cleocat246 - Tumblr blog

cleocat246 · 12 days ago

Text

Sentient shadow

Theodore Nott x fem!reader

5.4k words

cw: fluff, no y/n, stranger to friends to lovers

Theo had never been to his grandfather’s house. The old man always went to Nott Manor when Theo’s mother was still alive and he was barely seen after her death. So Theo was surprised when he arrived with his things that his grandfather truly lived in the middle of nowhere. Nott Manor was secluded by the acres of land on the estate, the closest neighbor was kilometers away. This, wherever he was now, was a small town with what looked like the necessities on a main street that was surrounded by a few rows of houses. The next nearest town was over a day’s walk, ensuring that any travel would be done via broom, floo or apparition.

This was his new home. At least until he graduated from Hogwarts and could be allowed some money from his family’s fortune to rent a flat near whatever job he ended up getting.

His grandfather tried to keep Theo active, assigning him chores for in and outside the house. They sometimes got done. Theo often opted to lock himself in the dingey guest room that was his “for as long as you need it,” as his grandfather said. Theo was grateful that he was allowed to stay with family and said family lived in a wizarding town, but it wasn’t home.

Still, his grandfather persisted. After a few days of allowing Theo to “unpack and get settled,” he sent his grandson out of the house and told him to get some fresh air.

“You can come back in for dinner. Get lunch from Mr. Lester, tell ‘im I sent you. Meet people. Get to know the area.”

Theo wanted to say that there wasn’t anything to get to know. He bit his tongue and nodded. He left the house and strolled down the stone street with his hands shoved in his pockets.

That’s when he saw you exiting the bakery with a muffin in hand. He recognized your face. Sort of. You looked around his age and he was fairly certain he’d seen you around Hogwarts, but no name came to mind. When you saw him walking in your direction, confusion flashed across your face.

“Theodore,” you said when he got close enough.

“Ah, you know who I am,” he said casually.

You rolled your eyes. “Who doesn’t know Malfoy and his friends?”

It was clear you didn’t like Draco with how you said his name. Not that Theo could blame you; not many people outside of his immediate friend group liked him.

You gave Theo a curt nod and started to walk away, but he went with you. He didn’t say anything more and neither did you. You ended up leading him to the small park-ish area of the town. There was a small play structure for children, a few trees in the grassy area and picnic tables. You gave Theo an odd look when he sat across from you at the picnic table. You just wanted to eat your muffin in peace.

“What are you doing?” you asked, not even attempting to mask the rudeness in your voice.

“Sitting.”

“And why are you doing it at this table?”

“From what I can see, you’re the only one around here who isn’t five or fifty, Dolcezza.”

“The Watsons live here,” you stated dryly.

Watsons? Theo didn’t recognize the surname.

“You can get to know Parker.”

Parker Watson. Right. He was a Slytherin a few years younger than Theo.

“I’m not wasting my summer with a thirteen year old.”

You sighed. It seemed as if you weren’t getting rid of Theo anytime soon. At least he wasn’t staring directly at you while you ate. He was obviously taking in the area. You tried to be fine with the silence, but your curiosity was getting the better of you.

“Why are you here?”

“I told you. You’re the-”

“Not at this table. Why are you in my town?”

“It’s our town now. I have to stay with my grandfather since Father’s been shipped off to Azkaban and my mum’s eight feet in the ground.”

“Oh,” you said quietly, looking away from Theo. “I didn’t…”

“Yeah.”

You sat in silence with Theo for a few minutes. Eventually, he stopped looking around and just stared at you. You did your best not to shrink into yourself under his dark eyes, but you did shift in your seat. A few more minutes passed and you got up. Theo mirrored you. He walked with you as you headed to the corner store.

He follows you around the small shop. You don’t buy anything. You rarely do. It’s really just something to do. Neither of you spoke to each other as you went down aisle after aisle. Theo even went with you as you walked home, but as soon as he continued all the way to your front door, you stuck your arm out to block him from entering the house.

“If you’re going to be my shadow, stay out here. I’ll be back.”

He nodded. Then he leaned against the wall of your house to wait for you to return. You don’t hurry to gather the few things you need. You took your sweet time.

“Who were you talking to?” your mother asked when you went into the kitchen to grab a water bottle.

You hummed, not looking at her. “Uh, someone from school. They’re staying here… for the summer.”

You knew Theo was staying for longer than the summer, but you didn’t need to be having this conversation with your mother about someone you really barely knew.

“Someone from school? One of your friends?” your mother pressed.

“No.”

“Who is it?”

“No one,” you said before turning to leave.

You didn’t let her ask another question. You knew that she was about to start asking questions that you didn’t have the answers to. Theo was waiting for you when you walked out of the house. You didn’t look at him or greet him in any way. Like before, he followed you. You went back to the park and sat at the picnic table again. Theo retook his spot across from you. You read for the rest of the morning.

“Can you point me in the direction of Mr… uh, Leprechaun? Leprosy? Lemon?”

You raised your eyebrows, not looking up from your book. “Lester.”

“Yeah. Him.”

“Butcher shop’s next to the store we were in,” you said lazily.

Theo wordlessly got up and left you. You rolled your eyes. You were glad to be truly alone for the first time since you left the bakery. But it didn’t last too long. Theo got lunch from Mr. Lester and ate it outside his shop. Then he went back to you and sat back down.

That’s how the two of you sat for a while. Silence. The wind rustled the leaves and you turned the pages of your book, but you didn’t talk. Eventually, Theo laid down on the bench with his hands behind his head. It was better than him watching you.

When the sun started to set, you got up, ready to go home again. As soon as you stood up, Theo sat up.

“Where are you going, Dolcezza?” he asked.

“Home.”

Theo got up and walked with you in the direction of your house. At first you think he’s walking you home, like the shadow he’s been. But then he turned down the pathway to Mr. Faust’s house. You stopped walking.

“Your grandfather… He’s Mr. Faust?” you called when Theo was halfway down the path.

Theo looked over his shoulder at you, barely pausing to say, “Yes.”

You were distracted for the rest of the evening. You’d talked to Mr. Faust before. Spent a little bit of time with him. Such happens when you live in a smaller, remote town. You know the residents. And Mr. Faust told you that you reminded him of his daughter. You knew he only had one daughter – who apparently was Theo’s mother.

Once inside, Theo’s grandfather calls for him from the kitchen. He was working on dinner for the two of them.

“I hear you’ve met Y/N. Lovely girl, isn’t she?”

“She goes to Hogwarts, Grandfather. Of course, I know her.”

Once his grandfather said your name, Theo could place you in his year, your house, the classes you’ve shared over the years. He hadn’t spoken to you much, only when he had to. He isn’t sure how his grandfather knows he spent practically all day with you. Maybe one of the other residents of the town is a gossip.

“Well, I wasn’t sure if you were friends. I’ve never heard her talk about you.”

“How much time do you spend with her?” Theo asked.

“Oh, not too much. She does some mending for me and some others, and she tells stories about Hogwarts to the littler ones when she works. Sometimes I listen for a little bit after dropping off or picking up my things. She’s never mentioned you.”

“Well, I do know her. We’re just not close.”

“Maybe that will change.”

“Maybe.”

Theo’s grandfather considered telling him that you are like his mother. For now, that would be something he kept to himself. A little reminder of her lived on in you. He’d tell Theo about it if he got to know you better.

---

Theo waited for you at the end of the pathway of his grandfather’s house. He assumed you would walk by again. If not, he probably would have stood there all day, casually leaning against the stone wall. When you passed him, you didn’t greet him. You didn’t even acknowledge him. But he still pushed himself off the wall and quickly matched your stride.

“Reading again today?” he asked as you sat down at the same table as yesterday.

You placed your bag on the table and pulled out some clothing that you were working on mending.

“I see, telling stories instead,” he said with a smirk. “Entertain me.”

“I tell stories to children,” you clarified as you quickly got to work. “You aren’t a child.”

“I can act like one if it gets me a story.”

“Once upon a time, there was a new person in my town and he decided to follow me around like a sentient shadow. His reasoning for doing so is unknown. The end,” you said dryly, not looking up from your work.

“A sentient shadow?”

“Mine doesn’t talk to me. Does yours?”

He shrugged, which you were just able to see in your peripheral vision. Your lips twitched as you stifled a laugh. Theo saw it. You kept working. He watched you for a while, admiring how your fingers pushed the needle and thread through pants and shirts and a stuffed animal. Eventually, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. He held the pack out to you.

“Want one?”

“No,” you said flatly. “And I’d rather you didn’t around me.”

“Alright.”

Theo stood up and walked away from you. You didn’t think he’d actually listen. He stood at a distance until he finished his lit cigarette. Once it was finished, he came back to the table, but he didn’t sit down.

“You’ll show me around sometime, Dolcezza?” Although his voice said it as a question, it felt like a statement. A prediction, even.

He stood at the end of the table, waiting for a response. He could wait. Your hands stopped, setting down your needle.

“If you wait, I can. These won’t take all day.”

He nodded before laying down on the bench like he had done yesterday. You got back to work. Your thoughts drifted to every time you interacted with Theo at school. They were all brief interactions. The occasional partnered spellwork. Him asking you to pass some ingredients in Potions. You saying ‘excuse me’ as you moved past him in the library. It really was strange to be spending time with him. But he stuck around until you finished what you needed to.

“Ready?” you asked, standing up and slinging your bag over your shoulder.

He was silent as he got up. You started down the main street with him at your side. You pointed out each building and who ran the shop.

“You’ll learn their names soon enough. Only so many people live here.”

Then you started around the neighborhood. You listed off the names of who lived in each house, making sure to note the Watson house in case Theo decided that he did want to spend his summer with Parker rather than you. Every few houses, you told him to wait in the street while you dropped off what you had mended. Everyone looked past you at Theo. Word of his arrival hadn’t fully made its rounds through the town.

“Is that your boyfriend?” an older lady, Mrs. Thomas, asked.

“No. Mr. Faust’s grandson is living with him this summer.”

“Shame… He’s a handsome one.”

You gave her a tight-lipped smile and wished her a good afternoon. You knew she was watching you as you walked back to Theo. She would more definitely be spreading the rumor that you were dating him, being the gossip that she was.

The next day Theo was waiting for you again at the end of his grandfather’s property.

“What’s the plan for today, Dolcezza?” he asked.

You weren’t headed in the direction of the park, rather you were walking out of the town’s perimeter. Theo wasn’t complaining. He was looking forward to doing something new.

“If you’re following me around again, you’ll have to wait and see.”

He nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets. You walked in silence on the path that would eventually take you to the next town. Your town wasn’t even out of sight when you turned off the designated path and onto one that appeared to be made from being walked on so many times. Theo hesitated slightly before following you. You moved quicker on this trail. It wasn’t on purpose; it was simply a habit. You were the one who made the trail so you knew every step and every turn like the back of your hand. And you knew it would lead to a clearing.

You had planted some flowers around the edge of the clearing, and by their own pollination, they expanded inward. You sat down against a large tree and sighed. This was your spot. You had debated telling Theo to not follow you today, but he had been tolerable enough the last two days. It was really to get away from the people in town when you needed a break. You didn’t see him as someone from town. Plus, he would probably need this space as well as the summer went on. You were being thoughtful.

You didn’t bring anything to do. You were going to sit and do nothing. That’s usually what you did out here. All you needed was fresh air and your imagination to keep you entertained. And sometimes you fell asleep. It was connecting with nature.

Theo brought a book with him, because he was expecting to end up at the park again. He stood at the edge of the clearing, taking it in, as you sat down. He didn’t enter it right away. He seemed to sense that this place was special to you. When he did sit down, he leaned against a tree on the other side of the clearing, giving you your space.

He read for a while. You watched him for a while. You had to agree with Mrs. Thomas, he was handsome. But he was also friends with Malfoy and all of his friends. They weren’t people you normally associated with. Theo himself didn’t seem too bad. Maybe he was okay. At least he could be okay for the summer and you could go back to not talking to each other when the school year started.

After a while, you assumed when he finished a chapter or two, Theo put down his book and took something out of his pocket. It was too small to be his wand. He flicked his wrist and a shiny, silver blade appeared. Your eyes widened with the sudden fear that maybe you had led him to a secluded area and now he could kill you and no one would ever know. Then he flicked his wrist the other direction, and the blade disappeared. He did this a few times before he reached for a small branch. He started one of the ends into a point. Once one end was sufficiently sharpened, he flipped it and did the same to the other side. When that was done, he stabbed the ground next to his leg. And he reached for another stick.

You watched him do this a few more times before you laid down and stared up at the branches high above you with their green leaves. His repetitive scraping was oddly soothing. You didn’t realize you had fallen asleep until Theo was prodding your shoulder.

“It’s about dinner time. I don’t know how to get back.”

You sat up and stretched. “Yeah. Right. Just give me one sec.”

He backed up, giving you space to get up and gather yourself. It wasn’t like you had brought anything with you. You walked in silence back to town. Theo hesitated before heading down the path to his grandfather’s.

“I like that place. Thanks, Dolcezza,” he said monotonously. He nodded and then walked toward the door.

You waited until he was inside. You hadn’t expected that. You and Theo, despite having spent three days together now, didn’t talk. But the sentiment behind those five words left a warm feeling in your chest. You thought it was possibly the beginning of friendship.

“Where’d you take Faust’s grandson today?” your mother asked as you entered your house.

She stood in the doorway of the kitchen, watching you kick off your shoes.

“Nowhere,” you lied.

She chuckled. “Was he who you were talking to the other day?”

“Yes.”

“I see… I hear he’s handsome.”

“Can we not talk about Theodore?”

“Is that his name? Mrs. Thomas didn’t know.”

“What’s for dinner?” You tried to change the topic and your mother smiled knowingly.

You were avoiding. You didn’t want to talk about it so why wouldn’t you? You knew that you’d be dodging her questions all through dinner anyways, and probably the rest of the week. And if Theo kept following you around, it would be all summer.

The next few days, you stayed around town. You couldn’t shake Theo. Wherever you went, he went, except for your house. You didn’t let him in. If you had to go back to your house during the day, he wanted on the front porch until you came out again. He watched you do more mending. He read when you read. You actually started working on your summer assignments. He had muttered something about doing the assignments the week before school. Then he laid down on the bench and fell asleep. A few times you went back to the clearing and Theo added more sticks to his collection.

Throughout all of this, you started talking more and more. You were actually getting to know him. He was still pretty quiet though, letting you talk. But if you asked him a question, he answered, although his answers were consistently shorter than yours.

During July, your mother asked if you could get some fish. You said you’d try. You grabbed your pole and went out. Like always, Theo was waiting for you outside his grandfather’s. He eyed your pole warily but didn’t say anything. You walked out of town side by side. He gave you a confused look when you didn’t turn off on the trail to the clearing. You kept walking. If he wasn’t going to ask, you weren’t going to tell him.

After a little bit, you turned down another trail. This one was even less worn than the clearing. You didn’t have as much speed on this one and Theo was able to keep right behind you. He let out a ‘huh’ when you came upon a pond. It was tiny compared to the Black Lake, but it was big enough to have fish. There wasn’t a dock or anything so you stood on the edge of the grass to fish.

Theo stood off to the side as you cast your line into the water. He had a strange look in his eyes that you can’t quite place as he watched you. You realize it’s some kind of mix of wonder and amazement once you reel in a fish. If anyone asked, you’d say the fish in the pond were dumb. They were easy to catch.

“Can you teach me?” he asked all of a sudden.

You jumped, having been standing in silence for over an hour. You looked over your shoulder at him.

“You’ve never fished before?”

He shook his head. You sighed and motioned for him to come closer. You explained the button that allowed the line to slack and how to flick the rod so that the hook and lure went flying.

“Some people use live bait, but my lure has done me good so far. And after you cast, you spin this handle to reel it back in. The lure mimics a smaller fish swimming. And if you feel a bite, you jerk the rod to catch the hook in the fish’s mouth.” You paused and held out your rod for Theo. “Give it a try.”

He exhaled through his nose as he took it. “Swish and flick, right, Dolcezza? Just like what Flitwick taught us.”

You laughed. Theo smiled at that and then he attempted to cast. It didn’t go nearly as far as when you did it.

“That’s okay. It takes practice. … You’ll want to go a little faster than that. The fish is swimming, not lollygagging.”

“Right…”

“And it’s all in the wrist,” you said when he was about to cast again.

This cast was better than the first, but it still needed work. For a first time fisherman, Theo wasn’t doing too horribly, but you knew all the fish you’d be bringing home would be yours unless Theo got a stroke of luck. You stepped back to observe him. He looked happy, peaceful. There was a lightness to his features that you hadn’t seen at Hogwarts.

After a decent amount of casting and a few bites from fish that got away, Theo gave you your rod back. You fished until you had enough to bring home to your mother. You hung them up on a tree, leaned your rod against the same tree and took your shoes off to wade in the water. Theo watched you in silence.

“It feels nice,” you called to him. “If you want to…”

He slid his shoes off and tentatively walked into the water, wincing slightly at the coldness and squishy feeling beneath his feet.

“No ponds on the Nott property?” you asked as he walked toward you.

“No.” He took a startled step to the left. “What the fuck touched my leg?”

You laughed at his expression. “Either a fish or seaweed. You know, algae and underwater plants.”

“Gross.”

“You know what’s gross?” You leaned down and slashed water at his face. “Tasting this water.”

He swore again before splashing you back. You were both thoroughly soaked by the time you were done splashing each other. He had turned his back to you to head back to shore when you gave his back a gentle shove. It took him by surprise. He stumbled. It happened in slow motion: him somehow turning around, grabbing you and pulling you down into the fall as he completely lost his balance. You practically landed on top of him. You could feel your face burning as you rolled away from him in the shallow water.

“That was evil,” you said, earning a laugh from Theo.

“Says the girl who pushed me.”

“Touché.”

Once out of the water, you put your shoes back down. You grabbed the fish and your pole, but then Theo reached for the fish to take them from you.

“I know I didn’t catch any, but I can carry them. You got the rod.”

You let him take them. The walk back to town is quiet but comfortable. You occasionally look at him through your periphery. He appeared to be so content with whatever this friendship was, even if it had led to him walking a distance in drenched clothing. You’d be lying if you said your clothing was comfortable right now.

He walked with you the entire way back to your house. He stood on the porch as you put away your rod and then he held out the fish when you came back to get them.

“You can-” The words couldn’t come out of your mouth fast enough.

“Is this Theodore Faust?” your mother asked, appearing behind you. Your face burned more than it had when you fell on him earlier.

“Nott, ma’am,” he corrected her.

“How lovely to meet you,” she said with a smile. “Oh, you went fishing too? Would you like to have dinner with us? We’ll be cooking some of those up.”

Could your face turn any redder?

To your relief, Theo shook his head. “I’d love to, but I should be getting back to Grandfather. I appreciate the offer, ma’am.”

“Another time, then. I’ll invite your grandfather as well.”

You offered Theo a pained smile, which he returned as he handed you the fish. You knew that your mother was going to talk about this all through the evening and possibly the week.

“Mrs. Thomas was not doing that young man justice,” your mother murmured as she turned back into the house.

You rotated what you did over the next few days. Going to the clearing, sitting in the park, just going for walks, working on homework. And whatever you did, Theo did too. You told yourself that he just didn’t want to be alone, whether that was his choice or if his grandfather was forcing him to leave the house. You wouldn’t’ve been surprised if it was the latter. Still, he seemed to be enjoying your company at least. He wasn’t complaining.

“Can we do fish tonight?” your mother asked.

You nodded as you drank your morning tea.

“If that Theodore is going with you, bring your father’s rod. I’m sure Mr. Faust wouldn’t mind some.”

You nodded again. Your father hadn’t used his rod in years. You grabbed it and headed toward Mr. Faust’s house, where Theo was waiting. He tilted his head slightly when he saw the second rod, but his face lit up when you handed it to him.

“Don’t break it,” you warned, despite knowing that Theo wouldn’t do that on purpose. But for good measure, you added, “It’s my father’s. I don’t think he’d forgive me if I only came back with one rod.”

“Two rods leave, two rods will come back,” Theo said solemnly.

There was a spring in Theo’s step as you headed for the pond. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited he was. He really took a liking to fishing. A wide grin took over his face as he cast his line into the pond next to you. You didn’t talk much. You just cast, reeled, recast, reeled, removed a fish, and repeat. It was a comfortable quiet, only broken by the occasional comment.

When you were done fishing, you didn’t go back into town right away. You turned down the trail to your clearing. You leaned your rod against a tree and hung up the fish; Theo leaned his rod up against yours. You went to sit down where you usually sat. You expected Theo to sit by his ever-growing stick spikes, but that’s not where he sat. He sat right by your side, close enough that your shoulders were touching.

After a few minutes of peaceful silence, you said, “You’re not too bad, Theodore.”

He hummed. “You expected I would be?”

“Take a look at your friends. They’d hate living here.”

“I think Draco’d combust,” he said with a snorted laugh.

“But you seem to be doing alright.”

“Thanks to you.”

It’s quieter. It hung in the air between you. You don’t know what to do with that.

“You’re welcome.” There was silence. “You like fishing, huh?”

“It’s… nice.”

And that was it. Short answers were Theo’s forte.

July came to an end. Despite what your mother said, Theo and his grandfather had yet to come over for dinner. You figured it would’ve been an awkward night if it had happened. You weren’t complaining that it wasn’t looking like it was going to happen.

But you kept spending time with Theo. It got to the point where you would say you were friends. You were accustomed to his presence. Your sentient shadow really wasn’t as bad as you had expected, especially with the conversations you had in the clearing. During one of your days out there, he said that you could call him Theo if you wanted to.

“It’s what my friends call me,” he said as he stared up at the sky. You were both lying on your backs. “Well, except Draco. He’s a surname kind of bloke.”

“Theo…” you said, trying it out. “No offense but it’s weird. I mean, you’re Theodore Nott. Not Theo Nott.”

“I said if you wanted to. You don’t have to.” The words had a bit of bite to them. It felt like he wanted you to call him Theo, like that confirmed that you were friends and he wanted that.

“We are friends. I just don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about it. Really.”

More days passed. More sitting in the park. More walking around the corner shop and through the other shops. More mending. A few more fishing trips. And more afternoons in the clearing.

You were both leaning against your usual tree. Theo had started sitting closer and closer to you each time you did this. His collection of spikes had stopped growing, with a few even falling over after a storm. He didn’t bother standing them back up.

You sighed.

“This is all going to change when we go back to school, isn’t it?” you asked quietly as you stared up at the leaves from the trees across from you.

“Hm?”

“Whatever this… friendship is. It’s going to change once we’re back at Hogwarts. You know, when you’re back with Malfoy, Parkinson, Berkshire, Zabini.”

Silence fell between you. It was thick with something. You couldn’t put your finger on it. Theo was thinking about what you said; he didn’t necessarily want it to change. He had decided that he liked you. Whatever this was between you two, it was nice.

“Do you want it to?” he asked slowly, his voice low like he didn’t want the trees to overhear his question.

“I mean, I like this Theo. He’s nice to be around. Funny. Good company.”

Theo sat up a little straighter. You called him Theo. You noticed his adjustment and what you said. You could feel heat beginning to creep up your neck, which only got worse as he looked at you. You didn’t meet his eye, not knowing that if you had, you’ve been met with a soft look.

He took a deep breath. Slytherin ambition, right? He got what he wanted, and you were what he wanted. He reached over, gently using your chin to turn your head. He leaned in and pressed his lips on yours. You froze. You wanted to gasp, maybe pull away in surprise, but you were completely frozen.

When he pulled away, he whispered, “I would like it to change, but not in the way you’re implying.”

“Oh,” you breathed. It’s all you could do.

Theodore Nott had just kissed you. In your clearing. Someone, who before this summer, you never would’ve imagined being in your clearing. Someone, who before this summer, you never would’ve imagined kissing, let alone not hating it.

“So… erm, what do you say?” he asked after you hadn’t said anything more, nor had you moved.

“Um, one sec…” You leaned in and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Soft. Sweet. Gentle. His hand moved to hold your cheek until you pulled back.

“I think I’d like that.”

You and Theo wore matching smiles. You were going to have a lot of explaining to do when you got to school.

tags: @navs-bhat

281 notes · View notes

cleocat246 · 1 month ago

Text

Six Times You and Bakugou Couldn't Escape Each Other (and One Time You Really Couldn't) #katsuki bakugou x fem!reader Every year, without fail, your families book at the same resort at the same time—for six years straight. And every year, like clockwork, you and Bakugou Katsuki somehow manage to ruin each other’s vacation.

Year one

“Sweetheart, slow down!” your father called out behind you as you bolted down the hallway, suitcase wheels clattering noisily behind you. You could hardly contain your excitement for the week ahead. Your parents had promised a stay at a luxurious five-star resort—complete with museums, slides, swimming pools, nature for sight seeing and more. To your ten-year-old mind, it sounded like paradise.

You fumbled eagerly with the hotel room keycard your mother handed you earlier, finally managing to swipe it through the door scanner. With a satisfying click, the door opened, and you stepped inside—eyes widening in awe.

The room was huge. The soft scent of linen and the faint hum of air conditioning greeted you as you took in the two queen-sized beds. One was obviously meant for you, and the other is for your parents, though everyone knew you'd end up sleeping with them anyway. Still, your parents had asked for an extra bed, hoping to make you feel a little more independent.

“Mama! There’s a huge balcony!” you squealed, climbing up on a nearby chair to peek out at the view.

“Be careful, my dear,” your mother warned gently as she came over and scooped you into her arms, holding you securely so you could see better. The sun bathed the surrounding trees in golden light, and below, the pool sparkled like a jewel.

“Dear look, we have a neighbor,” she murmured, pointing to the balcony beside yours.

Later, you busied yourself by placing Mr. Strawberry—your beloved stuffed bear—on the bed near the large window. You carefully unpacked his accessories from your bag: a pair of sunglasses, a pink dress (because Mr. Strawberry didn’t care about colors), and a plastic toy ice cream cone.

“What else did I bring?” you muttered, burying your head into the small backpack to make sure you hadn’t missed anything.

When you finally pulled your head out, you froze.

Standing in front of you, gripping Mr. Strawberry by the neck with a suspicious glare, was a blond boy around your age. His red eyes were narrowed into a deadly squint, locked onto you like laser. You blinked. He blinked back—menacingly.

“Can you give him back to me?” you asked, arms stretched out, trying to sound calm despite the twitch in your eye. “No,” the blond menace replied, with all the audacity in the world.

You took a deep breath. Maybe he didn’t hear you right. “Please give me back.” He looked you dead in the eyes, held the bear tighter, and said, “No. Again.”

Without thinking, you launched yourself forward, diving to rescue Mr. Strawberry from the clutches of the foul beast.

“What are you doing?!” you screeched, tugging at your bear’s paw.

“Why are you in our room?!” he snapped, yanking back.

“This is our room, you jerk!”

“You’re the jerk!”

Kid logic took over, and the war began.

"You murderer!" you cried, grabbing a fistful of his spiky hair and yanking it like your life depended on it.

"OW! You psycho!" he bellowed, still holding Mr. Strawberry hostage.

That was the moment your parents burst out of the bathroom, faces frozen in horror. There you were, their sweet little child, with a death grip on some blonde boy’s hair, while he clutched your teddy bear like it was a hostage negotiation gone wrong.

“KATSUKI! We haven’t even checked into the room and you're already causing trouble!” a voice shouted from the doorway.

All eyes turned to the new arrival—a wild-eyed blonde woman, her fiery stare nearly identical to the boy’s. She stormed over, grabbed the boy—Katsuki—by the collar, yanked the bear from his arms, and gently handed it back to you with a tight, apologetic smile.

“I’m very sorry,” she said with a deep, frantic bow, still hugging her son tightly as he kicked and protested in her grip. “I hope my son didn’t hurt your daughter.”

“Why are you apologizing?! That brat started it!” Bakugou barked, twisting in her arms.

“What brat!?” you snapped, hugging Mr. Strawberry tightly to your chest as you locked eyes with the demon child in a full-on death glare challenge.

“We’re also sorry. I hope our daughter didn’t hurt your son,” your parents added politely, bowing back.

You turned toward them with a look of sheer betrayal.

“What?! He started it! He wanted Mr. Strawberry to die! He was gripping him by the neck!” you defended with the sincerity of someone reporting a serious crime.

“Hah! That’s a stupid name for a teddy bear,” Bakugou muttered, sticking out his tongue and pulling a face.

His mother quickly slapped her hand over his mouth and hissed, “Shut it.”

Your father knelt down in front of you, his expression calm and soft. “Sweetheart, I know how protective you are of Mr. Strawberry, but you could have really hurt him. I don’t think Mr. Strawberry would’ve wanted that.”

That made you pause. You looked down at Mr. Strawberry, then up at the boy who had just been silenced by his mother. His mouth was finally free, and he looked like he had more dumb things to say.

“If he apologizes for hurting Mr. Strawberry,” you said solemnly, “then I’ll apologize too.”

“Hah! As if I will—!”

“Katsuki.” His mother’s tone was deadly.

“...Fine! Sorry!” he spat.

You gave a slow, dramatic nod. “Fine. Sorry too.”

And thus, a truce was declared.

“Again, my deepest apologies,” the woman said, rubbing her temple with a sigh. “The receptionist gave us the wrong keys”

She turned to your parents, offering a strained smile. “I’m Mitsuki Bakugou, by the way.” She reached out to shake their hands with her right hand while still trying to wrangle the wild animal with the other.

She finally set him down when a man’s voice called out from behind her.

“Honey, I finally got the keys!”

A man with slightly tousled brownish hair stepped into view, holding up a new keycard triumphantly. The demon child—aka Katsuki Bakugou—immediately ran over and latched onto the man’s leg like a clingy goblin.

Mitsuki grabbed the card from his hand as he introduced himself as the husband and father. You blinked. This gentle, quiet-looking man was the father of that tiny demon? You couldn’t quite figure out how that made sense. But then again, his mother was currently throwing daggers with her eyes at her own son. Maybe chaos just ran in the bloodline.

“Looks like we’re next to each other,” she said with a small smile, glancing between your families.

That statement made both you and Katsuki whip your heads around to glare at each other.

This vacation was doomed.

Year two

“I’m so excited!” you muttered to yourself, practically bouncing on your heels. Today was the day—you were finally going to ride the big slide. The one that twisted around the resort’s water park. It was so cool, you had to climb three flights of stairs before you even began.

You hurried up the stairs, clutching the wet rail, already picturing yourself screaming with joy on the way down. But just as you reached the second floor, an aggravatingly familiar voice echoed behind you.

“I’m faster than you, idiot!”

That kid. The one from last year. Bakugou Katsuki, aka the bane of your last year vacation’s existence, was charging up the stairs like his life depended on it.

Was it stupid to race up three flights of slippery stairs, where one wrong step could lead to a full-on cartoon-style head trauma? Absolutely.

Did that stop you?

Not a chance. He ruined your vacation last year (both of you had spent the entire week glaring at each other across hallways, pool chairs, and buffet lines until the day you left).

You took off after him, determined not to let the blond gremlin beat you. The two of you reached the top at the same time, immediately breaking into a loud argument over who touched the top step first.

“I clearly beat you!”

“No way, I saw your foot slip, loser!”

The poor lifeguard attendant looked at you both with all the exhaustion of someone who did not get paid enough for this. After one long glance, she pointed toward the exit.

“You’re both too little for the slide.”

You stared in horror. Bakugou’s face contorted with the rage of a thousand suns.

“What?! That’s stupid! I can ride it! Height doesn’t even matter! I’m ready! I’ve got reflexes and everything!”

The worker sighed, looking you both over with an exhausted expression. “Kid,” she said, pointing directly at Bakugou, “you’re standing on your tiptoes right now.”

Bakugou shot her a death glare, but she didn't flinch.

“And,” she continued, barely hiding the exhaustion in her voice, “you need to be fifteen years old to slide down”

“I’m fifteen!” you insist, trying to convince the lifeguard. You widen your eyes, putting on your best puppy-dog look. Well it doesn’t work because both of you ended up sulking at the bottom of the slide five minutes later—soaked, grumpy, and somehow even more determined to ruin each other’s day.

“This is your fault!” Bakugou snapped, crossing his arms and practically vibrating with rage.

“Huh?! Be grateful we didn’t end up banned from the slide because of your ego! Demon child!” you shot back, pointing at him like he was the cause of global warming.

Bakugou, clearly offended. “What did you just call me?!” He lets out a loud tch and sparks begin crackling from his palms—tiny bursts of frustration lighting up like firecrackers.

And of course, not to be outdone, you activated your own quirk—just enough to make your point.

“Kids,” the lifeguard said, suddenly appearing between you like a divine referee, placing a hand on each of your shoulders. “Please don’t use your quirks. There are children running around. And frankly, you’re the loudest ones here.”

You both instantly looked away, muttering complaints under your breath. But the battle was far from over.

Year three

You tried not to be paranoid—really, you did. This was supposed to be a good week. You were at your favorite resort, the sun was shining, and everything should’ve been perfect.

Should’ve.

But how could you truly enjoy it when a certain gremlin with anger issues kept popping up every year to ruin your peace?

Not this time, you told yourself. This year, you were going to have a good time. No explosions. No arguments. No Katsuki Bakugou.

That’s why you begged your mother to sign up for the museum tour being held on the other side of the resort. A quiet, educational day. Some mother-daughter bonding. And besides, the odds are in your favor. Day three of your trip and you still haven’t seen him.

“My dear, are you okay?” your mother asked, noticing the way your head kept whipping side to side.

You were scanning the crowd like a wartime soldier, just to be sure there were no signs of blond chaos. You hated to admit it, but every time you spotted someone with spiky blond hair, your soul briefly left your body and rage came in.

Even back home in the United States, you found yourself flinching at the sight of blond, spiky hair in public. He lived in Japan, for crying out loud.

And yet, every time you spotted someone who even remotely resembled him, your fight-or-flight kicked in like clockwork.

“And this,” the tour guide said cheerfully, pointing to a glass display, “is a fossil discovered along the shores of this very resort!”

You leaned in, relaxing just a bit—until the guide looked past the crowd and said:

“Oh! You must be Ms. Bakugou! Please, please, join the tour. You’re not late.”

No.

No, no, no.

Why.

You turned slowly, clinging to your last sliver of hope that maybe it was just his mom. Maybe she came alone this year. Maybe the universe had some mercy.

But no. Because right there, next to her, stood him. And of course, he was already looking directly at you like he knew this would happen.

You whipped your head back around.

Don’t look again. Don’t look again. Don’t—

You looked again.

And he smirked.

He only muttered two words.

“Mr. Strawberry”

That was it. Just two words.

Oh, you were going to go berserk on a 12-year-old.

Year four

If you asked Bakugou if he loved the beach, he’d tell you he hated it more than losing a fight—because at least that, he could control. He could train harder, fight smarter, blast his way to a win. But the beach? The beach had sand that was somehow always stuck in his shoes, sunburn on his neck, and screaming kids with no sense of personal space.

He’d take a sparring match over this hell they called the beach any day.

And yet, every summer, without fail, his parents dragged him back to the same resort.

He'd complain, scowl, and threaten to blow up the welcome banner—again. But deep down? There was something about this place that kept him from actually going nuclear.

Something he refused to admit even existed.

And right now, that something was in front of him, on the balcony beside his own. Glaring while holding that ridiculous plushie with the equally ridiculous name Mr. Strawberry. It’s so absurd, so laughable, that Bakugou could hardly hold back a snort every time he thought about it. He’d even catch himself smirking in class sometimes, thinking about how seriously you’d defend that stupid bear.

“I guess satan couldn’t reach me so he sent you,” You remarked with a mocking grin, your eyes gleaming with mischief.

Bakugou stared at you blankly, his expression the epitome of unamused. “What did you just say?”

You turned to leave, done with his obnoxious presence. But before you could take a step away, Bakugou's eyes flicked over to the water gun resting on the railing beside him. His gaze narrowed, and a dangerous smirk played on his lips.

“Oh, you think you can walk away without paying for that?” he muttered to himself, his fingers tightening around the handle of the water gun. With one swift motion, he aimed it directly at you.

The cold blast of water hits you square in the back, instantly drenching your pajama and sending a chill through your spine.

You whipped around, face flushed with irritation. “What the hell, Bakugou?!”

He was grinning now, pure smugness plastered across his face. “Satan said you needed a bath.”

You looked at him, seething with frustration, your hand already reaching for something you could use in return. And then it clicked. His stupid mistake.

You grabbed the water gun sitting by your side, fully aware that a little bit of payback was in order. You aimed it at him, squeezing the trigger with satisfaction as the cold stream of water hit his chest.

“Guess you needed one too,” you shot back, a smirk forming on your face now.

Bakugou's eyes flared with irritation, and for a moment, it seemed like he might retaliate with a blast of his quirk. But there was something about the way the water gun had soaked him that made him pause, a little part of him enjoying this.

Damn it. He cursed silently, but deep down, he knew that this—whatever this is—had become a weird part of his vacation routine.

And that’s when it hit him: The universe must really hate him. For the past four years, he’d been stuck in the same resort, rooming next to you year after year. Always just a balcony away. Always.

It was like the universe wanted him to deal with you. And Mr. Strawberry.

And for a moment, the stupid thought flickered in his mind: This summer wouldn’t feel right without it.

“Tch, whatever," Bakugou grumbled, wiping his face with his hand. "This is so stupid."

Year five

“Mom, you know I hate hiking, right?” you groaned as you trudged behind your parents up the hill.

“Dear, I thought you wanted to be a pro-hero?” your mother chirped back. “You need stamina training! And fresh air!”

“Lots of fresh air,” your dad added, already taking a dramatic picture of the tree line like it was the cover of a nature documentary. “This resort just keeps getting better. Look at this view! Million-dollar scenery!”

You did admit—it was beautiful. Rolling green hills, birds chirping, a breeze cool enough to keep your sweat from sticking. Still.

“Great, can we go back now?” you asked, eyes hopeful. Desperate.

Your mother shot you a look. “That’s a terrible mindset, young lady.”

And then—because the universe is an evil, evil thing—a familiar voice spoke up behind you.

“I see you’ve finally taken a liking to hiking, huh?”

You didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. Masaru Bakugou. Which could only mean…

“Of course,” you muttered under your breath. Why not ruin the day completely.

Sure enough, stomping beside his parents, wearing a scowl that could peel bark off a tree, was none other than him. Bakugou Katsuki. He grew around a few inches in height since last year but still the same temper, same explosive aura of annoyance. But this time… he locked eyes with you and groaned like it physically hurt.

“Oh, come on,” he hissed.

Well, at least you could agree on one thing: neither of you wanted to be here.

“How about we all hike up there?” Mitsuki grinned, already locking arms with your mother like they had been best friends since forever.

“Sure!” your mom beamed, and just like that, both sets of parents began their cheerful ascent, chatting like this hike wasn’t a death sentence.

You and Bakugou trailed behind at a very safe distance from each other—until, of course, that peace was destroyed.

“That’s a robin,” you said, pointing to a small bird on a branch.

“No, it’s not. That’s a sparrow, dumbass.”

You stopped in your tracks, horrified. “Excuse me? Sparrows don’t have red chests. It’s a robin.”

“Tch. As if you know anything about birds. You think everything small and fluffy is a robin.”

“Well at least I know what a robin looks like! I did a birdwatching project in 3rd grade!”

“Yeah? Must’ve failed it.”

You were both now full-on bickering, flailing your arms and pointing at birds, while the rest of the group climbed steadily ahead. Neither of you noticed that in the middle of your feathery fight, you'd veered off the main trail.

“I hope that robin poops on your head,” you snapped.

“I hope it’s a hawk and it carries you off,” he shot back.

By the time you both paused for air, the trail was gone… and so were your parents.

“We’re not that far off the trail… right?” you asked, trying—really trying—not to sound as nervous as you felt. The trees looked taller now. The shadows, longer. Even the birds were quiet.

Bakugou glanced up at the sky. “The sun’s about to set.”

You followed his gaze and swallowed. The golden light was fading fast, dipping low behind the mountains. Your stomach twisted.

There was something in his eyes—not panic exactly, but awareness. A shift in the air. Seriousness that Bakugou never had when he was arguing with you. That made your chest tighten.

“…So, we’re just a little lost,” you tried again.

He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he looked around, jaw tight. “We’ll find the trail. Just stop freaking out.”

“I’m not freaking out,” you snapped.

You were definitely freaking out.

Bakugou exhaled sharply, adjusting the backpack slung over one shoulder. “Come on. Just stick close.”

“…You’re not gonna leave me if we get chased by a bear, right?”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable for a second. Then he muttered, “Only if you slow me down.”

But you caught it—the faintest smirk. And weirdly, you felt just a little less lost.

It’s been what—minutes? Hours? Days? Years? You don’t know. What you do know is you both still haven’t found the trail.

“Eat,” Bakugou said, tossing a granola bar your way. “You need energy.”

You unwrapped the bar slowly, staring at it as if it might somehow give you the answers you were desperately searching for. “I’m sorry,” you said in a defeated voice, your words barely above a whisper as you took a small bite.

Bakugou didn’t look up, focused on his own bar. “For what?”

“If I didn’t argue with you, we probably wouldn’t be here... lost,” you mumbled, the guilt in your chest gnawing at you.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked to you briefly before returning to the ground in front of him. “Don’t be stupid. It takes two people to end up in a heated argument. Don’t take the blame.”

“Wow, so mature, Bakugou,” you replied, chuckling.

Bakugou exhaled sharply, but there was the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Okay, I take it back. It’s your fault.”

You laughed, but before you could reply, Bakugou added, almost as an afterthought, “Next time, don’t follow idiots into the woods. Especially if the idiot’s me.”

And for some reason... that sounded a lot like, “I’m glad you were with me.”

Then you both hear it—the unmistakable sound of voices, distant at first, but growing louder with every passing second. Your heart jumps into your throat as you realize it’s bakugou’s and your parents calling your names.

You finally see them—your parents, rushing toward you through the trees. The sight of them, the sound of their voices. As soon as they reach you, they envelop you in a tight, desperate hug. You can feel their tears soaking into your shirt, but you don’t mind. You cling to them just as tightly, your own tears falling freely.

“Oh my god, we were so scared!” your mother sobs, not letting go, her arms shaking around you.

“Never do that again, sweetheart,” your father chokes out, voice thick with emotion.

But despite the comfort of your parents’ embrace, your eyes instinctively dart to the side. You catch a glimpse of the Bakugou, standing just off to the side. His parents are also hugging him tightly, but it’s Bakugou you’re watching. He’s looking at you, his face unreadable, but his eyes... his eyes are focused solely on you.

Year Six

This was stupid.

Bakugou wasn’t a wimp. He wasn’t some crybaby extra scared of a dumb water slide. He was fifteen years old, damn it. A certified teenager. Practically a man.

He’d been waiting for this. Every summer, he’d glare at the height requirement sign, fists clenched, promising next year would be his year. And now it was. He finally hit the mark. He could go on the biggest, fastest, craziest ride in the whole resort.

So why did it suddenly look... bigger than he remembered?

Bakugou stared at the dark tunnel of the slide. You couldn’t see what was inside. Couldn’t see where the turns were, or how steep the drops got. All you could hear was the echo of rushing water—and the occasional shriek of someone halfway down.

It bugged him more than he wanted to admit.

Because he liked knowing what was coming. He liked control. Strategy. Knowing where to aim, how to move, what to blast. But this? This was just blind falling.

His feet didn’t move.

“You coming or what?”

Of course you were here.

Why didn’t he think of that?

Of course the universe would punish him further by making you the one to witness him scream like a toddler over a dumb slide.

“You scared of a little splash?” you asked with a grin, arms crossed as you stood by the stairs.

“Shut up,” he snapped automatically.

But you noticed it—the way he hesitated, his fists clenched a little tighter than usual. Yeah. He was scared.

Six years of knowing Bakugou—well, “knowing” was a strong word. You only saw him every summer, and most of those memories involved glaring matches, passive-aggressive sabotage, and possibly a near-death pool float incident. Still, you knew enough to read the signs.

“How about I go first?” you offered, stretching your arms like this was some kind of heroic sacrifice. “If I survive, then you’re definitely gonna survive too.”

“Tch. Why the hell would that mean anything?”

“Because I’m better than you,” you said, stepping beside him. “So if I make it out alive, there’s hope for you.”

He rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything.

You looked at the slide—tall, winding, dark. Then back at him. And for once, you didn’t tease. You didn’t joke. You just said quietly, “It’s not as scary as it looks. You just gotta trust the ride. Trust yourself.”

Then you pushed off, disappearing into the tunnel with a splash and a laugh that echoed after you.

Bakugou stood there, blinking.

He could hear your scream echoing through the slide tunnel—a mix of thrill and victory—and not two minutes later, he spotted your small figure from below. You were dripping wet, grinning up at him like you just conquered the world. Then you threw him the biggest thumbs-up he’d ever seen.

And something about that—your smile, your faith in him, the way you waited—did something weird to his chest. Tight, warm, unfamiliar.

He gritted his teeth, steeling himself. Alright. He could do this.

He stepped up to the edge, heart pounding. This is stupid, he reminded himself one last time. Then, he closed his eyes and took a long breath. When he opened them again, he dove forward.

Instantly, he was swallowed by speed. Flashes of color streaked past, water rushing around him, tugging him down, spinning him through twists and turns. But instead of panic—he felt it.

Freedom.

He was flying, gliding, laughing without meaning to. And for once, he wasn't thinking about winning or training or looking tough.

He was just having fun.

By the time he shot out of the slide with a splash, blinking water from his eyes, he saw you waiting with crossed arms and a smug look.

“You survived,” you said.

He snorted, pushing his wet hair back. “Told you I wasn’t scared.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

But the smile you gave him? That was real. And this time, he didn’t look away.

“Do you want to go down the slide again?” you asked, eyes still sparkling from the adrenaline.

Bakugou glanced at the sky, then toward the resort. “We need to go. Check-out’s at eleven.”

“Oh.” You muttered, trying to hide your disappointment. “Right…”

But then, as always, you bounced back with a grin. “Then see you next year. Whoever slides down the most times wins.”

Bakugou scoffed, pushing himself up the pool, grabbing his towel and slinging it over his shoulder. “Tch. Like hell I’m gonna let you win.”

He didn’t want to smile—but yeah, it tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway.

“Better start training, gremlin.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, and as he walked towards the elevator, something about that moment lingered.

A promise.

Year Seven – After the Vacation

This is why Bakugou doesn’t do promises.

Because he kept it. Day after day, for that entire week, he waited for you at the bottom of the slide. Arms crossed. Scowl on. Towel slung over his shoulder like he didn’t care.

But he did.

You never came.

His mom said maybe you went to a different resort this year—after all, you were from the United States. “Things change, Katsuki,” she said.

But that didn’t stop the sting. Didn’t stop him from looking for that ridiculous plushie. Or listening for your laugh. Or pretending he didn’t check the pool every morning, just in case.

You didn’t come—and that pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.

He could’ve used that time to train. To prepare for the U.A. entrance exam. Not that it mattered—he was going to pass anyway. But still. He wasted time on you.

Now he’s sitting at his new desk, jaw tight, glaring at the front of the classroom as the homeroom teacher, Mr Aizawa flips through the attendance sheet. He doesn't care who his classmates are. Couldn’t care less about some dumb electricity guy or the half-and-half weirdo.

And Deku is here. Great. Just fantastic. He still doesn’t understand how he got a quirk.

His foot tapped impatiently against the floor. And then Mr. Aizawa said—

“Next, we have a student from overseas. Transferred from the U.S. due to exceptional entrance scores.”

The door slid open with a soft click.

Bakugou didn’t look.

He was too busy pretending not to care, arms crossed, scowl perfectly in place. But then he heard it—that voice.

A little breathless. A little out of place. A polite, mumbled “Sorry” to Mr. Aizawa. And then—He had to make sure.

He looked up.

And there you were. Standing in the doorway in a U.A. uniform, bag slung over your shoulder. And then you looked at him.

Eyes squinting. Recognition slowly settling in. Connecting the dots like constellations in the sky.

“…Demon Child.”

The room went dead silent.

Someone coughed. Aizawa blinked. Midoriya looked like he was trying to figure out if this was a villain code name.

But Bakugou?

He’s pissed. Probably.

At you? Maybe. At the universe? Definitely. At the fact that now, for the first time in six years, you’re closer than you’ve ever been before.

But most of all, he’s pissed at himself—because despite everything, despite the hours he spent waiting by that slide like an idiot, despite how you didn’t show.

Seeing you again did something to his chest.

And now? Now you’re stuck in the same hero class.

Fate, apparently, has a damn good sense of humor.

...

A/N: this is inspired by the fact that me and my family went to the same resort every vaca hasjdhajkdha (unfortunately there's no cute guy (ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) )

Warning: grammar, ooc bakugou, idk ajsdnkada

1K notes · View notes