothers and sisters. His father, Enji, wouldn't ever let him associate with his elder siblings, while Shouto tried not to let this bother him, he was always reminded of it on his birthday. His birthday was never really celebrated, perhaps this was a result of the separation, a sad outcome of not being close with his elder sister ad brothers.

From the memories, Shouto could remember his mother would make him a cake. Sometimes the memories were fuzzy, he was young when his father had her locked away. The memories he did have of her were that of her scarring his face, or of her reassuring him that being a hero did not tie him to being like his father, and birthdays were a once a year thing.

Shouto didn't remember much of his brother, Touya. He was young when Touya mysteriously disappeared. What he did remember of him weren't pleasant. For some unspoken reason, Touya never liked him. Natsou and Fuyumi were all that Shouto had, while they never treated Shouto any different or horrible, they weren't normal around him. There was always going to be this unspoken barrier between them.

Shouto grew to hate his birthday and the vast barrier between him and his siblings. While his father loved Shouto–Shouto, his quirk, and his birthday, his siblings didn't seem to have the same joy. His father always gifted him something extravagant, something he was sure his siblings did not receive of the same magnitude. Sometimes he would receive money, money of a great sum. That was it. There was no cake, no singing happy birthday. No stuffing his mouth full with something sweet and cold while laughing with family.

It was a quiet and somber affair. It was a reminder to his siblings how they were failed experiments and he was not. It was a reminder he would always have their father's unconditional love, and they would not. Even if the unconditional love were to disappear should his quirk go away.

He always tried not to let this bother him. He knew what his birthday was a reminder of for them. He knew he shouldn't take it to heart, any other day and they would have loved to be around him. He tried to understand, but it hurt. He just wanted his birthday to be about him. Not his quirk, not his failed sibling experiments, him.

Checking his phone for the umpteenth time that evening, Shouto sighed at the lack of messages. He was hoping for something, anything. A call from his brother, he'd even suffice for a message from his sister. It seemed they had forgotten or resented the day as he did. All he had was a message from his father, telling him to buy himself something and work hard in class. To give Enji better credit, Shouto had originally declined the heartfelt call he tried giving him that morning before patrol.

Shouto treated his friends to lunch that day, but it seemed that they had forgotten. It wasn't like Shouto made it a point to include everyone in his own business, but after being classmates for so long he expected something. Mostly he was hurt by you and Deku. Deku, his firstmost and greatest friend, who kept everything locked down about everyone in his notebook. And you, his first girlfriend, who he tried to include in everything about his life. He never received a happy birthday wish from either of you.

Maybe his birthday just wasn't worth celebrating. He should resent it, at most times he did resent it.

At eleven o'clock in the evening, Shouto gives up hope. He turns his phone off and gets ready for bed. He tosses on his pajamas and brushed his teeth. He plugs his phone in its charger and checks to make sure his alarm clock is set for tomorrow's class. Right as Shouto's about to turn his light off, there's a quiet, knock on the door.

With furrowed eyebrows, Shouto made his way to his dorm room door and unlocks it quickly. He hadn't bothered checking through the hole to see who it was, but he doubted a villain was going to have the decency to knock. You stood before Shouto, a small bag meekly held in between both your hands. Your hair was pulled up in a messy bun and you had little bunny slippers on your feet. You nervously bounced your leg as you looked up and down the hall. Undoubtedly wary of Mr. Aizawa finding you in the boy's dormitory after hours.

"Happy birthday!"

It's a light shout, barely above a whisper but spoken excitedly. You push your way inside Shouto's dorm despite not having been invited. You were a persistent one, he doubted you would've left if he had told you, you couldn't come in. He tried not to let them but tears began to gloss over his eyes.

"Sorry I didn't come sooner. I wanted to surprise you, and I burned the first two cakes!"

Your tone rises towards the end, pure aggravation and aggression at your failed attempts. You set the bag down on the table and pull the cake out of the bag, as well as a small poorly wrapped present. There were holes in some spots, but plenty of tape to make up for it. Shouto slightly wondered if Sero helped you wrap it. The cake was decorated beautifully, each word delicately placed, and he could tell you spent hours on the flower designs.

He couldn't help it, the tears just slid down. The tears slide down his cheeks and slip onto his pajamas. His little sniffles can be heard by you and you're quick to turn around with concern and knitted eyebrows.

"Do you hate it? I know, I'm not a chef... Bakugo refused to help me. He's such an ass. I swear it tastes good, it's baked with love."

You tried to keep your words down so no one would know about you breaking curfew, but your tone started breaking towards the end and your lips started to quiver out of worry you completely screwed this up. Shouto never explicitly said he liked cake, what if he hated it? Shouto wrapped his arms around you, pulling you tightly against him as he let more tears slid out freely. He didn't bother masking them or his sobs. He just holds you tightly, like his life depends on it.

"Thank you. Thank you for remembering, for remembering me."

You remembered him, you made a cake for him. You didn't resent him, and you didn't want him for his quirk. It was pure unconditional love for him.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? You're my boyfriend, you'd do the same for me, right?"

"Yes, but you'll have to show me how to make a cake first."

You cupped Shouto's cheeks and pushed his tears away with your thumbs. You weren't sure what was going on with him, and you suspected it had something to do with his father so you didn't budge on the subject. Instead, you briefly push your lips against his and smile.

"I really did rebake this three times, we'll have to learn together."

His father didn't matter, his sibling's botched attempts at his birthday didn't matter. He understood what it meant for them. They were failed attempts, but for him, it didn't have to be that. It didn't have to be sorrow-filled and resentful. It could be something happy, happy, and joyous.

"I'd like that. Then we can bake each other a cake every year."

"It's a deal."

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trashytummiez · 3 years

Text

Sticky Buns for a Surfer Bro

@squidbiscuit did it again. She made an amazing pic of Brawly stuffed and burpy that was so unbelievably cute, I needed to write a fic based off of it! <3

“Dude! Me’n Marlon, brah, we caught some righteous waves today! You should’a seen it!” Brawly said with excitement to the only other individual in his apartment.

Only it wasn’t an individual at all. It was his Makuhita, doing what few Pokemon were even capable of doing...baking!

Brawly sniffed the air and lit up excitedly. “Yooooo! Sticky buns? Makuey, dude, that’s rad bodacious of you, brah!” The blue haired young surfer exclaimed merrily. The short and stocky yellow Pokemon mewed out its name and hobbled over to its trainer carrying a large tray of steamy buns. Brawly leaned over and took a whiff then smacked his chops. “You’re too good to me, my dude!” He said happily, ruffling its head in appreciation. Makuhita smiled back at him when he took the tray and set it down on the dining table. Then it hobbled back to the kitchen. “Makin’ more?” Brawly asked in a genuinely surprised fashion.

Just then, Brawly’s stomach growled loudly. He blinked with surprise and rubbed his leaned midsection softly then shrugged.

“Eh, shreddin’ sick waves does kinda work up an appetite, I guess.”

And boy did Brawly’s appetite show. He very eagerly shoved one of the buns in his mouth and took an immense bite out of it, like a solid quarter went down in one chomp. Like his Pokemon, Brawly squinted with a bright smile on his face as his cheeks bulged out humorously from how much bun he was chewing at once.

After he gulped that first bite, he licked his lips and grinned with excitement. “Yoooooooo! Talk about a mondo wave of flavor, dude! My tastebuds are swirlin’!”

Brawly very eagerly shoved more buns right into his mouth. He was happy as a clam munching away on those sticky, warm buns that all seemed to just melt in his mouth. The surfer managed to down a considerable amount of buns in a very short period of time. That tray full of buns he was working his way through was completely gone before he even knew it.

He wiped his mouth with a contented grin then frowned when he realized the buns were finished. “Aww, dude, I forgot to leave some for you,” he said and scratched his head with genuine guilt on his face. “That’s my bad, brah...”

But the Pokemon called out its name in a dismissive fashion.

“You sure, brah? This stuff was tubular! Ya oughta be able to have some for yourself!”

But again, Makuhita didn’t mind. Instead, it returned with another tray of sticky buns and a big ol’ smile on its face.

Brawly smiled and gently tapped it on the shoulder. “You’re too good to me, my dude.”

Makuhita smiled and merrily hobbled back to the kitchen. Brawly got to work downing more and more sticky buns. He really couldn’t get enough of these things. Their texture, the flavor, the warm feeling of each mouthful he bit into sliding down his gullet and filling his stomach with more warmth. It was a tidal wave of deliciousness and like any surfer, Brawly had to ride that wave to the fullest.

And fullest really was the appropriate term here.

Brawly’s usually lean washboard of a stomach was getting pretty bloated from all those buns he was downing in so short an amount of time. His skin-tight surf shirt stretched out around the middle and started to rise up and expose more of his surfer tanned flesh. But he couldn’t help himself, the buns were just irresistibly good. And like the first tray of buns, Brawly had consumed every last one.

After finishing his last bun, Brawly burped loudly then leaned back in his chair satisfied. “Ahhh, righteous...” he said, patting his belly with a satisfied sigh.

But then Makuhita approved the table with another tray of buns.

Brawly looked at his Pokemon with surprise. “Uh...y-you want me to eat more?”

Makuhita called out its name and nodded eagerly.

Brawly frowned then looked down at his stomach. His shirt was already riding a few inches up from how bloated it had become. He’d already eaten well past what he normally would have and it was definitely feeling nice and full by that point.

But then he looked at his Pokemon smiling back at him. Surfer bro or not, Brawly was a nice guy with a big heart that made him a bit of a pushover. So, he managed to smile back and took the tray. “Well, um, can’t let this stuff go to waste, right?”

Makuhita smiled and cried out happily, but to Brawly’s eternal dread, it headed back to the kitchen.

“Uh, y-you don’t have to make anymore, brah! S-Seriously, this is plenty!”

It wasn’t plenty. It was too much. But because Brawly didn’t want to leave his pal hanging, he took another bun and started biting into it. The buns still tasted great and went down nice and smooth. But the thing was that his stomach was already at capacity and the more he ate, the heavier Brawly’s belly became. And there was a very fine difference between feeling stuffed and feeling heavy; the latter was never fun.

It wasn’t made any better the more buns Brawly continued eating. His stomach grumbled loudly in protest which made Brawly cringe and stroke his rounder belly in an effort to calm it down. His shirt was riding up a little more with each bun he ate which only made the gurgling in his gut grow louder and more unpleasant.

About halfway through the buns, he huffed exhaustedly and slumped back in his chair feeling absolutely stuffed. His belly was feeling way too full and way too heavy, getting so bloated that his shirt even rode up above his belly button.

“Ungh, feelin’ wiped out, brah...” Brawly whined to himself, rubbing his belly with both hands while it churned and grumbled away.

His stomach hitched, like a sudden, mild cramp emerged. Brawly looked like he was going to be sick for a moment there. But instead, Brawly burped so loudly that it could be heard from outside of his place.

BUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!!!!!!!

With that massive burp came a sudden relief that wafted over Brawly and left him sighing heavily.

“Ohhhhhh yeah, I needed that, brah, holy cow...” Brawly moaned and clutched at his tight bloated stomach with delighted relief. Doing so made him belch loudly again, which only brought him more relief.

“Whew! Dude, that was...” Brawley started to say but stopped.

He felt another one coming then thumped his chest a few times with his fist until one more huge burp erupted from his mouth.

BOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRP!!!!!!!

That one left Brawly moaning with absolute relief.

“Haaah, dude, that almost sounded like one’uh Marlon’s, brah...” Brawly bragged and smacked his belly heartily with satisfaction. It was like he got his second wind right there, getting that pressure out.

So he went right back to downing more buns. With the extra room he’d just made, it was a lot easier to down the remaining buns. He still felt full when he ate, but he now knew he could fit the rest of Makuhita’s baking into his packed belly.

But second winds don’t last forever and it wasn’t long before fullness kicked in again. Brawly’s stomach was feeling heavier and heavier, while his shirt rode up a little more due to how stuffed his stomach was by the end. It was a struggle but Brawly managed to eat what was left on his tray.

By the time he finally finished, Brawly let out a lengthy burp and pushed himself up to his feet.

“Ungh, brah, I’m stuffed...” Brawly groaned wrapping his hands around his tight, bloated belly. One hand went to his mouth in time for him to muffle a big burp, judging by the rumble it made in his closed mouth and the way his cheeks puffed. He groaned miserably after that and blew the gas off from the corner of his mouth and fanned the air around his nose. “Ugh, that don’t smell nearly as good coming up as it does going down...Ourrrrhp...ungh...”

He walked away from the table while his belly churned loudly. It felt so unbelievably heavy that Brawly could pass out right then and there.

But right when he was in the middle of walking away, something tapped into his backside. Brawly turned around and immediately looked down with mortal dread in his eyes.

Makuhita was directly behind him, smiling up at him with yet another tray in its hands.

Brawly smiled nervously and backed away waving his hand at his stocky Pokemon. All that nervous jittering upset his rounded stomach however and made him belch mid-protest.

“URRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAP!!!!!!!!! Whoa!” Brawly said, holding a fist up to his mouth as he smiled nervously and burped again behind his hand. “BURRRP!!! Ngh, th-that’s enough for today, my dude! Really, I’m beyond the waves here!”

But then he saw his little Pokemon’s smile turn sad, and as one could predict, poor bloated Brawly’s heart twisted.

Not as badly as his belly was about to...

By the time poor Brawly had been coerced into finishing that last tray of buns, he was a complete mess. The poor young surfer was sprawled on his couch sporting a belly so big that he almost looked pregnant. His shirt had completely ridden up beneath his chest, leaving its tanned spheric form exposed and his pants undone and tucked down to his huge gut breathing room.

He laid there on the couch, nursing his beachball of a belly and burping again and again, until a huge burp rolled out of him for ten straight seconds. If Brawly weren’t in utter agony, he’d almost be impressed since that had to be a new record for him. Unfortunately, he was too busy trying his best not to puke from being so stuffed.

Brawly moaned in absolute misery which turned into a rumbling burp halfway through, but one that gave him no relief.

“Urrrrrrrrgh...so...urrrrp...full...UuuuuurrrrooooorrrrAAP!” Brawly groaned between overstuffed burps.

His belly was so noisy that it was almost as loud as some of the burps he was letting out relentlessly.

Makuhita hobbled over to its trainer and frowned sadly at him, looking at how massive his belly was from all the buns and how utterly sick with fullness Brawly himself looked. It called out its name sadly, as if it was apologizing to Brawly, but the overstuffed trainer managed a very weak smile and ruffled its head.

“...Ungh, h-heh, you just...” he paused to burp into his fist, then again. “Ungh, just wanted to do somethin’ nice for me, my dude...all good...”

But Makuhita still looked sad seeing how miserable Brawly looked, especially compared to his usually exuberant self. It saw him cringe when his belly burbled heartily and then it got an idea.

With a bit of effort, it hopped onto the couch and placed its mitten-like paws against Brawly’s big, drum-tight stomach. And then it started to rub away. Brawly suddenly groaned again, but for a different reason. He seemed to relax and have a slight smile on his face as he groaned which encouraged Makuhita to keep gently rubbing Brawly’s belly for him.

It was kind of amazing how someone who was so normally lean could even get this bloated, especially from sticky buns. Brawly really did pack away a whole lot, Makuhita realized which made it feel even more guilty. Part of it worried it was because Brawly didn’t want the Pokemon to feel bad, but when it saw how happily Brawly ate that first tray, it couldn’t help but bake more and more. After all Brawly was its best friend and it wanted to show the young surfer how much it cared for him.

But that didn’t matter. The belly rubs seemed to be working so the stocky Pokemon continued running its paws up and down and all around that round achingly full stomach. There was very little give apart from Brawly’s lower stomach, but the mere sensation of Makuhita’s paws roaming his belly seemed to help him feel better, if at least a little bit.

Brawly’s belly quivered under Makuhita’s paws but it seemed as the quivering was almost a pleased sort, judging by the way Brawly moaned to himself.

“Ohhhhh, Makuey...you’re the best, bra-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAP!!!!!!!!!” Brawley’s sentence was cut short when the end of his sentence turned into a big and guttural burp. He covered his mouth and smiled sheepishly at his Pokemon. “H-Heh, my bad...”

Makuhita just giggled and kept on rubbing that turbulent tummy.

#brawly #gym leader brawly #pokemon #makuhita #stuffed belly #belly kink #belly rub #indigestion #burping #stomachache #squidbiscuit #wholesome #fluff #friendship

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tsukkisbean · 4 years

Photo

how they cheer your up | headcanons

genre: fluff

characters: iwaizumi hajime, miya osamu, terushima yūji, kunimi akira x gn!reader

warnings: none!

a/n: hello if you’re seeing this, that means my scheduled post worked, yay!! hopefully this shows up in the tags otherwise i’ll have to reupload it at a later time (sorry in advance if that’s the case hehe). i’m also trying my hand at writing for other characters so hopefully this does their characters justice??

anyways, i hope everyone is doing well and staying healthy and happy! if you requested something from me, sorry i haven’t gotten to it even though i said i would. i’ll try my best to complete them when i get the chance, thank you for being patient with me 💖 all boys after iwaizumi are under the cut!

iwaizumi hajime

best boy iwaizumi would without a doubt use exercise as a way to cheer you up

but don’t get me wrong, he’s not going to force you to run a marathon or anything like that

i imagine him taking you to one of those entertainment/game parks (not really sure what they’re called ahh) where you guys just hang out all day

when you get there, he’ll immediately take you to the batting cage so you can just channel out all your anger into your swings

once your blood is pumping from the adrenaline he’ll take you to the trampoline area where you guys just bounce around and do flips into the foam pit to burn off all your extra energy

you’ll just be chilling, jumping up and down on one of the trampolines, your back turned to iwaizumi when he straight up scoops you up and tosses you in

he’s cackling and dying of laughter and when he finally offers to help you out you grab his hand and pull him in

when he doesn’t resurface you get nervous, where could he be?

from the corner of your eye you see the foam rumbling slightly but you react too slowly and iwaizumi pops out and tackles you in the biggest hug, peppering kisses all over your face and people are staring as you scream your head off trying to pry him off of you

for dinner, you guys indulge in all the greasy food the park has to offer, and by the end you’re stuffed

to help with digestion you suggest a game of mini golf which iwaizumi gladly agrees to

for someone who played volleyball his aim is absolutely horrifying

he argues that the windmill is IMPOSSIBLE to get a good score on and no one can ever get a hole in one

luck must have been on your side because you get a hole in one right after (and so does the small child behind you guys, but you choose not to tell him that)

you end up destroying him (he lowkey hints that he let you win but we know that’s not the case)

when the park closes, instead of taking you straight home, he’ll take you to a nearby park and the two of you just stroll around enjoying the chill of the night and the stars in the sky

miya osamu

he pulls you onto the couch next to him and the two of you look through baking videos on youtube and osamu being osamu cannot decide because he wants to make them all

eventually you guys settle on a cake recipe by cooking tree (a/n: 10/10 would recommend watching them, their videos are super soothing and aesthetic esp if you enjoy cooking asmr!!)

so at 9pm you guys set off to the grocery store to buy the ingredients you guys are missing

the trip takes much longer than expected because osamu keeps putting in more and more snacks that you guys definitely don’t need

so instead of shopping osamu is trying to grab as many snacks as you can while you trail behind, trying to put them away because your pantry is already way too full

by the time you get home it’s close to 12 and you’re tired but osamu insists that you guys start now

for the most part all goes well, you guys manage to get the batter to look smooth in the cake pan (definitely some playful flour throwing here and there)

the real problem is assembling the cake. at this point you’re wondering why you guys decided on a 3-layered cake that required cutting

teases you for cutting the first layer slanted and so you pass over the cutting to him but his slicing work is just as bad and you just have to bring up the fact that he owns a restaurant but apparently his knife skills suck

you thought cutting the cake would be a problem?? now you guys have to fill the layers and it’s a complete disaster; there’s whipped cream just everywhere and at this point you guys are half filling the cake half throwing it at each other

cake ends up being iced unevenly but that’s the least of your problems

you guys pour the decorative icing on top and instead of running over the sides only slightly, it drips messily down the cake and onto the counter and now you guys have a blob of a cake

you guys spend the rest of the night cleaning up and pass out on the couch and in the morning you guys enjoy a sweet breakfast together <3

terushima yūji

terushima is a free soul and so he believes expressing yourself through art is one of the best ways to feel better

when he sees that you’re down, he’ll immediately whip out all of his salon products and pull you into the bathroom

he takes you by surprise saying that he wants you to whatever you want to his hair - today his hair is your canvas

at first you’re reluctant, but he insists - as a hair stylist it’s all about experimentation with styles and colours and plus he can easily fix whatever you do considering that it is his job after all

so you guys scroll through pinterest together, trying to find some fun hair ideas that you’d be able to pull off on your own (with some instruction from teru of course)

you finally decide on a style and so together start on getting all the hair dye ready

he explains to you the different types of develops and how important they are in the hair colouring process - there are different volumes and will essentially affect how much your hair colour changes

after all the colours are mixed and ready to go, you gingerly grab a piece of hair, constantly checking your phone to make sure you’re doing it exactly like the photo

meanwhile terushima has the softest smile on his face, watching you through the mirror - he thinks you look absolutely adorable with the way your brows are furrowed and your tongue sticks on slightly as you focus

as you run the colour brush along his hair, he’s constantly encouraging you, telling you what a good job you’re doing and how he’s so excited to the end product

while the dye sits in his hair, you sit in his lap

once it’s time to wash out the hair dye, you bring him to the sink and carefully run your hands through his hair, trying your best to give him the best head massage he’s ever had!!!

after toning and a hair treatment, your masterpiece if finally done!! ofc being the boyfriend he is, he takes a million photos and posts them on social media to show how talented his significant other is - like not only is it your first time dying someone’s hair but you managed to pull off RAINBOW hair!! (a/n: think sehun from exo as a reference hehe) he literally will not shut up about you to his clients tomorrow

kunimi akira

kunimi has a rep for being lazy and just overall a really nonchalant kind of person but he’s sharp, so when you’re feeling down he immediately picks up on it even if he doesn’t confront you about it

however i don’t think he’d be as aggressive as the other three and do something huge rather he tries to make you feel better only in smaller ways and it definitely adds up

like in the morning he’ll make you coffee or tea or whatever you want - orange juice, a bakery bun? he’ll make an excuse saying he wanted something from the convenience store anyways and head down. when he comes back with three bags of food and drinks he’ll insist that he just grabbed whatever he saw because he was “too lazy to decide” n b d

throughout the day he’ll be a lot more affectionate than usual, hugging you whenever he gets the chance, maybe even a kiss on your forehead

when you tell him you want to go out on your own for a bit he doesn’t argue - whatever you need to do but when your back is turned he’ll slip you a handwritten note telling you to enjoy your alone time and that he l-word you and it’s even signed off with a teensy teensy heart that you almost don’t notice

when you get back, you’re greeted with the smell of your delicious food mixed with a burning smell and on the kitchen table you see takeout from your favourite restaurants and in the garbage is a black burnt mess - kunimi insists he doesn’t know how it got there even though its quite obvious

you bring the food to the living room and to your surprise there’s a blanket fort set up with pillows spread out all across the floor

when you try to question him, he just shrugs saying that it’s not that hard to throw a blanket over a couple of chairs, even a baby could do it

today he lets you choose the movie even though it’s technically his turn and when you choose a comedy he doesn’t complain about the obnoxiously loud and hot headed lead character

when the movie is over, he quickly cleans up all the trash, making sure you don’t have time to move from your spot

when he comes back, he flops on top of you, holding you close

then he plays the spotify playlist that he made for you; it’s a whole mix of songs - slow, upbeat, instrumentals - anything he thought might help you feel even the tiniest bit better

and so you guys just lay there not speaking, enjoying each other’s presence until you fall asleep

#haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenario #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x you #miya osamu #iwaizumi hajime #terushima yuji #kunimi akira #osamu x reader #iwaizumi x reader #terushima x reader #kunimi x reader #clara click clacks

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bruh-haikyuu · 4 years

Text

@arcangel-wings REQUESTED: Heya! I’m new to your blog and I really like your writing! Can I request Tenma Udai with an s/o who’s a baker while he’s in hs? So like he’s a delinquent and she’s a sweetheart who’s always giving people the stuff she bakes? Everyone thinks it’s weird but they fit together kinda thing 🥺?

A/N: Thanks for requesting!! This is über cute. Fem!Reader as alluded in the request^^

kilig. | udai tenma

word count: 2155

warnings: manga spoilers!!

(n.) the rush or the inexplicable joy one feels after seeing or experiencing something romantic

“Chocolate is the ingredient for love~!” you say after pouring what seems to be an entire bucketful of chocolate chips into your bowl.

Your friend Saeko has seen just about enough of your nonsensical chatter about baking, your boyfriend and your abundant love for both. Already exhausted from a recent scolding by the vice-principal, she decides that it’s better off to smile and nod rather than try to come up with a snarky remark for your innocent mania.

“T-That’s a lot of chocolate,” she blurts out. When she picks up her spatula from the bowl, the girl grumbles at the sight of a liquidy trail drizzling down the utensil. “Ahh geez, it’s not supposed to be like this, isn’t it? Katagiri-sensei’s going to fail me again...”

You smile and hand her a bowl of flour. “Don’t worry, Saeko-chan. Just add a bit more flour and you’re good to go! You can never go wrong with cookies.”

The halo above your head is nearly visible. Saeko swears she can even hear angels singing to her in the background as you mix away on your fragrant bowl of dough. You don’t even seem real—from your angelic grin down to your overwhelmingly flowery aura. It’s tough enough to imagine that you’d ever talk to her of all people, but to imagine you’d go for a guy who’s just as much of a thug...

Unthinkable! Saeko shakes her head. She’d thought you’d pulled a joke on her the first time you announced that you were dating... him. Udai Tenma, star of the Boys’ Volleyball Club, a red-hot beacon of undomesticated temper.

She’d always known you liked him—though which part of him you liked is somewhat still a mystery to her—and as much as Saeko wanted to protect you from those ruffians, that absolutely infatuated look in your eyes was too much to bear. And eventually, she succumbed to your incessant ambitions of high school romance.

“You’re a saint, dude,” she sighs longingly. “I don’t get how you’re still dating that guy. I’m not really one to say anything about this, but don’t you think Udai’s kind of a jerk with the way he treats you?”

You chuckle, like a sweet grandmother about to tell a nostalgic tale to her grandchildren.

“I suppose you can say that Tenma-kun is a bit shy. He likes to act tough and mighty when he’s around people, but he’s actually just a normal boyfriend with a very sweet tooth and a penchant for manga.”

Saeko scowls. “Normal’s normal, but you have to at least let him know that you have your limits too. I really can’t stand leaving the two of you alone, w-what if Udai breaks your heart, or worse—”

“Tanaka-san. If you have time for chatter back there, then surely, you’re finished with your cookies?” at the sound of the grouchy Home Economics teacher at the front of the class, Saeko quickly returns to her bowl in a sorry attempt to look busy.

Deciding to humor her interest, you lean towards her and whisper lowly. “I’ll be fine, Saeko-chan. He may not look like it, but Tenma-kun’s actually very cute.”

In her mind, it’s much easier to simply handcuff herself to you so that you’re under her watch at all times possible. But your gaze is nothing short of genuine—you really love this guy, and the fact that you’re still with him, assures Saeko even just a tiny bit that he might not be so bad after all... with you at least.

You’re already storming away in your little world of baking. It amuses your best friend whenever you’re off making your personal masterpieces (“‘Masterpiece’ is absolutely right!” she’d say while stuffing her mouth full of your mini tarts). Each and every one of your creations are whipped up with the utmost amount of love and care, and for just the right reasons, everyone’s been pestering you to set up a bakery after high school. Your regular patrons just happen to be the Karasuno Boys’ Volleyball Club—with the addition of the lively Coach Ukai who is rather fond of how much filling you put into your red bean buns.

As regular as regular can be, you’ve found yourself visiting the Volleyball Club clubroom after school every Wednesday to hand out your treats to not only your aloof boyfriend, but also to his friends, his coach and the prostrated manager who direfully needs a pick-me-up. And suddenly, you’re ‘Karasuno’s Cookie Goddess’.

“Ah, you’re making another batch, Y/N?” Saeko perks up when you split your dough in half.

“Yep!” you giggle, essentially a high school student drowning in love. “I want to make something special for Tenma-kun today.”

“... What’s the occasion? Is it his birthday or something?”

You shrug, face absolutely alight. “Nope, I just want to give him a surprise~”

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

Tenma isn’t exactly unapproachable. It’s just that people tend to avoid him at all costs. Perhaps you were just bold... or remarkably stupid, but if you hadn’t addressed him that day, life would’ve probably been drabber.

Your parents and your friends (with emphasis towards your overprotective Saeko-chan) had shown their unfiltered concern when the news of your relationship circulated like wildfire. What was the analogy they used, again?

“You’re like a rabid bridge troll and a rabbit! It doesn’t work!” You could only laugh at their valiant efforts of a correlation... if they were really trying to make one. But after a few more reassuring pushes and awkward family dinners, they’ve come to be more lenient about your little ‘liaison’.

But you never feel like you have to worry when Tenma is around. In fact, when Tenma is around, you feel calm—even when he’s spouting off curses to a taller rival.

There’s a warmth unlike any other when he holds or kisses you. And though you’d have to drive him through hell and waters to say it out loud, you already know that every action he does for you is out of love. Words are material, it’s the action that counts, right?

“Sorry for the intrusion~!” you call out into the open doors of the Boys’ Volleyball Club’s space.

A flash of obnoxious yellow hair flashes before your eyes and suddenly, an imposingly tall figure appears in front of you out of nowhere. “Cookie Goddess!”

“Good afternoon, Yukimura-kun,” you smile. “Is there only you right now?”

“I’m here too, Y/N-chan,” the lax-faced captain Tokito emerges from the room in the midst of zipping up his jacket. His eyes flicker towards the packages in your hands and a smile cracks on his face. “Ooh, chocolate chip cookies today~”

You quickly raise the fragrant bags of treats into their view, bringing in the remaining swamp of boys from the clubroom. Suddenly, the common hallway is blocked by an influx of starving teenagers who are rampaging on about your existence.

“So good...” Yukimura murmurs dreamily, mouth full of chocolate. “Man, anyone would be lucky to have you as their wife if you were to cook them these everyday.”

A brazen first-year with frosted tips elbow him and sighs. “Too bad you’re taken, huh, Y/N-chan-senpai? If it were me instead of him, I’d always make it a point that ‘Heeey... guess what my girlfriend made for me today~ Isn’t she the best—”

“Oi, brat. Whose girlfriend do you think you’re talking about?”

The gangle of boys freeze up simultaneously at the grouchy voice behind you (aside from Tokito, who’s yawning at the whole ordeal). Whipping around to the dark aura boring holes into your back, you immediately light up at Tenma’s presence.

“Tenma-kun~!” you launch at him with your arms wide open. You’re ready for some sort of swerve from him, so you make sure you protect his bag of cookies with your arm... You’ve learned this counter-attack the hard way, of course.

But what you don’t expect is that your boyfriend makes no move to avoid you at all.

“H-hey! Don’t just lunge at me like that, you idiot! What if you fell down and knocked your head open?” Ah, at least the embarrassed comment is there.

You can only smile at him kindly. From the edge of your eyes, you swear that you can see a light blush dusting his face as your boyfriend gains newfound interest in your shoes.

“Come with me for a while,” he finally grumbles, effectively breaking the silence between the both of you. Grabbing your hand, Tenma leads you down the little aluminium staircase, eliciting small grates from the steps below you and a mass of curious whispers from the group you’d just left behind.

“Hey, Udai-kun~” Tokito calls out, a lilt of roguery in his tone, “Make sure to get back in time for practice, okay? And keep Y/N-chan in one piece, won’t you? We can’t get another Cookie Goddess if you don’t.”

When he turns into a secluded corner away from the prying eyes of his teammates, you can hear him audibly huff and mutter something under his breath. As silence lingers between you, you nearly forget about the reason why you came to visit.

“I made some cookies for you, Tenma-kun,” you say to him, urging the neatly wrapped bundle into his hands. “I hope you like it.”

You can clearly see the hesitation in his eyes when he takes it in his hands. You can probably guess why.

(“Y/N, your skills with a knife are scary, dude,” Saeko grimaced as she watched you trail over the dough with the gleaming blade of your paring knife.

“Aaand... done!” you proudly wiped the sweat off your forehead. It would’ve been more helpful with a cookie cutter around, but you figured that it would’ve been more heartfelt otherwise.

‘Heartfelt’, you pondered on the word for a moment. Would this be too heartfelt for such a rag-tag person like Tenma? It would probably be better to go for something simpler, just like the other days...

Nah. You shook your head as you chucked the tray of heart-shaped cookies into the oven.)

You’re hoping for a shocked response from him, but Tenma only grumbles meekly. You brace yourself for another scolding for acting too chummy with him, or being too affectionate, or—

“You shouldn’t get too close with other guys.”

Wait.

Tenma crosses his arms, the curls of his hair falling gently over his forehead. His pink cheeks darken into a soft maroon. “If they found out you’re giving me this sort of special treatment, they’ll be all over you the next day, asking for it too... I don’t like it.”

The laugh that rises in your throat threatens to burst. What is this, you think. Your stomach hurt from the mere image of this innocent “delinquent” professing his jealousy for you. If he was like this all the time, wouldn’t that be an interesting change... Aah, your boyfriend really is cute, isn’t he?

A giggle escapes you and you watch him jolt in chagrin. “Tenma-kun, you’re so red.”

“I’m not!” he yells rather briskly, then shoots back at you. “You can’t say I’m red when you were all burning up as you were giving me these heart-shaped cookies.”

Touché. “I’m glad you like them, Tenma-kun.”

His gaze visibly softens up as you give him an angelic smile. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

At times like this, you really do see the boy who’d shyly confessed to you under the shade of the summer ginko tree. It wasn’t anything of a distant memory, it was just that Tenma’s usual demeanour and your unrelenting tolerance hindered the both of you from being completely outward with one another. Maybe something like this isn’t so bad after all.

“I-I have to go back to practice. You can go home by yourself, right?” your boyfriend clears his throat, urging you to leave.

Though you wished the moment would last a little longer, you know there are other countless shared opportunities with him. “Mm-hm! You do your best in practice, okay?”

He ruffles your hair and chuckles endearingly.

“Atta girl. Now go home before Tokito catches me getting all touchy-feely with you.”

Bidding him goodbye, you sullenly trudge away from your boyfriend (and his friends waving back at you from the balcony). Then the idea strikes you.

Special cookies ought to have a special flair to them, no?

Cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone, you shout, loud enough for his teammates to hear. “I love you, Tenma-kun~!”

And the crowd goes wild.

══════ ⋆★⋆ ══════

From: Tenma-kun ♡

Subject: Untitled

(15:58) Now Tokito’s all over me thanks to you, making me do extra diving drills. You better make more of those cookies as compensation, idiot. Be prepared for it.

(15:58) Btw, don’t forget to look both ways when you cross the street on the way home. If you get into an accident, you won’t be able to apologize to me properly.

(15:58) ... Hey.

(16:00) I love you too.

#bruh haikyuu writing #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyu #udai tenma #udai tenma x reader #haikyuu fluff #udai tenma imagine #udai tenma scenario #karasuno x reader #udai x reader #little giant x reader #sfw

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archonanqi · 3 years

Text

fragile as dust / 4

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—

ch 4 | a deep hunger

In the moments after you dredged yourself back into consciousness, there was always a brief moment of panic. The part of the city that you’d grown up in was full of unpleasantries, and it wasn’t uncommon to wake up to find a knife at your throat, a hand where it did not belong. You’d once woken up face to face with a hulking, growling hound that had chased you for almost an hour through the alleyways, while its owner laughed.

On the best of days, you woke up cold, alone and sore from sleeping on the floor. You’d always considered that a blessing.

But today, you were comfortable. Something wasn’t right. You scrambled to your feet, realizing where you were just a little too late to stop yourself from tipping over the side of the bed and tumbling to the floor with a loud thud. Groaning, you picked yourself up, peering around the strange place you’d just woken up in. Curtains, window, a bed—

Zhongli.

The memory of last night sent ice through your veins. Of course. You’d begun a new chapter of your life, a never-ending one of servitude and humiliation. And when he turned his Archon-granted strength against you (and men like him always did) what would you be able to do to stop him? You reached for the Vision at your chest; but it was not there. Ah, right. You’d hidden it deep, deep under the documents in the bedside table.

You hadn’t really learned how to use it, but its absence was like a hole in your chest. How would you find the chance to train with it now, in between serving and entertaining Zhongli?

Just as you thought that all the worries and fears swirling about in your head might spill through your lips in a scream, your thoughts were overtaken by the smell of something absolutely divine. You took a deep breath, a tentative step towards the door, then another, and another.

It was the unmistakeable scent of Liyue’s harbor food, fried dough, roast meat and fresh baked bread.

You opened the door just a crack, everything forgotten aside from the furious rumbling of your stomach and the saliva pooling under your tongue. In the living room, you saw Zhongli setting out silverware on the table. He looked up and met your curious gaze.

“Good morning, Hansi,” he said. How was it fair that his voice almost swept you off your feet, that even after a good night’s sleep, his lips on your name still sounded like sweet, dripping honey? “How did you sleep?”

You briefly weighed your options and decide that slowly closing the door again and going back to bed is not one of them. You opened the door a little more, slipping out into the hallway. “Very well, thank you, s— Mr. Zhongli.” For good measure, you accentuated the end of your sentence with a stiff bow.

“It’s a little past noon,” he said, “but I did not want to wake you. I’m glad to hear that your first night here was pleasant.”

You weren’t really listening. It was all you could do to keep yourself from drooling at the lavish array of food that was laid out on the table. A heap of youtiao, crystal shrimp wrapped in layers of translucent dough, mora meat buns stuffed with glistening, fatty meats, bowls of steaming congee and cold noodles--

The kind of food that hawkers sold from their carts on the harbor, the kind you’d stared at for ages, mouth watering, until you got chased away. You realized that you were staring right now, and tore your gaze away from the table to meet Zhongli’s.

What would you have to do to earn your share of scraps, in this household?

“I’m not sure what your dietary preferences were,” Zhongli waved a gloved hand at the food laid out on the table, “so I got a little of everything that the morning hawkers of Liyue had to offer. I hope that one of these is to your liking.”

What? You realized that there were two sets of silverware on the table, two sets of every food.

Even for a rich nobleman, this was a cruel joke to play.

“Do you mean to say that I’ll be eating at the same table as you, Mr. Zhongli?” You asked, as though the sheer absurdity of hearing it spoken aloud would cause the man to stop messing with you.

Zhongli fixated you with that piercing gaze, again. It felt like a billion thoughts ran behind those eyes, as though in his head, he was calculating every movement you made and every word you said.

(The only thought going through yours was “fuck”, repeated over and over again like a mantra.)

Finally, Zhongli nodded slowly. “Yes, I would like you to join me during meals. It seems that we do have much to discuss about our situation, after all.”

Any disbelief was strangled effective immediately by the realization that food food foodfood??? You would be able to eat? You were surprised at your own self control, that you did not immediately leap upon the table and start grabbing.

“Please, sit,” Zhongli said, as always, painfully oblivious to the effect of the things he had said. He pulled out the chair in front of you, gesturing for you to sit. Mind abuzz and whispering your thanks, you sat down and he pushed your chair gently closer to the table. Zhongli made his way over to the opposite side of the table, and you realized that you were shaking only when you tried to pick up the chopsticks.

“Can I really eat?” You said, in a small voice, terrified of the answer.

“Of course. Please, dig in,” Zhongli smiled, and it almost looked more beautiful than the food. Almost.

---

It was a testament to Zhongli’s composure: how calmly he ate his meal with that same amiable expression, as you tore through your side of the table like a whirlwind from Lord Barbatos himself.

The food was hot, salty, exploding on your tongue, filling your nose and lungs with thick, savory flavor. You had never felt anything like this before — warmth in your throat and a strange fullness in your stomach. You took enormous bites, scarcely swallowing; if Zhongli changed his mind about feeding you, there wouldn’t be much he could do about the food that was already in your stomach.

“I take it,” he said, finally, putting down his chopsticks, “that you are enjoying the food?” In your frenzy, you hadn’t seen him eat — couldn’t imagine someone as dignified as him eating, and certainly not in the wolfish manner that you had just inhaled three crystal shrimp with.

“Yeshshuh,” you blurted through stuffed cheeks, swallowing your mouthful with much difficulty. “Yes, sir.”

“Zhongli,” he corrected.

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli. Thank you very much.” You briefly ripped your gaze away from the bun in your hands to glance at him. He met your gaze squarely, and you had to look away. You didn’t think that you’d ever be able to handle the weight of those amber eyes. Yet in that brief moment, you saw nothing reminiscent of disdain or disgust, anger or pity in them.

You couldn’t remember the last time someone looked at you without those things.

“You mentioned wanting to talk about our… arrangement, Mr. Zhongli?” You reluctantly put down your food. Best to have this conversation while he was in a good mood, you thought. Besides, your stomach was beginning to cramp just a little, and the last thing you wanted was for all this food to come out of you the wrong way.

“Yes,” Zhongli said. “I’ll deign to bore you with the details. I have been living alone for a long time, but as of fairly recently, I’ve had to undergo some… physical changes, that have in turn made my lifestyle quite troublesome.”

This wasn’t what you were expecting, but what else was new? What did he mean? Had he gotten into an accident, gotten hurt somehow? He certainly seemed physically fine — much more than fine.

“I’ve been looking for someone to help me around the house, especially since work has kept me rather... busy,” he sighed, and this was the closest you’d seen him to frustration. What kind of job did he possibly have that could cause such distress to someone like him? You wanted to ask, but you knew better than to speak without being spoken to.

So instead, you nodded intently to show that you were still listening. You didn’t have the slightest clue how to begin doing housework — you’d scarcely ever even been in a house before today — but you certainly weren’t about to tell him that. You had always been a quick learner, and so you would learn; you would survive, just like you always had.

“However, I must say that you’ve been brought to me in a state that I was not expecting.” His brow had furrowed, his voice growing a little tight. “You were on the brink of collapse last night, and now, I can see why. When was the last time you ate?”

Feeling the warmth of shame creep onto your cheeks — you’d been hoping that he, by chance, hadn’t noticed your mealtime conduct. You scoured your brain for an answer. Something about his gaze made you want to be honest — dredged the truth from your throat.

“Th-three days ago. I think.”

You swore that his eyes visibly flashed. There were only the slightest vestiges of anger on his face, but just like before, the air seemed to fester. This was the most emotion you’d seen from him since the night that he’d sent your escorts away. Fear scorched your veins at the sight of a nobleman’s displeasure.

“I’m very sorry,” you whispered.

“No, no. It is not you who should be sorry.” Zhongli shook his head, closing his eyes briefly in thought. When he opened them again, there was no sign of that anger, his features once again unreadable. “What I mean to say is, until you have gained some of your health back, your only responsibility in my household is to recover. Is that agreeable, Hansi?”

The only thing this arrangement bordered on was perplexing. You bit your tongue to keep from saying as much. You didn’t understand the game he was playing, but you certainly didn’t believe for a moment that he had paid those traffickers what must have been more Mora than you’d seen in your life, just to keep you around like a trophy.

He was hiding something, wanted something from you; and you didn’t want the day to come when he finally revealed it. You had a pretty good guess that it wouldn’t end well for you.

“Yes, Mr. Zhongli,” you said instead. What else was there to say?

#zhongli #genshin impact zhongli #Zhongli fanfiction #Zhongli fanfic #genshin fanfic #zhongli x reader #fragile as dust #anqi writes #my writing

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hanniiesuckle17 · 4 years

Text

Stray Kids Reaction: S/o Going/Is Vegan

A/n: So this was a little cracky but I hope you all like it! (sorry not thoroughly edited) lets be honest the boys have probably been on weird diets so they would probably be chill with it....except for Changbin....cause he loves his meat

Requested by: anonymous

Tag List: @distrikt9 @mini-meanhoe @poeticallyspaghetti @hanstagrams @desertofdessert @yangomangos @hoes4hoseok (Tag List is Open)

Chan:

“You’re what now?”

Your boyfriend asked flopping on the couch. He had come home to you cooking in the kitchen, a new smell filling your apartment. “Vegan.” The asparagus you were sauteeing in a pan smelled incredible...-to you. The substitute butter sizzled around the vegetables. “I noticed I haven’t exactly been eating well with my classes piling up. So, I thought I would just change my diet.”

Chan nodded and walked into the kitchen. You held up a spoon to his mouth letting him taste the food. His lips closed over the metal utensil and you watched him chew. His eyes popped out of his head and he nodded. “It’s so good!” You slapped his hand away from getting more. “Well, you know I’m all for a healthy lifestyle.”

Chan helped you finish cooking and the two of you sat down to eat. He watched with a smile as you poured yourself a glass of wine and took a sip. You met his stare and smiled. “What?”

“Did you check if that wine was vegan?”

You froze, fork halfway to your mouth. “Isn’t all wine vegan?”

“No,” Chan said with a laugh, sipping on his own wine.

Grabbing the bottle you scanned every inch of the label. Chan tried to stifle his laughter, creating ripples in red alcohol sitting in his glass. Sighing, you set the bottle down and pushed your glass away making Chan laugh.

“Welp...I don’t know what I’m going to do with the other three bottles I bought.”

“There are cheat days for vegans too.” He wouldn’t stop laughing the rest for the remainder of dinner.

Minho:

“I’m starving; are we there yet?” Minho asked adjusting the cap on his head.

Your hands swung between the two of you as you strolled through the streets looking for the food district. You had been shopping all day and it was well past lunch. “Should be just around the corner.” Each of you carried bags from various stores, but you felt happiest that his hand was wrapped around yours.

After a few turns, you arrived on the street full of restaurants. Your eyes scanned the signs looking for something suitable for you to eat. Minho began pointing at random restaurants, delectable aromas floating from their dining rooms. “What about sushi?”

“Meat.”

“Burgers.”

“Meat.”

“That place.”

“It’s korean barbeque, babe.”

“YES! The best kind!” You laughed and pulled him further down the savory smelling street. “What about that place?” You shook your head seeing photos of meat-based dishes on their windows. “Y/n, can we eat in the century?”

Minho trudged behind you, failing to pull you towards a pizza place. “Minho, you know I’m vegan.”

“Yes, I know. You’re a rabbit. But, I want meat.”

Changbin:

“Aren’t you hungry, baby?”

Changbin’s long fingers maneuvered the chopsticks to flip over a few pieces of meat on the grill in the middle of the table. You hadn’t been dating for long. He had invited you to meet him and Chan for dinner and you were not about to pass up time with him. “Um...a little.”

You watched Changbin and his friend happily chew on the juicy meat. He didn’t seem to notice your visible gulp and the goosebumps crawling over your skin. You were doing your best to ignore the distinct smell of the barbeque. “You want some?” He held a perfectly cooked piece out to you.

“Uh-...no thanks. I’m good. I’m actually vegan.”

Changbin stopped mid-chew. He turned to Chan before looking back at you. “Wait...what does that mean?” Changbin looked genuinely confused, his cheeks still stuffed with food. Chan apologized, flagging down a waiter and asking for something for you to eat. Meanwhile, Changbin still staring at you completely clueless.

“Dude...she doesn’t eat meat or animal products.”

“YOU DON’T EAT MEAT?” His eyes went wide in utter disbelief. It was hard not to laugh. “How do you survive?”

“It’s actually a really healthy way to live. Plus it’s better for the Earth.”

“But.....meat...” You smiled watching him stare at the plate of vegetables being placed in front of you by the waiter. “Meat....” He whispered again, looking between the grill and you plate.

Hyunjin:

“Y/n, do you have food?”

Your boyfriend was calling out to you from somewhere in the dressing room. You looked down at the bag of baked veggie chips in your hand. “Yeah! I’m over here, love!” Hyunjin shuffled over, his hair pushed back by a headband and setting powder lining under his cheekbones. “Baked snacks for a baking boy.” You said with a laugh.

He smiled sitting next to you. He reached over stuffing his hand in the bag and stuffing a few in his mouth without even looking at what it was. You watched his face melt into disgust. “Ew. What is that?”

Handing him the bag he looked at it like it was something from an alien planet. “It’s baked carrots and other vegetables.”

“Yes....but why....”

“You do remember I went vegan like two weeks ago?”

Hyunjin stared at you for a minute seemingly trying to remember the conversation you had about thirteen days ago. “Wait- so what did you do with the candy I gave you yesterday?”

He watched you shrug and look around the room. “I gave it Jeongin.”

“You just gave it to Jeongin?”

“Yeah, I can’t have it. I’m serious about this diet.” Hyunjin nodded and continued to stare at the bag of chips in your hand. You were starting to think he had spaced out on you.

“Does all your food taste that bad?”

Jisung:

“What’s for lunch, baby?”

Jisung came up behind you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist. His chin rested on your shoulder as he smiled down at your working hands. “Avocado toast with Roma tomatoes, red onions, and a vegan mayonnaise spread.”

“That sounds like heaven.” Jisung moaned behind you.

“It really doesn’t bother you that I’m vegan?” He shook his head and stole a thin slice of the avocado you were cutting.

“Not really. I mean-... I miss sushi sometimes...and cheesecake. But, I can have all those things at work or on special occasions. I don’t want to argue over a silly thing like this when you are obviously such a good cook regardless.”

You laughed and kissed his lips, backing him up against the counter. Jisung smiled, hands gripping your waist. “You really love me that much?” He nodded and kissed you again. “More than cheesecake?”

“Sadly...yes.”

You giggled, playing with the ends of his hair. “Okay, time to eat.”

Jisung cheered and watched you expertly plate the food. Your hands nimbly worked on delicately placing the avocados atop the other ingredients on the toasted bread. The two of you sat down side by side plates in front of you. You watched Jisung take the first bite, like usual. His eyes lit up before devouring his first piece of avocado toast.

“Don’t tell Felix...but you’re a better cook than him.” You laughed and lovingly placed your hand on his arm before eating your own lunch.

Felix:

“What are we thinking for dinner tonight?”

Felix was looking at a shelf further down the aisle from you. Turning back, he watched you shrug. “Um...I don’t know. What about we make vegan burgers?” Beneath the mask Felix was wearing you were certain he was smiling brightly.

“That sounds good.” He rolled the cart back over to you, tossing a few things in your cart on the way.

“We could do portabella mushrooms for the patty. Ooo! Do they have avocados?”

Felix laughed, watching you get excited about food. He was so happy that you loved cooking as much as he did. While he was surprised that you were vegan, he loved exploring new recipes with you. He was still shocked that he could now make so many things that didn’t even have meat or cheese or eggs.

“Lix, they have red onions on sale! Buy two get one free!”

His eyes widened seeing you holding two bags of the purple vegetable. “The question is,” Felix began, taking the bags and putting them in the cart. “Do they have vegan cheese here, or do we have to make a second stop?”

You shrugged, looping your arm through your boyfriend’s as he pushed the cart towards the cheese part of the store. Felix smiled at your little affectionate action. Going grocery shopping with you was always one of his favorite things to do. Granted, it took a huge chunk out of his paycheck because the two of you always got carried away. But, your fridge was always fully stocked and the two of you hadn’t had a bad meal since moving in together.

“They might have some. I did see a cool recipe for vegan brioche buns. I think we have the stuff for them at home.”

Felix nodded and pushed the cart towards the checkout. The two of you waited in line, your arms wrapped around his stomach. “I’ll bake, you cook?”

“Deal.”

Seungmin:

“So, you don’t eat meat?”

Seungmin stared at you questioningly. You simply continued to drink your tea as you sat across from your boyfriend in a cafe. “Or cheese. Or eggs. Or milk. Basically any animal products.” Seungmin nodded, trying to wrap his head around the concept.

“Not even beef?”

Your fingers played with the label on your cup. “No. No, beef.”

“What about steak?”

“Min, that’s meat.”

He nodded obviously still thinking. “So...” You sighed, ready for my questions. It was tiresome sometimes having to deal with a society that couldn't accept a diet without dead animals in it. “What do you eat?”

“Plenty of things. I’m actually a pretty good cook.” Seungmin sat on the edge of his chair completely invested in this fascinating topic. “I can make basically any meal you can think with a vegan substitute.”

“Anything?” Your boyfriend watched you nod. Seungmin took another sip from his coffee. His long fingers drummed across the table. “What about surf and turf?” He laughed seeing you roll your eyes.

His laughing stopped when you kicked his shin under the table. “You better watch it Mr. I’ll sneak into the dorm and stuff zucchini in your ears.”

“Not carrots?”

“No, I like carrots.”

Jeongin:

“No meat. At all?”

Jeongin stared stunned at the bowl in front of him. “Yep.” The metal of his spoon clinked against the white bowl. Unphased you continued to eat the amazing meal you had prepared.

“So...what is this? What are those dark chunks then?”

“It Eggplant, mushrooms, tofu, and rice noodles in a spicy Szechuan sauce. It’s good. Try it.”

It was almost comical watching Jeongin approach the dish. He sniffed the food on his spoon, a cautious look on his face. Hesitantly, he took it into his mouth and began chewing. You watched his facial expression waiting for the result.

Your boyfriend swallowed the food, pursing his lips, and nodding his head. “Okay, so it’s good. But, that says more about your cooking than it does about vegan food.”

The two of you enjoyed the rest of your dinner and Jeongin even helped you clean up. As you finished up washing the dishes you noticed Jeongin looking in your fridge. “Are you still hungry?”

He shook his head when he felt you hug him from behind. “There isn’t even cheese in your fridge!”

“Jeongin...that’s what vegan means.”

Jeongin still seemed to be searching your fridge for what he now knew would not be there. Still hugging him you watched as he opened up your freezer. You backed away, ears splitting from the high pitched scream your boyfriend let out.

“WHERE’S YOUR ICE CREAM?!”

Requests are Temporarily Closed!

Masterlist

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thriceboundhome · 2 years

Text

Day Three of Naruto OC Event

Prompt: Sweets/Desserts w/ Itani

@narutoocevent

Notes; Just Itani missing his siblings while going through his day.

Itani doesn’t really like sweet things. Sure he eats them,if given, makes them even but he doesn’t crave them. They either taste like plain sugar or he just doesn’t have the patience to stick it out. His sister has a some-timeish sweet tooth that he has no qualms taking care of. What kind of brother would he be if he did?

He could always teach her but he’d rather the dull throb in his teeth from taste testing than a ruined oven and that’s if he’s lucky. Plus it's all worth it to see his people enjoying his hard work.

Each smile and hum from them as they bite into the dessert fills his chest with pride. Enough he feels like he’d burst. By the end of it Itani has a whole new variety of hairstyles to choose from because of how much he twirls and twists the locks.

He thinks he’s found a new way to make a messy bun, even messier.

Ding!

“Oh! Almost forgot those.”

Speaking of sweet treats, that was the timer going off for his first batch of cinnamon churros. Lately, the former missing nin’s baking mood has been more prominent. Nothing new considering the circumstances but still,plans for two batches of churros, twelve cinnamon buns and a half a dozen macarons? Seemed a bit much. Itani even sighed when he saw what he wrote on his planning page.

As he moved towards the oven, Keiko was winding his way up Itani’s arm chittering away about nuts and trees. With oven gloves on and a warning to his squirrel summon, Itani opened the oven and took out the baked goods. The smell of cinnamon and a faint aroma of some berries filled the kitchen. Maybe even all the way to the second story. Luckily the windows are open so it doesn’t stay long enough to pester him.

As mentioned before his circumstances aren’t really that surprising. He just has a habit of baking sweets for Quinn when she’s away on missions and he’s at the village. Keeps him busy without training himself to the bone. Said sister is out on a mission with team eight per orders by Hokage-dana.

Been a full week since their leave and Itani has now just given in to his want to bake. Just to have something waiting for them when they return. Though since it’s Quinn and their destination is quite a distance away it’s safe to say that the time taken has something to do with her. Multiple stops at passing villages and snack breaks that turn into sparring must have happened along the way. Not even adding that she's there with Kiba.

“I wonder how Shino and Hinata are holding up?”

The thought was snickered out as he placed the cinnamon buns into the oven to bake.

With a dangerous duo like Quinn and Kiba you tend to get a headache from just trying to keep them from running off. Not even mentioning the way they act around each other. Just the thought of all the innuendos and over the top challenges that would follow those two, he contemplates praying for the other two.

He turned to the kitchen counter to start sugaring the churros before they cooled to cold. Brushing loose strands of hair behind his ear, the boy stared at the set up he has on the table. Bowls of fruit, chopped or otherwise, brown and white sugar were also set out. Few bowls filled with multiple nuts.

Keiko was already stuffing his cheeks with walnuts.

Itani laughed at the squirrel trying to fit a fourth one before he pushed his head, lightly, with a finger. The critter chittered through his stuffed cheeks before running off to take refuge on top of the shelves. Sometimes Itani worries that he should cover his ears when he talks sometimes. He doesn’t remember when he cursed so much that Keiko could have done so to him. He thinks that all the curse words in the world and then some.

He shakes his head at the memory of Quinn sitting the critter down on her lap and giving him a run down on all three bad words she knew. The thought alone made him choke up and laugh. He had to set down the churros he finished coating back into the sugar.

He sobered up when he felt his summon climb up his leg. Keiko was asking for another walnut. At least he was asking this time. Itani huffed out a laugh while plucking up a runaway walnut and waved it at the squirrel.

Keiko ran up Itani’s leg and chittered away as a thanks for the snack. The man giggled and at the feeling of the summon’s little claws running against his bare leg. His shorts were to combat the heat, proving to expose his ticklish nature. He lightly shook his leg to get the jitters out to set back to work. Keiko made his way to the handmade house and tree that Itani made for him.

“Alright, let’s get to work.”

A few hours had passed. He thinks. A glance through the window in the kitchen confirms for him that he's been in the kitchen for a while. The sky was coloured with golds, pinks and purples. A pretty combination that steals his attention for a while. It didn’t last long. He shifted and felt the mess under his feet. Itani is quite content with it though. All the baking is done and the kitchen spotless. Well the sink for that matter.

He's messy, as well. Covered in flour. Matching his hair all because of his petty squirrel summon. Keiko had dived into a bowl of flour when Itani refused to let him eat one of the nut cakes he made. A dish that was decided on, last minute.

It was without warning when the critter jumped from his spot on the wall where his home was and dived head first into the bowl of flour. Clicks and chittering was the only thing that allowed Itani to know that he wasn’t a lump in the flour. The boy didn’t even notice he was a mess until he saw the handprints left on the counter when he leaned there.

The shinobi tugged the apron off of him and dusted off himself. Flour falling to the floor, making the mess on the floor slightly bigger. Majority of Keiko's mess landed on the floor. A sweeping was mandatory. A glance was spared for the squirrel. Keiko was currently enjoying the mess he made. Hopping up and down in the flour.

“You’re not helping, Kei. Not at all.” Itani nudges the lump that Keiko made himself when he started talking. Such a stubborn little thing he was. Perfect for battle or when Itani needs support and doesn’t wish to ask but now? He wishes he didn’t get such a strong willed summon.

Despite his inner complaining Itani smiles at the way the bushy white tail of Keiko’s wraps around his finger. The critter still stumps to this day. Could be such a rebel at one point then cuddling into Itani for forgiveness. Itani gives it, he always does. With a finger to the squirrel’s head and a smile he forgives and requests help with clean up.

The help was given and it went smoothly from there. A mini dance while he swept and Keiko helped with swishes of his tail. It was uncharacteristically quiet in the house, save for the soft humming that he’s doing as he twirls around with the broom.

Usually Quinn’s chatter would be flowing from the living room. Along with the scent of glue and the sound of her ripping paper to stick into her scrapbook. The rough huffing of her summons because she refuses to sit on the chair but complains about how hard the floor is. So she instead sits on the paws of her summons as a compromise.

Or Sage mumbling something into their palm as they mark tests from their job. Trying to follow their students' thought process, how they got their answer regardless of how wrong it was. Not wanting to leave the chance of them getting marks unchecked. Then hounding Itani for biscuits and tea when they finally take a break.

It takes some time for Itani to realize that he went into auto pilot in his nostalgia. In his lull of active thought Itani finished sweeping. He even gave Keiko a bath in the sink. Said critter was waddled up in the small towel Sage had stitched for him. Arrows and swords scattered on the pure white fabric.

The squirrel was happy.

Turns out the melody that Itani was humming switched to the song that he and his siblings stringed together as well. It was a light airy one. Somewhere in between fast and slow that it was just right. Instead of twirling in the kitchen, Itani swayed in time with the music.

The boy grinned.

As much as he misses them both it’s nice to have a chance to just flip through the memories they’ve given him.

“Well time for me to get clean!”

After a quick shower, his hair is down and damp. Ends of his hair dripping lazily as he let’s it air dry. Itani is sitting out on the back porch of this house. Just enjoying the duck breeze and the sight of the sun going beyond the horizon. Gazing up at the pink and orange hues in the sky. Perfectly melted into each other. A perfect harmony of colours.

It calms him of his nerves.

He breathes in the crisp air and turns to his side. At his side are his carving tools. At least that’s what he calls them. Said tools are just everyday shinobi weapons. A kunai to get the actual shape that he wants for the carving. A seabon needle for the finer details and just regular old sandpaper for when he’s done.

His sister isn’t back yet and that worries him. Sage is at his parents’ place hanging out so he knows that they’re just fine. He knows that Quinn is fine as well and the lack of note signifies that she’s supposed to be coming home today. He can expect her to come back well.

It wasn’t long until he was done. Left with the base he chose. No Keiko to chitter at him. Just Echo flying around in search of fruit. The bat is very adamant on getting her own fruit instead of the ones that sit on the kitchen counter.

A twist of his right and the shaving fell and joined the growing pile at his feet. The movement also turned the piece of wood so he can get a better angle. The movements are repetitive and therefore don’t call for him to have to focus on it. He can just feel the motions and flow with it.

He falls into routine. Starts with the anatomy of his chosen muses. The forms are taken from memory. Not hard to do, he sees them everyday.

A short body is made first. Short and slim. Curves here and there, some challenging that his tongue peeks from his lips. A round face and pointed ears.

He’s using his father’s sword to get the right sized chunk of wood from the tree branch he broke off from a tree at the back of the house. The movements are calming to him. A flick from the left hand, which holds the blade, and a clean shaving of wood came off.

The other is taller. Visibly so. Muscular but still soft. Less curves and more bumps and lines to show off that aspect. The face is sharp with soft accents.

Time flies as he moves into his favourite part of the process. Outlining the details. It’s such a tedious task. But it’s worth it. It will be when he paints it.

For now he’ll drop it at the sound of the door opening. Sounds following the creek of the door. Quinn’s exhausted laughter and Sage lecturing her floods the room and Itani’s heart.

Familiarity. Home.

“Welcome home you guys!”

They’re home.

#oc itani #NarutoOCEvent #NarutoOCEvent2022 #the maker send a sign; mun writes #the amount of banner remakes I had to do for this T~T

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guiltysecretpasttime · 4 years

Text

The Airbender’s Wife

Note: A sort-of follow-up to Contentment; because this idea was sticking in my head and wouldn’t leave me alone. Again, this might have already been done before because I’m pretty sure it’s not that new but here’s my spin on it. Please let me know what you think. Let me know as well if have another idea for the title, I’m half and half about it.

===

Korra was bouncing with excitement as she leaned at the railing of the ship. Only a few hours were left until she would see the large statue of the previous Avatar, signaling the edge of Republic City.

After being holed up in the compound at the Pole for most of her life, Korra was keen to see the rest of the world. But first, Airbending training at Republic City would take precedence.

Sure, the White Lotus said they would need to protect her and to train her before bringing her out to the world. But really, what more can she learn when she was isolated from the rest of humanity?

Thank the Spirits that her Airbending master had other obligations in Republic City.

Thank the Spirits for his wife for suggesting moving the training to the city in the first place.

Patting her polar bear dog Naga who had joined her on deck, Korra realized that she knew precious little about Tenzin’s wife. And from what little she did know; the young Avatar was unsure how to feel about the woman. If anything, aside from being the instigator of the transfer of the Avatar, the facts Korra gathered about said woman did not bode well in creating the best of impressions.

Fact 1: She’s married to Tenzin, the last Airbender.

The first time Korra learned that Tenzin was married caught her by surprise.

From her recollection, it was around Tenzin’s third or fourth visit to the compound, back when she was completing her Waterbending training. Her parents had invited the family of Master Katara over for dinner when they learned her sons were visiting, offering to host the family for a couple of meals so that the waterbender would not needlessly worry about spending time with and entertaining her children. Never mind that these adult children just wanted to check in with how their mother was doing and would not really need any host to help them out.

Korra, her parents, Master Katara and her two oldest children were already settled in the dining area and were each clutching a bowl of soup when the airbender arrived.

“So, no wife today, Tenny?” Bumi asked, by way of greeting. The United Forces Commander proceeded to toss an empty bowl to his brother, who easily caught it midflight.

“No,” Tenzin sat down beside his sister, who pushed some noodles towards him.

Korra quickly swallowed her food and asked. “You’re married?” She had assumed he was a monk and therefore abstained from all, well, worldly things and relationships. She said as much.

Loud guffaws erupted from the siblings of said monk, whose head turned an interesting shade of scarlet.

“What – where – how did you – why did you think -?”

This brought about more laughter which confused Korra further.

Tenzin’s sister, Kya, a talented waterbending healer in her own right, was the first one to recover. “Oh Korra, don’t let Mr. Serious fool you.” She patted her brother’s arm in emphasis.

“Yeaaah,” Bumi slurped his noodles noisily, ignoring Tenzin’s frown. “He be foolin’ around way before marriage.”

“BUMI!” Tenzin shouted, throwing a mortified glance at Korra and her parents, who were slack jawed at being caught unawares with these revelations. “They need not know that!” Water Tribe culture, after all, values privacy. Family life was deemed a private matter and some things are just taboo to discuss in public. Though, being raised in the previous Avatar’s household did not appear to hold them in the same restraint.

“Ahaaa!” Kya responded triumphantly, pointing her chopsticks at him. “So, you do admit that you were doing the deed with -!”

“Mother,” The usually unflappable airbender all but pleaded, hands shaking as though he can erase the previous minutes by airbending. “Don’t listen to them!”

Korra peered at the quiet master waterbender, who was calmly sipping her soup with a small smile on her face. “Oh, calm down, children.” Katara put down her bowl and tilted her head in apology to Tonraq and Senna. “Bumi, Kya – that’s enough. Your brother just arrived from Republic City; let him breathe. And Tenzin,” Korra noticed a twinkle in the old woman’s eyes, as through reminiscing a pleasant memory. “Don’t try pulling the wool over my eyes – I might not have your mother-in-law’s abilities, but I knew what you and Lin were up to. Those were not sparring bruises on your neck and chest that your father and I saw when we removed your robes for the airbending tattoos ceremony.”

At the time, Korra did not fully understand what was so funny about it but now she had a name for the airbender’s wife.

Fact 2: Her name is Lin.

----

Fact 3: Apparently, she bakes well.

The Water Tribe-born Avatar was practicing her bending one day when Tenzin arrived for a meeting with the White Lotus. She bowed as Master Katara signaled to take a break while her son bent down to give her a hug.

“Lin sends her love.” Tenzin murmurs to his mother. “And a ton of fruit buns.” He used airbending to lift a large canvass bag from the sky bison’s saddle, grinning as he presented the bag.

“That’s very thoughtful of her.” Korra sees a smile on the wizened woman’s face. “Has she been eating well?” Katara inquired, peering into the bag of buns.

“Oh, she tries,” Tenzin had a soft expression on his face as he responded. “I make sure to remind her when I can.”

Katara selected a bun, then noticing Korra moving at the periphery, tossed one at her. “Korra, Lin baked some fruit buns - you should try it.”

Korra nodded her thanks, never having tried fruit buns before. She bit a portion of it and chewed. The bread was fluffy and fragrant. It was pleasant, and so she took another bite. The filling burst into her mouth, sweet and flavorful. The fruit bun was good, Korra decided. She sat down at the steps of the training ring, enjoying the treat, mindful of having full view of Katara in case she decides to resume training.

“Ah there you are, welcome Master Tenzin.” One of the older White Lotus members strolled over, bowing slightly, having seen the sky bison descend a few minutes earlier.

Korra did not like this guy very much; he was always frowning as if it was such a chore to handle matters relating to the Avatar. She wondered why on earth he took on the oath of being part of the Order of the White Lotus when he found everything disagreeable. She irately took another bite of the fruit bun.

Tenzin stiffly bowed back to the man.

“Are you – alone?” Frowny asked, raising an eyebrow in obvious judgment. “I had thought Lady Lin would have joined you with regards to the Avatar’s training.”

Korra’s ears perked upon hearing about the Lady Lin.

“Lin has a full-time job back in the city,” Tenzin ground out tersely, stressing his wife’s name. “As you may know, she cannot easily leave her responsibilities behind for long periods.”

Korra stuffed the rest of the bun in her mouth; eager to listen without distractions. This was beginning to sound interesting.

“And yet you are here, Councilman.” Frowny Old Man smiled condescendingly, expression laden with insinuations. “I would have thought that training the Avatar would account as a matter of high importance.”

“With all due respect,” The airbender rebutted placidly. “I am to be the Avatar’s teacher, not Lin. I don’t see why she would need to travel to this side of the world for nothing.”

Frowny just shrugged with a smirk on his face, bowed to Katara and left the group, indicating for Tenzin to follow him for the meeting. Korra thought if airbenders were not averse to violence, Tenzin would have punched the man.

Katara placed a hand on her son’s arm, getting his attention.

“She is needed in Republic City,” Tenzin took a few deep breathes. “And this is precisely why she would rather not deal with the White Lotus.”

Tenzin followed inside soon after and Katara resumed Korra’s training.

As she went through the motions of the waterbending forms, Korra thought she might like Lady Lin (she decided to call her that in her mind) with her sweet pastries and her dislike for Frowny.

Fact 4: She has a full-time job in Republic City.

----

Fact 5: She’s an earthbender.

“Korra, can you help please?” Senna’s calm voice echoed in the empty hall where her daughter was (supposed to be) reviewing Fire Nation history. “I’m sorry to bother you but -.”

The Avatar got up immediately, interrupting her mother, tossing aside the text. “Say no more, say no more. What do you need me to do?” Korra was not one to sit still. She understood the importance of the literature, arts, culture, and history but she just found it arduous.

The relief on Senna’s face was evident. “Oh, thank you, sweetheart. You see, I need these blankets to be brought to the healing hut.” She transferred the pile of textile on her arms to her daughter’s waiting ones and indicated another set of blankets by her foot. “Master Katara wanted the healers to prepare for the coming snowstorm and I’ll need to hurry back to her and Kya at the apothecary.”

“No problem, Mom.” Korra responded, voice muffled and fully hidden by the pile of blankets.

Kicking the snow, she raised the bag of blankets by her feet to her arms. She grunted in the effort but well, don’t work hard - work smart, she always thought.

Turning to face the direction of what she thought to be the healing hut, Korra’s progress was slow with the balancing act of the towering blankets on her arms. Several people asked to help her but were responded with a strained “no, thank you, I handle it” from the teenage Avatar.

Unfortunately, a particularly slippery spot on the floor resulted in Korra toppling the blankets over and having them land on the snow into a soppy pile.

Korra groaned in frustration. No way she was going to bring this to the healers. The gossipy women always tsk’d whenever Korra would land in the hut with another scrape. She did not want to face their disapproval.

She leaned beside the hut, scrunched her face in concentration as she cleared portion of the ground and placed the bag, bending it dry. She was thankful that the blankets landed on clean snow rather than muddy sleet.

Korra crouched under the window of the hut, hoping that no healer would go out or peek to see the mess she made. She started to painstakingly pull the water out of each of the other blankets and put them on the dry bag to make sure it does not land on the snow again.

“I hear that the Avatar would be leaving the compound soon.”

“Really? I thought she would have a couple more of elements to master. Isn’t Airbending the last one?”

The Avatar in question grimaced. She knew nothing good comes out of eavesdropping, but she did not have a choice now, did she?

“Yes, but, don’t say you heard it from me,” One of the healers whispered excitedly. “But supposedly, Master Tenzin, the Airbending master,” Korra thought they said the name breathlessly and reverently. For what reason, she was not sure – I mean, everyone knew who Avatar Aang’s son was. “Was not allowed by his earthbending wife to leave the city.”

A gasp was heard. “No!”

“Yes,” The first healer continued while Korra leaned cautiously while soundlessly drying each blanket. “It’s all hush hush but the decision came from her – the Avatar will be travelling out for training. Never mind that all other masters had stayed in this compound to supervise Korra’s training. She decided that her husband is above it all,” The tone was full of disapproval. “She forced the decision – it’s not like there was another Airbending master, after all.”

Korra was dismayed; she was sure that Tenzin was unable to stay in the South Pole Compound because he had city council duties.

“How selfish!” The second healer exclaimed, no longer keeping her outrage quiet. “Well, what did we expect from her after what she did or didn’t do, for that matter.”

“What? What didn’t she do?” Korra pondered to herself as she wished silently for the two women to continue their chatter, becoming invested in the discussion now.

Thankfully, the two gossipy healers had much to say.

“True, this further cements her reputation of being a power-hungry bender who probably doesn’t care for her husband or even the future of the four nations itself. She is from a wealthy family and her lineage is well-known – what more can she ask for?”

“Well, that’s just stupid,” Korra thought as she squeezed out the water of the last two blankets. “How could the actions of one woman regarding her husband impact the future of the four nations?”

“I know right, I mean, why didn’t she consider it an honor? Can you believe she didn’t want to have kids! She must detest her husband or kids if she didn’t want them at all. If it were me,” The second healer empathically stated. “I would have no problem repopulating the entire Air Nation with him. I mean have you seen -!”

Korra burst into the healing hut dropping the blankets quickly on the nearest cot. “Hello-MomandMasterKatara-wanted-these-blankets-ready-for-the-snowstorm-thanks.” Ignoring the startled healers, she had to get out of here.

Nothing good ever came out of eavesdropping. The Avatar felt sick.

For all the limited interaction she had with Tenzin, he genuinely appeared to be in love with his wife. His wife who never came to the South Pole. His wife who did not bother to join him in his meetings with the Avatar. His wife who never visited her mother-in-law. His wife who put her career high on her priorities.

Tenzin’s faceless earthbending wife, the mysterious Lady Lin, was going down a couple of notches in Korra’s esteem.

With a slight feeling of dread – she realized she was going to live with her for an unforeseen period in the future.

Fact 6: She didn’t want children with the last airbender.

---

Korra realized she had been daydreaming as the captain of the ship announced their imminent arrival as Air Temple Island and Aang’s Memorial came into view. Her eyes squint while she tried to see the details of the temples from afar.

Air Temple Island - where the mysterious Lady Lin (as Korra had dubbed her in her mind) and the Airbending Master lived apart from the citizenry of Republic City. She stopped herself from shuddering at the thought of living with who she thought was a calculating heiress of sorts. As much as she wanted to ask about Tenzin and his wife, Korra felt intimidated by Kya and Master Katara and after all, her mother ingrained with her – family is private. All she gathered was it was true that Tenzin was childless.

“Well, I’m the Avatar,” Korra consoled herself as she grabbed her bag and tossed it on Naga. “What could go wrong?” She assured herself and her best friend, the polar bear dog, as she saw the White Lotus sentries awaiting her arrival at the docks. And, what is life without uncertainty, eh?

---

So apparently, a lot could go wrong – Avatar or not.

“Tenzin and the mysterious Lady Lin are gonna be so pissed,” Korra muttered as she bent her head on the metal table in front of her. Never in her life did she imagine that her first day in Republic City would be spent in an interrogation room.

Well, it certainly was not her fault that on their way to City Hall to meet Tenzin, Naga got sidetracked by the smell of food. Definitely not her fault that the White Lotus sentries were just walking and could not catch up with them.

Not her fault that for some reason she got involved in a clash with some triad members. As far as she knew, she was just doing the Avatar thing and helping keep peace in the neighborhood.

But apparently, it was not viewed that way by the Republic City Police Department.

The Avatar hit her forehead on the table again. “Stupid, stupid.” She sighed, wondering whether someone has called Tenzin or the mysterious Lady Lin. “So much for first impressions.” Korra obviously did not want her first encounter with the earthbending partner of Tenzin to be in a metal cube. She also did not want them to bail her out, wondering for the nth time what would the Lady Lin do if she found out she would have to spend money to get the Avatar out of jail.

One of the metal panels slid open and Korra sat up straight in attention.

An irate metalbender entered the room, holding a file and was reading off it “Let’s see – multiple counts of destruction of private and city property…”

Korra grimaced at each mention as she watched the female cop pace. She tried to defend herself.

“You should have called the police instead!” The woman slapped the clipboard on the table. “You have no business involving yourself with the triads!”

The teenager stared back at the grey-haired metalbender. “But you see – I had to do something, I’m the Avatar.” The Water Tribe girl smiled and opened her hands in innocence.

“I know who you are,” The metalbender was unimpressed. “And that doesn’t mean much around here. If anything, I should probably add something to your file,” She took the clipboard and started to write. “You also evaded your security detail, which is a breach of protocol; detoured from your journey management plan – also a breach of protocol, run about the city with your unregistered polar bear dog -.”

“Wait what?” Korra sputtered, interrupting the litany. “Unregistered – what are you – Naga is my friend.”

“And I’m a sky bison.” The stern woman deadpanned, tapping the clipboard on the table.

“I want to speak to whoever’s in-charge here.” Korra wiggled her wrists. “Please.”

Green eyes blinked at her. “You’re talking to her.” As she sat in the light, Korra noted the RCPD badge on the woman’s uniform. “I’m Chief Beifong.”

Just then a small metal panel opened and another cop spoke. “Chief, Councilman Tenzin is on his way.”

An irritated expression fell on the older woman’s face. “What time is it, Saikhan?”

“Uh – fifteen minutes past –.”

“Get in here!” Chief Beifong called authoritatively, getting up from the seat.

Deputy Chief Saikhan enters the interrogation room, awaiting orders.

“I don’t have time to babysit the Avatar,” Beifong ignored Korra’s “hey!” and just rattled off instructions. “And wait for the councilman. I have a previous appointment that I’ll need to keep. I want you, specifically you, to take care of this.” She thrust the clipboard into other metalbender’s hands. “Make sure to read each of these one by one,” She indicated each item in Korra’s file. “I don’t want the Avatar leaving headquarters with just a slap on the wrist, without a clear resolution, got it?”

“Yes, Chief.”

Without further ado, Chief Beifong exited the room with a clang of metal.

“Make sure Councilman Tenzin gets it.”

“I’m screwed, aren’t I?” Korra asked, unhelpfully from her seat.

Saikhan just shrugged, reviewing the clipboard, feeling no pity for the young woman who he had to chase across Republic City earlier.

---

Korra sat sullenly at the side table in Tenzin’s office in city hall, listlessly reading through Airbender culture literature.

After Deputy Saikhan had read the cases against Korra and after a back and forth regarding the details on covering the damages (“Yes, I will personally take it out of the Air Temple Island budget – yes Saikhan, you may get that in writing.”), Tenzin and Korra had walked silently to the Republic City Hall, Naga in tow. For some reason, Korra felt worse with the airbender’s silence than when she was at the receiving end of the chief of police’s acerbic tongue.

The walk to city hall was uneventful, save for Tenzin using airbending to keep the press waiting at city hall steps at bay. He had ushered her in the office and sent his secretary to take care of the polar bear dog in the meantime.

“Stay here.” He then left with a billow of yellow and red robes.

Tenzin was back within fifteen minutes and had, in no uncertain terms, expressed his disappointment in what had occurred upon her arrival.

Korra just bit her tongue. This day was just not going the way she wanted it to be. And she just knew it was about to get worse when she finally (finally) meets the mysterious Lady Lin.

The airbending master just shook his head at the end of his sermon, giving her a couple of Airbender literature, asking her to read up on the culture and just stay in his office while he finished work for the day.

Just as Korra was reading about the chi sensing abilities of a Guru Pathik, a two short raps on the door interrupted the monotony of the afternoon.

“Come in,” Tenzin looked up from the documents he was going over and his secretary entered.

“Councilman, Chief Beifong is here to see you.” The secretary formally announced.

Korra tensed. Not again.

Tenzin sighed, beckoning the secretary to let the Chief of Police in.

With the force of energy that seemed to always radiate around her (or at least always in the short time that Korra was exposed to the abrasive woman), Chief Beifong strode in the Air Nation Council Office. “You’re paying for this, Councilman?” She slammed a file on Tenzin’s desk. The secretary left the room quietly, closing the doors behind her. “You’re not saving me paperwork here.”

From her position, Korra recognized it as the affidavit Tenzin signed at the police headquarters earlier.

“I –.” Tenzin put up a hand to explain.

“I’ll handle it.” She waved him off. “When we had the meeting about training the Avatar,” Beifong shot a quick glance at the teenager at the side table. “The agreement was in Air Temple Island not Republic City. I thought that was clear?”

“Yes, I’m sorry but,” He floundered for words, gesturing at Korra and the room.

“Oh shoot,” Korra thought to herself. “Tenzin’s gonna land both of us in jail.”

“And another thing – a polar bear dog, Tenzin?” The Chief straightened up. “Did you know she was bringing her polar bear dog? You didn’t register that.”

The Avatar was sure that she informed her Airbending Master that she was bringing Naga but she wisely kept quiet.

At the councilman’s nod, Beifong pinched her nose bridge in exasperation. “With the exception of Lord Zuko’s dragon and the Air Nation’s sky bison, all large animals would need to be registered. We can’t have an entire menagerie loose in the city.”

“I’ll handle that, make sure it’s filed within today.” Tenzin took the form from the packet the Chief placed on the table.

“Is there anything else, I’ll need to know?” Beifong took the rest of the packet as she moved to exit the room, standing by the door now.

But before airbender could respond, the door opened and a man in Water Tribe attire burst in, Tenzin’s secretary trailed behind with annoyance. “Councilman, I’m sorry – I told Councilman Tarrlok you were in a meeting but…”

Korra thought she detected a hint of empathy in the chief’s expression as she considered the secretary.

“Councilman Tenzin,” The Water Tribe Councilman (Tarrlok, did they say?) inclined his head in greeting. “Chief Beifong.” Korra was not sure but she felt the Water Tribe man was being leery at the stern police chief, though it was probably her imagination. Nonetheless, she sought to keep still and not draw attention to herself at Tenzin’s side tables.

A glance at Tenzin showed him reddening while Beifong just continued to frown.

“This was a private meeting, Tarrlok,” Tenzin began.

“Oh, all business?” Tarrlok acted like he did not feel the tense atmosphere in the room. “Or something else altogether?” Korra did not comprehend what the other councilmember was hinting at. “You know I wouldn’t mind if -.”

Beifong cut in. “Is there anything you need, Councilman?”

The man just looked at his nails calmly. “I was just going to check in with Tenzin if he had already arranged security with our esteemed,” He let his gaze linger on the metalbender. “Chief of Police for tomorrow’s press conference.”

The chief of police in question shot a look at the other councilman, who quickly spoke up. “That was what you interrupted, I was about to discuss with her that the press conference of the Avatar was moved to tomorrow.”

Korra almost blurted out, “What press conference?” but the words caught in her throat as she saw the metalbender pin her with a look.

“Ahh, good good.” Tarrlok darted an uninterested look at Korra’s direction, probably dismissing her as one of Tenzin’s scholars. “Looking forward to attending it tomorrow then. Councilman, Chief.”

With the same bluster he had as he entered, the Northern Water Tribe Councilman exited the room, doors slamming behind him.

“Press conference?” Korra and Beifong both exclaimed when Tarrlok was out of earshot.

“I was going to tell you later,” Tenzin pointed at Korra. “And I was about to tell you.” He shot at the police chief who was glowering. “We had to move it up given that Korra here basically announced her arrival to the city earlier. The press wouldn’t stop until she releases a statement; the council thought the sooner the better.”

“Did you even prepare her? And wait a minute, you said the press conference was moved up – when was it supposed to be?” The metalbender crossed her arms. “A heads up would have been appreciated, Tenzin. Even just a heads up, Spirits know how easy you could have given me a heads up.” Chief Beifong rolled her eyes before leaving. “I’ll have to get back to headquarters; arrange for a security detail tomorrow and a perimeter check.”

Tenzin rubbed a hand over his face tiredly then gestured towards a form on his table. “Korra, can you fill up this animal registration form, please?”

---

Korra did not know what to expect of Air Temple Island.

Tenzin gave her a quick tour of the place (“That’s where the girls dormitories are, there’s the boys dormitories – you’re not allowed there by the way, the general training area, the earthbending wing is right behind that building there, the sky bison stables are behind the dormitories, the meditation areas, you’ll be staying in the main family residence with Lin and myself, we’re the only ones there, the air acolytes have their respective dormitories...”), showed her to her room, and handed her a schedule of chores and training sessions (“The air acolytes occasionally help in the main house but Lin insisted that this is still our household so we take on our usual chores as we used to in our Republic City house. I was thinking to eventually integrate you into our schedule.”).

After she had settled in her room and checked that Naga was taken care of and fed, Korra came across Tenzin who was at the living room of the house, speaking to someone on the portable radio.

“Yes dear,” He was rubbing the back of his neck as he paced. “Lin, I know – I’m sorry, I’ll make sure to help you with the paperwork. I’ll take it out of the budget of the household,” He paused to listen to the other line, wincing at what appeared to be sharp words. “No, there’s no other option right now.”

Korra felt guilty, if she had not lost control of Naga, Tenzin would not be having this conversation now with his wife, the mysterious Lady Lin.

“Mhhmm, okay. Love you too, Lin. Be safe.” Tenzin replaced the radio on its repository beside the couch when he spotted Korra, shifting apprehensively by the doorway. “Ah, Korra, just in time for dinner.” He beckoned her to follow him into the dining room.

The teenage Avatar meekly followed, the excitement of the day wearing down and embarrassment was starting to catch up.

“Hey Tenzin,” She began, unsure how to broach the subject as she sat down. Tenzin lifted his eyes from his rice bowl, waiting. “I’m sorry about how today turned out and for causing a lot of problems.” Korra fiddled with her fingers nervously. “I really didn’t mean to, you know? And I hope I didn’t cause too much, um, problem with your wife…” She trailed off.

Tenzin’s lips twitched to a smile as he watched the young Avatar earnestly apologize. “Well, maybe you should just apologize to her yourself. But unfortunately, that wouldn’t be until tomorrow, I suppose.” At the young woman’s questioning gaze, he continued. “That was Lin earlier, she radioed that she’s caught up at work and would miss dinner today.”

Looks like I wouldn’t be meeting the mysterious Lady Lin today, Korra thought to herself as she poked the chopsticks into her rice bowl.

---

Korra twisted and turned in bed before deciding to sit up for a while, finding difficulty in sleeping.

She supposed she should be kind to herself. For the first time in forever, she was away from the South Pole, from home, from her family. She held her knees to herself as she looked out at the window, towards the lights of Republic City.

She had hoped to make a better first impression but instead was able to make an enemy out of the entire law enforcement agency by butting heads with the chief of police. She also got her airbending master into trouble with his wife. And she still has not met said mysterious wife; her first conversation would have to be an apology, which did not present well for future interactions.

Korra sighed as she thought of earlier that evening.

Tenzin was kind and paternal; asking about Korra and the Southern Water Tribe as they ate. He also asked about her parents and his mother and sister. They talked about her trip and about their schedule for the next day. He also tried to give her a crash course on press relations and public speaking.

There was something about the house though. The Avatar could not put her finger on it but there was something odd.

As she helped Tenzin clear out the table, she realized what it was. There were no photos around the house; a bit odd considering that the main residential building in Air Temple Island was like an ancestral home.

She brought the photos up with Tenzin, who was scooping some noodles into a bowl.

He had a ready explanation for it: Lin did not feel comfortable keeping up the old photos and had stashed them away.

Korra hoped her thoughts on the matter were not evident on her face. To her, it felt like the mysterious Lady Lin was tamping down the memories of the previous Avatar, of the Air Nation.

She was then surprised when Tenzin added slices of meat on the bowl he was preparing. “But you don’t eat meat.” She commented as she continued to dry the other dishes they had used that night.

“I don’t, but Lin does.” He had that odd smile on his face, the same one she used to see when they were in the South Pole and his wife is brought up. He got a small piece of paper and wrote a note for this wife, sticking it under the bowl. He shared with Korra that with Lin’s odd hours, the least he could do was to have some semblance of a meal waiting for her at home. The Avartar idly marveled at the devotion that the airbender had for his wife.

Lost in thought, she thought heard someone padding down the corridors. Wary but sure that no intruder could have gotten in without causing alarm from the sentries outside, she slowly opened her bedroom door to peer in the dark hallway, all she saw of the figure was a bare foot entering the master bedroom.

So the Lady Lin was home.

---

The next day utterly sucked for the Avatar-in-training.

First off, she had to wake up at ungodly hour before the sun has risen because of morning meditation. Everything continued downhill from there.

She had blearily trudged up the steps to the meditation area. At her core, she was a waterbender. I rise with moon indeed. She basically failed meditation because she could not keep still, nodding off from time to time.

Later on, she ended up bruised and battered from the airbending gates, almost destroying the relic in frustration.

Nearing the main house, Tenzin and Korra were greeted by the appetizing aroma of baked bread. A passing air acolyte cheerfully greeted them and let the master of the house know that his wife has already left for work that day.

Seeing a note beside the tray of bread from the mysterious Lady Lin (Korra felt she ought to keep calling her that in her head because Mrs Tenzin doesn’t quite cut it). She thought Tenzin would have been delighted but he just paled.

“Oh no,” Tenzin fingered the note. “Lin’s still in a bad mood.”

Plain buns; heat in the oven before eating. Will try to get home in time for dinner later. xLin

“What,” Korra was skeptical. “How can she be – didn’t she bake this for you?”

“She did – but it’s a weekday, on a day she had duty, after a long night –.” Tenzin cleared his throat. “She’s got some pent-up stress,” He pushed the tray of perfectly shaped round pieces of bread. “Probably why she thought to punch it all out in the dough this morning.”

Korra decided then that maybe she’ll not get married if it meant dealing with these kinds of situations. Too taxing. Or maybe to find a nice non-bender husband who would hopefully not want to punch things to make himself feel better. Meh. It’s probably the lack of sleep, Korra inwardly scolded her thoughts.

The press conference did not go well either. Or well, it was as well as Tenzin thought it could be. Korra doubted it though. The airbender was ever the optimist after all.

The entire time, she could feel Chief Beifong scowling from behind her and Tenzin grunting in irritation at her left.

She could tell neither were pleased with the press conference.

---

The rest of the day was spent in City Hall as Tenzin completed some work as he will be off the next day.

Korra found out it was his turn to prepare dinner but with his current preoccupation, he opted to go around Republic City to take out food. She helped select some of the dishes, Tenzin nodding in approval (“Lin would like that too. She’ll be pleased to finally have another meat-eater with us.” Korra doubted but did not voice out her opinion.).

Reaching home (the new resident thought she needed to start thinking of Air Temple Island as such to acclimatize), Korra volunteered to set up the table.

Both the Avatar and the airbender had been half-way through the meal when soft clicks of metal could be heard approaching them.

Korra was surprised to see the Chief of Republic City’s Metalbending Police enter the dining room.

She barely had time to kneel from her seat to acknowledge her. “Chief.”

Beifong looked at her, appearing to be amused. “Avatar.” She drawled before she settled herself beside Tenzin.

“Aren’t you going to remove your armor?” Tenzin dropped his chopsticks and Korra noticed the subtle movement of the airbender’s fingers at the side of the metalbender.

Chief Beifong swatted at his hands. “I’m tired and hungry, Tenzin. Can we do away with etiquette, for now, please?” She reached for a bowl of rice and topped it with some thinly sliced barbecued meat while Tenzin poured her some tea. “I’ll clean up later.”

The Avatar felt like she was in a surreal reality. An alternate universe.

What was going on, she paused mid-bite as the two middle-aged benders just continued to eat.

“Did you even eat lunch today?” Tenzin was eying the woman beside him, who had not paused in alternately getting food to her bowl, plate and mouth.

“Eh, no – had to prepare my men for the press conference,” Beifong rolled her eyes. “Whose fault was that?” She wiped her lips.

“Before you even point fingers at me,” Tenzin pinched open a pau, letting the steam out. “That was Tarrlok, he wanted the conference to happen at that time.”

“Couldn’t you have influenced the other members to push back? We weren’t prepared – you weren’t prepared,” She turned her thumb in Korra’s direction. “She wasn’t prepared.”

This brought Korra back to her wits and continued to eat. She looked at their plates. If they did not slow down soon, there would not be any food left for the mysterious Lady Lin. She frowned as she faced her dinner mates who carried on with work discussions. She pushed herself to be more attentive – both to the door and to the conversation around her.

“By the way, I have the files ready for council approval regarding the budget.” The discussion turned to the damages that Korra inflicted downtown; she flinched but neither adult paid her mind.

“No need, Tenzin – I’ve talked to Suyin.”

“What does your sister have to do with this?”

“We’ll supply the raw materials and Su will reallocate some of her workforce from Zaofu to finish the renovation quickly.”

Tenzin’s eyebrows raised at this. “Why? There’s no need for that. Republic City can manage.”

“No, we don’t.” Beifong was calmly responding in between bites. “Think about it. If you go to the council asking for the publicly funded Air Temple cultural restoration budget to be reallocated to construction,” She waved a chopstick in to stress her points. “Specifically to the Earthen Fire Refinery for raw materials,” She saw the comprehension dawn on the airbender’s face. “Whether or not it was well-intended, that request will not look good to the council.”

“You’re right,” Tenzin exhaled deeply.

Korra slowed down to chew her food, wondering why it would not look good. Is it because they were friends? Their parents were friends?

“Korra,” The airbender called her attention. “You’re a bit subdued tonight. Is everything okay?”

The two adults before her looked at her in mild concern. She swallowed and just gestured to the food.

“Go ahead,” The metalbender handed her a plate of steamed pau. “Eat some more. It’s been a long day and you’ll need your strength.” The sharp eyes of the police chief caught her wince as she extended her arm to get the plate. “Tenzin,” She poked at the Avatar’s side none too gently, the soreness making her grimace. Beifong swiftly faced the airbending teacher. “Did you bring her to the airbending gates on day one?”

“Yes…” Tenzin ran a hand on his head slowly.

“Did you check on her after?” At Tenzin’s confirmation of not doing so, the gray-haired woman now turned her attention to the perplexed Avatar. “How many times did he make you go through the gates? Were you – tossed outside of the gates?” At the girl’s awkward shrug and affirmative response, she motioned her hand to the direction of the hallway. “Tenzin, get the salve from my dresser – you know that one, I’m sure.”

Korra blinked. The Chief of Police lived at Air Temple Island? Where? How come Tenzin never mentioned it?

Her quarters must not have been far as Tenzin was back in the dining room in no time at all. “But that’s how my father trained me…”

The Avatar’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What’s up with these two – what about Lin?

“Your mother was there during your training and she was also there when my mother trained your father for earthbending.” Beifong accepted the pot of salve that Tenzin handed her. “Point being – there was always a healer at hand so training could proceed quicker without a lot of recovery time needed.” She offered the salve to the Avatar, instructing her on how to use it later that night. “Barring that, in the academy we used this balm that your mother created.”

“I’m sorry, Avatar.” Tenzin settled himself back beside Beifong, his contrite face visible. “I suppose I never considered that aspect.”

The Chief of Police’s words had an unusually protective tone. “Chin up, Airhead, it’s your first time to teach airbending and you couldn’t have known – you were obviously a natural at the skill.” She bumped his shoulder gently.

“It’s okay, Master Tenzin.” The Avatar gingerly opened the pot, sniffing the salve which had a comforting scent of eucalyptus and mint.

“What would I do without you, dear.” To Korra’s surprise, Tenzin kissed the metalbender’s cheek as she leaned on him. “And just call me Tenzin.” He directed the last part to the Water Tribe teen, who was hiding her dismay at the perceived disloyalty happening in front of her.

Beifong just patted his cheek then tugged his beard. “We all know where you’d be without me now – all of Air Nation would probably be bowing down to you as their patriarch.” She laughed at his horrified face. “What? Don’t tell me that wasn’t what you envisioned.”

“Of course not!” The man just scoffed. “You make the Air Nation sound like an underground cult…”

“Isn’t it just?” Good mood revived by food, Beifong used her bending to summon the metal tray containing the rest of the bread from earlier that morning. “Avatar, Mother mentioned in one of her letters that you enjoyed the fruit buns I sent last time. I tried something new this morning – just incorporated some of the island’s melons into the dough. Not sure if it turned out well.” She broke a piece off and placed it on the young girl’s saucer.

Fruit buns, fruit buns… Korra had a vague recollection about it, but what? “Just call me Korra, I’m just in training after all.” Was what she responded with though.

At Tenzin’s pointed stare, Chief Beifong raised an eyebrow. “What? I rather like it that she calls me Chief.” She gave a bark of a laugh at his frown. “Fine, fine, I was just kidding. Just call me Lin when we’re not in a professional set-up. We can’t have the rest of the public think I’m being undermined.”

Lin.

Hold up. Korra froze.

Beifong. Toph Beifong.

Korra wanted to slap herself, recalling the biographical pamphlets that one of the White Lotus members insisted she study back in the day.

Toph Beifong of the Gaoling Beifong family. The inventor of Metalbending had two daughters – one was the matriarch of the metal clan in Zaofu, Suyin Beifong and the other one was… Lin Beifong, current Chief of Police of the Republic City Police Department, head of the Metalbending Police, one of the partners of Earthen Fire refinery.

Lin Beifong who was currently tearing pieces of melon bread for her husband, the last Airbender, who was chatting casually about the types of food that the air acolytes purchased that morning for Korra’s polar bear dog.

Korra just blinked her blue eyes. So this was the mysterious Lady Lin, the last Airbender’s wife.

Lin Beifong, who despite being in her Metalbending police uniform, seemed to be quite comfortable at being a wife at home during dinner time, attentively listening with her husband about day-to-day household concerns.

Lin Beifong who offered to make Korra medicinal muscle-relaxing tea before bed to help her sleep.

It was a close call of looking almost like an idiot, Korra supposed, as she would have almost accused her airbending master of infidelity. This was why, the young Avatar figured as she took in the tea-drinking couple at the other side of the table, she needed to pay better attention to her history text.

----

Note: Sooo the plot ran away from me. So I’ll probably chop this into two posts; cutting it here for now. I hope this turned out okay; let me know if this is any good.

===

My related posts:

Prologue (Contentment)

The Airbender’s Wife 2

#linzin #lin beifong #linzin fanfic #tenzin #legend of korra #lok #korra #toccatina's fanfics #toccatina wip #toccatina airbender

81 notes · View notes

pink-imagines · 4 years

Text

reach me behind your voice

chapter 2: opening doors

summary: you go home with katsuki and shoto seems to have a problem with that. why? you don’t know.

a/n: the choice picked from last time was bakugo !! time to pick the next one :) this is when i realize that i’m making a dating sim...

warnings: swearing

masterlist

requesting rules

chapter 1

When you got out you were just about to call Shoto to tell you about it, but then you saw Bakugo standing by the entrance. “I’ll give you this, Bakugo.”, you said as you walked up to him, “You’re pretty good at piano.” “Pretty good?”, he scoffed, “You sure are cocky, aren’t you princess?” “What’s with the nickname?”, you folded your arms over your chest. “Prancing around like that in the studio, I might as well call you a princess.”, he chuckled, “Or do you prefer idiot?” “I’d like to see you ‘prance around’ like I did.”, you huffed. “I didn’t say you were bad.”, he looked away from you, “Whatever, I’m leaving. I’m counting on you to get the lead, princess.” He started walking away... as if this conversation was over.

“Hey, wait up!”, you sprinted up next to him, “You want me to take the lead?” “What about it? It’s nothing special anyways...”, he muttered, “... you were the only one I could see as the lead anyways. The others were just extras.” “Don’t say that, they’re good too!”, you exclaimed. “Whatever... why are you following me anyways?”, he sped up the pace but you followed closely. “I’m going this way too... and my-... friend told me to not walk alone if it gets dark out.”, you explained. “Your friend? Who? Mina?”, he asked. You had completely forgotten that they used to hang out at times... you never knew why they stopped. Mina was always friendly towards everyone, so of course she’d try even with this guy. When you looked up at him you noticed he was looking back at you, which made you quickly look down to the ground. “No... Shoto.”, you muttered with a smile. You linked your hands together behind your back and looked up at the starry sky. “What is he? Your boyfriend or something?”, Bakugo scoffed. “What? No!”, you felt heat rising to your cheeks, “We’ve been friends since we were kids...” “So? Ah... it’s probably one-sided, isn’t it?”, he grinned and bent down slightly to look you in the eye, “It’s pretty obvious you like him, princess.” I did not repress my feelings for this long just for this douche to figure it out... “It’s none of your business.”, you huffed, “He’s... he’s like a brother to me. Why are we even talking about him? I’ve never even seen you speak with him.” “You’re really that love sick that you’ve gone blind? We’ve been at the same competitions.”, he said casually. Maybe you had seen him there... then again, you were there to support Shoto so you didn’t actually pay attention to anyone else. You looked over at Bakugo again, he was staring at the sky. For once he looked peaceful, kind of like when he was playing the piano earlier but less focused. That’s when you remembered the story. “Oh! The script!”, you pulled it out of your bag, “If you want me to get the lead so bad, then why don’t you help me understand this!” “Isn’t the whole point of you reading it alone is for you to get your own view on it? Besides, I don’t want to look at it. I wrote it once and now I’m done with it.”, he says. “Fine... then I’ll read it and if I have any questions I’ll ask you about it.”, you compromised and put the script back in your phone, “Here, give me your phone.” “Why do you want my phone?” “So that I can put my number in it, idiot.”, you sighed and pulled out your own phone, “Here, put in your contact in mine.” With a bit of hesitation Bakugo did as you said. You put in your name as “Y/L/N” and quickly wrote your number before giving him back his phone and then he gave you back your phone too. “Katsuki?”, you asked. “Yeah it’s fine, I don’t care that much.”, he shrugged. “Okay... then you can change the contact to my first name too, I guess.”, you put your phone back in your pocket, “My house is just around the corner, but I’ll text you when I have questions. You better answer them too!” “Yeah, yeah... I won’t respond if you text me too late, though.”, he threw his bag over his shoulder and walked in the opposite direction of where you were going, “See you tomorrow!”

When you got home you took a shower and quickly ate whatever was left over for you from your family’s dinner. They ate earlier, so it was just you. Once you finished you walked back to your room and started to dry off your hair with the towel that you had wrapped around it before. You threw your phone on the bed and was suddenly struck with the the feeling like you had forgotten something. I was gonna call Shoto before! You picked your phone back up and scrolled through your contacts until you found his name. He picked up after it five buzzes. “Hey, what’s up?”, he voice was deeper than usual, he was probably supposed to go to sleep now. “Hi, I didn’t disturb you right?”, you asked and sat down on your bed. “No... how did your dance class go?”, he asked. “Just fine. I have to read this script now for the audition that’s in two days, but I think it’ll go okay.”, you explained, “You’ve eaten something, right?” “Yeah, yeah, don’t worry.”, he brushed it off as you walked over to your window. He was standing in his window too so you waved, and he waved back. “I was out on a run before, near the dance studio, you should’ve called before so that I could’ve walked you home.”, he sat down in his window frame. “I was going to but Katsuki-” “Bakugo?”, he interrupted, “Why was he there? Did he do anything to you?” “What? No.”, you laughed, “Don’t worry about it, we just walked home together since he lives down the street. He was actually the pianist that we’re working with for our new performance.” “... really?”, he scoffed, “You don’t have to walk home with him next time, okay? Call me and I’ll be there.” “Sure.”, you smiled and decided not to comment about their competitions together, “But my teacher said that I might be getting the lead this time around.” “Really? That’s great.”, he smiled to you through the window, “You should get some rest then.” “But I need to read through the script-” “You have all day tomorrow to do that. It’s late so get some rest, okay?” “Okay... you too.”, you said. “Goodnight.” “Goodnight.”, you hung up. Shoto waved at you before closing the blinds. You didn’t even get to ask him if he had been practicing for that competition he had coming up. He probably didn’t want to talk about it in the first place. The most important thing right now was that you got to talk to him at all, usually you called every other week but this week you had gotten to call him twice. Maybe this was a changing point!

The next morning you woke up to the alarm you had put for 7:00 am. With a groan you got yourself out of bed, though you would rather stay a bit longer, to open the blinds to your window. Like you expected, Shoto did so around the same time.You looked at each other with tired eyes and waved. He opened his window and you followed suit. “I’ll walk you to school, be out in an hour!”, he told you. “Okay!”, you smiled. You hadn’t done this in ages, it was like a morning ritual in middle school but it faded during junior high and completely disappeared in high school. If you wanted to walk with him to school you’d usually have to get up early and run to catch up with him. You ran down the kitchen and made some quick breakfast. Somebody in the house had baked bread buns so you took two and stuffed them in your bag. Your lunch laid prepared for you on the kitchen counter, so you took that and put it in your bag as well. After that you made your way to the kitchen and brushed your teeth and got ready. It was probably your favorite part of the morning, since the bathroom had heated tiles and it was relaxing seeing as you got to sit in peace and quiet for a while.

An hour passes and you’re out the door, ready to get to school. You had a bit of problem with finding your uniform earlier, but it was resolved by you finding another one in the laundry room. As soon as you walk out the door you see him and as if on queue a smile breaks out on your lips. You close the door behind you and run up to the gate which you quickly open and close. “Goodmorning.”, you said cheerfully. “Goodmorning.”, he smiled at you, sending butterflies to your stomach. “Did you eat anything?”, you usually ask this in the morning as he has a tendancy to skip breakfast if anyone in his family is occupying the kitchen. “I-”, he didn’t have much time to answer before his stomach started grumbling. “I’ll take that as a no.”, you laughed and pulled out a bun from your bag, “Have one of these.” “Did you make them?”, he asked and took a bite out of it. “No, I don’t have time for baking.”, you shook your head, “I’m not sure who made them, but they’re freshly baked!” “Thanks...”, he muttered with his hand over his mouth, but you could still tell he was smiling.

With that your walk to school started, for the most part it was quiet. It wasn’t like your walk with Katsuki last night, but it was still nice. He asked you briefly about the performance but you liked the fact that the silence wasn’t awkward. You even got a chuckle out of him once or twice, which was a pleasant surprise. It felt like everything was back to normal... but when you got to school his friends almost immediately spotted him and called him over. “I’ll see you later.”, he said and patted you on your head, “Get to class, okay?” You hummed and watched as he walked towards his friends, who were all teasing him about being so close with you. “You worry about her too much for just being her friend.”, you heard one of them said. “I’ve told you before, we’ve been friends since we were kids.”, was Shoto’s excuse. You didn’t know that those words could actually hurt, but you of course kept it inside and just kept walking to your locker. “Oi!”, you heard behind you, “Did you read the script, princess?” You turned to see Katsuki. “Goodmorning to you too.”, you sighed and took off your shoes, “I haven’t yet, I’m gonna do it during lunch.” “The clock’s ticking.”, he hummed, stuffed his hands in his pockets, and walked away. You rolled your eyes and took out your indoor shoes so that you could put them on, when yet another people disturbed your thoughts. “Hey, Y/N!”, Mina exclaimed as she ran up to your locker, “Were you just talking to Bakugo?” “Yeah, what about it?”, you asked and looked up from putting on your shoes. “He doesn’t talk to anyone. Are you guys hanging out now?” You had a weird feeling that Katsuki probably didn’t want you talking about his gig at the dance studio. “We met outside of school yesterday and talked. I had just finished my dance lesson.”, you shrugged. It wasn’t a complete lie. “Oh right! How did your dance lesson go?” Glad that you managed to make her forget about your incounter with Katsuki, you told her about the lesson as you walked with her to your classroom.

As you said you would, you read the script during lunch. Your friends tried to peak at it, but you managed to stop them by saying that it was for your performance. So when the last lesson of the day rolled around, you could only stare out the window and hope for it to end. You really wanted to ask Katsuki some questions, maybe you were reading it the wrong way. As soon as the bell rang you packed together your stuff, luckily you didn’t have cleaning duty today. I should text him to ask where he is. As you sprinted down the halls you pulled out your phone and clicked on Katsuki’s contact. hey, it’s Y/N! can we meet up so that I can ask about the script? I’ll be waiting by my locker. With that finished you put down your phone in your pocket and kept going down the halls.

Once you got to your locker you were about to take off your shoes when you heard voices on the other side. You peaked your head out on the side of the lockers and saw Katsuki and Shoto. “All I’m asking you is to leave her alone.”, Shoto scoffed. “How should I do that? I work with her.”, Katsuki rolled his eyes, “She’s not your girlfriend, so why do you care?” “She doesn’t have to be my girlfriend for me to care about her, she shouldn’t be around someone like you.” “But it doesn’t matter what you think, it’s her choice.”, Katsuki leaned forward with a mocking grin, “Maybe your just jealous ‘cause she walked home with me instead of calling you to pick her up. Face it buddy, if you want her to stick around you then you have to actually be there for her.” “... if I ever find out that you hurt her in any way-”, Shoto started but was cut off. “Yeah, yeah. Go practice your violin, pretty boy.”, Katsuki scoffed and walked away. Realizing that you might get caught spying on them, you run away to the nearest bathroom and don’t come out until you hear them walking away. are you coming?, Katsuki texted you. You decided that it was safe to come out now, and so you walked back to your locker. Katsuki was leaning his back against it, looking down at his phone. “Oh, you got here before me!”, you said as if you hadn’t seen his text, “Sorry, did I make you wait?” “No, I just got here.”, he huffed, “You had any questions?”

You sat outside the school and talked to Katsuki about the story, asking all kinds of questions to get the best perspective on it that you could. After some time you realized that you should go home, so you asked Katsuki if he wanted to walk home together. “No thanks.”, he said and threw the juicebox he had bought before in the trash, “I’ve got somewhere else to be. What? Do you need protection or something?” “No, but-” “If Shoto doesn’t like it when you walk home alone then he should walk with you himself.”, he muttered. “I wasn’t gonna say that... I just thought it could be boring to walk alone. And he’s not the only one who worries about me, you know?”, you sighed, “I’ll leave first, then. Bye!” Katsuki didn’t say anything else, but you could feel his eyes on you as you walked away from him.

Once you got home you got ready for your next dance class. To get some extra money you had gotten a job as a dance teacher for younger kids. You only had to work on Fridays and Sundays though, the rest of your week was taken up by dance classes of your own. Ballet on Thursdays, Saturday mornings and Tuesdays. Modern on Mondays and Wednesdays. You hadn’t danced street in a while, neither jazz, but you couldn’t forget to focus on your school work too. You put on the tracksuit you had to wear and took your bag with stuff for your students in it. Next thing you knew, you were out the door but just as you closed the gate behind you Shoto jogged by. He slowed down as he saw you. “Are you off to work?”, he asked and you hummed and nodded in response, “Call me up afterwards, okay? I’ll walk you home.” “You don’t have to do that.”, you said even though you knew he wouldn’t listen, “Besides Mina’s working today, so we’ll walk a bit together. But I’ll call you when I get home.” Before he could come with any more protests you walked away, though you would’ve liked to stay and talk... he hadn’t talked this much to you in a while... he usually offered to walk you home, but this was way more than usual. You thought back to Shoto’s conversation with Katsuki earlier... could it be...- no.

You class went by smoothly and you didn’t have to think of anything else other than dancing. It was like a distraction for your thought-filled brain. When the lesson eventually ended you waved goodbye to your students and proceeded to walk home with Mina. “You’re in a hurry.”, she commented at the fact that your pace seemed to quicken with every step. “I have to read through a script for my ballet class... and I promised Shoto I’d call him when I got home...”, you muttered out the last part, knowing the impact it would have on her. “You two...”, she sighed romantically, “... he’s really acting like your boyfriend.” “He doesn’t!”, you exclaimed, “I might just shoot him a text, I’m sure that’s fine too...” Somehow the fact that she made a big deal out of it made it less wanted. Maybe you were embarrassed, either way you decided not to call him.

When you got home you sent Shoto a text saying that you were home before going to take a shower. He had already responded when you got out with a simple “okay, good”. You sighed and sat down on your bed, remembering that you should probably read through the script again. So you rummaged through your bag and finally found it. As you were about to sit down by your desk you heard something from outside your window... Shoto was playing the violin in his room again. If you didn’t mishear it, it was Sonata for Violin and Piano no. 5, op 24, obviously without the piano. It’s the one you really liked... but it sounded angry. Nevertheless, he was still playing so, you smiled to yourself and decided to sit down in the window to read. Shoto had rolled down his blinds already, you could see his silhouette because of the bright light behind him, so you weren’t scared that he was going to see you. With a deep breath you started reading...

The boy with a raincloud above his head runs home to his mother to tell her about the girl with the sunshine smile and dream-like eyes. Though the sunshine smile wasn’t meant for him and the dream-like eyes didn’t look his way, he still appreciated from afar. He ran over the fields, a short cut that he used as a hiding spot from those who would watch. The boy was never seen without a reason, and the reason always had ill intent. Those who would watch liked to see him fall and cry, and they loved to tease. Words, spiked with hatred, were spewed at him. It seemed as if smoke poured out their mouths when they opened it, but those who watched wouldn’t do this with other people around. They would rather not be seen with him at all. But the fields near the back of his home was a place where their eyes couldn’t find him. He runs across the fields to tell his mother of the girl. The memory of her made him smile. Her laugh made a sound like bells, and he wish he could hear it more often. Though he understood that he could never make her laugh-

With a sigh you looked at the clock. Shoto had stopped playing and his lights were out. You had probably read the intro right the first time around, so you decided to skip to the part when the girl first saw the boy...

She stared right at him with her hand stretched out towards him, prepared for him to take it. The boy hesitates, what if she had joined those who watched... what if someone so wonderful had been ordered around by people that horrible. Eventually he takes her hand, and she helps him up. Her dream-like eyes are kind as they look into his, it’s something that he’s never felt before.

You felt like you understood the premise of the story and put the pages down. It was pretty late and you should get some rest before you had to get to the auditions tomorrow morning. It was probably not going to be like the normal auditions you’ve had, where you got to practice weeks in advance, so you worried about what was ahead of you. Nevertheless, you took a look at your phone. Shoto had answered your text twenty minutes ago. Good, get some rest You smiled at the message and started texting him back. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I’ll take you out to get cold soba tomorrow instead if you feel like it :) The two of you used to go out to your favorite restaurant when you were in junior high and eat cold soba together. It was his favorite and you learned to love it over the years. Maybe since the two of you seemed to start getting back to normal it wouldn’t be weird and awkward. That sounds nice, he replied.

The next day arrived, you were excited and nervous at the same time. Excited over the fact that you’d get to go out with Shoto like you used to. You had planned everything yesterday, you’d meet him at the restaurant half an hour after your class had ended- since he had to go to some meeting, that he never specified what it was, and was going to meet you there. But you were nervous because of your audition, you didn’t know if you’d mess up. It seemed like everyone wanted you to make it too, which only helped the press you felt about it. You shook it off and got ready for your day.

Once you got to the theatre where you’d be performing you told the person in the reception that you were one of the dancers. “Sorry, it says that all the dancers have already gotten here.”, they explained while looking down at their notes. “But that can’t be right...”, you started getting more anxious by the second, “Are you sure?” “It says so on the list.”, they tapped away on their computer, not even looking at the list anymore. “Could you please double check for me?”, you asked kindly, “I really need to get to my audition and I-” “Listen, kid. It says you’re not on here, so I can’t let you in.”, they sighed. You left the establishment shortly after and found a bench near the entrance. Maybe it wasn’t the right building or maybe you actually weren’t on that list at all... what if mrs. Takahashi really did forget to write your name down. Tears started forming in your eyes... it was a stupid thing to cry about but this could be your last chance to- “What’s wrong, princess?”, the familiar nickname made you look up. Katsuki was standing right in front of you, looking down at your crouched figure. “Hi...”, you quickly wiped away your tears with the sleeve of your shirt. “Why aren’t you going in there? You know this isn’t some middleschool field trip where the teachers come and get you, right?”, he scoffed, it seemed as if he hadn’t noticed your tears. Thank god. “The receptionist says that my name isn’t on the list for the auditions and they won’t check it again-” “That’s bullshit, c’mon.”, he grabbed your wrist and walked away with you. You only had little time to grab your things but managed to do so rather quickly before he pulled you into the building. The receptionists eyes were burning into your soul, it felt as if they clearly didn’t want you to be here. “Bakugo Katsuki, I’m here for the dance performance and so is my friend.”, he explained with a rough voice, clearly mad. “Sorry sir, but she wasn’t on the list.”, the receptionist kept clicking away on their keyboard. “Look at the damn list again.”, he said firmly, “She’s on there, you just need glasses.” “Sir-” “Or do you want me to read the list myself? I know she’s on there. Look up Y/L/N Y/N.” The receptionist sighed and looked through the list once again. Their lips tightened into a thin line as they got to the bottom of the list. “Room 7, take the stairs and it’s to the right.”, they said. “Told you so.”, Katsuki scoffed and kept walking, not letting go of your hand. “Katsuki you didn’t have to be so rude.”, you whispered. “It doesn’t matter now.”, he said without looking at you. You looked at the back of his head and then down to where his hand was holding onto your wrist. His hands were gentle but firm, the opposite of what you were expecting. You weren’t paying attention to anything else so when he abruptly stopped you walked right into him. “We’re here.”, he muttered and let go of you. He didn’t even yell at you for bumping into him... but you didn’t have time to think about it, you just walked into the room along with him.

The auditions went just fine, they were like usual except that mrs. Takahashi wasn’t expecting everyone to know every detail. All she wanted was the emotion behind your movements. It was pretty obvious who the main male dancer would be already, but since you came late you didn’t have a clue how the girls danced. When it came to your turn you shook off your nerves before taking your place on scene. It was the one dance that you had actually memorized, so everything turned out fine.

At the end of the lesson you were starving, and waiting impatiently for it to end. The last person was dancing but you couldn’t pay attention to them... even though Katsuki was on the side of the stage your eyes were more drawn to him. He had a calm expression and relaxed body language but his eyes were focused. It looked so intense that it gave you goosebumps... Eventually you were allowed to leave after mrs. Takahashi told all of you to keep practicing until Tuesday- since she hadn’t come to a conclution yet and might need another look at your technique before she chose the parts. You managed to leave last even though you so badly wanted to leave- but before you could do so someone stopped you. “If you want to you could practice more...”, Katsuki had grabbed your wrist again, “I think we have the place for another hour and it’s kinda unfair considering you were stuck outside for a while...” It would be nice to practice a bit more, but you still needed to go home and get ready to go out with Shoto... then again, how long could practice take?

It’s your choice: stay with Katsuki or go to Shoto? (click here to go to the poll)

rmbyv taglist: @richkookie

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pickalilywrites · 3 years

Text

hi everyone!!! here’s the eretra au that a few of you might remember from my wip posts a few months (?) ago! i’m really excited about it, so i hope you guys like it. it’s very loosely based off a kdrama called big, although there aren’t very many similarities. i hope you guys enjoy it :)

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My First Love Come Back to Me

Eretra. Big AU.

I’ll Love You in the Rain or Shine Series: Chapter 1

12788 words.

Read on Ao3!

Eren stands in the deli section of the grocery store staring down at the premade sandwiches that have, judging by the wilting lettuce and stiff-looking squares of cheese stuffed between dry bread buns, been sitting there all day after being passed over by other customers for more enticing premade meals like the colorful, little sushis in their plastic containers or the burritos so stuffed with filling that beans are practically spilling out of the tortilla wraps meant to contain them. He looks at one particularly sad-looking sandwich. Turkey chunks and droopy lettuce leaves are shoved inside a stale bread loaf. Tomato juice from the poor fruit that was cut to make this depressing sub bleeds out from the bun, dripping onto the plastic wrap that can hardly hold the thing together. A strange assortment of veggies also poke out from the bread - bright yellow bell peppers, chunky strips of carrots, and slices of onions - but they look as though someone has carelessly dropped them into the sandwich because they’re not even evenly dispersed through the sub. It is, Eren thinks, the most wretched sandwich he’d ever laid eyes on.

It’s a little sad, the fact that Eren is spending so much time picking out something to bring to a family dinner that he would claim, if anyone bothered to ask, to not give a single shit about. And, really, he doesn’t, but it makes him feel slightly better about going to those miserable gatherings if he’s able to bring something he knows his stepmom will hate. Except she’s not really his stepmom. To be more precise, the woman is his father’s first and only wife - the bastard having never married Eren’s mother - and his half-brother’s mother. In all honesty, Eren can completely understand why the woman hates him. He is, after all, a constant reminder of his father’s infidelity. It’s not like Eren likes her either and, with all of the snide comments about his upbringing and disappointing career path (although Eren has no idea why that is any of her business), she hasn’t given Eren any reason to.

Eren looks down at the sandwich again, leaning towards not getting it. As much as he would love to purchase it and slap it down on the dinner table with a cheerful smile, there are only so many times he can buy disgusting sandwiches for his family dinners. He really outdid himself last time with a self-made sandwich with all sorts of odd ingredients (blue cheese, coriander, tuna, onions, cherry tomatoes, the works) that had no business being slapped between the same two buns. He even remembered not to toast the bread buns. Apparently, the only thing his father’s wife hates more than sandwiches are untoasted sandwiches, but not everyone can afford a $300 panini press like she can. Apparently, any panini press with a smaller price tag can’t be called a real panini press. Eren only half-regretted his decision to bring the disgusting thing to his father’s house an hour later when he sprinted out of the house and biked half a block away to empty the contents of his stomach on the edge of a poor neighbor's sidewalk. No, a normal deli sandwich would be a step down from his previous contribution to family dinner, Eren decides.

He walks up and down the aisle of the grocery store, taking his time even though he’s already a half-hour late for dinner. (He’s doing them a favor. Nobody in their right mind should be having dinner at five when the sun is still high in the sky.) His green eyes glaze over tubs of soup and plastic bins filled with salad. For a moment, he wonders if he should walk through the shelves of chips on the other side or maybe into the frozen food section so he can haul a tub of melting ice cream to his father’s house, but he wonders if that’s too petty. It’s probably best not to, Eren thinks with a grimace. He doesn’t want to ruin junk food for himself forever.

In the end, Eren purchases a little tub of potato salad, hoping that it’ll be enough to piss off his Disney-esque sort-of stepmother. It’s not perfect, but he supposes it will do. It’s probably not as grotesque as the stuff he’s brought before, but he likes how simple it is. That woman’s definitely going to be miffed that Eren bought potato salad as if he cared so little that he couldn’t be bothered to spend a few minutes in the kitchen to make the same dish. He’s really going to enjoy seeing the vein on her forehead pulse when she sees him standing at the door with the potato salad.

Eren thanks the cashier for ringing up his purchase, sliding two dollars into the charity box next to the register, and walks away with his tub of potato salad, whistling as he practically skips out of the grocery store. He hadn’t taken as long as he would have liked; there are still fifteen minutes before six and he had hoped he would burn enough time to arrive at six-thirty, but maybe he can take a roundabout way to his dad’s house, Eren thinks as he drops the tub carelessly into the front basket of his bicycle. He unlocks his bike with a click and pulls it off the bike rack before mounting it and pedaling away.

Taking the direct route would be too quick. Eren quickly pedals across the road as soon as the road is clear and finds his way to the creek that cuts across the suburbs. It’s the same creek Eren used to play beside when he was a child. He fell in there once trying to catch a frog and his mom scolded him for being so reckless. It’s also the same creek that he frequented during the spring of his sophomore year of highschool when he was assigned to do a bug project, which Eren hated especially when the same project was no longer mandatory after his school cut the science department’s funding the year after. Eren doesn’t think he’s visited the creek ever since he graduated from high school. He blames it on college and summer internships taking up all his time and never really allowing him to return to his youth, but the truth is that Eren wouldn’t have sought out his childhood even if he had the time.

It’s not that Eren had a terrible childhood. In fact, Eren would say that he had a fairly happy childhood. True, he grew up in a (mostly) single-parent household, but his mother was always patient and attentive to him even though he was a pain the ass about 75 percent of the time. Nothing incredibly significant happened. He didn’t win any awards and he never made the honor roll, but his mother was fine with it as long as he did his best. It was strange, but he got a lot more shit about his grades from his sort-of stepmom than he did from his own mother. He’s not particularly sure what his father thought about it. Eren’s father never said much of anything to defend him, but his father hardly said anything to him at all. It was kind of like not having a father at all, so it wasn’t really that surprising when Eren found a way to avoid his old neighborhood completely after his mother passed away after his senior year of high school.

Eren hadn’t planned on returning so soon. Actually, he hadn’t planned on returning at all after he had left for college. He only came back the summer after freshman year, but he bummed it at his best friend Armin’s house and only ventured as far as Armin’s front lawn. The following summers he crashed at his ex-boyfriend’s house - an art student-turned-tattoo artist who somehow ended up setting up a shop in the city Eren and Armin grew up in - or Armin’s dorm when they were both working at their internships. Somehow, they ended up landing jobs back in their hometown because evidently the big city did not want them and they were too young and broke to go up against the universe. Maybe another day.

It’s not that bad. Despite renting an apartment near his neighborhood, Eren hasn’t run into any childhood friends that might still remember all the embarrassing things he did as a teenager. He’s bumped into a few parents at the grocery store that would smile up at him and talk about how nicely he’s grown while reaching up to ruffle his hair. Other than a few childhood friends and the “family” he feels obligated to meet due to the biological bond he unwillingly shares with his father, Eren has successfully avoided most of his past.

He pedals past his old middle school, zooming past the gates and grimacing as he remembers the less pleasant parts of his past - struggling with algebra, running a mile at seven AM, and the terrible school uniforms they forced on everyone in a strange attempt to boost standardized test scores. He’s happier when he crosses the street and is greeted with the lit-up shops - the convenience store where he’d happily slurp down slushies with Armin after school, the Chinese restaurant that his class would frequent every year for Lunar New Year’s, and the bakery store that always smelled of freshly baked tarts and pies. Eren’s pedaling slows as he approaches the bakery and he inhales deeply, his lungs filling with the scent of buttery baguettes and chocolate tarts. The aroma is so distractingly sweet. His mouth begins to water at just the thought of them, and Eren wonders why he hadn’t bothered stepping foot in the bakery since coming back. He’s about to stop his bike and pop in for a brownie or a lemon bar only to realize that he’s biking far too fast and about to crash into someone.

“Shit!” Eren’s bike screeches as he swerves out of the way and he crashes into a pole so hard that he can feel his teeth rattle. He topples to the ground with a hard thud, groaning as he rolls over onto his side that didn’t get smashed violently against a pole. When he opens his eyes, he sees stars as well as the face of an old man that he had last seen a decade ago. Eren tries to sit up, but his side is throbbing and he can only clutch at his side, trying his best to suppress a groan so as to not startle the man he had nearly collided with. He gives the man a weak smile. “Hey, Mr. Ral. I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The old man’s mouth, which was already open to begin with after seeing Eren’s embarrassing bicycle collision, falls open a bit wider. “A-are you … okay?” he asks after a while, squinting a bit as he looks at Eren’s face and tries to place a name to it. Eren doesn’t really blame him for not remembering who he is. It’s been quite a while since they’ve seen each other and Eren has grown up a lot since then.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just a little bump,” Eren says, laughing it off. He manages to sit up and pushes himself off the ground, standing up and brushing off the little pebbles that have managed to stick to his face and clothing. He picks up his bike, leaning it against the pole before turning to the man again. “It’s Eren, by the way.” He pauses, observing Mr. Ral’s expression. When he sees that the man doesn’t recognize him, Eren politely adds, “Eren Kruger. I’m Zeke Jaeger’s younger brother.”

A spark of recognition finally lights up in the old man’s eyes at the mention of Zeke’s name. Eren’s not going to lie, but it kind of hurts. “Ah, Zeke,” Mr. Ral says fondly. Eren shifts from feeling hurt to feeling slightly jealous. “How could I ever forget him? And you, of course. You two used to play with my dear Petra back in the day.”

Petra, a name that Eren hasn’t heard in years, and yet hearing it still makes him blush like a young schoolboy. He ducks his head, his hand rubbing at the back of his neck, and he prays that Mr. Ral doesn’t notice the sudden flush of his cheeks. “Yeah, it’s been a while. How is, ah, Petra doing?” he asks. He had meant to ask the question casually, but he stumbles over the words a little too quickly.

“Petra? She’s well,” Mr. Ral answers with a smile. The corners of his eyes crinkle and his laughter lines deepen. He doesn’t seem to notice how flustered Eren is. “She just started teaching at the same university that Zeke is teaching at.”

That’s certainly news to Eren. Zeke hadn’t mentioned that at any of the family dinners Eren had attended recently. It could just be because Zeke hadn’t run into her yet or it had simply slipped his mind, but Eren kind of doubts it. If Petra’s father knew, then it’s highly unlikely that Zeke didn’t know. As much as Eren wants to frown, he fights the urge to turn the edges of his mouth downward and gives Mr. Ral a thin but polite smile. “That’s great to hear. What does she teach?”

“English,” Mr. Ral replies, his chest puffed out proudly. It’s endearing how much he adores his daughter. “She teaches some upper-division classes on creative writing and a few classes for freshmen on critical reading and writing.”

Eren’s smile is more genuine now, more fond as he listens to Mr. Ral speak about his daughter. “Yeah, that sounds like her. She was always really good with words.” He remembers lazy summer afternoons lying underneath the shade of a tree and pretending he was sleeping so that he could listen to Petra talk to Zeke on the front porch. It wasn’t even that he wanted to eavesdrop. He just liked the sound of her voice. Eren wonders if it’s still as wonderfully soothing and soft as he remembers.

“And what about you?” Mr. Ral asks, snapping Eren out of his reverie. The old man seems to ask out of polite obligation. It figures that he isn’t really interested in Eren’s life. After all, he hadn’t remembered that Eren existed until five minutes ago.

“I just graduated a few months ago. I majored in child education,” Eren replies. He looks down feeling slightly embarrassed although he’s not sure why. It feels like a step down from Petra’s accomplishments. His sort-of stepmom would certainly agree. She enjoys rubbing Zeke’s doctorate in Eren’s face whenever she gets the chance. Eren clears his throat and adds, “I’ve been working at Liberio Daycare. It’s near Shiganshina Elementary.”

It’s unclear whether or not Mr. Ral recognizes the name but he nods and reaches over to give Eren a pat on the arm, a grin on his face as if the old man is actually proud of him. “That’s good! Your parents must be proud.” He doesn’t notice the way Eren flinches and carries on. “It’s good to hear that you’ve been well.”

“Likewise,” Eren says. His eyes wander towards the bakery. It hadn’t occurred to him to look for Petra before, but now that he knows she’s back in town he can’t imagine doing anything else. He half hopes that she’ll be inside, maybe clearing the display for the night or wiping down the countertops, but all he sees is a girl his age at the register munching on some lavender bars that hadn’t sold. Before he can stop himself, Eren finds himself asking, “Is Petra in?”

“Petra?” Mr. Ral asks with his eyebrows raised. Maybe it does seem out of the blue that Eren’s asking. Petra was always more Zeke’s friend than Eren’s. Mr. Ral gives Eren an apologetic smile and a shake of his head. “I’m afraid not. She told me she was eating dinner at a friend’s house. I’ll let her know you stopped by. Maybe you two can catch up sometime.”

Eren shouldn’t feel so disappointed, but he can feel himself deflating at Mr. Ral’s words. He really doubts Petra would want to meet up with him. It’s not as if they were incredibly close before. Still, he gives Mr. Ral a gracious smile and says, “That would be great! I should probably get going. I have to, ah, eat dinner…” His voice trails off and he looks to bike only to find the front basket empty. Eyes straying further, he finds that his tub of potato salad had rolled out of his bike basket and onto the ground where it lay pitifully. Thankfully, the tub hasn’t broken and the potato salad hasn’t spilled out, but somehow the salad looks even more pathetic than it did when Eren purchased it. It’s something Eren would have been happy about fifteen minutes ago, but it’s embarrassing now. Quickly, he goes to pick it up and drop it into his bike basket with the slim hope that Mr. Ral wouldn’t think much about it, but Eren has never been that lucky.

Mr. Ral must find him pitiful because he asks, “Why don’t you take some dessert home?” He’s already heading back into the bakery, gesturing for Eren to follow him despite Eren’s protests. “If you don’t, they’ll just go to waste. Or into my employee’s stomach, and goodness knows that she’s already eaten enough desserts today already.”

“Thank you so much, sir,” Eren says, humbly bowing his head.

“Sasha,” Mr. Ral calls the girl at the register. “Could you ring up a few things for Eren?”

The girl’s head snaps up at the call of her name, her cheeks filled with pastry and crumbs all over her mouth. “Sure thing,” Sasha says, gulping down the last of her lavender bar and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She walks over to the side, Eren following her on the other side of the counter, and washes her hands hastily. As she wipes her hands dry with the hand towel, she looks at Eren brightly and asks in a chipper voice, “Do you have anything you want in particular?”

Eren’s eyes scan over the display, but he doesn’t really look at anything in particular. He just wants to get out of this situation as quickly as possible. He’s embarrassed himself quite enough for today. “Just … whatever you’d recommend,”

“Alright-y,” the girl hums, taking a bag and stuffing it full with little tarts and tea cakes and croissants. Eren looks at her briefly, realizing that he doesn’t recognize her. She must have moved here sometime during the past six years when he wasn’t around.

As Sasha finishes preparing the bag, Eren walks over to the register and gets ready to pull his wallet out but Mr. Ral walks over, shaking his head. “No need to pay for it,” Mr. Ral says. He reaches over the counter and takes the bag from Sasha, presenting it to Eren with a smile. “Consider it a treat. Really, you’d be doing me a favor just taking it. They would have gone to waste otherwise.”

“Ah, thank you,” Eren says, his face flushing once more. He takes the bag from Mr. Ral with a small bow of his head. “It was great seeing you again, Mr. Ral.”

“Likewise,” Mr. Ral says with that same crinkly smile. He walks Eren to the door, watching as Eren packs the desserts alongside his potato salad. “Take good care of yourself, Eren, and tell your brother I said hi.” He waves as Eren assures him he’ll do just that, returning to the shop only once Eren has biked away.

This is not how the night was supposed to go. Eren was supposed to be wandering around the neighborhood with his potato salad before waltzing into his father’s house an hour late, his sort-of stepmother silently fuming at the dinner table while the family sat and waited for him. He hadn’t planned on bumping into his childhood crush’s father, and he certainly hadn’t planned on looking so incredibly pathetic in front of Mr. Ral. He can only imagine what Mr. Ral will tell Petra when she sees her dad tonight. Maybe something about how he grew up to be such a loser even though his half-brother managed to graduate with a Ph.D. and is now a successful anthropology professor at the local university. It’s not something that usually gets Eren down, but thinking about it now is making him feel especially miserable.

Eren’s not sure why the thought of Petra knowing how his life is so embarrassing. He hasn’t spoken to her in years, so her opinion of him shouldn’t matter. And even if she did have an opinion of him, he’s sure it wouldn’t be unkind. Petra had always been nice to him even when he was a kid and just being an annoying third wheel to her and Zeke. When his childish admiration of her turned into puppy love and eventually evolved into a full-fledged crush, she never brushed him off or thought him annoying, although there was a chance that she just never noticed. He couldn’t blame her for that when Zeke, honor roll student and valedictorian Zeke, was always standing right in front of her. He wasn’t even surprised when they started dating. It was inevitable. And when they eventually broke up for some reason that Eren still isn’t quite sure about, Eren knew he’d never be able to compare so he never tried to pursue her. It’s not surprising that he and Petra ended up losing touch.

As much as he would love to blame Zeke for it (and it would be incredibly easy for him to blame Zeke), he can’t. Maybe it’s strange that he doesn’t harbor a deep hatred for his half-brother. Their relationship has all the makings of a classic sibling rivalry - a complicated family history, stark differences in accomplishments, and affections for the same girl - but Eren could never bring himself to hate Zeke. Even if Zeke’s mother liked to hold all of her son’s accomplishments over Eren’s head, Zeke himself never bragged about them. In fact, he was quite humble and would even offer to help his younger half-brother if he was struggling with something in school. Oftentimes he would invite Eren to hang out with his friends even though their age gap made it a little awkward. He even remembered Eren’s favorite snacks and would make sure they were in supply whenever Eren came over to visit. If Zeke’s mother was an evil Disney stepmother come to life, Zeke was that one fairytale sibling that was kind to the tragic main character, so Eren had no choice but to like Zeke. Even when Zeke broke up with Petra and Eren couldn’t understand why, when Zeke told Eren that it “just happened,” Eren kind of left it at that and accepted that because he couldn’t imagine Zeke doing anything wrong.

Could Eren be classified with an inferiority complex with regards to his brother? Probably, but most siblings can. Eren would have to challenge whether or not someone with inferiority complexes would admire their brother as much as he does, but they might in a weird way. Eren’s sure that he and Zeke’s relationship would still be complicated even if they didn’t have all the weird history with Eren and Zeke’s parents.

Eren sighs as he flies down a dip in the road, letting gravity carry him down instead of pedaling. He really doesn’t feel like he’s in the right headspace for this family dinner. Usually, he lets all of that woman’s snide comments ricochet, but his armor has grown weak and he can just imagine her landing the right thinly-veiled insult, her words burying into his skin and hitting right where it hurts. For a moment, Eren considers calling the dinner off with an excuse that will be sure to piss his stepmother off — probably something about how he has to restructure his lesson plan for the upcoming week — but he glances down at the potato salad and bag of baked goods in his bike basket and realizes that he really doesn’t want to eat them all by himself. If he’s going to suffer, he might as well make the rest of his family suffer alongside him. And besides, he’s pretty much already at their house anyway.

His bike slows as he approaches the white-picket fenced house. He takes the potato salad tub and the bag of baked goods before leaving his bike on the driveway, not bothering to chain it to the fence because nobody would want to steal the old thing he bought from a garage sale anyway. The sight of it lying in front of the house instead of properly locked up will be sure to piss off that woman too, which is just an added bonus. With a sigh, Eren marches up the front steps, shifting the food all on one arm so he can ring the doorbell. The familiar chime rings out, muted from behind the wooden door. A muffled voice mumbles something Eren can’t hear, but he already knows that the speaker has nothing good to say about him.

The door is thrown open and Eren looks down to see his stepmother glowering up at him, blue eyes a raging storm. “You’re late,” she hisses. She doesn’t even give him a greeting; she just stands there in front of him silently fuming. Behind her stands Eren’s father. As expected, he says nothing to defend his son’s tardiness. The man just stands there, uncomfortable as he quietly observes.

“Sorry, Dina,” Eren says, squeezing past his stepmother who makes an indignant noise. He dangles the food he brought in front of her face, rolling his eyes when she snatches the bag from him only to wrinkle her nose in disgust when she sees the potato salad. “I brought dessert, too. Do you want me to put it somewhere …?”

Dina snatches the bag of desserts from him too, still huffing. “We have a guest tonight too. Do you know how rude you’re being?” she says, continuing to nag at him even though Eren has stopped listening to her years ago.

Eren’s father gently grabs Eren by the elbow, subtly ushering him inside to avoid any more conflict but Eren yanks his arm away.

“Well, maybe if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have showed up on time,” Eren snaps. He sounds angry as he says it, but he really does mean it. It’s one thing to be rude to his stepmother, but it’s another thing entirely to be rude to a guest he doesn’t know. He’d at least wait for introductions before deciding whether or not to show any manners.

Before his stepmother can say anything more, Eren stomps off into the dining room where Zeke and the guest are waiting. He keeps his head down, cheeks burning, as he pulls out his chair - the one furthest from everyone - and slumps down into it. “Sorry, I’m late,” Eren mumbles, still looking down.

“Eren,” says a deep voice that Eren recognizes as Zeke’s. Hearing the voice of someone other than his stepmother’s makes Eren relax a bit and he rests with his back against his chair, a little more at ease now. He can hear Zeke’s small smile as his half-brother asks, “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke who sits across from him, and then at the guest. He looks so quickly at first that he doesn’t register exactly who he’s seeing until he does a double-take, his green eyes widening as they take in the woman sitting there. It’s someone he hadn’t expected to see ever again, much less sitting at his family’s dining table, and he’s so surprised that he almost chokes. For a moment, he thinks it might just be a doppelganger, but there’s no mistaking the soft dimples that appear in her cheeks as her lips curl in a smile. “...Petra?”

“Hi, Eren.” Petra’s voice is still as gentle and soothing as Eren remembers, the sound of it so honey-sweet that he feels his cheeks bloom a soft pink. There’s so much about her that’s different, but there’s so much more that’s the same. Her hair is shorter now, no longer falling right at her shoulder, but curling right under her chin in a short bob. It’s the same shade of ginger it was when he was a kid. If it’s under the right light, it would probably burn a fiery gold. Her doe eyes are the same pretty amber, sweet and dangerously entrancing at the same time. She’s even dressed differently, her button-up blouse and slick gray trousers such a departure from the casual jeans and t-shirts she wore ten years ago when Eren was still in high school. Eren feels horribly underdressed - his ratty university sweatshirt over a thin cotton tee and his ripped jeans are so shabby in comparison - but a glimmer of silver on Petra’s wrist attracts Eren’s attention to the charm bracelet she wears, jangling with charms that Eren remembers her collecting in her high school days, and he feels a little less like he’s meeting a stranger and more like he’s reuniting with an old friend.

“How are you?” Eren asks shyly, his smile bashful.

“I’m well,” she answers, and Eren feels himself melting into her voice the same way he did when he was thirteen. When she smiles, her head tilts ever so slightly to the right just the way it did when he first met her and her dimples deepen into her cheeks. “How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers because he doesn’t trust himself to string together more than a word or two at a time. He wonders if she realizes how he’s unraveling at the sound of her voice or if she’s as oblivious as she was the last time.

“I’m glad,” Petra says, and the warm look Petra gives Eren reignites a flame in the pit of his belly that he had thought he extinguished long ago. Her head tilts a little bit more to the side, her eyes twinkling. “I missed you,” Petra tells him, and Eren finds himself in love once more.

«────── « ⋅ʚ♡ɞ⋅ » ──────»

There are rules to dealing with your ex-boyfriend after you’ve broken up, Petra knows, but it’s been ten years and she figures that these rules can be bent. So what if the last time she saw Zeke she was broken-hearted, crying in the rain as he turned his back on her? She was younger then, her feelings out of control for someone who didn’t care for her nearly as much as she cared for him. And, sure, maybe it’s terrible that she never received the closure that she deserves, but she can’t hold a grudge against him forever. They work in the same university and cowering behind the nearest trashcan every time they meet doesn’t seem to be a viable option. Petra’s older now and so is Zeke. They’re mature. They can be friends like adults are after they’ve broken up, so the universe should be able to understand her accepting Zeke’s dinner request that evening even if her friends couldn’t.

She only started to regret her decision when Zeke offered to drive her there after his classes ended - saving gas and the planet, he explained - and she agreed. Although Petra repeatedly told herself that it was a simple family dinner and that such an invitation was extended to Zeke’s other friends on occasion, she found herself sitting impatiently in her office, biting her nails down so close to the quick that her fingers started to bleed. Having to bandage her fingers as she waited did absolutely nothing to soothe her nerves.

“I don’t see why you’re so nervous,” Levi tells her over the phone. He taught in the mathematics department, but they had met after Petra had nervously stumbled into the wrong building and into his office on her first day at the university. The man has a perpetual scowl on his face, and that very same expression had nearly sent Petra running until she weakly explained that she must have gotten lost and he kindly redirected her to the building her office was located in. She thought that was going to be the end of their interaction until he emailed her shortly after asking if she had gotten to her office alright. Finding him a kindred spirit, he had become her first (and sadly only) companion at the university aside from Zeke. “If you’re friends with him, it shouldn’t be that big of a deal.”

“Well, it’s just that I haven’t really seen him since we, you know, broke up,” Petra explains, but she doubts that Levi understands. She had told him her history with Zeke a few weeks ago after he asked her why she was so jittery at the faculty luncheon, but he didn’t have much of a reaction. It was sort of nice having someone to talk to that wasn’t as hyperbolically reactive as the rest of her friends, but it was also painfully difficult when Levi didn’t show her any sympathy.

“You saw him last week when you were at the library to look for reference books,” he reminds her as if it were the same thing. “I don’t know why this dinner has you in a panic. You left me nearly a hundred messages while I was teaching class.” He hadn’t even replied to her texts, the bastard. He had simply left her on read until midnight before sending her a thumbs-up emoji to let her know that he had read her messages, which was not exactly the response Petra was waiting for.

“This is different!” Petra insists, but she knows Levi will never see it that way.

“You’re making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be,” Levi says. She can hear him scribbling something on the other end, probably correcting exams for his differential equations classes and marking a poor student’s paper in an abundance of red. “Either cancel or just go to dinner with him. You’ve had family dinners with him even before you guys got together right?”

“Yeah, but that was back when we were kids,” Petra mumbles, fiddling with the hem of her shirt.

“Then you’ll be fine,” he tells her.

“You’re horribly unsympathetic sometimes,” she sighs.

“If you wanted sympathy, you shouldn’t have called me,” Levi says with a cluck of his tongue, but he chuckles when he hears her groan on the other end. “Really, it’ll be fine. You’re just overthinking it. I’m sure it’ll be fine. And you said the kid will be there, right? His brother, so it’s not as if you’ll be alone with Zeke and his parents.”

Petra lays with her head on her desk, her phone pressed against her cheek. “Yeah, you’re right,” she mumbles, but her lower lip still sticks out in a pout. The thought of Eren being there, sweet little Eren with his eager puppy eyes and wide smile, does make her feel better if only a little. She probably hasn’t seen him since she broke up with Zeke. She wonders if he’s changed very much. He’d be in college now? Or maybe he graduated. “I haven’t seen him in awhile though. What if he hates me now?”

“You’re overthinking again,” Levi says. He sighs on the other end. If Petra didn’t know him very well, she would think she was bothering him, but he’s always like this. “Are you going to be okay?”

“Yes. No. Maybe,” Petra sniffs. She looks sadly at her bandaged fingers and picks at the ends of one of them. “Should I just cancel? Maybe I can tell him I fell down the stairs and had to go to the hospital or something -” Someone knocks at the door and Petra lets out a startled yelp, nearly falling out of her chair because she’s so surprised. When she looks at the door, she sees Zeke’s silhouette against the frosted glass pane. The sight of it makes her want to hide behind her desk. “God, he’s here already!”

“Too late for you to run then,” Levi says, not even bothering to hide his snickering. He’s such a sadist that Petra doesn’t even know why she’s friends with him sometimes. “Have fun at your absolutely normal dinner with your friend and his family.” Click!

“Asshole,” Petra mutters under her breath before shoving her phone in her bag. There’s another knock at the door — the same long, slow knocks that are a signature of Zeke’s — and she hastily shouts, “I’ll be right there!” before shoving her papers in her bag and stumbling out of the door, nearly tripping over her own feet in the process. She must look like a mess because Zeke raises an eyebrow at her when she emerges from her office. Petra catches a glimpse of her reflection in the window and winces at her frumpled shirt and the hair falling out of her bun. She mumbles an apology as she pulls the hair ties out of her bun, her hair falling in loose curls around her face.

“Did I catch you at a bad time?” Zeke asks.

“No! God, no,” Petra says, inwardly cringing at every word that comes out of her mouth. Even she can tell how awkward her responses sound, a little too quick and desperate. What is she being so anxious for? It’s just dinner with a friend — an ex-boyfriend, but a friend nonetheless. Petra clears her throat and asks as casually as she can manage, “How are your parents?”

“Hmm? They’re well, I suppose,” he answers. Everything about him is familiar. He’s grown just a bit taller since Petra last saw him, his shoulders a bit broader and his jawline a bit sharper, but he still wears the same double-bridge glasses and the right corner of his mouth still quirks upward just the slightest bit when he speaks. He even walks the same way, his strides a little too long and quick, and Petra finds that she still has to struggle a bit to keep up. If Zeke notices the same thing about her - how she still wears the same shade of lipstick, how she still has that habit of wrapping her hair around her finger when she’s nervous like she’s doing now, how she bites her lip when she’s not sure what to say next - he doesn’t mention it. “My father’s still working at the hospital with my grandfather. He’s been promoted to director of the orthopedics department.”

“Oh, congrats!”

“And you know my mother has been at the hospital now that she doesn’t have to worry about me anymore,” Zeke says. It’s strange how casually he says this, as if he doesn’t remember that the last time he spoke about his mother to Petra was when they were still together. “She really missed being in the OR. Says she’d rather be doing surgeries all day than taking care of me.”

“It’s nice that she can go back to it.” She nearly stumbles over a step but catches the railing before she can. When she looks up again, Zeke is already on the sidewalk and she hurries after him, a little breathless. “And Eren?”

“Eren?” Zeke seems a little surprised by the question although Petra doesn’t know why. He leads her to a car - a slick Mercedes with a shining blue exterior and tinted windows that don’t quite match Zeke’s academic profession — and opens the car doors with a click.

“Your brother,” she clarifies as Zeke walks over to the driver’s side and slips into the car. She opens the passenger car and slides into the seat beside Zeke, setting her bag down next to her feet. The door swings shut behind her. “He’s coming to the dinner too, right?”

Zeke turns on the engine and the car comes to life with a pleasant hum. “Most likely,” Zeke says as he checks the side and rearview mirrors before pulling out of the parking space. He even drives the same way, his arm resting on the side with his hand tapping against the door while one hand is on the wheel. Just watching him makes Petra’s chest feel tight.

“Ah, that’s good. I haven’t seen him in so long,” Petra says. For some reason, knowing that Eren will also be there makes her feel a little more relaxed about the dinner. “Is he still in college? I think he should have graduated by now.”

“He graduated a little while ago. He’s teaching now. Still on probation, but he says his colleagues like him so he’s not too worried about getting tenure after the probationary period is over.” He slows the car to a stop at an intersection and leans over, fiddling with the radio dial. He sets it to the jazz station and the sound of smooth brass and relaxed percussion fills the car.

Somehow, driving down the streets with Zeke is far more nostalgic than it ever was when Petra drove on her own. Some nights Petra drove home by herself, and all it ever felt was lonely. Maybe it’s the familiarity of having Zeke beside her like when they were teenagers, driving back home after watching a movie downtown or returning from a basketball game at their high school.

Petra doesn’t ask any more questions about Zeke’s family. She figures she can catch up with the rest of the Jaegers when she sees them at dinner. Instead, she asks Zeke about his classes and finds that conversation with him comes more easily after she stops stumbling over her words. He tells her a little bit about teaching anthropology (“Far less painful than you think it would be, at least when the kids aren’t just taking it to fulfill their core classes,” he says), his plans for the upcoming week (“It’s midterms, but the students should be fine if they actually look at the study guide.”), and the butterfly exhibit opening up at the museum downtown (“I’m thinking of putting it up as extra credit. Who knows, they might actually look at the other exhibits while they’re wandering around.”). Petra also fills him in on her own life, mumbling about how she still has to make the answer key to her own midterm and expressing interest in the butterfly exhibit Zeke mentions.

They pull up next to Zeke’s house, the very same one he grew up with. Not much has changed from the outside. The white picket fence is a little worn and the rose bushes have been replaced with peonies. The house is still the same shade of cream, but Petra is sure that the Jaegers had it repainted over the summer like they usually do. She looks up at the second-story window where Zeke’s room should be and vaguely wonders if it’s still his room or if he’s moved out and hasn’t mentioned it yet.

Walking up the brick steps to the door is a bit surreal. Petra doesn’t realize just how silent she’s been until the chime of the doorbell startles her and Mrs. Jaeger opens the door. As with most of Zeke’s family members, Petra hasn’t seen Mrs. Jaeger since she broke up with Zeke, but she had an amicable relationship with her. She can’t recall Mrs. Jaeger ever being angry, so she’s surprised when Zeke’s mother opens the door with a terrible scowl on her face.

“Mom, you remember Petra,” Zeke says, moving aside so that Petra can enter first.

The scowl quickly slips from Mrs. Jaeger’s face, replaced with a smile that Petra is more familiar with. “Petra, of course! I haven’t seen you in ages,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her voice strained. She waves Petra and Zeke in, shutting the door gently behind them. “It’s nice to see you again.”

“Likewise,” Petra mumbles. She looks at the kitchen doorway where Zeke’s father leans and gives him an awkward wave. The man, just as silent as he was when Petra was young, gives her a polite smile and a nod in acknowledgment.

“Sorry, we’re a bit late,” Zeke apologizes as he shrugs off his coat. He walks over to the dining room, Petra and his mother trailing behind him. “A student wanted to talk to me and it took a bit longer than I thought it would.”

“No need to apologize! Eren hasn’t arrived yet anyway. He’ll probably be late. Again.” There’s a harsh tone in Mrs. Jaeger’s voice that Petra hasn't heard before. When she looks up, she sees Zeke’s mother hovering around the table and arranging dishes, the same polite smile on her face as she does so. “Your brother, of course, didn’t bother to send a text to notify us that he’d be late.”

Petra wonders if Mrs. Jaeger usually speaks about Eren with such disappointment in her voice. Maybe she had always spoken about Eren like this and Petra had never been around to witness it or maybe it’s something that developed while Petra was away. Whatever it is, Zeke and his father seem used to it. Zeke merely shrugs, pulling out his phone to flip through his phone while his mother continues to mutter about how disrespectful her stepson is. Mr. Jaeger continues to stand at the doorway, not bothering to join them at the dining table, his eyes fixed on the carpet. He doesn’t bother to defend his son.

“Maybe he’s busy,” Petra says, interrupting Mrs. Jaeger mid-rant. She feels rude for speaking while Mrs. Jaeger is talking, but sitting in silence while Zeke’s mother speaks ill of Eren doesn’t feel right either. All eyes are on her now - Mrs. Jaeger a little surprised, Zeke with an eyebrow quirked upward as if in amusement, and his father with a look that’s almost relieved. Petra clears her throat and continues. “He’s a teacher, right? It must be difficult teaching so many children every day — making the lesson plan and everything. Maybe texting slipped his mind. He’ll probably be here soon.”

God, she hopes Eren will be here soon. Her cheeks are starting to burn bright red and she’s thinking that perhaps speaking up might not have been the best decision.

“Ah, you’re probably right.” Mrs. Jaeger seems a little more composed now, perhaps remembering that they have company over. She settles down in the chair across from Zeke and flashes a pleasant smile at Petra. “He can be quite forgetful of these things. Of course, you’d never worry your father like this. You’ve always been so responsible.”

Has talking with Zeke’s mother always been this difficult? Petra’s head is starting to spin, unsure of what response would be appropriate. She feels as if she should defend Eren, but she doesn’t want to make things awkward either. In the end, she smiles awkwardly at Mrs. Jaeger as if accepting the woman’s compliment and reaches out for the glass of water in front of her, raising it to her lips before she can say anything else that she might regret.

“Dear, come sit next to me,” Mrs. Jaeger calls. She gestures for her husband to join them at the table and Mr. Jaeger stiffly walks over from the doorway before taking a seat at the head of the table. Mrs. Jaeger folds her hands on the table, her gaze still on Petra. “How have you been, Petra? We haven’t heard from you in a while. How long have you been back?”

The series of questions leave Petra tongue-tied and unsure of how to answer. It’s so strange how casual the Jaegers can be about asking after her, like she hadn’t been such a large part of their lives — or at least Zeke’s life — ten years ago before disappearing completely. As if they didn’t know the real reason she hadn’t kept in touch. She’s not sure if she’ll ever be able to act as oblivious as them.

“Er, I’ve been back for a while now,” she replies. She bites her lip when she sees the look of surprise on Mrs. Jaeger’s face. When she glances over at Zeke, he doesn’t look back at her. He’s returned his gaze to his phone screen, ignoring her. Nervously, she laughs. “I guess Zeke didn’t tell you, but I’m teaching at the same university he is. A few undergraduate English classes and then a graduate course on nature and romantic poetry.” Petra doesn’t know why she feels a lump at the back of her throat or the sting of tears at the corner of her eyes. She nibbles at her lip again, looking down at her lap so that she doesn’t have to look at Zeke or his family. She doesn’t have a reason to feel hurt or upset. Maybe Zeke was busy and didn’t have the chance to mention it to his parents or maybe it just slipped his mind. It isn’t a big deal.

“Oh, that must be nice! Who knew you two would be working together after all these years?” Mrs. Jaeger says. She subtly pushes the cheese plate on the table towards Petra, gesturing for her to take one.

“Mmm,” Petra says, nodding as if she agrees with Mrs. Jaeger. It’s not as if she’s wrong. Petra certainly didn’t know any of this would happen. She knew some of it would — getting her degree, teaching at a university, eating dinner with Zeke’s parents — she just hadn’t predicted other things like Zeke breaking up with her, not speaking with him for ten years after knowing him her entire life, or having to pretend that she’s okay.

Petra reaches for a cracker and a spread of raspberry goat cheese and shoves the entire thing in her mouth, hoping that she won’t have to answer any more questions.

“The university is nice,” Zeke’s father murmurs. It’s the first time he’s spoken all night. The sound of his voice startles Petra, but the other Jaegers don’t seem too surprised. “It’s near the museum too. Very convenient.”

“Ah, the museum!” Mrs. Jaeger clasps her hands together and looks at Petra expectantly. Petra nearly chokes on her cracker out of nervousness. “Have you been there yet?”

“Er, not yet,” Petra says hastily, wincing at the pain in her throat. She takes a quick sip of her water to relieve it. “I haven’t really found the time, I guess.”

“Oh, you should absolutely go!” says Mrs. Jaeger brightly. Petra had never thought Mrs. Jaeger was one to love museums, but there’s probably a lot about the woman that Petra doesn’t know now. All Petra really remembers about the woman is that she stayed at home during the daytime and worked at the hospital at night. She’s bound to have found other ways to occupy her time now that she doesn’t have to worry about Zeke anymore.

“You sound as if you really enjoy it.” Petra nibbles at another cracker. She feels as if she should smile right now, but she’s not sure if she’s able to. “Are there any exhibits you would recommend?”

“Oh, they’re all good! The staff especially …,” Mrs. Jaeger gushes, but her voice begins to trail off. Her eyes flicker over to Zeke as if waiting for a sign to proceed, but her son pays no attention to her. He simply reaches over for an almond on the cheese plate and pops it into his mouth. His mother’s smile tightens and she continues, “The butterfly exhibit that’s opening soon should be exquisite!”

Petra looks from Zeke to Mrs. Jaeger. Aside from Mrs. Jaeger’s forced smile, Petra really can’t tell what’s wrong, so she puts on a false smile of her own and nods. “I know. Zeke was telling me about it on the ride here.”

There’s a long and awkward silence. Zeke puts no effort in speaking and neither does his father, who still sits and stares at his lap. Only Mrs. Jaeger and Petra seem to be putting in any effort to pick up the conversation, both trying to appear calm as they search for some common ground to work with. Instead, the doorbell rings and Petra swears she hears a sigh of relief escape Mrs. Jaeger’s lips.

“It seems Eren has finally arrived,” Mrs. Jaeger says, her chair scraping across the floor as she gets up from the table. As she turns to leave, she flashes Petra an apologetic smile. “I’m so sorry you had to wait so long.” Petra is about to tell her that it wasn’t a problem, that she didn’t mind waiting (even if it was a lie), but Zeke’s mother has already disappeared into the next room with Zeke’s father following silently behind her.

For a moment, Petra wonders if she should try to talk to Zeke so more. It’s not that the quiet bothers her, but she’s never felt comfortable sitting silently next to others unless she was completely comfortable with them. Ten years ago this would have been fine, but now sitting with Zeke beside her without saying a word is making her skin crawl and her throat dry. She glances at him from the corner of her eye, trying to gauge his interest.

Zeke doesn’t seem to be bothered by the silence at all. He’s still scrolling through his phone, occasionally reaching out to pluck a cracker or another almond from the cheese plate. If he’s fine without any conversation, Petra figures she shouldn’t bother him. She settles down with her back against her chair rather unhappily and tries to occupy herself another way.

Petra tries not to eavesdrop on the conversation going on in the other room. First, she stares down at the lace tablecloth, gazing at the delicate pattern until the floral designs are burned into her corneas. Mrs. Jaeger’s voice begins to drift into the dining room, her tone just as cold and harsh as it was when she spoke about Eren earlier this evening. Another voice floats into the room as well, a voice like Eren’s but a bit deeper and rougher than Petra remembers. As the two continue to talk, Petra finds herself straining to listen to the conversation, but she can’t quite make out the words. The words exchanged don’t sound incredibly pleasant though.

“...if you told me we were having a guest beforehand I would have shown up on time,” Eren hisses as he walks into the room. He’s taller than he was when Petra had seen him last — probably as tall as his brother if not taller — but he walks with his head down and doesn’t seem to notice Petra seated at the table even as he pulls out a chair to sit down. Without looking up, Eren mumbles, “Sorry, I’m late.”

Zeke looks up, his expression amused. “Eren,” he says, setting down his phone for once. He rests his chin in his hand, mouth quirked upward in a smile. “Aren’t you going to say hi to our guest?”

“Uh, yeah. Hi,” Eren says, mumbling into his lap. His eyes flicker upward, first at Zeke and then Petra, but he doesn’t really register who Petra is until he takes another glance. His eyes are huge like a doe’s. He’s always had big eyes even when he was a child, large and green like gemstones. He’s grown into them more since the last time Petra has seen him, but they’re still enormous, growing wider as he recognizes her. His mouth falls open in surprise. “... Petra?”

She can feel her lips curling in a smile. “Hi, Eren.”

Eren smiles back at her, a little nervous but a lot more relaxed than he was when he first arrived. He’s still shy when he smiles, looking up at her before glancing down at his lap again. “How are you?” He sits up straighter in his seat, no longer slouching.

“I’m well. How are you?”

“Good,” Eren answers.

“I’m glad. I missed you,” Petra tells him, and she means it.

His smile is a little wider now and Petra feels the most relaxed than she’s been the entire night. It’s nice to know that, despite everything, at least Eren hasn’t changed and she feels less awkward being at a Jaeger family dinner after ten years of estrangement.

Mrs. Jaeger puts down a tub of what looks like a potato salad on the table, opening the container with a frown. “At least you didn’t come empty-handed,” she comments wryly.

Eren winces but doesn’t say anything.

Petra sits up. “It looks, um, delicious.” It doesn’t. It looks like a pile of mush and not at all like anything edible, but Petra begins to spoon some on her plate anyway out of politeness despite the look of alarm on Eren’s face. “Eren, your brother told me you started teaching recently. Where do you teach?”

“Just, um, down the street. Not really elementary … it’s a daycare,” he says distractedly as he watches her help herself to his potato salad. Eren hesitates for a moment before taking the spoon from Petra and switching their plates. He does it absentmindedly, almost as if he doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he notices everyone looking at him peculiarly. Flustered, he explains, “It’s not, ah, I don’t think it’s very good. So.” As if to prove his point, he puts a heaping spoonful of it into his mouth, gagging on it as he swallows it down, and scrunches his face up in disgust.

Mrs. Jaeger looks rather smug as Eren chokes. “I’ll just put this away then,” she says, removing the tub of potato salad from the table. She gestures for Petra to help herself to the other food on the table. “Help yourself to everything else, Petra.”

“Er, thank you,” Petra says. She does feel bad about not eating the potato salad, but Eren looks pretty relieved. Because she’s talked Zeke’s ear off in the car and doesn’t know how to carry on a conversation with the Jaeger parents, she decides to continue her conversation with Eren. “Daycare seems like it would suit you. I bet you’re great with kids.”

“I’m alright,” Eren mumbles as he pushes the potatoes back and forth on his plate, but he’s hiding a smile on his face, secretly pleased. He’s never been that good at hiding his emotions, which Petra thinks is an endearing trait. “Teaching at a university is probably harder.” He freezes for a moment and then hurriedly adds, “Your dad told me you work as a professor now. I ran into him before coming here. He mentioned that you taught English …?”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, casting a side glance at Zeke. She thought Zeke would have mentioned that they were working at the same university, but maybe it never came up in conversation between the brothers or they just weren’t as close as they were before. Forcing a smile on her face, she nods, “Yeah, I teach English, but I wouldn’t say teaching university is more or less difficult than handling a daycare. They have their own challenges, right?”

“Yeah,” Eren replies, voice soft. His smile grows wider and, after Petra asks him about what it’s like teaching at the daycare, starts animatedly talking about his students. He seems very endeared towards a young girl named Gabi, a very mischievous but sweet troublemaker, and her companion Falco, a young boy that often has no choice but to be dragged into all of Gabi’s shenanigans.

Talking to Eren makes the rest of the dinner go by easily. He’s always been easy to talk to even when they were teenagers and she was dating Zeke. Sometimes she would wait at the Jaeger house and talk with Eren while they waited for Zeke to come back from baseball practice. Eren was always so animated when he talked, using his hands and sometimes bouncing up and down his seat when he got excited. He still does that now as he talks about his work at the daycare, listening intently whenever Petra or even Zeke exchange their own stories about teaching. It makes her feel as if the past ten years hadn’t really happened, like Zeke and Eren had been a part of her life the entire time.

“Oh, I brought dessert,” Eren says brightly. Before Mrs. Jaeger can say anything, he gets up to collect the paper bag on the kitchen counter and plops it on the dining table. He pushes it closer to Petra. “Your dad gave me some while he was closing up his shop.”

She laughs. “I eat too many of these as it is,” Petra says, but she plucks an almond cookie from the bag. Her teeth sink into the cookie, savoring its subtle nutty flavor on her tongue, and sighs. “Don’t tell my dad. He won’t let me eat anymore when I get home.”

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Eren grins.

Petra peers into the bag. “Did he give you any chocolate croissants?” She looks over at Eren. “Those are still your favorites, right?”

Eren looks surprised. “Ah, yeah,” he replies, blinking. “You remember?”

“Of course, I remember,” she snorts. She manages to find a pain au chocolat and places it delicately on Eren’s plate. It’s a little smooshed from the ride here, chocolate spilling out of its side, but Eren still looks at it hungrily. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Zeke leans forward. “I like the lemon bars. Let me know if there are any in there.”

She laughs and actually does manage to find one, but it’s a lemon-lavender bar. Zeke assures her it’s fine, picking off the little bits of lavender that are on the top of the bar. They eat like that for a moment and Petra feels an overwhelming wave of nostalgia. It’s probably unhealthy to yearn for the past, but Petra wouldn’t mind if things somehow ended up the way they were before.

When their dishes are scraped clean and the conversations begin to fade away, Zeke pats down the corner of his mouth with a napkin before announcing that they should stop for the night. He has papers to grade tonight, he explains to his parents who nod understandingly. The wooden legs of his chair scrape against the carpet as he gets up from the table and Petra slides out of her own seat, ready to follow him.

“Ah, Petra,” Zeke says, pausing like he’s just remembered. He looks at her, head tilting slightly. He’s stopped by the door to the living room, his hand resting on the doorframe. “Do you mind calling an Uber to pick you up? I’d drive you home myself but …”

“I …” Petra blinks, feeling like a deer in headlights. If she looked around, she would see that the rest of the Jaeger family has a similar expression. She’s not sure why she feels so surprised. Maybe it’s because she had expected him to drive her home, but maybe that was too much to ask of him after he had taken the trouble to drive her here in the first place. It’s not even that far of a drive to her house, but it’s probably too cumbersome for Zeke, who’s busy with grading papers and preparing for tomorrow’s lectures. There’s an awful lump in her throat like she had swallowed an egg whole, but Petra forces a smile on her face as she begins, “Sure, let me just call my dad -”

“I’ll take you home,” a voice says suddenly. Everyone turns to see Eren standing up from his chair. At first glance he looks angry, but Petra blinks again and there’s only concern on his face as he collects his jacket and walks over to Petra. He shrugs it on and smiles down at her, his expression a little apologetic. “Er, you don’t mind riding on a bike, do you?”

Petra has to lift her head to look at Eren and she wonders when he had gotten so tall. It must have been after she left for college. “No, that’s fine,” she replies numbly, too shocked to really think about it. She shuffles silently after Eren, mumbling a brief “thank you” when he helps her into her coat.

“It was lovely having you over again, dear,” Mrs. Jaeger says to Petra, a smile pasted on the woman’s face as she saw the two out. She doesn’t say anything about Zeke not offering Petra a ride back. “Do come again sometime.”

“Of course,” Petra says, although the promise feels empty. She’s not sure if Mrs. Jaeger notices or even cares because the woman shuts the door in her face before Eren and Petra are even out in the driveway. It’s not a cold gesture, but it’s a change from the days when Mrs. Jaeger would wait until Petra was almost out of sight before shutting the door and disappearing into the house.

Petra shoves her hands into the pockets of her coat and follows Eren down the driveway, watching as he runs to the bike he had carelessly discarded on the ground before entering the house earlier. Embarrassed, Eren hastily picks up the bike, brushing it off and mumbling something about how he had been in too much of a hurry earlier to properly lock up his bike. Petra assures him it’s fine. She’s only half-listening anyway.

“You can just sit here,” Eren says, patting a padded seat on the back of his bike. He throws a leg over his bike easily and looks at Petra, waiting expectantly.

She hadn’t objected to the ride home before, but now she looks at Eren’s vehicle of choice skeptically. “Are you sure you’ll be able to pedal with me on it? I’m a whole other person.” Petra hovers beside the bike, but she doesn’t get on.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It was fine when my boyfriends were riding in the back, and they’re a lot heavier than you,” Eren replies. It takes him a moment to register what he just said and then his face begins to color, cheeks glowing pink even in the dim moonlight. “I mean my ex-boyfriends. I rode around with my ex-girlfriend too, but she was really tiny too. She was …” He probably would have babbled on and on if Petra hadn’t sat down.

“Your exes?” Petra asks, eyebrow raised. She hadn’t really thought about Eren dating, but it’s funny to think about now. She doesn’t remember if he ever dated anyone when he was in high school. She probably shouldn’t tease, but she can’t resist grinning at the boy and saying, “It looks like you were busy in college.”

“Not that busy. Just … probably as busy as your average college student,” Eren mumbles under his breath, face still flushed. He gestures at Petra’s hands and then makes a motion around his waist. “You can … around me if, you know, you’re comfortable with it.”

“Oh, right.” She leans forward and wraps her arms around Eren’s waist and wonders briefly how someone so tall can have such a thin waist. “Do you remember the way to my house?” she asks.

“Of course,” Eren says. “It’s not that far from here.”

For some reason, the way Eren answers makes Petra feel warm. Maybe it’s just the heat transfer from resting her cheek on his back. She closes her eyes, feeling the wind rush around her as Eren bikes her back home.

It feels so comfortable, clinging onto someone so familiar and breathing in Eren’s scent, something like pinewood and a little bit of peppermint. He feels strong too, sturdy like a redwood tree. Petra doesn’t know why she doubted his ability to bike with her additional weight. He’d probably be fine having someone twice her weight in tow. She experimentally gives Eren’s waist a little squeeze. It must have been too sudden of a squeeze because they come to a screeching stop, Petra’s face slamming against Eren’s back and the two of them nearly go flying.

“Oh, ouch,” Petra says. One arm is still wrapped around Eren’s lithe waist, but she raises a hand to rub her stinging face. “That hurts.”

“S-sorry!” Eren stammers. He twists around to get a good look at Petra, forehead wrinkling. “I didn’t mean to stop so suddenly I was just … surprised.” He brings his hand down to where Petra’s arm is hooked around his waist, but he snatches his hand away as soon as their skin brushes as if he’s been burned. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Petra assures him. Her nose is throbbing dully, but it’s not bleeding. “It’s my fault anyway. I was just surprised. You’re a lot bigger than you were the last time I saw you.”

“I’m alright,” Eren says with a shy laugh. He pushes off on the bike and starts for home again, pedaling easily despite Petra’s weight. He doesn’t startle when Petra leans against him again, her cheek rubbing against the cotton of his hoodie. His breath hitches a little when Petra wraps her arms a little tighter around his waist, but it goes unnoticed by her.

“Were they nice?” she asks. Eren makes a confused noise, and she can’t help but smile. Clarifying, she says, “Your exes. Were they nice?”

Eren pedals in silence for a while before responding. “Yeah. They were nice.”

“That’s good.” Petra sighs against his back, not noticing the way he shivers as if he can feel her breath on his skin. “You deserve to date nice people.”

Petra might have imagined it, but she thinks she hears Eren say something in reply. He says it quietly, though, and the wind carries it away too quickly for her to hear. She straightens her back, lifting her head from where it rests against Eren’s back, but he doesn’t repeat himself and she doesn’t ask. Maybe it’s just one of those things that are meant to be spoken aloud but not heard by anyone.

They don’t speak much the rest of the way home. Petra figures Eren is having enough trouble biking with two people and holding a conversation would only tire him out more. She just lets herself rest against him, watching as they pass streetlight after streetlight. It probably would have been more convenient to call a Lyft or an Uber, but Petra thinks accepting Eren’s bike ride isn’t bad either. It saved her from having to wait awkwardly for her driver to find the house while Zeke’s parents waited for her to leave.

She wonders if she should have gone to dinner in the first place. Maybe Zeke had only invited her out of politeness, but she had taken it to mean more than it did. She’s stupid to think that arriving at the Jaeger house meant that things could go back to the way things were. It was noticeably tense in the house. At first, Petra thought it was because of the strained relationship between Mrs. Jaeger and Eren, but now she’s not so sure. It’s not as if Mr. and Mrs. Jaeger had met her with open arms. They hadn’t been hostile, but they were polite in the way that people were polite to house guests and not in the way they would be to a childhood friend of their son. God, she’s so stupid. She should have just declined Zeke’s offer politely and never spoken to him again since he was obviously content with not speaking with her for ten years.

Burying her face in Eren’s hoodie, Petra gives him another squeeze. Eren doesn’t brake this time. He just lets out a surprised “oh!” and falters for a bit, bike slowing, before picking his pace back up and continuing on their way.

“We’re almost there,” Eren tells her. As he approaches Petra’s house, the bike begins to slow before stopping completely in front of the driveway. When Petra lifts her head, Eren is looking at her, smiling. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” Petra nods. She gets off the bike and pats down her windswept hair, brushing some stray locks out of her face. She manages to smile back at Eren. “Thanks for the ride back. I hope it wasn’t too out of your way.”

“It’s fine.” Eren sits at his bike, his smile a little lopsided. He looks as if he’s about to say something, but nothing comes. It’s only when Petra turns around towards her house that he opens his mouth. “Hey, Petra?”

Petra’s hand rests on the gate of her wooden fence, just about to open it. She looks at Eren, watching as he fidgets with the handle of his bike. “Yeah?”

“Did Zeke …?” His voice trails off and Eren’s looking everywhere except at her face. He nibbles on his bottom lip and Petra wonders what he’s so nervous about. His expression looks pained as if he’s scared whatever he has to say will hurt her, but Petra’s not sure why it would. After a moment, Eren swallows and forces a smile on his face. “Did Zeke tell you that … I work near your university?”

“You do?”

Eren nods. He looks a lot less nervous now, his shoulders relaxed. “Well, it’s not that far by bike.”

“Really?” Petra hums. “I should come visit you some time then.”

“Oh, you don’t have to -”

“Or you could visit me?” she suggests.

He blinks. “I can?” Eren asks. “Is that really okay?”

Petra almost laughs. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be? You should just let me know beforehand if you’re coming,” she tells him. She walks over, pulling her phone out of her purse and handing it to him so he can add his number. “Text me or call me. I might not respond right away because I might have a faculty meeting or a lecture, but I’ll get back to you as soon as possible.”

“Oh, alright then,” Eren says. He types away on her phone, handing it back to her as soon as he’s finished. He watches with wide green eyes as Petra sends him an emoji — a simple “Hi, Eren! It’s Petra 😊” — and looks back at her with a grin. “I’ll come visit sometime.”

“That’d be great,” Petra says, and she really means it. “Thanks again for the ride, Eren. I really appreciate it.”

“It was no problem,” Eren tells her. He waves as walks through the gate and up the steps of her porch. He’s still waving when she opens the door and turns around, his smile a little goofy but cute at the same time. “Have a good night!”

“You too,” Petra says before shutting the door gently behind her. She takes a peek out the window and sees Eren still on the sidewalk with the bike. He stands there with a pensive look on his face before pushing off his bike and riding off into the night. Petra watches until he’s a tiny speck down the road. When she blinks, he’s gone.

Petra finds her dad waiting for her in the living room, sleeping because he can’t stay awake for very long after dinner. In his lap sits a half-finished crossword puzzle. Petra smiles affectionately at her father before pressing a soft kiss on the old man’s brow.

“I’m home,” she whispers as her father begins to stir.

“Ah, Petra,” says her father. He looks at her, eyes still bleary with sleep, and gives her a drowsy smile. With a hand, he pushes up the glasses that were slipping off his nose during sleep. “Did Zeke drive you home?”

Her lips press into a thin line. “No. He was busy,” Petra replies, trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “Eren took me home instead.”

“Eren?” her father repeats, not seeming to remember the name.

“Zeke’s younger brother,” Petra reminds him. She leans against the back of her father’s armchair as she tries to describe the half-brother. “He was a few years younger than me. Brown hair, big green eyes, kind of gangly.”

“Oh, Eren,” her father says, nodding. Petra’s not sure if he actually remembers or if he’s just being polite, but then he suddenly says, “I saw him earlier this evening before I was closing up shop. He’s very polite. He’s a nice boy.”

Petra leans over to rest her head on her father’s shoulder while her arms lay folded on the back of the armchair. She thinks about her ride home, how it could have been cold and miserable and lonely. And maybe her thoughts were all of those things, but the ride wasn’t. She can still feel the warmth Eren emanated from underneath his hoodie, how comforting it was to have someone to hold.

“Yeah. He’s a nice guy,” Petra says softly.

#eretra #petra ral #eren jaeger #zeke jaeger #big au #ilyitros #i'll love you in the rain or shine series #modern au #snk #damn i love food so much!!!

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blackenedwhite97 · 4 years

Text

Storge (Familial Love)Pt.1- EraserMic x Student!Reader

This post includes: Mentions of loss of family, cursing, mentions of fiscal problems, mild violence and injury, a prominent homosexual relationship, and mentions and depictions of anxiety.

Original Request:

“Imagine living all by yourself. You’re a teenager that lost their parents years ago and refused to become a part of the foster system. So now you work and take care of your own apartment all while going to school at U.A. It was starting to take a real toll on you when Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada approached you, like concerned parents. It could be written as platonic or romantic. (Not with the reader, I'm talking about Mic and Eraser)”

Authors Note:

As per usual I over wrote! This will be divided into two chapters. I went off on a bit of a tangent with this one but to be fair i wrote the first half over two months ago and the second half this week.

Word Count: 3.5k

(-15 degrees Celsius is 5 degrees Fahrenheit for my American bbs)

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Chapter 1

It was bitterly cold out, the kind of cold that clung to your skin and left raw red noses and cheeks behind. It was a short walk from your apartment to the grocery store, it was all up hill and tonight, it was against the wind. The cold weather had come in fast; you’d lost your winter jacket last spring in a fire that took out half of your building. Annoyingly, it seemed that villains usually acted up in poorer neighborhoods, it was always the low-income apartment complexes that fell casualty to attacks. There was less of a hero presence, and while you had your provisional hero license you still weren’t allowed to patrol your neighborhood alone at night.

You hugged yourself against the biting wind, jewels of frozen rain whipping against your face. The dull golden glow of the grocery store doors was a blur through the tears forming in your eyes but none the less grew closer. The smell of sample soups and baking bread pierced through the onslaught of cold, a small pocket of warmth melting the air surrounding the doors. Two orange glowing heating lamps hummed on either side of the door, the awning keeping the rain from snuffing the lamps out.

The store was near deserted, not a surprise considering it was ten o’clock at night. In your general experience there were three types of people who shopped this late at night, shift workers, insomniacs and hungry stoners. You scurried off towards the baskets and faced the wall pulling the wad of bills out of your pocket, counting carefully. A lot of the first years at U.A. were in need of a tutor and you were in need of some cash, they passed their classes and their parents paid pretty well and as long as the session were between school hours and your serving job you could afford some actual produce every once and a while. You shoved the bills back in your pocket, there should be enough for the basics and something green.

You grabbed a basket and began your wander through the aisles, you knew what you were going to grab but it still felt nice to pretend you had options. You were rounding the corner to an aisle when a can pyramid of wet cat food collapsed into your legs, you stumbled back grabbing onto to a shelf of pickled herring to keep from toppling over.

“Fuck, sorry!” a familiar voice shouted. The ground tremored and a jar of herring shattered sloshing liquid down your arm. You looked up to see your English teacher, Mr.Yamada, one hand slapped over his mouth the other gripping a can of cat food.

“Fuck!” he cursed into his hand.

“I-it’s okay!” you laughed shaking the herring juice off your hand. Seeing your teacher in the wild felt weird on its own let alone seeing them demolish a cat food pyramid in a messy bun and exploding jars of herring. You couldn’t help but laugh, like really laugh. You dropped your basket and held your knees as you laughed. He joined in, the embarrassed blush draining from his face. The two of you laughed until a rather flustered older lady in a branded apron scurried down the aisle with a mop.

Mr. Yamada apologised profusely and promised to pay for the broken merchandise. The woman, however, lit up when she saw him and assured him that it wasn’t necessary. She must have been a listener of his radio show because eventually Mr. Yamada was signing the back of some crumpled receipt paper and she was smiling to herself as she walked back to the cash registers at the front of the store.

“Sh-should we clean up the mess for her then?” you asked looking at the abandoned mop.

“No, I should be cleaning up. You should be getting back to your parents, they’re probably wondering where you’ve been.” Mr. Yamada said scratching the back of his head and staring down at the felled cat food pyramid.

“Oh, uh-” you stuttered, it had been a while since someone in your life hadn’t known. It felt weird explaining your situation, you had gotten used to being on your own by now and the looks you got when you did were hard to bear. The looks that you used to read as sympathy had begun to wear on you as pity and with every new person that knew, there was one more person afraid to retraumatize you by bringing up anything family related.

“No, I’m all on my own, have been for a couple of years.” You sighed and sucked it up. He was a teacher, what was he going to go do? Teach you nicer? You knelt down next to the pile of cans and began a poor excuse of pyramid construction. “I-I can help!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.” Mr. Yamada said, a dark look crossing his face ever so briefly. He quickly replaced his grimace with a somewhat theatrical smile. “Thank-you!”

He joined you on the floor stacking cans, but clearly missing the point of pyramid stacking. “You were late for class this morning, everything okay?”

You blinked and kept your eyes trained on the cans. You had been honest so far, might as well keep going. “Yeah, sorry. I got off work late last night and was just so tired I slept through my alarms. It won’t happen again.”

“Nah, that’s okay. It happens to the best of us.” He waved a hand over his head and smiled warmly. Eventually he gave up on helping the forming of the pyramid and decided instead to just hand you the cans that had fallen out of arms reach. You thought about telling him you could reach them with your quirk but couldn’t bring yourself to endure having him go back to stacking.

“You know, if the whole hero thing doesn’t work out you could be a professional cat food pyramid stacker.” he laughed as he admired your somewhat lopsided spire of cat food cans.

“Glad to know my homeroom teacher believes in me.” You grumbled melodramatically.

“It could be a fun double gimmick!” he exclaimed waving his hands about. “Like how I’m a radio host and hero, you could, ya know-”

“Stack cat food cans and be a hero?” you entertained the ridiculous thought.

“Yeah, I see big things coming from it. Lifetime supplies of cat food, billboards of you swarmed in cats…” Mr. Yamada continued listing possibilities varying in absurdity.

You looked down at the puddle of pickling solution and glass and sighed, toeing a large piece of glass with your shoe. You grabbed a box of cereal you had been planning to buy and ripped open the top taking out the bag of cereal and putting in back in your basket. Then you placed your hand on the bottom of the box and turned it upside-down so the opening was facing the floor and focused on pulling the glass up into the palm of your hand. Like a vacuum the shards of glass were sucked up into the box and you flipped it over before releasing your gravitational pull.

“Smart.” Mr. Yamada grinned and grabbed the mop to finish the job. “We better get the glass and mop back to her.”

You grabbed your things and walked to the front of the store with Mr. Yamada, he with the dripping mop and you with your jingling box of glass. When the cashier from earlier caught sight of you two she turned bright red and apologized for leaving you to clean up the mess. Mr. Yamada assured her that it was his fault in the first place and he should have anyways. You nodded along when she spared you a glance between lovestruck gazes at your teacher.

A young man in the same branded green apron, noticing his coworkers lack of productivity, opened the next till and waved you through. By the time you were done with you whole grocery order for the week Mr. Yamada was also stepping away from his till with his two cans of cat food and a receipt inked with a red heart. Mr. Yamada paused at the door to zip up his coat and put on his gloves.

You did the same and zipped up your layers of hoodies and tugged your beanie over your ears, bracing for the frigid walk home. “Where’s your coat?”

“Oh, I don’t- I need a new one. I’m a ten-minute walk away, I’ll be oaky.” You said stuffing your hands into your pockets. It had been a while since anyone had chastised you about dressing appropriately, you felt a little bit of warmth fill your chest.

“It’s freezing raining out, fine my ass!” Mr. Yamada exclaimed, exasperated. The tower of pop cases next to him swayed. He winced and continued quieter. “I’ll give you a ride.”

“Thanks, but I should be okay wa-”

“It’s fifteen below and raining ice, you’re not walking.” He said. Something told you that it was settled, there was no arguing. It’s not that you didn’t appreciate the generosity, it would be nice not to have to thaw yourself out when you got home, but he’d have to see where you lived and that left a pit of embarrassment forming in your stomach.

“Thank-you.” You said quietly. He nodded and clicked a button on his car keys, a black car down the block humming to life under the heavy hail. The two of you stood under the heat lamps in a silence you were sure felt more awkward for you than from him.

“So,” you tried. “what’s your cats name?”

He smiled and looked at the food. “She’s Mr.Aizawa’s cat really, her name is Sushi and she’s a dramatic little snob who only eats fancy wet food.”

“But is she cute?”

“Adorable.” He beamed. “Okay, let’s make a dash for it.”

The two of you took off through the hail and practically jumped into his car, which felt like an oven on your chilled limbs. The car itself was nearly immaculate aside from a neatly folded up leather jacket laying across the back seat and the light dusting of white cat fur clinging to the cloth seats.

“Okay, which way am I taking off?” Mr. Yamada asked throwing the cans of cat food int eh back seat.

“Just straight down the hill until you hit tenth street, then take a right.” He nodded a pulled out into the slick road. The low murmur of the radio and hum of the engine kept the silence at bay, it had been a while since you’d been in a car you realized. You’d spent most of your commute time walking or on a bus, neither of which were particularly warm nor comfortable.

“So, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to, but who do you live with?” Mr. Yamada asked after a long moment of quiet.

“No one, just me and my sad wilted ivy named Sho.” You looked at him through the corner of your eye, he kept his eyes on the road a sad smile pulling at the corners of his lips. “I was already fifteen when my parents died, and I had no interest in being part of someone else’s family. So, I’m all on my own. Provided that I can prove I can take care of myself and show up once a month to a meeting with my case worker until I turn eighteen.”

The smile slipped and he slowed to a stop at a red-light, the light painting his weary features crimson. “Why don’t you have a jacket?”

You chuckled to yourself, most people weren’t so brazen with their questions. “Last spring the apartment complex I lived in caught fire during a villain hero show down and half of my apartment got torched, my coat along with it.”

“Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, gripping the steering wheel tighter. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be swearing so much around you. I-I’m just…fuck.”

The light turned green and he turned the corner. “Turn into the third complex down the road.”

“You’re case worker, are they the one signing all your permission slips?” Mr. Yamada’s eyes were still trained on the road.

“Yeah, Mr. Nezu arranged it. Is that a problem?” You felt your stomach drop, you couldn’t afford to miss any training.

“No, no. I just-” he sighed and pulled off to the side of the road. The two of you sat there in the storm, the radio rumbling about power outages and low temperatures, and the hail beating down on the roof of the car. “I’ve been your homeroom teacher for two years and I didn’t know about any of this.”

“I asked Nezu to keep it to himself, I didn’t really want people to know. Everything was so new and upside down in my life that I didn’t want everyone watching me go through it, you know?” You tried to explain, fiddling with the handle of one of your bags in your hands.

Mr. Yamada stared out at the road for a moment, drumming on his steering wheel before blinking back into himself. He turned to look at you for the first time since you’d gotten in the car. “Yeah, I get that. Y/n, I am your homeroom teacher and you know you can come to me if you need help with anything, right?”

For the second time that night he made your chest bloom with warmth. It had been so long since anyone had fussed over you that didn’t know what to do with yourself. You kept picking at the bag handle in your hands. You nodded shyly, looking down at your hands willing the warm tears forming in your eyes away. The car was thick with a heavy quiet, it felt like a blanket curling around you. The car began to move again, and Mr.Yamada pulled up in front of the door to your building.

“Okay, well have a good weekend?” he asked as he unlocked the doors.

“You too!” I nodded and gathered my bags. “Thanks, for the ride Mr.Yamada.”

You open the door and got out of the car; the ice hailed down around you as you ran towards the door.

* * *

The storm had left the world covered in frost and had kept most people from venturing out the next day. For a Saturday in a busy city like Musutafu everything was quiet, so quiet that your manager told you to leave early for the night. It wasn’t as cold as the previous night, thankfully the wind had died down in the morning and the sky remained clear all day. With the streets so empty it felt eerie like something had been lost with the coming of the storm. You hugged your layers of hoodies closer to your body and trudged on through the snow filled streets.

You had tutoring sessions tomorrow afternoon which usually meant a free lunch or snack courtesy of your “student’s” parents. That thought got you through the night as you curled up under your bed sheets still wearing a hoodie to bed, having gone to bed with a nothing but a cup of noodles and cheap coffee in you.

* * *

You had made it through the weekend, mercifully all three tutoring sessions had supplied some kind of snack or drink, one even a full lunch. It was a good day indeed, exam season meant longer sessions which turned out to mean more food and more money.

The world still felt muted under that layer of snow that persisted through the weekend. Shops were slower to open, and chimney smoke greyed out the already pale sky. On Sunday night it snowed again, this time light fluffy flakes that made the city look pretty under the setting sun as you walked to work.

When Monday rolled around it was felt like everyone was rolling out of bed from a long nap, fresh faced with sleep still in their eyes. The streets and sidewalks were slicked with ice and made your walk to school a hazard. You fell a few times, bruises forming on your knees and hip as you made it through the gates of U.A.

You shoved your hoodies and beanie into your locker with raw red fingers and tried to warm up your pink nose in your palm before entering the classroom.

“Good morning, Y/n.” Mr. Yamada greeted as he passed behind you. “How was your weekend?”

“Good, thanks!” you let go of your nose and started to fumble with your books. “I worked pretty much all weekend, but it kept me busy and out of the cold.”

“Glad to hear it.” He looked at you for a moment, something unsaid behind his eyes. But then it fell away and he was back to himself.

“You’ll still be on time if you beat me to the door.” He started to walk in dramatic slow-motion, miming fake panic as you shut your locker and walked past him and crossed the threshold.

“Man, can’t believe I lost that race.” He grumbled as he followed you in, a goofy grin on his face. “GOOD MORNING!”

The room shook with his voice and the day started as it normally does, with Mr. Yamada rattling off announcements periodically using his quirk to make sure the students were all awake. The day continued, your next period a practical class co-taught with Mr. Aizawa and All Might. It was a routine rescue drill using the snow to their advantage and making a blizzard obstacle course. You’re team completed your run, faster than usual. You were glowing with pride, high fiving your classmates when Mr. Aizawa waved you over to him. Your celebration was cut short, he was a tough teacher and rarely offered any sort of instruction if it wasn’t constructive criticism.

“Mr. Aizawa?” you asked.

“Y/n,” he looked forward, hands in his pockets. “I’d like to see you in my room at lunch today. I have something I want to discuss with you.”

“Something you can’t talk about here?” You were in shit, you knew it.

He looked at you and you must have looked scared because his eyes softened. “Don’t worry, it’s not a bad thing.”

“Oh, okay.” You still felt uneasy about whatever it was he need to talk to you about but at least he wasn’t going to ring your neck for something you didn’t even know you did. “I’ll see you then.”

He nodded and looked forward again.

“Good job on the course.” He murmured quietly as you walked back to your team.

***

Lunch hour came and as promised you made your way to Mr. Aizawa’s classroom, 1-A, while your friends all left for the cafeteria.

Inside, Mr. Aizawa slouched deeply in his chair snoring and Mr. Yamada was perched on the edge of his desk reading a paper with one hand and drinking a coffee with another. Mr. Yamada looked up and nearly jumped off the desk clamouring to his feet, waking Mr. Aizawa. Despite the fact that everyone knew they were together you had never really been able to picture them as a couple until now. They both stammered out greetings and swayed awkwardly, steeling themselves for something.

“You wanted to see me?” you asked, their apparent nervousness somewhat calming yours.

“Oh, yeah!” Mr. Yamada shouted in excitement. “I have- a thing!”

He turned to Mr. Aizawa who was already picking up a shopping bag from beside his desk. Mr. Yamada waved you closer and took the bag from Mr. Aizawa, thrusting it out towards you. “I-I didn’t want to singe you out in class, so I asked Sho- Mr. Aizawa to ask you here. Um, anyways I don’t know if it’ll fit, if it’s doesn’t I can get a bigger one. Or if you don’t like it we can maybe go looking for one you like better…”

You took the bag from his hands a lump forming in your throat as you peered inside. You saw a furry hood and black quilted nylon all bundled up and you felt tears fill your eyes. You only vaguely registered Mr. Yamada’s rambling as you reached in and pulled the jacket out to look at it. It was a simple black parka with a grey faux fur hood. The tears openly spilled down your face and you looked up at the pair who were silently watching you with grins plastered on their faces.

You didn’t know what to say, so you just looked at them with tears running down your face for what felt like minutes. When you final managed to get words out all you could muster was a “Th-thank you.”

“Mr. Aizawa picked it out, if you don’t like it.” Mr. Yamada replied awardly.

“I-I like it. I love it. Thank-you, guys.” You sniffed.

“Oh, well in that case I picked it out.” He amended, earning an elbow to the ribs from Mr. Aizawa.

Read Chapter 2 of Storge here!

#mha #mha x reader #bnha #bnhaxreader #myhero #my hero academia #readerinsert #readerinsertbnha #readerxerasermic #readerxaizawa #readerxpresentmic #my hero academia fanfiction

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vlueyellow · 4 years

Text

The story of Draco NOT being a disaster in the kitchen and how Harry fell in love with him for that

This turned out a lot longer than I thought but I’m actually really happy with it, so enjoy some Drarry with Draco&Hermione friendship!

I mean, come on, Draco was master at potions. You really think he would be a disaster in the kitchen??? Like ok, he might take a while to get used to the difference between the two, like how there’s no cauldron but that thing called an oven was kinda dope, but he would be a natural at it still. Especially the sweet kitchen. Baking and different desserts that require specific techniques would be right up his alley.

After the war when Draco was in house arrest (luckily not in Azkaban, thank you very much Scarhead) he had access to muggle books, and when he found a cookbook, he went a little overboard. So, for a whole year, he did nothing but baking and cooking and experimenting. And when his house arrest was up, he moved to muggle London for peace and quiet and opened a bakery. It was a success, and Draco was swamped with customers. See? He wasn’t a fucking disaster.

After a few years he had completely left the wizarding world. Why would he stay? Muggles were nice, the treated him well, unlike 99.999% of the magic people. So, time moved on and he finally opened a second bakery downtown because the first one was so successful. He still personally ran his small shop in the outskirt of London.

He hadn’t seen any wizards in years, except his mother, Pansy, Blaise and his therapist, which was exactly how he wanted it.

So, when a certain Hermione Granger popped in a Saturday morning with a toddler by the hand, he was torn. Granger seemed torn and confused, glancing back at the door as if considering to leave, but of course, she striked up a conversation about what a small world they lived in because she was Granger.

But Draco knew she was just doing it to be polite and fill the tense silence. He saw she was visibly uncomfortable, eyes scanning nervously around the room and the way she held her child just a little bit closer, but he understood and rolled his sleeve down when the young girl looked a little too close. He owed her that much.

(His therapist has told him to embrace the compliments from the muggles who just saw a tattoo, not a dark mark, so he had made a habit of rolling his sleeves up to his elbow even if he hated it at the beginning. Now, he only had them rolled down on bad days)

He saw Granger’s eyes linger on the movement, on his arm and her polite, uncomfortable smile disappeared. His own polite smile vanished as well. Draco was expecting her to pay quickly and leave, if not just storm out, but Granger shut down the polite small talk conversation and asked him how he was. Asked him how he ended up in muggle London, how he discovered his passion for baking. Asked him everything he didn’t think he would ever be asked again. Least of all by an old classmate.

Taken back, he told her. Told her how his dad, even though in Azkaban, disowned him when he moved to muggle London. Told her how he didn’t care and how his mum still supported him. Told her about his new best friend, a muggle girl who lived across from him called Laura and about his two cats called Lupin and Minerva, named after his favourite teachers at Hogwarts (her eyebrows almost left her head when he told her this and it felt nice to surprise). And even though he talked about things that really didn’t matter, she listened.

"How long have you been living here?" She asked, embarrassed. "You know, in muggle-"

"6 years." He smiled.

(More under the cut)

(Or read on ao3)

Granger went home with her kid with a promise to return because Draco's chocolate raspberry cupcakes were just that good.

Life moved on all the same, except Granger, who slowly became Hermione, visited every Saturday morning on her way to the Weekly Weasley Saturday Lunch. Apparently, his cakes and pastries were essential now.

But Draco knew she didn’t tell them where she bought them. And even though the thought stung a bit, he didn’t think that them knowing they ate sweets and cakes from a death eater every Saturday would do them any good.

That idea was then ruined when one day Granger (Hermione) brought her lovely husband along.

Draco was nervous. He knew that Ron knew that Hermione got that awful scar on her forearm on the floor in his childhood home. He hadn’t forgiven himself for that even though Hermione showed him the cover-up tattoo of sunflowers she got a few years back. She had recommended the place she went to, made him write it down even.

Ron eyed him up and down, jaw tense when Hermione dragged him into the shop. Draco ducked his head, greeting Hermione and Rose as usual and nodded his head short at Ron. He didn’t know if Ron would like it if he spoke to him.

Ron had Rose placed on his hip, frown still present on his face when he saw his young daughter call for Draco, laughing when the blonde asked her where she got her pretty dress from.

Draco could sense the tension coming from Ron and turned away from Rose to ask Hermione what he can do for her.

The small talk was the same as always. Hermione asked him how the shop was holding up and Draco asks about the problem at the Ministry that gave her sleepless nights.

It wasn’t until Draco reached over the counter to give Rose her usual free chocolate biscuit that Ron spoke.

He took a step back, pulling Rose away from Draco’s hand, which the toddler was already reaching for.

“No thank you.”

Draco flinched back and retreated his hand. Rose started crying.

“Ron,” Hermione snapped, “Don’t be ridiculous.”

She had that look in her eyes that made Aunt Bellatrix look almost nice.

“No, you might trust him but I sure as hell don’t.” Ron snapped back and Rose cried louder.

“It’s okay, Hermione-”

“No, you’ve been nothing but nice to me and Rosie,” She said, louder this time and Draco’s eyes softens. “you're my friend," she said sharply at Draco, "and you are going to apologize and go wait outside." She turned to Ron this time.

Ron scowls and sighed but opened his mouth either way.

But Draco was faster.

"It's okay, Weasley, I understand."

"No, it's not okay, Draco-"

"Please Hermione, it really is, I understand and it's no problem." He looked at Ron, who tightened his jaw once again, nodded and turned around to leave, Rose still crying silently on his hip. She didn’t get her biscuit.

Hermione was left staring at him with angry eyes. Draco sighed and stared back.

"I'll talk to him."

"No, you won't. He didn't do anything wrong."

Hermione huffed, walking around the counter to stand across from him. She had been behind the counter a number of 4 times now. "Didn't do anything wrong?! Draco, you shouldn't-"

Draco held up a hand. "My family hurt his family."

Hermione went silent, turning her frustrated gaze downward.

"I hurt his family." Draco brushed a lock of bushy dark hair behind her ear and frowned. "I hurt you, didn't I?" Hermione reached out and took his hand. "It's perfectly understandable that he didn’t like or trust me. Let alone to give free treats to his child."

When Hermione looked up, she had glistening eyes. "But you apologized and you've changed. You don't deserve this." She sniffled and Draco pulled her in for a hug.

They stood there for a long time until Hermione pulled away and said; "Come to my baby shower, please?"

"Baby shower?"

"It’s a muggle thing you host when you’re pregnant."

“Yes, I know what it is, it’s just-” Draco cut himself off and smiled, pulling her in for a hug once more. "Darling, that's amazing! Congratulations," Hermione laughed wetly.

"So, you'll come?" She said, looking up at him. “I want you to be there.”

Draco sighed, glancing outside at Ron who seemed to be rocking Rose back and forth still. He turned back to Hermione. "I don't think that's a good idea," the smile on her lips disappeared. "But I'll make you a cake, your favourite." He said instead and she sighed but nodded at him.

"It's a boy." She said.

"I'll make it blue then."

"No, make it yellow, it's more neutral.”

“Of course, you can stop by anytime and we’ll have dinner to celebrate okay?”

Hermione smiled. “Okay, Draco.”

And then life went on. And Hermione got more and more pregnant. She still stopped by in the shop and by now also showing up unannounced on his doorstep when she needed a break from the world or when Ron got in that “protective husband/father mode that’s kinda sexist but not really because he means well” as Hermione called it. Draco knew she felt bad after she said stuff like that because Ron was the most perfect husband and father she could ask for.

It wasn’t until she was about 8 months along that the routine broke again.

It was a Sunday morning and Draco was up early to finish a fresh load of blueberry tarts. It was 07:35 am and he was not opening for another hour or so, but then there was a knock at the door.

He considered ignoring it, but as it continued he realized he probably couldn’t.

So he walked to the front, dishtowel thrown over his shoulder and apron tied around his waist. He had flour all over him and his semi-long hair, which normally rested just above his shoulders, was tied into a bun. He didn’t really desire any human interaction right now but he didn’t seem to have a choice.

He regretted his decision not to ignore the knocking as soon as he saw who was standing on the other side of the see-through glass door.

Harry Potter, looking 7 years older since Draco last saw him, was standing outside his bakery, hands stuffed into his pockets and shoulders high. He looked cold.

What did he want? How did he know Draco was here? Had Hermione told him?

Last night was one of the bad ones (the ones where he lies awake because he keeps reliving everything he didn’t want to remember every time he closes his eyes, so instead he tabs his fingers on the walls or cleans or cries into the fur of his cats. It’s the nights where he only manages to dose off in the bathtub, despite the risk of becoming sick again because no warming spell can heat up water for a whole night. It’s also the nights he came up with his greatest recipes because baking was the only thing not reminding him of everything he used to be. But most of all, it’s the nights where he covers his mirrors with sheets and hides his wand in the back of his closet) and he couldn’t handle being yelled at or told off right now.

So, he straightened himself, dusted his hands off and walked over to open the door. Only cracking it open for his head to poke out.

“How can I help you?” He said, like it isn’t The Boy Who Lived Twice standing outside his shop.

Potter snapped his head up in surprise. His hair was still a mess and his glasses look the same, only these ones had a golden frame instead of the familiar silver. Somehow over the last 7 years, his eyes had become greener. Maybe it was the gold.

“Malfoy,” He breathed, and his cheeks are pink. “Hi.”

“I’m not open yet,” Draco said because he didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t want to talk to Potter.

Potter looked down at his boots. “Er- yes I know, but uhm-” He reached into his jacket and pulled out a piece of parchment. He skimmed it and looked up again. “Well, ‘Mione isn’t feeling all that well, you know, with the pregnancy and all, morning sickness I think, though I’m not really sure-”

“She sent you?” Draco interrupted Potter’s rambling, confused and concerned at the same time.

Potter still looked stunned. “Yes, she did.”

Draco’s frown deepened. “Is she alright? She could’ve called me.”

Potter tilted his head. “Called? You have a- ?” He shook his head, cutting himself off. “Nevermind. Yes, she was alright, she was just really tired and can’t really get up or put her shoes on anymore, so she sent me since Ron was on a mission right now-”

“Yes, I know, he should be back next Friday.”

Surprise spread on Potter’s face. “...Yes exactly.” He said, glancing between Draco’s face and his apron. Draco just wanted this over with.

“What does she need?” Draco sighed, thinking of Hermione and her big round belly and how she whined all the time because her feet were cold, and pulled the door open. he was doing this for her but she was still paying for it later when she was a lot less pregnant.

Potter stared at him in confusion before snapping out of it and following him inside the bakery. “How do you-”

“Sweet or salty?” He said, walking around the counter.

Potter followed, looking down at the parchment again. “Sweet, I think? Something with fruit. That’s all she was written.” He looked at the display with all the different cakes and pastries before pointing at the peach cobbler. “She likes peach, so maybe-”

“No, she’ll bloody throw up in ten seconds. Honestly, Potter, do you even know your best friend?” Draco snapped before he can regret it. Flashbacks of Hogwarts filled his mind and he pushed them aside. he was not the hissing bully anymore, he should have known better. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t snap at you. Her preferences change all the time.”

Potter seemed frozen for a few seconds as Draco cursed himself for falling back into old habits he’d long wanted to forget. But then he scratched his head and shrugged. “That’s alright, you probably saved my arse from a scolding from a pregnant Minister.” He chuckled awkwardly. Uncomfortably. “What do you suggest then?”

Draco sighed, looking at what he had displayed and thought about what he had ready in the back.

“I’ll be right back.” He said, walking into the back room where the baking happened. He picked up two blueberry muffins because he knew they are easy on her stomach. He also picked one piece of the freshly baked blueberry tarts and two Nutella filled croissants. Then he walked back out.

As he wrapped it all up in brown paper bags, he spotted the chocolate biscuits in the corner of his eye. He grabbed three of them for Rose, adding them to the bag.

When he was done, he looked up at Potter who just seemed to be stuck in a confused, frozen gaze.

Draco pretended he didn’t see it and continued. “If you pass a grocery store on the way pick up some fresh apples. Green, not red. She’ll thank you later.”

Draco then handed over the brown paper bag filled with his baking. He held it for a good 5 seconds before Potter’s head snapped up and reached out to take it.

“Uh- great, thanks,” Potter muttered to the walls. “Uhm, right, how much do I- ?”

“No, Hermione eats for free here, you’re not paying for anything,” Draco said firmly. “Tell her I said hi and that I’m looking forward to our dinner next Thursday.”

Potter cleared his throat. “Right, yes, I will, uhm, good day to you.” He said then walking back to the door.

Draco smiled weakly. “Good day to you too, Potter.”

Potter returned the small smile as he opened the door. he was almost out of the shop when he held the door open, peeking his head inside and said; “it was good to see you, Malfoy.”

And then he was gone, leaving Draco confused and tingly.

It was weird though. Because he came back. A lot. Always on Hermione’s request. Which isn’t that weird because Draco spoke on the phone with her and it was true, she really couldn’t move, and Ron was still working a lot. Draco had no idea what Harry did for a living to be able to pick up Hermione’s favourite cakes every other day at shit o’clock in the morning.

So, Draco slowly got used to seeing Potter in the early hours of the morning before he was even open. Their exchanges were quick because Draco usually already had a bag ready with what he knew Hermione wanted and he still refused to let Potter pay. But they still saw each other often.

But about two weeks before Hermione was due Potter showed up late. It was 10:23 and Draco had been open for almost an hour and there was still no sign of the other man.

He considered calling Hermione when the door swung open, a flushed panting Potter standing in the middle of his shop. By now, the tables around the bakery were filled with people enjoying their morning coffee and they all looked up at the newly arrived guest.

Pretending nothing had happened Potter walked casually over to the counter where Draco was in the middle of taking an order from an elderly woman. Draco ignored him until it was his turn.

“You’re late,” He mumbled.

“Sorry, was that a problem?” Draco was just about to snap back when he realized Potter was being genuine.

Clearing his throat, Draco turned around to get the bag filled with cheesecake this time. “Uhm- no, sorry, let me just go get the bag-”

But as he turned his elbow hit the tip jar on the corner of the counter, sending it straight to the floor where it cracked. Coins everywhere.

Draco groaned, reaching down to start collecting the little tip that had been in the jar, careful not to cut himself, when he saw Potter in the corner of his eye taking his wand out. He jumped to his feet.

“No don’t!” He whisper-yelled at the shorter man as he grabbed onto his wand and pushed it downwards. “Are you crazy?!”

Potter stumbled back, away from Draco and frowned. “What? I was just trying to help, I don’t know what-”

“You are surrounded by muggles, you idiot!” Draco whisper-yelled again.

Genuine confusion crossed Potter’s face. “What?”

“This was a muggle bakery, Potter.” He said under his breath. “I don’t allow magic in here so if you can please put your wand away.”

“You don’t- “ Potter paused. “What?”

Draco groaned, crouching down to clean the mess up. “What part of that didn’t you understand?” He said, annoyed. "Didn't Hermione tell you?"

Potter stood still for a while before he too crouched down to help. "No," he muttered mostly to himself. "But then how do you bake?”

Draco shot him an offended look before answering. “How do you bake without magic? It’s not that fucking hard, Potter.”

Potter stayed silent after that, stiffly helping Draco pick of the shards of glass. He fetched a coffee cup and put the remaining coins in it and placed it on the table.

Draco stood up, dusted himself off and went to pick up the cake Potter came here for in the first place.

"Er- I'll tell her you said hi," Potter said and moved towards the door.

"Great, yes- great," Draco said, glancing outside. It's raining a lot now. He looked at Potter again. Bloody idiot, only wearing a denim jacket over a T-shirt. "Wait a second," he interrupted Potter grabbing the door.

He ran to the back, picked up his umbrella.

When Draco handed it over to him, Potter just stared at him.

Groaning, Draco grabbed his forearm, guiding his hand to take the umbrella. "Take it, you'll get soaked in minutes."

Potter glanced down as if he only just realized he was holding Draco's umbrella. He snapped his head back up. "No, really it's fine-"

"Merlin, just take it, Potter."

He blinked. "Okay." And then he was out the door.

It only took a week before Draco got a phone call from a very panicky Hermione at one in the morning, stating that she was very much in labor.

It wasn’t the first time Draco had gotten such a call, but this time he knew it could actually be serious.

Ron was out of town for two days, because the baby wasn’t due for another week. Hermione had been anxious but had sent her husband off despite his protests. She knew how much they both valued work and thought it would be fine.

It clearly wasn’t.

Draco was already putting on his jacket, phone held by his shoulder and pressed to his ear. “Hermione, I’m coming over, okay? Maybe it’s nothing, last time it was just Braxton hicks, remember?”

Over the phone, Hermione clearly wasn’t agreeing with him because she was crying (She did that a lot recently).

“No! This feels weird, Draco. Weirder than the other times, I know this was it, I can feel it.” She said, sniffling. “Oh god, and Ron isn’t back until tomorrow night, he was supposed to be here! And Rosie was sleeping and I can’t-”

“Hey, Hermione, calm down,” Draco said. “I’ll be there in 15 minutes and I’ll take you and Rose to the hospital okay? We’ll get you checked up and it’s all going to be fine.”

Hermione sniffled again. She was adorable. “Okay, please hurry, I’ll call Harry.”

Draco paused for a moment but quickly swallowed his surprise. Harry was Hermione’s best friend, of course, she was gonna call him. “Yes, do that, we’ll take care of everything, okay?”

An hour later, Draco and Harry were walking along the hospital corridor, Hermione holding both their hands. The Weasleys had picked up Rose and Harry had called Ron, who apparently was on his way, but wouldn’t arrive until a few hours.

The doctor said walking helped the process along, so here they were, the three of them, just walking.

“This was awful,” Hermione said, clenching his hand harder than painless. “Why isn’t Ron here yet?”

“He’s doing everything he can,” Said Harry, who had been avoiding Draco’s gaze since they arrived at the hospital. “He’ll be here in a few hours, he promised.”

6 hours later little Hugo was born. Ron arrived on time, Hermione was asleep. Everything was fine.

Except Draco who hadn’t slept since he picked up the phone in the middle of the night. He was exhausted, both from lack of sleep and crying alongside Hermione because Hugo was just so cute, even with red hair, and he was so proud of her. But now he needed to go home.

He was walking to his car when a voice stopped him.

“Malfoy!” He turned around, watching Potter jogging across the parking lot. “Hey wait up.”

Draco leaned against his car, fighting his eyes. “What was it, Potter? I’m very much looking forward to going home now.”

Potter smirked. “Yes, I can see that. Which was why I’m driving you.”

Draco paused, eyes widening. “Excuse me?”

“Well, Ron said you looked like dead weight and asked me to drive you home, so you didn’t crash and die.” He said with a chuckle.

Draco continued to look baffled. “Ron said that?”

“Yes.”

“Why aren’t you too tired to drive?” Draco said, sceptical.

Potter shrugged. “Never been much of a sleeper, I guess.”

Draco considered it for a moment. He was too tired to drive, no doubt about it. But it was Potter.

“How will you get home then?” He asked.

Potter smirked again. It was getting annoying. “I assume there’s an alley I can apparate discretely back to my own place.” He said casually.

Draco paused. “Right, magic.” He deadpanned. “Haven’t done that in years. Does it still feel horrible? Like a rollercoaster?”

The other man stared for a second. “You haven’t appareted in years?” He said, clearly confused.

“I’ve lived in muggle London for years, Potter, did you forget?” He teased. Bloody hell, he was tired. “Why do you think I have a car?”

Potter kept staring at him, seemingly stuck in his own head. Until he said. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

Draco slept all the way home. He was gently shaken awake by Potter, who had parked his car outside his apartment building.

“Come on, Malfoy, we’re here.” He said, helping out of the car. Merlin, that was horrifying. Potter helping him out of the car because he hadn’t slept for 24 hours.

“Right, thank you,” Draco said, thinking that was it.

But Potter helped him all the way up to his front door.

“Good work today,” He said, awkwardly tripping outside of Draco’s door. “Hermione really appreciated you being there.”

Taken back, he said; “Well, I sure hope so, we’ve been friends for more than a year and a half now.” He looked away. “But thank you, Potter. I’m glad you accepted me being there. You took it better than Weasley did at first.” Draco chuckled drily.

Potter’s eyebrows furrowed for a second. “You’re harmless, Malfoy. If you’re friends with the minister of magic, you’re as much of a thread as a bowtruckle. ‘Mione didn’t just befriend anybody.” He said with a smile.

Draco was baffled. “Thanks...” Was all he could say. Was Potter being reassuring? Friendly?

Potter chuckled. “And don’t mind Ron. He still didn’t even trust me when I’m speaking parseltongue.”

Draco, still speechless, said nothing. Just stared at the other man until he coughed awkwardly.

“Well, I’m gonna let you sleep now. Goodnight Mal-”

“Wait here, Potter,” Draco said before he could regret it and darted into his apartment. He returned with a brown paper bag. He handed it to Potter with a shaky hand.

Potter eyed it sceptically. “What was this?”

“It’s breakfast.” He said, shaking his head a little. “Well, and a couple of muffins I think. It’s from the bakery.”

When Potter didn’t say anything Draco continued. “As a thank you. And because you need breakfast.” He shot him a nervous smile, wondering if it was too much. If Potter would think it was weird.

But the man just smiled and took the bag. “Thank you, Malfoy.” And again, he was out the door.

They didn’t see each other again until 3 weeks later when Draco was drinking tea with Hermione. Well, he was drinking tea. Hermione was breastfeeding Hugo.

“Does it hurt?” He blurted out, making Hermione chuckle.

“What, you wanna try?” Draco grimaced, placing his teacup down. “No, it doesn’t. It just feels weird, honestly. Nothing like Ron-”

“Oh no, shut it. Don’t wanna hear about your sex life, that’s disgusting.” When Hermione laughed Hugo whined a bit, making the attention go to him immediately.

“Don’t be so sensitive, Draco. I’ve heard plenty about yours!” She said, smiling when Hugo calmed down again.

“What, my non-existing sex life? Haven’t gotten laid in months, darling.” He mumbled bitterly. He hadn’t gone clubbing with Laura in a while because of everything that had been happening, which meant no one night stood in a long while.

“Yes, I know, I’m trying to change tha-”

The front door opened, interrupting both of them.

A caught off guard Potter paused, looking at them. “Oh, sorry Hermione, am I interrupting?” He glanced at Draco.

Hermione smiled, returning her attention to Hugo. “No, not at all, come on in. Ron should be home in an hour or so.”

She was sitting in the only armchair which meant the only place to sit was beside Draco on the couch.

He sat down heavily. “What were you guys talking about?” He said, coughing weirdly.

“Draco’s sex life,” Hermione said unbothered.

Draco could feel his face heat up. “Hermione!”

She looked up at him, surprised. “Oh, was it a secret?”

Shaking his head, he placed his hand over his eyes. He didn’t want to watch The Chosen One making fun of him.

Sure enough, a chuckle left Potter.

“Sounds interesting.”

Draco moved the hand from his eyes. “Shut it, Potter.”

He looked over at Hermione who was buttoning her shirt, trying to stifle her own laughter. “I keep trying to set you up, but you don’t want to!” She mocked.

Pointing a finger at her, Draco leaned forward. “That’s because you keep making it a blind date, and last time I checked wizards don’t want to date an ex-death eater.”

Potter’s eyebrows shot up, but Draco ignored him. As did Hermione.

“Oh, don’t be so judgemental. John wouldn’t have minded, he voted for you at your trial.” She said, adjusting Hugo in her arms.

Again, Potter sat silently confused.

“Doubt it, darling.” As he leaned back he noticed the staring. “Is something wrong, Potter?”

Potter sputtered. “No, uhm. No, sorry.”

Hermione giggled again. “Harry, calm down, I’m not gonna set him up with one of your co-workers.”

He leaned forward, making his dark hair an even worse mess. “No, it’s not- uhm, I just didn’t know he- well, you were...”

“Gay?” Draco finished. “Surprise, Potter. All death eaters suck dick.”

Potter’s cheeks darkened as Hermione snapped; “EX-death eater.”

He rolled his eyes and she further scowled. They’ve had that conversation multiple times. It often starts with Draco saying something self-degrading about his past and Hermione getting mad at him for speaking ill of himself. Then it progresses to Draco arguing her that he really was a death eater scumbag, and Hermione saying he was just a child with no other choice. And it usually ends with Draco mistakenly blurting out some of his secret self-hate and Hermione getting upset and/or crying (usually crying but only since the pregnancy) and Draco pulling her into a hug, apologizing for upsetting her.

“Don’t get me started Draco, I just had a baby.” She said, sternly shooting him warning daggers.

“Oh, darling, like that would stop you.” He teased, winking at her.

“You’re right, I could still kick your arse.” She smirked and Draco pretended not to see the spark of worry in her eyes.

He then realized Potter was still watching them like they had grown two heads all while being very warm in the face.

There was an awkward silence until Hermione stood up with Hugo announcing she would put Hugo down for a nap.

He stared at Potter who was still silent with furrowed brows.

He decided to take pity on the guy. “You want tea?”

Potter rubbed his hands on his jeans. His hair really was getting out of hand. It wasn’t as long as Draco’s, but it was still long enough to look like a bird's nest.

“Uhm, yeah, sure.”

Draco got up, making his move to walk towards the kitchen.

But hands snapped around his wrist. He turned around.

“Wait, you don’t have to make it,” Potter said, suddenly letting go of his wrist as if it had burned him. His hand was placed behind his neck instead. “I thought you would just... you know.” Draco didn’t understand until Potter took his wand out of his pocket.

“Oh.” Draco glanced at it awkwardly. “Well, I don’t have it with me, I was just going to make it myself.”

“You don’t have your wand with you?”

“I think it’s in a drawer at home somewhere.” He wondered.

Potter’s eyes widened and he froze. Draco was just about to demand to know what the hell he was staring at when he shook his head laughing, looking away. He then took off his glasses and wiped a hand over his face, letting it settle there for a moment.

Draco scowled. He felt made fun of.

“Please do tell what you find so amusing, Potter.” He spat. Draco had felt he and Potter had been friendly enough to be in the same room, which couldn’t be said about Hermione’s husband, but now he thinks that his fear of Potter only being civil with him because of Hermione was true.

Potter didn’t say anything for a moment, just let out a tiny snort.

Then he opened his mouth, wiping a tear from his eye, still chuckling. “Sorry, really, I just didn’t expect to ever see Lucius Junior making tea by himself.” There was a smile on his face, and though it didn’t feel hateful, it still mocked him.

Draco pretended it didn’t hurt as much as it did and scowled one last time, then turned around and went for the door.

“Tell Hermione I had an emergency.” He said, trying to make his voice cold.

“No, wait, Malfoy-”

Draco spun on his heels as Potter once again grabbed his wrist. They were face to face now and Draco felt his mouth run dry. He had forgotten how much taller he was than Potter as he looked down on the other man. Funny how the chosen one made him feel 2 inches tall even though he stood almost a head taller.

“I will not use my time on being made fun of, Potter.” He said, snatching his hand away and behind his back. “So please, let me be on my way without trouble.”

Potter looked confused and shook his head, again. “No, Malfoy you don’t understand, I wasn’t making fun of-”

“Oh, sure, Potter.” He snapped. “Nobody forced you to hang out with a death eater, there’s no need to be cruel.” Grabbing the doorknob, he pulled it open.

“I wasn’t making fun of you! God, Malfoy, I knew you were self-centred, but this is ridiculous. You’re as dramatic as you were in school, for Merlin’s sake. What about Hermio-”

Turning his head over his shoulder, Draco bit back; “You know nothing about me.” He felt his face get red with anger. And hurt, too.

Potter looked taken back, stepping a single step backward. “I-”

“You know Draco Lucius Malfoy. But you know nothing about Draco Malfoy.”

And with that, he stormed out the door.

The days after that were Bad.

It had been a long time since he had gotten multiple of those in a week, and because of that, he decided to take a day off at the bakery. He knew his staff could take care of it for a day by themselves, so he wasn’t worried.

It helped when Hermione visited.

She came in the morning, having left Hugo with Ron back home.

He didn’t tell what happened in detail because he knew she would go straight to Potter, yelling his head off and demanding he apologized to Draco.

He didn’t want that. He wasn’t mad anymore. Not even sad. Just disappointed mostly. Disappointed he screwed up a possible friendship (friendship? Really?) and because he thought Potter would have been more understanding. But then again, Potter didn’t know his story. Clearly, Draco had been mistaken when he assumed Hermione had told her best friend his whole background. But Hermione cursed at him and said she wasn’t someone who spilled secrets to her best friends just because they were best friends. And then she said Draco was also one of her best friends. Draco may have cried.

But the next week he was good as new back in his bakery. It was an hour after closing and he was in the middle of mixing a fresh batch of chocolate scones for tomorrow to bake so they could be warm for when the first customers would arrive. They sold better that way.

Just as he wrapped the dough and left it to rise a loud knock was heard at the front door.

Draco’s blood ran cold. Only Potter did that.

He contemplated ignoring it, but he also knew if it was Potter he wasn’t going to stop until he opened.

He turned off his music, wiped his hand in his apron and went to the front of the store.

Sure enough, the birds nest stood behind the glass door, lit up from the lamp post.

He sighed and turned the lock.

Only poking his head out, he waited for Potter to speak. He might not blame Potter in any way for his actions, but he knew that technically Draco wasn’t the one who should apologize. Even though he felt the need to.

Potter looked away from his eyes, tripping back and forth on his feet as he rubbed his hands together. It was rather chilly out.

“Uhm...” He started and Draco said nothing. “Can I come in?”

Draco scrunched his nose in confusion before pulling himself together. “Why?”

Potter had seemingly expected the response because he immediately responded with; “Because I want to talk to you.”

Draco paused, sighed again, then pushed the door open enough for Potter to slip inside.

Deciding that Draco would feel better on his turf he immediately walked through to the back, into the main bakery. He felt jittery and wanted to do something with his hands. It would also give him an excuse not to look The Chosen One in the eyes.

As he figured, Potter followed him. He was hesitant and paused at the ovens to look around. Draco smirked. At least he could still surprise.

Draco pulled out the bowl of strawberries that needed to be prepared for the tarts he had planned for later. It was only 8 pm but he wasn’t leaving for another 2 hours.

Draco cut the strawberries with precision and speed after having done it a million times before. Potter was still silent, just out of his vision to his left. Draco sighed and decided to speak.

“Any day now Potter, I have work to do.”

Potter coughed awkwardly beside him.

“Yes, of course.” He sounded uncomfortable. “I want to apologize. For last week at Hermione’s.”

Draco paused his knife and turned his head. “Did she put you up to this?”

Colour rose to Potter’s cheeks as he fumbled with his words. “No! No, really, no, uhm it’s all me.” He shot Draco an awkward smile and he turned back to his strawberries. Potter’s smile was distracting. “She only told me when you’d be here.”

“Oh.” He said. “Well, uhm. It’s okay-”

“No please, just-” Potter paused again. Coughed. Shuffled on his feet. “I’m sorry. For last week. For what I said. It was uncalled for and rude. I’m genuinely sorry. You’re clearly not the same bloke you were in school.”

Draco felt his fingers shake.

“And I’m sorry for the Lucius thing,” Potter took a step closer. “I didn’t know you changed your name.”

Draco placed his knife on the cutting board. “There was no reason you would know. It’s alright, Potter. I understand where it came from, you don’t have to apologize for it. I understand.”

There was a pregnant pause before Potter breathed in loudly.

“Hermione said you might say that.” Draco locked his eyes on the red strawberry juice left on the cutting board. “And yes, I do need to apologize. I was rude and hurtful. That’s something to apologize for, don’t you think?”

His voice had gone soft and Draco sharply turned his head. Potter was closer than before, only a small space between their feet.

He didn’t know what to say. Potter was genuinely apologizing.

“I would love to get to know you. Start over, you know. What do you say?”

The question shook Draco out of his thread of thoughts, and he looked into bright green eyes.

“Uhm, well.” He said, knowing how nervous he sounded. “I’m not really that exciting of a person. Just less of an arse, honestly.” He tried to snort casually, but he knew it sounded awkward.

Potter laughed though and Draco smiled.

“I’m not too sure,” Potter said. “Hermione wouldn’t be friends with you if you weren’t interesting.”

Okay, that might be true.

“What do you say, Draco?” He said, holding out a hand.

Potter’s voice had dropped, and Draco gave in. He shook his hand, embarrassed that his own was sticky with strawberry juice.

“Okay, Harry.”

And Harry’s smile was blinding.

“Thank you for forgiving me.” He said, and Draco could tell he was honest. “And I’m sorry for interrupting your work, I can go if-”

“No!” Draco practically shouted. “No, please. It’s really fine, I’m just preparing for tomorrow.” He said, returning his eyes to the cutting board.

“Can I help?”

Draco’s head snapped up. “What?”

Harry shrugged. “I want to see you cook.” He grinned. “Or bake, or whatever it was you do.”

Draco snorted, thinking it over. He then looked over at the apples that needed peeling and pushed them towards Harry.

“Peel them. And don’t touch anything without asking.” He snickered, wondering why it was so easy to just fall into casualness with Harry.

Harry smiled brightly and began right away.

By the time it was 9.30 pm Draco called it a night. They had made a bit of a mess after Draco tried to show Harry how to make the perfect pie crust, and Draco was tired enough to tell himself he would deal with it tomorrow.

They now stood outside the front door as Draco locked up.

“How do you get home?” Harry asked, zipping up his jacket.

“I walk. It’s only 7 minutes from here.” He said, fumbling to get the keys in his bag. When he looked back up Harry was staring at him. Something he had been doing quite a lot since Draco ran into him for the first time since school.

“What?” Draco said, wondering if it was his hair. It was still in a ponytail, most likely not pretty anymore as it had been in the morning.

But Harry shook his head slightly. “It’s just so weird seeing you without magic.” He said with a soft smile. Draco ducked his head as he felt his face get warm. “The baking, muggle London, the no-wand thing, your transport. It’s interesting. It’s new.”

Draco tucked a strand of hair behind his ear and looked at Harry’s shoes. “I just don’t need it anymore.” He said, quietly. “Sometimes magic does more damage than good.”

Harry nodded. “I understand that.” There was an underlying tone of deeper understanding and Draco’s hands felt warm. “Then let me walk you home, at least.”

He sniffled in the cold but nodded. “Alright.”

They walked in silence and when they finally stood outside Draco’s apartment, he felt misplaced.

He was about to say goodnight when Harry interrupted him.

“So uhm.” Harry ran a hand through his hair. “I have a confession to make.”

Draco studied his posture, feeling himself filling up with nerves. “Oh?”

Harry laughed awkwardly again. “Yeah well, I guess it’s no secret I’ve been kind of taken by you lately.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed. “What?”

Harry’s eyes were now glued to the sidewalk. “And Hermione kept bugging me for visiting your bakery so much. And then she practically ripped my ear off when I told her what I said to you. And I felt really bad because I never wanted you to feel like I was making fun of you.”

Green eyes met silver. Just for a moment.

“I was frustrated I didn’t know what to talk to you about. And I snapped because I thought that fighting was what we were good at, so that must be it, right?” A sour grimace showed on Harry’s face and Draco wanted to smooth it out with his thumbs and lips. “But of course, that was stupid to assume. And I really am sorry. I just wanted to talk to you, and I didn’t know how.”

Draco was stunned. Frozen. Utterly confused.

“But...” He started. “Why did you want to talk with me?”

Harry snapped his gaze up to meet his, and for the second time, Draco felt chills go up to his neck. “Because...” Harry paused. “Well, because Hermione talked about you all the time. About how great you were. I wanted to get to know that person as well. I always felt sad that we didn’t become friends in our 8th year.” His eyes flickered again. “And because when I first saw you, I thought you were gorgeous.”

Draco’s breath hitched. That couldn’t be true. Harry was supposed to hate him. Or just really dislike him. It would only make sense. Draco was stunned enough that Harry had wanted to be friends. But this? How?

“Of course, I’m not expecting anything from you. I know we have our past and there’s probably a lot to talk about.” Harry took a step forward. “But I think I would like to take you out on a date. With me. If you’re interested.” His gaze was confident now, truly Gryffindor.

Draco felt red like the strawberries he had cut and his hands as sticky. He locked his eyes with Harry and forced himself to speak. “Uhm.” He said taking a deep breath. “Yes. I-I would like that.”

Harry beamed. “I was hoping you would say that.”

Draco snorted nervously and looked down at Harry’s lips. He wanted to kiss him.

Harry seemed to read his mind because he stepped even closer, so close their chests were touching, tucking a strand of hair behind Draco’s ear and asked;

“Can I kiss you? I have I read the sexual tension all wrong?”

Draco broke out in a smile and decided to just lean down, at the same time as Harry leaned up.

Their lips met. It was soft and short. Sweeter than anything Draco had ever baked, and more addicting than any dessert.

They broke apart. Draco felt warm.

He felt even warmer when Harry smiled and said; “Hermione was going to be so happy I finally got my head out of my arse.”

Fucking finished.

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