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pretty-face-breaker · 2 years

Text

Hayko Gets a Visit

It’s been a while since I’ve touched the early arc.

c.w. home invasion, referenced kidnapping and torture, gun, death threats, blackmail, noncon touching, kinda suggestive threat at the end

—

Hayko sat, hunched over, on the edge of his bed, breathing slowly for the fifth night in a row until the pain in his back ebbed. He let his eyes close for short increments, enough to get him tired but not too long that he would fall asleep.

After all, he still had the window unlocked.

The hospital had discharged him earlier that week. Technically, it was a requested discharge against doctor’s orders but it wasn’t their god damn insurance.

Still, the bandages held well enough and he wouldn’t be short on painkillers anytime soon, considering how he paced himself with them. He had been hesitant to take even one but the pain had been unrelenting, and eventually too much to bear.

Awake, again.

Hayko knew there wasn’t much use trying to sleep when he had woken up drenched, with his heart in his throat, the last few times.

Do you have any reason to believe your kidnapping could be related to gang activity?

Don’ know.

Like questioning a corpse. He remembered none of her questions, less of his half-dead mumbles, and his time in the actual hospital was a mush of sharp scents and nausea. All he knew now was that if he didn’t make something warm to drink, the thoughts wouldn’t stop.

Hayko pushed himself up and shuffled to the kitchen before stopping.

The window.

Rushing back, he nearly slammed it shut and twisted the handle.

Every light switch he passed was flicked on.

Hayko slowly picked a gun out of his largest flower pot before making his tea and set it beside him on the counter, watching it cautiously as the water boiled, listening for any disruption in the hum of the city outside. He had bought it no later than being discharged.

Within a few minutes, the roar of the kettle drowned out the sound of his breathing and Hayko took the moment to relax, letting the panic ease down. Where there was noise, there was safety. That basement had been too quiet too often.

Fear crept up again when the roar softened to a hiss and, eventually, back to shallow, pained breaths. That was when he began eyeing the piece again, even as he fished for green loose-leaf in the back of the cabinet.

A part of him felt like he was enabling his paranoia. There hadn’t been a message or even a breath from him or his cartel goons in nearly a week.

Maybe they forgot about me.

Maybe he was kidding about hiring me. Must’ve been high, right? There must be dozens more like me, scared, marked, threatened.

I’m just another guy.

But even he knew that was wishful thinking.

Wishful or not, it was working. He had slept to that tune for four days before the nightmares began, right in that hospital bed. Waking up with a stab of panic, drenched and choking on his saliva.

“Make me a cup, too.”

Hayko jerked as if he'd been slapped and yelped. Spinning around, his hand flew to the gun and brought it up to the intruder’s eyes until he felt a stab of terror. His grip began to shake as Nick brought a lighter up to his lips and lit an idle cigarette.

“I got bored waiting for you, sue me.”

He gasped in a breath, praying this was a hallucination or just too many fucking painkillers.

“Jesus christ. Don’t move, don’t fucking move.” Hayko slipped his finger down the trigger guard, wanting to run away at the responding cackle, and covered Nick’s mouth with the muzzle.

“What is that, a Ruger?” Nick chuckled.

Hayko watched him take a drag of his cigar and tried to stiffen his trembling voice. The city seemed so much quieter. “I can use deadly force.”

“So can I, gorgeous. Put it down.”

“Nick, I swear that I will fucking kill you,” Hayko warned, taking a step forward. “Then call the cops, then rat you out. They’ll-... take down your entire operation.”

Suddenly, a shadow passed over his eyes. Nick took the cigar out and pressed it into a nearby glass ashtray. “Come on. Even you know you’re bluffing.” Complimenting Hayko, he took a step forward himself. “That level of incompetence with an international cartel?”

Hayko felt like the gun would clatter to the floor.

“Put it down.”

Hayko squeezed his eyes shut. Anything to get away from this. Anything for some supernatural salvation. “I- I can’t.”

Nick fixed him with a pitying look. “Listen. If you kill me, you’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

The waft of the cigarette smoke had flooded the kitchen and his nostrils. No loose leaf would fix that now. “I-If I put it down…” Hayko began, feigning control, “you’ll hurt me. I was in the hospital for-”

“I know how long you were in the hospital. I kept tabs, obviously. Put it down. I won’t hurt you tonight.”

There was some earnestness in his voice, even if it was mixed with that sadistic eagerness to pounce on him as soon as he put that gun down.

Hayko’s grip on the situation was faltering and it was all too easy to tell with the man’s frantic eyes. Nick, on the other hand, was exceedingly bored. He meandered closer to him and still no bullet, although it would be safe to say he might turn it on himself, a violent end to Nick’s violent delights.

“Put it down, Hayko,” Nick ordered with renewed danger.

Hayko’s voice broke on the ‘okay’, reading Nick’s predictions of what he might do instead. He set it half-heartedly on the counter, not fully opening his eyes and stayed facing the cabinets.

“Good boy. Now, make me a cup and come sit down.”

It took him a minute to catch his breath and suppress the urge to shut down and even more willpower to ignore the gun altogether as he made the tea.

As the leaves soaked, Hayko dimly thought that it would be more appropriate to have Nick make it. He was shit at deciphering accents but he couldn’t have been anything but British.

When he had sat down, he kept his eyes on the tablecloth.

“There’s a few items of business we need to discuss, don’t we?”

Hayko gripped his tea cup, saying nothing. The night was so deceptively calm, it would’ve fooled him. He only wished he had the ability to make time go by just a bit faster.

Nick sipped the tea and made a face, pushing it aside and while Hayko didn’t notice, he thought it appropriate to assure him that he “Never much cared for green tea”.

Hayko took a breath, purposely ignoring him. “How’d you get-”

Nick cut him off with a snort, as if he couldn’t believe that was the question he had been interrupted for. “You left your window unlocked and went to sleep.”

You cannot be fucking serious.

On the third floor? Really?

“Anyway, I wanted to drop by and check if you were alive. I was serious about you working for me, in case you decided to forget about that. And I’m serious now when I tell you that it’s your only way of this, love.”

Hayko winced at the nauseatingly gentle pet name. “...There has to be some other way. Nick, if I get caught-”

“You won’t.”

“My entire god damn life’s work,” he continued, unfazed. “I- I’m not even qualified.”

Nick paused and then smiled. “Oh yes, you’re qualified. I ran a background check. Lovely speaker, hard worker, and ambitious enough that this won’t be a problem for you. Don’t worry, you won’t have to work trials too often.”

By now, he had cradled his face in his hands. A sprouting attorney and he was already walking about disbarred and dead and didn’t know it yet.

“For fu-..., I’ll be an accessory,” Hayko groaned.

But the thought didn’t seem to bother Nick in the slightest.

“I’ll make sure you don’t get caught. Besides, I work with the organisation, controlling drugs and trafficking. You work for me.” And he shot another one of his spine-chilling smiles at Hayko.

Hayko didn’t know if Nick was the smartest between them or clinically insane.

At some point in his internal breakdown, Nick finished his tea - out of politeness - and set his cup in the sink. Hayko didn’t realise he had crept up behind him until he felt his fingers on his shoulders and jerked up.

Nick smiled to himself as the man shivered under his touch and began to knead the muscle he felt along his back, taking care to avoid the scars since he knew every one of them.

“If it soothes your moral compass, you’re not doing this voluntarily. If I hadn’t convinced that rotten cunt Miguel to keep you on…”

Hayko froze as he felt Nick bend to his ear.

“-you’d be writhing under me with my hands around your throat.”

He lifted his hands off at that point, satisfied with how far he had pushed the man. Hayko had started the night off with a foreign, rebellious courage and the muzzle of a Ruger pointed between his eyes. Now, he sat silent and trembling, his tea gone cold.

Perfect.

And Nick wanted to add in the reminder that he belonged to him but determined it wouldn’t be tasteful. He would have his lifetime to remind him, after all.

Before Nick left down the hall, he called back, “And take those painkillers, would you? It’ll do your back some good.”

“Mhm,” Hayko replied, monotone, when the door shut.

He still couldn’t believe he had slept, forgetting the window.

—

@doveotions @heathenville @thewhumpstuff @thatsthewhump @adamantem-rose @lonesome–hunter @whumpsorbet @whumpasaurus101 @lektricfergus @downrivergirl914 @burtlederp @redwingedwhump @nicolepascaline @ifbtnna @oh-so-skeletal

#whump #whump writing #whump series #whump drabble #sadistic whumper #noncon touching #threats #guns tw #home invasion #defiant whumpee #intimate whumper #nick and hayko

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erimeows · 3 years

Text

Healing

Ratchet was missing you as he finished cleaning the med bay, sleepiness threatening to take over his sky-hued optics. You were probably in your shared bed, fast asleep like you always were- and you always tried to wait up for him, but never managed to stay awake. Since he’d gotten to earth and met you, he’d gotten used to working late, whether that be helping his teammates with their injuries or doing research on Sari’s key and the organics on earth to help their cause.

Ratchet couldn’t help but sigh as he thought about you. The two of you had been dating for a few months now, and while he had initially been reluctant to get attached to a human who he feared he’d eventually have to leave, he couldn’t help but be smitten with you. Your relationship was still in that somewhat casual, testing-the-waters stage, but he adored you, and he’d give anything to be recharging next to you instead of cleaning.

Still, he needed to clean the med bay or it would be disgusting and unavailable to use the following day. He was just glad that he was almost done with it.

Ratchet missed you, and he always felt bad for leaving you to sleep alone... Especially after the incident.

When it had happened, he’d been in shambles, unsure of what to do with himself. It was a month after the two of you had started dating and, in the middle of an encounter with the Decepticons, Lockdown had swooped in and stolen you to take to Megatron for a bounty since you’d been helping the Autobots for a considerable amount of time.

Thankfully, Megatron had wanted you alive, and as a human, you didn’t have any parts or upgrades for Lockdown to want to steal... Ratchet hadn’t dared to say it out loud, but he was just glad that the bounty hunter hadn’t known enough about human anatomy to think about harvesting some of your organs to sell.

That aside, it had taken almost a whole day after that battle for Ratchet and the rest of his team to find where Lockdown was hiding and take you back, barely getting you back to earth and leaving Lockdown to escape.

You didn’t talk about it much, and for the most part, you tried to act normal. Things were okay, and you were safe, but Ratchet saw moments where you slipped up. When Lockdown or what happened that day were mentioned, you clammed up, and any time you were left by yourself, you were noticeably upset, almost like you were scared something would happen again or scared to be left alone with your thoughts.

The red and white bot was snapped out of his own thoughts when he heard footsteps- too light to be a bot’s, but too heavy to be Sari’s- and looked over to see you standing in the doorway. You were in a large t-shirt and some sweats, (h/l) (h/c) hair messy and (e/c) eyes bleary. Ratchet couldn’t tell what it was, but something seemed off about you, so he immediately finished wiping down the last counter and tossed his cleaning rag to the side before approaching your smaller form.

“(y/n), what are you doing up this late?” The Autobot asked, placing a gentle servo on your shoulder.

“I, uh...” You stopped and looked away from him, almost as if you were embarrassed. “Had a nightmare and wanted some company. I figured you’d still be awake. When are you coming to bed?”

Ratchet could only sigh. Of course, you were embarrassed about a nightmare of all things- he’d been the same way for a long time, waking up from recharges in the middle of the night with terrible nightmares wracking his processor, only to sit up and look around to see that he was alone and safe in his empty bedroom instead of on the battlefield watching comrades die like he’d dreamt.

He’d been embarrassed about his own trauma and feelings for a long time, too, but he knew that in the end, it was better to open up to others rather than let those things fester. So, rather than getting onto you for acting the way you were about it, he answered your previous question.

“Now, actually, unless...” Ratchet stopped. When he had nightmares, if he immediately went back to sleep, he’d go straight back into the dream. It would probably be best to keep you up for a bit and get you in a better mood before letting you go back to sleep. “Would you like to stay up for a bit before going back to sleep?”

“I’d hate to keep you up-” You started, but he quickly cut you off, able to see in your face that you didn’t want to go back to sleep at all and were only trying to avoid inconveniencing him.

“Come on, I know how it is,” The medic spoke and moved the servo on your shoulder further down so he could hold your hand, intertwining his digits with your fingers. Slowly, he raised your hand up and pressed a gentle kiss to your knuckles. “I’ll make you some of that, uh... What’s that hot stuff you humans drink?”

“Coffee?”

“No, the one with the herbs.”

“Oh, you mean tea,” You smiled and gripped his servo as he reached over to turn the lights in the med bay off. “That sounds nice, actually. Thank you.”

With that, the two of you walked into the kitchen, you sitting down at the table and Ratchet getting out a pot to pour water in. It was a weird process, making tea, but you liked the stuff, and he’d seen you do it enough times to understand how it worked.

While he’d expected for you to stay seated at the table until he finished, it was in the middle of him putting two teabags in the pot and setting it on the stove to boil that you stood up and approached him. Wordlessly, you wrapped your arms around his midsection from behind and buried your face into the cool metal plating on his back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked and fully turned around where he stood to face you wrap his arms around your body in return. You sighed into his chest.

“I need a minute.”

“Take as long as you need,” Ratchet tried to be as reassuring as he possibly could, though comforting others wasn’t his forte nor his strong suit. He found himself feeling a bit awkward as he stroked the top of your hair and ran his digits through the tangled locks. “I’m here.”

“Are you... I mean, do you still feel the same way towards me that you did before it happened?” You asked, and Ratchet felt his spark drop.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

You nuzzled into the red and white bot’s chest as he reached back to turn the stove off in fear that the tea would boil over if he left it unattended. Voice cracking, you started to talk, words spilling out faster than your brain could comprehend.

“I just feel like when we started dating, things were so light-hearted and easy, and then Lockdown took me away and I’ve been so...” You paused to choke back a sob that had caught down your throat, hands desperately squeezing his shoulders and tears streaming down your cheeks and falling onto his chest plates. “Withdrawn? But also needy? I just haven’t been the same, and it feels like I don’t know who I am anymore! I’m used to the nightmares at this point, but now I’m having dreams about you leaving me because I’m too much to put up with and-”

“Hey, (y/n), slow down a bit, will ya? I don’t know what to say here, and y’know I’m not good at this kind of stuff, but...” Ratchet looked at your face with a gentle smile, sky-hued optics pouring into your (e/c) eyes. You blinked up at him with tears still welling up, but he reached down to wipe them away with one of his digits. “I love you more and more every day,” He admitted, almost wanting to stop himself- it had been the first time either of you had said the ‘L’ word, and maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but he needed you to know that no matter what happened, he loved you and would continue to do so. “Nothing that could happen between us or with Lockdown or whoever else will change that. I’m here as long as you want me to be, even when things are hard, because I know you’d be there for me, too.”

You nodded and further buried yourself into him, sobs now racking your entire body- now, though, instead of the anxiety that had been rolling off of you in waves moments before, you seemed to be flooded with bittersweet relief.

So, he held you for as long as you needed, the tea cold and forgotten by both of you in the pot behind him in favor of each other’s warmth.

And, when you did collect yourself, you looked up at him with the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen and told him that you loved him, too.

#transformers #transformers animated #ratchet #tfa ratchet #tfa #ratchet x reader #fanfiction #drabble #fluff #comfort #comfort fic #tw nightmares #nightmares #tw trauma #lockdown #tfa lockdown

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skellebonez · 3 years

Note

(kicks door down) INVERTED AU WITH PROMPT 72, SPECIFICALLY WITH MK

I’m not going to write out the ENTIRE TikTok so just. Watch an enjoy the madness that is B Dylan Hollis. It will make this fill so much more entertaining.

Don’t you dare.

Had it not been even a few weeks ago things would be almost completely on their normal “regular day with no special plans” schedule. Wake up, work, hang out with Pigsy and Tang, get Mei to have some fun, run off to Mount Huaguo for training with Sun Wukong, make sure the immortal Monkey King is taking care of himself, go home and sleep (a few gaps between each in case he needed to chuck a water bottle or granola bar at any of his friends and make sure they weren’t overworking themselves and if he came across anyone who needed his special brand of, as Macaque once called it, “aggressive self care affection”).

But no. Oh no. This was not a few weeks ago.

This was now, not even a month after the Lunar New Year Festival. Not even a month after he was finally introduced to the rest of Spider Queen’s family- plus one not so accidental addition who had decided it would be a fantastic idea to experiment on himself for funsies and “oops all spiders”.

Said addition stood, or rather half stood and half reclined on the mechnical legs protruding from his back, diligently typing away at his computer. The same computer he hadn’t stepped away from except to take a shower earlier in the day.

17 hours ago.

“Syntax,” MK said with the most gentle warning tone he could muster... which, to anyone unfamiliar with MK would sound like he spoke the human turned spider demon’s name like a threat. “Please tell me you have eaten more than a single calorie bar today.”

“I have eaten more than a single calorie bar today,” the scientist assured with a barely thrown over his shoulder smile in the younger man’s direction.

“Ok g-”

“I ate 2.”

The proud look on Syntax's face, as if he had figured out the loophole to end all loopholes, was a stark contrast to MK's expression of angry horror.

"You can't just eat TWO CALORIE BARS, Syntax!" He shouted, grabbing the scientist by his lab coat sleeve before starting to drag him out of the laboratory. If anyone was there to witness this they would find this feat impressive given how Syntax dug his mechanical legs into the floor in protest.

"I have survived on these so far and I will conti-"

"Survived, yeah, as a human," MK noted as he realized the other was simply allowing him to lead him along without a fight in the least. "But you're a spider demon... cyborg... guy now, you need more sustenance than that. And you needed more before!"

"3 bars?"

"NO MORE OF THE FUCKING BARS!"

The moment Syntax shrunk back in reaction to MK’s yelling the Monkie Kid took his chance and gripped the scientist’s sides and tossed the man over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before breaking out into a sprint down the halls of Spider Queen’s lair.

“Don’t you dare!” Syntax yelped, attempting to free his arms or move his spider legs but gave up on the later and instead retracted them out of fear he might accidentally harm his captor. “I have work to finish, young man!”

“You can’t finish if you die of malnutrition, I’m teaching you how to cook!”

As they ran toward the entrance they passed Spider Queen who, upon realizing what was happening, gave them a calm wave and a smile.

“Make sure to have him back in time for you to get home before dark, MK!”

“EVEN MY QUEEN IS BETRAYING ME!”

Syntax eventually gave in. After all, despite his new enhancements he was still no match for the sheer strength of the Monkey King himself in the hands of a very determined young man with a hard line stance on self care.

And somehow this man decided he should be deposited in... his kitchen.

In front of a phone set up like... a camera.

Huh.

“Uh-”

“Hold that thought!” MK said, positioning Syntax just out of sight as he grabbed a cook book and hit record. “A bean PIE from the 1920s! Today we’re doing something different-” he reached over and grabbed Syntax’s arm, pulling him into frame without even a single change in his expression. “Today I have an assistant because SOMEONE doesn’t know how to EAT NUTRITION and needs more Vitamin B.”

As he let go of the scientist’s arm he turned to him, face as serious as a miscalculated formula when a project was due in 1 hour.

“OK, you’re the science dude. Let me tell you something from experience,” MK grabbed the cook book, holding it up. “Cooking IS science. And this science insists that BEANS can be made into a PIE which I think is bullshit and I am going to prove on camera. Until you learn how to eat things that aren’t instant bars, you are going to join me on my cooking science experiments. Understood?”

Truth me told, Syntax didn’t see the appeal in cooking. It was far too much hassle for something as basic as nutritional supplements you could acquire from far easier means that did not involve making a mess you had to clean up later... but...

The idea that cooking could be a science... that he had never considered before. And MK seemed to be pretty well convinced that he was correct in this assertion. This was part of why Syntax had, for a while now, considered reaching out to him with an offer of becoming his assistant. His tenacity and determination was something that was a great asset in the field of scientific discovery after all! And well...

If making a weird pie could get him into the young man’s good graces...

“Where do we start?”

MK held up a bowl of beans to the camera. “Now these took a long bath last night-” he turned to Syntax. “-I’ll splice in some footage from earlier here later-TIME TO COOK EM!”

“The pot,” Syntax noted, pointing to the pot on MK’s stove that had begun to over boil.

“AAGH!” MK yelped, sliding over from where he was grabbing his mixer. “BEAN REBELLION!”

“Eggie,” MK chuckled out, cracking an egg into the mixing bowl with the rest of the ingredients.

“How many eggs does it call for?” Syntax asked, trying to make sense out of the madness he was being witness to.

“How many? I don’t know, it just says EGGS.” MK gestured to the cookbook before them as if it has just insulted Pigsy himself to MK’s face.

“FORE!” MK yelled, closing his eyes and turning on the blender as Syntax held a frying pan in front of himself in preparation for disaster.

And disaster came... just not in the way either expected, as the blender sputtered and just.... stopped.

“... did you just kill my blender?” MK turned the knob on it, shaking it and tapping it gently. “HELLO?”

He shook it harder, twisting and turning the knob on the front wildly before he broke down into laughter. “THE BEANS KILLED MY BLENDER.” MK crossed his arms on the counter, laying his head down on them as he devolved into equally amused and annoyed cackles. “This has never happened before, how the hell!?”

“Well...” Syntax looked around, finding an induction blender sitting half buried on the opposite side of the counter. “Will this work?”

Finally. After waiting for the pie to bake. It was done.

A piece sat on a plate before both men, looking both intimidating and somehow delectable at the same time. But both were well away this concoction was primarily sugar, cinnamon, and BEANS. They looked at each other for a moment before nodding, each taking a fork full of the pit before shoving it into their mouths expecting the worst.

MK looked at Syntax as they chewed. Then the camera. Then he started to laugh through his bite as Syntax’s face went on a journey from “this tastes good” to “HOW THE FUCK DOES THIS TASTE GOOD”.

“Nothing makes sense anymore,” he moaned, gesturing to the pie slice before him as he began to laugh in disbelief.

“WHY ARE YOU GOOD?” Syntax asked, shaking his plate slightly. “You have a bag of BEANS in you!”

MK laughed harder, needing to put his plate on the counter as he needed to hold his sides from the pain of trying not to laugh louder than he was.

“This is like if tomato soup made a cake that tasted like chocolate!”

“I-It!” MK wheezed, holding up one hand to get the scientist’s attention. “It has!”

“I’M SORRY- WHAT!?”

“Yes? Oh, that’s fine dear! Yes, as long as he has somewhere to sleep and I know where he is- ... yes, we would love to try some when you escort him home tomorrow! Thank you, take care now,” Spider Queen said, smiling as she hung up the cell phone that Pigsy and Tang had no kindly helped her acquire.

“So, uh...” Huntsman asked, rubbing the back of his neck in concern and confusion. “What’s up?”

“Syntax will be spending the evening with MK!” She announced, smiling wide. “He’s taken up an interest in baking, apparently. Something about needing to unlock the secrets of tomato soup and beans.”

#monkie kid #lego monkie kid #fanfic #inverted au #prompt fill #mk #qi xiaotian #syntax #spider queen

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azucanela · 4 years

Text

FIRST DATE HEADCANNONS + SCENARIOS

[FT. BAKUGOU KATSUKI, TODOROKI SHOUTO SHINSOU HITOSHI]

SUMMARY: Your first date with a few some of the first year boys[Bakugo Katuski, Shinsou Hitoshi, Todoroki Shouto].

WORD COUNT: 2.9k

WARNINGS: kissing, pretty pg, wholesome, perhaps slightly ooc oops, bad writing, just a tad of spice

A/N: someone send tik tok related requests they make me laugh

BAKUGO KATSUKI

when he asks you out on a date for the first time hes not actually asking

comes up to you and tells you, “get dressed im taking you out.”

you are just there talking to mina and kirishima in your pjs like ???

“with your quirk?” like you dead thought he was telling you he intended to kill you

“no idiot...” now he’s embarrassed oh no

mina and kirishima are like 👀👀

“on a date?” they’re really trying to help him get his point across bc playing matchmaker is fun

“SHUT UP EXTRAS”

probably takes you to like some sort of outdoor thing on the first date

has to to involve movement

stroll through the park, or through like a mall if you don’t like more athletic experiences

take him on a date to a trampoline park. do it.

COOKS FOR YOU ON THE FIRST DATE!!!!!!!!

ITS AMAZING

YOU HAVE BEEN BLESSED

is quieter during a date rather than his normal explosive self, he wants to listen to you, get to know you better

won’t kiss on the first date unless there’s a pre established friendship

your next date happens the same way, just tells you that you guys are going out, but you get it this time

lets you choose where you guys go that time

wants equal contribution to dates

katsuki in street clothes is just beautiful, just ART, a masterpiece, he looks like a grumpy piece of ART

Katuski had just asked Y/N on a date, completely out of nowhere. Katsuki had asked Y/N on a date. It was difficult to believe, and considering his loud tone, the rest of Class 1-A also found it shocking, the student who claimed to have all his focus on becoming the number one pro-hero was now seeking a relationship. Ironic.

Though Y/N herself initially didn’t understand what he had been trying to say, she quickly got the message, and off they went. She was necessarily shocked by his feelings for her, they had discussed it in the dead of night, when she couldn’t sleep so he decided to forgo his normal grandpa sleep schedule. He fell asleep shortly after that conversation though, in her arms, he’d likely deny it if she ever mentioned it though.

Now, she sat on the counter in his parent’s kitchen, though neither of them were home, and the kitchen looked mostly unused. Y/N had tried to assist him but he’d brushed her off, “I asked you out. And you’re a horrible cook.”

Y/N hopped off the counter and came up behind him, “whatever.” She mumbled, half expecting Katsuki to shove her away as she wrapped her arms around his torso as he sliced vegetables. He didn’t, though he did freeze momentarily before grumbling something about how dumb she was, Y/N knew he didn’t mean it based off the blush on his cheeks.

Katsuki placed the vegetables into a pot of boiling water, covering it with a lid before tapping Y/N’s hand, signaling for her to let go. When she did, he turned around, and Y/N’s brow was raised. “C’mere.” He pulled her closer with one hand, and placed another on the back of her necks, bringing their lips together.

She hummed in response, hand tangling into his hair, this wasn’t the first time they’d kissed. But it was the first time they’d gone on a date, he’d been sure to hide the dining room from her on the way inside, and she couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled up inside her.

Y/N’s free hand found it’s way to his bicep, nails digging into his soft skin, courtesy of his quirk. Meanwhile, Katsuki’s hand found its way to the curve of her back, pushing her body closer to his only for Y/N to pull away, “pay attention while you are cooking.”

Turning to look at the pot, he’d realized that it was boiling far too much for comfort and cursed, releasing Y/N to salvage his food, she began to laugh. Katuski glared at her as he turned off the stove and put the put the vegetables into a nearby plate.

With a smile on her face, she pressed a kiss onto his cheek, only for him to roll his eyes as he picked up the plate and moved out of the kitchen, Y/N trailing close behind as he headed to the dining room. “Can I see now?” She asked.

After a moment of contemplation, he nodded, and together they entered the dining room. It was a basic set up for a date, but it certainly set an intimate atmosphere that was rare when you lived in a dorm with several other students, and Mineta. There were candles lighting the room, and a rose in the center of the table, along with more food that he had already placed on the table.

Grinning at him, Y/N spoke, “god you are such a sap.”

His cheeks flushed as he responded, “shut up.”

SHINSOU HITOSHI

lol cutie, he asks you out on a date, you two are probably close friends and he just really likes your personality and attitude and stuff

“you don’t have to- well you know that but-”

“no, i’ll go out with you.”

“it’s fine i understand- wait what?”

did not think he’d get this far so he had no plans, he was expecting to plan a funeral for your friendship

ends up being the basic movie and food date

he picks a horror movie because he wants to protect you!!!

it makes him feel useful and bb needs validation

hold his hand during the movie

give him AFFECTION

you guys end up skipping dinner because you filled up on popcorn and other snacks during the movie so y’all just walk around

gives you his j a c k e t if its cold

he’s classy like that

unlike other people, he would kiss you on the first date

it would be an AMAZING experience that probably occurs at your front door, super adorable, he asks if he can kiss you

“can i kiss you?” fully expects you to say no

“yeah you can.”

“its fine, thanks for going out with me- wait what?”

same vibes as asking you out, did NOT expect this

walks you home because he is a GENTLEMAN change my mind, Shinsou brought back chivalry 2020

treats you RIGHT!!! the entire date, opens doors for you, pulls out your chair if necessary, pays for you unless you try to split the check but he might propose if you do that and pay for you regardless

When Shinsou asked Y/N out, he genuinely expected her to say no. His plans for the date included a funeral for himself and the friendship between the two of them. But, Shinsou was an honest guy and wanted to confess his feelings to her, secrets were a rarity between them, and this was no exception. They’d known each other for a while and his feelings weren’t something he could make disappear, no matter how hard he tried.

The last thing he expected was for her to agree to go out with him.

She was still clinging onto his arm rather harshly as they exited the movie theater, having seen a horror movie, she exclaims, “I am never letting you pick the movie again.”

Shinsou can’t help it when his heart skips a beat at her comment, looking over to her as he smirks, “again? So there will be a next time?” He asked, hoping that he hadn’t misunderstood.

Her cheeks warm, even though he asked her out, and Y/N looks away, “yes, if you want.” She mumbled, loosening her grip on his arm as they stepped outside. Cool air hits her, and Y/N can’t help the shiver that goes down her spine at the sudden cold.

“I asked you out, of course I want a second date.” He replied, taking his arm from her grasp to remove his jacket, which he puts around her shoulders. “You still want dinner?”

Y/N hums, taking his hand in hers and grinning as his cheeks turn red, “I’m not really hungry after all the snacks we had.” She replied, leaning her head onto his shoulder. “Let’s just walk.”

They walked throughout the small shopping center, speaking with each other in regards to a variety of topics before beginning the walk home, when it started to rain. Thankfully, they were nearby Y/N’s home, and the laughs that consumed them as they ran didn’t stop as they ran up under the roof of Y/N’s porch. Shinsou’s hair was now matted onto his head thanks to the rain, their clothes soaked.

Looking up at him, Y/N let another laugh escape her, “I like your hair.” She teased, bringing a hand up to ruffle it, though it had little effect.

Shinsou playfully glared at her, “yeah, yeah.” A smile found its way onto his face as he looked at her, the rain still hammering down on the roof, he found himself not wanting to let go of her hand as he asked, “can I kiss you? You don’t need-” He began to ramble, and Y/N was reminded of when he first asked her out as she watched him.

Y/N’s hand released his and she grabbed his face, bringing his lips to hers, effectively silencing him as his hands fell onto her hips. They broke apart momentarily, only for Y/N’s arms to circle around his neck and pull him closer for yet another kiss.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” He mumbled as they pulled apart.

Tilting her head, Y/N smirked, “you’re cute.” Shinsou ducked his head to hide the pink in his cheeks at this comment. “Be here next Saturday around 2 in the afternoon. This time I pick the movie.”

Looking back up, he raised a brow. “I happened to enjoy the movie, particularly the parts when you-”

“I don’t have to agree to a second date.” Y/N threatened as she playfully slapped his shoulder before heading to her front door, looking back at him as she walked.

Shinsou hummed, eyes meeting hers as he grabbed her hand and yanked her back. “I think I liked the way you shut me up the first time around better.” He presses a gentle kiss to her lips before releasing her hand so that she can head inside.

TODOROKI SHOUTO

THIS BOY

you probably don’t know its a date he’s like “so how was the date”

and you there like “im sorry how was the WHAT?”

asks his siblings for help because he’s clueless, also asks izuku and maybe even bakugo during their remedial course, though camie is 10x more helpful

this is because shoto always spends all of his father’s money on you

while you two are just best friends, he’ll see you look at something and then he’ll just buy it

you guys already act like a couple. like stfu we get it, you have Class 1-A’s resident pretty boy wrapped around your finger jeez no need to brag

it because he’s in love with you already but he doesn’t know that its not his fault he is oblivious to his own emotions

this just amplifies on a date

tries to take you to a ridiculously fancy restaurant and you’re like???

settles for a cafe

you get lost in the convo and forget to actually drink your drink so he just reheats it or makes it nice and cool again ya know

super useful bb

give him validation

listens to you super intently

intellectual conversations EVERYWHERE he is literally so fun to talk to like discuss any and everything with him

First date at a cafe, he’s rich, he stole his dad’s credit card, and he happens to love trying new things since he was sheltered as a child so he will buy EVERY S I N G L E DRINK for you two to try them all together

50/50 chance he kisses you on the first date

100% chance a kiss happens if you initiate it

he walks you home, and depending on if you are feeling hot or cold, you’ll stand by his side, preferably away from the road because shoto is a gentleman who gets hit by cars for his partner

When Izuku had suggested that Shoto take Y/N out on a date to help confess his feelings for her, he figured it would be a good idea. Except, he forgot the part where he asked her on the date.

Oops.

This didn’t really dawn on him as she led him away from the fancy restaurant he had tried to convince her to enter, “we both know that neither of us would understand a thing on the menu because it’s probably all in french.” Though she had dressed for the occasion, and so had he. “Why do you even want to eat there?” Y/N asked, her hand still holding his as she dragged him along the side walk.

She knew very well how much he disliked such places. They reminded him of all the high end restaraunts he had been forced to go to as a child. And since his father was an infamous pro hero, and Shoto himself was one of the more popular Class 1-A students, it wasn’t uncommon for reporters to frequent areas he was seen in. Carrying their cameras as they tried to get a story about him or his father. He’d told Y/N numerous times how much he disliked the attention, which is why he avoided certain areas of the city.

Shoto stared at their joined hands, that feeling of joy bubbling in his chest, “my understanding is that you take people to a nice restaurant for a date.” Came his response.

Y/N stopped walking, though Shoto didn’t, causing him to run into her and nearly trip her had he not grabbed waist to keep her from falling. “This is a date?” She asked, hands clinging to his arms as she tried to maintain balance. He’d been acting different, so Y/N felt as though she shouldn’t be shocked, but the fact that Shoto liked her?

He said nothing, releasing her from his arms before taking a step back, “I feel as though I should apologize-” Shoto began, realizing his mistake.

“I know a nice Café I’ve been meaning to visit that’s nearby, you want to continue this there?” She interrupted, extending her hand. Y/N wasn’t stupid, neither was Shoto, she knew he was inexperienced in the romance department and it was clear this was his attempt to woo her.

It was cute.

Looking up at her, he couldn’t help but give her a small smile, which she returned as he took her hand. Shoto was thankful that she hadn’t mentioned his poor preparation for the whole ‘date’ thing, since he failed to really ask her about it. Thankfully she was just going with it, “I really like you, Y/N.” It was blunt, but it was the truth, and it was Shoto, being himself.

Y/N felt her cheeks warm as they approached the Café, “I really like you too, Shoto.” He moved in front of her to open the door, “and here we are.” She gestured to the small Café as they entered, it was a nice set up and she had been meaning to visit. The fact that it was Shoto that she was visiting with made it all the better.

“Why don’t you go find us somewhere to sit?” He suggested, small smile on his face. “I’ll save us a spot in line.” Y/N nodded, and it was clear that she had yet to notice that there was no line, and Shoto had Endeavor’s beautiful black mastercard in hand.

Which is how they ended up with every possible drink on their table, some of which were going cold, and the cashier thanking Shoto for the $200 cash tip, laughing quietly side by side in their small corner within the Café. Y/N had chosen a more isolated part, though there were already very few people within the store.

She looked up from her drink to find Shoto’s eyes on her, an unreadable look in his eyes, but she couldn’t help but smile at him, one that he returned. “I like this.” He said, his hand finding hers as he played with her fingers.

“Me too.” Y/N replied, watching his movements. She found herself Y/N bringing her hand to Shoto’s cheek, and his eyes met hers momentarily, looking up at her in awe as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his lips.

Neither of them knew what they were doing, Shoto’s delayed reaction reminded them both of this fact as he finally kissed back after a few moments. The hand that had once been fidgeting with Y/N’s free hand, making its way to her bicep to rub circles in the spot.

The moment didn’t last long, and when she pulled away, his lips were chasing hers, “we should do this more often.”

A small smile was on his face as he stared at her with what seemed like stars in his eyes, “yeah.” He pressed a kiss to her hand, “we should.”

A/N: when i tell you season 4 made me CRY

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bakubabes-tatakae · 4 years

Text

Request: Hello! Congrats on the 2k. Can I please have prompt 43 from choice 4 with Shoto for the 2k event? Thank you very much!

Hello nonny. 😊 Thank you so much. It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for Todoroki so I hope you like to. 🥺❤️

Pent Up Tension || {NSFW} Todoroki x Reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, 18+ content, language, friends to lovers

Word Count: 1.7k

You saw the pro-hero running through all the chaos as you looked on. You couldn’t help but admire how your best friend looked so at ease out there despite the complete mess around him. He blasted villains with ease with a mixture of his flames and ice, perfectly intertwining with each other to make the most treacherous of attacks.

But that was Shoto Todoroki for you. Nothing less than perfection. That’s what he was raised to believe.

Another injured was wheeled up next to you, your eyes unable to be torn away from the scene before you. Another blast of fire made the temperature in the entire area rise, almost feeling like it was burning your skin.

The only thing that brought you out of your trance was the words of you co-worker. “Y/n! Earth to y/n. We have a patient!”

You shook your head as you came back to earth, instantly getting back to work. “Hand me that sterile spray and some gauze.” You reached a hand out as you smiled at the woman on the stretcher. “I need to clean your wound. But it doesn’t look too serious so this should only take a minute.”

Your small words seemed to put her at ease while you got to work, talking small glances up once in a while as you heard screams and praises by the people below.

When everything settled and the last injured was transported to the hospital after their initial field care he finally approached you, something he did after every battle that you were around for.

You had been lucky enough to be one of the only people in Shoto’s life that he had really let in.

You felt the warmth of his left hand on your shoulder and turned around, nearly jumping into his arms. “You did so awesome, Shoto!”

Shoto held you there, letting the hug linger a little longer than he should have. Cameras began to flash everywhere as they focused on the two of you. When he finally let you go he did something he had never done before. Whether it was the cameras or just his adrenaline from his fight, you were unsure, but you didn’t dislike it. A soft kiss was placed to your cheek and he slowly spoke as he walked toward the cameras. “I’ll be right back. Once I’m done with the press you and I can go grab dinner.”

You stood in place, barely able to move. You hand raised to your cheek, covering where he had just pressed his soft lips to your skin. A small smile spread across your cheeks despite the eyes you felt on yourself.

You heard the voice of your co-worker again, breaking you from your trance for the second time today. “Are you and Shoto a thing, Y/n?”

You turned around and raised your hand, waving them off. “No, we’re not. We’re just really good friends.”

The words almost hurt to say, especially after what had just happened, but you fought through it.

Your co-worker laughed and slowly walked away, ready to take off for the day while you stayed behind and watched him.

* * * * * *

Shoto smiled slightly as he reapproached you, wrapping his arm around your waist as he led you away from the remaining crowd of people. “How about we go back to my place and I cook you a nice dinner for your hard work out there today?”

You wanted to laugh at him. Shoto was never this sappy when it came to you. Your confusion was present on your face, but Shoto ignored it. “That sounds good.”

You looked down at your scrubs and realized that you were most definitely not dressed to be going anywhere. Shoto laughed and wrapped his arm around your shoulder, leading you toward his car that was parked in the distance. “Don’t worry about it Y/n. You can borrow some of my clothes and I’ll wash your scrubs before you head back home later.”

You were still unsure of how you had gotten lucky enough to have a best friend like him, but you smiled and agreed, watching as he opened the passenger side door of his car.

The drive to his place was silent as you both took in the scene of what had just happened. It was something that you wouldn’t ever get used to, but you had someone who was always there to help you through it.

As you entered his house you took in the familiarity of it all. He didn’t change it much, the most he might do is move something around the room, but Shoto had never been a huge fan of change.

You took a seat on the couch and waited for him to bring you some clothes, and once they were in your hand you headed to the bathroom to change for the night. You knew that Shoto wouldn’t object to you staying the night, it wouldn’t have been the first time that you did it. He often left you his bed and slept on the couch so that you wouldn’t have to drive home late at night.

As you changed you heard pots and pans banging around in the kitchen as Shoto got to work. You climbed into his clothes and took in the scent of him, it had still been lingering on his clothing even after they had been through the wash.

When you opened the bathroom door you could already smell the food beginning to cook, and seeing Shoto at the stove had you drooling where you stood. You hated how attracted to your best friend you were and you hated that you couldn’t ignore it.

Shoto turned to see you coming toward him. He leaned against the counter and crossed his arms. “I’ll never be able to get used to seeing you in my clothes.” A chuckle filled the kitchen as you walked to the opposite counter and faced him, climbing up onto it and smiling.

Shoto walked toward you and your heart began to beat out of your chest. What was wrong with you? Why were you like this?

His hand slowly reached out and touched the string to his sweatshirt that you wore, tugging slightly to even it out with the other. But once he fixed it, he didn’t back away. You were unsure, but you had thought that he had gotten closer to you. His warm breath touched your cheek and you realized that you had been right.

It wasn’t like Shoto to give in to his urges, but something about seeing you in his clothes was driving him crazy.

His lips slowly approached your own, the temptation to lean forward and press yours to his was about to suffocate you.

With a sudden movement, Shoto pressed his lips to yours, letting them linger as you danced together. His hands grasped your hips and squeezed, pulling you forward on the counter, pressing you into his own.

When your lips parted, you both fought for breath. Shoto nervously exhaled and looked down at your lap. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know wh-”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back to you, not letting him finish his sentence before letting your lips passionately hit him again.

As he pulled his head away you barely made out his words. “You have no idea how much I want you right now.”

You could barely control yourself before, but those words made you want to scream. “Then show me, Shoto.”

His hands grabbed at the bottom of the pair of boxers that he had given to you to wear and pushed them to the side. With haste, his hand slid up the leg, his fingers rubbing against your folds as he found your heat. As he leaned forward he felt the bulge in his pants growing with each passing second, growing painful as he ignored it.

You dropped your head back as bliss immediately began to flow through you, filling all your senses as you tried to keep yourself under control.

Shoto grabbed your chin with his free hand and pulled your face to him, staring with intent as he egged you on. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.” He removed his hand and placed it in your hair, tugging slightly as he spoke more. “You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted to jump you, how long I’ve held it back.”

You grabbed at his belt and couldn’t undo it fast enough, pulling his pants down to expose his erection for you.

“Someone’s impatient.” He smirked as he watched your lustful eyes run down his body. “Better not keep you waiting.”

Shoto grasped his length and pushed the boxers you wore to the side again, lining himself up with your entrance and thrusting into you. As his cock filled you, you threw your head back again. His name left your lips as his hips continued to roll into yours. “F-fuck, Shoto.”

The more moans that came from you the quicker his pace became. His hair dropped into his face, covering his eyes as you slowly pushed it away so you could see him. Determination filled his face as he brought you closer to your orgasm.

The coil in your abdomen threatened to snap as he relentlessly rut his hips into you. He knew you were close so he moved his hand between your thighs, rubbing his fingers against your clit, the perfect mixture of pleasure as the coil inside you finally gave.

Your orgasm shattered the world around you as Shoto leaned forward against you and emptied himself out inside your cunt.

Shoto pressed his forehead to yours and smiled as he caught you staring back. “I’m so glad we finally did that.”

You chuckled and cupped his face into your hands. “I am too, Shoto.”

The sound of water boiling over the pot on the stove brought the two of you back to the real world and caused laughter to erupt from you. Shoto kissed the tip of your nose and smirked. “Maybe we should just order out?”

Taglist: @monic00l @strangeinternetwasteland @rowley-with-ackerman @chaoticsimptown @ellechanwrites @bonnisimpparker @impinthecloset @taliyahvermillion @maat-the-prescriptive

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supermantv · 3 years

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daxton + first date after getting back together

Their first date after getting back together is technically at the Winter Dance, and while it had been overall pleasant, there were still the minor bumps (the major glaring one being that Paxton had nearly ran his girlfriend over with his car) that prevented the date from retaining a sense of utter bliss that Paxton was still seeking. He adores her, loves being around her, thinks she is the most exciting person that he has ever met, but there is no denying that Devi is an absolute hurricane. He loves that too, and he’s starting to understand that moments of complete peace will be hard-earned, but entirely worth it. He’s also hoping that these moments of peace become more and more common, with a smoother path paved to achieve them each time.

They’re in his garage when he decides to broach the subject, a random slasher film playing on the screen that neither of the two are really invested in. Devi lays between his legs, her own feet dangling over the edge of the couch as she rests her head on the hard planes of his stomach. She traces unrefined patterns into the exposed skin above the waistband of his jeans where his shirt has ridden up, and Paxton knows that if she keeps this up, there’s a very high possibility he will actually be driven insane, so to prevent this, he shifts into a sitting position, forcing Devi to move with him.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, and it’s hard not to get distracted when his eyes follow the movement of her hands, shifting to smooth out her skirt, because it’s yellow and pink, and cute, and short, and it very much suits her.

“Um.” Paxton clears his throat and flicks his eyes away and Devi must see something in his actions to tip her off to the situation because she actually laughs. Loud and unapologetic and Paxton feels the tip of his ears beginning to burn but he’s smiling. “Shut up,” he grumbles without a trace of any real aggravation, lobbing a pillow at her head. She catches it easily and hugs it to her chest.

“Okay, okay,” Devi says and she quiets down but her eyes are twinkling. “What’s up?”

“I was just gonna ask what you wanted to do for our first date on Saturday.”

“First date?” Devi asks bemusedly.

“Yeah, y’know, first date since getting back together,” Paxton clarifies, but Devi still looks confused.

“Wasn’t that at the dance?”

“Yeah, about that,” he starts, drawing back his shoulders and filling his voice with enough mock authority that Devi guffaws under her breath. “I’d like to put in a formal request right now for a do over.”

“Why?” Devi asks, taking this chance to throw the pillow back at him. It bounces harmlessly off his face where it slides into his lap, and he cries out from the shock of the hit rather than the pain. Devi ignores him. “I had a good time. Did you not have a good time?”

“I had a great time,” Paxton reassures her and his heart just about melts when she beams at him. “But I very nearly ran you over with my car at the beginning of the night.”

“After that!”

“After that you threatened to kill the DJ.”

“He deserved it,” Devi grumbles and the same murderous scowl she’d worn that night resurfaces. “But those were minor issues anyway.”

“I’m not sure vehicular manslaughter or attempted homicide are minor issues,” he jokes and his girlfriend rolls her eyes before he becomes serious again. “Really though. I just want to go on one perfect first date with you. No Trent or Marcus, and no narrowly avoided death.”

Devi wrinkles her nose. “Perfect is a tall order.”

“Third time’s the charm,” he says, but Devi’s doubtful expression doesn’t waver, so he relents. “Okay then, not a perfect first date. A first date where everything goes according to plan.”

“That’s more realistic,” Devi says, but she sounds and looks unconvinced by his words. “But still.”

“Don't worry,” Paxton says, leaning forward to rub his thumb tenderly across her cheek. She relaxes into his touch and he grins. “I'll prove you wrong.”

“I sure hope so,” Devi sighs, and no more is said on the subject for the night because then she's grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and yanking him into her.

But of course, Devi was right to be skeptical, because as Paxton is starting to learn, it is impossible for things to go according to plan when they're involved.

He’d called that very same night to make reservations at a semi-fancy Italian restaurant across town, and was promptly told they didn't do reservations, which as Paxton figured was even better, because if a restaurant didn't do reservations, that had to mean there was always available seating, right? He asks his mom to teach him how to iron on Thursday, and by the time Saturday night rolls around, he feels relaxed and ready, so assured that nothing could possibly go wrong. He lays the bouquet of flowers he'd bought for Devi gingerly in the passenger seat and whistles to himself as he starts the car.

Except his car won't start. Why won't his car start?

And from then on, things only spiral out of control further. Paxton texts Devi asking if she can just walk to his house and he'll order an Uber to take them to the restaurant from there. Except when he checks his bank account, he cringes at the lack of money, failing to realize earlier how long it'd been since his last paycheck from his summer job. He wouldn't have even been able to pay the bill for their food, much less order a $15 Uber now. And really, he's not above begging his parents or sister for money, but his parents aren't home, gone on a weekend camping trip in the wilderness where they most likely don't get cell service. And Becca is working on a new assignment for school, her door locked with very clear instructions for Paxton not to interrupt her. He doesn't want to risk becoming a murder victim before his third first date with his girlfriend.

So, when Devi arrives at his house and the front door swings open to reveal her visibly frazzled boyfriend explaining to her that he's going to be cooking for her tonight instead of going out, she smiles sweetly and nods her head in understanding. Paxton wonders briefly if she had seen it in his face, how close he is to snapping, because he’d been expecting maybe a little push back, a slight protest. He knows his girlfriend isn't renowned for her accommodating nature, but he thinks she's trying to be in this moment, for his sake, and he's grateful and questioning how he could have gotten so lucky. It makes him want to cradle her in his arms and kiss her senseless, but he can't because he needs to figure out what he's going to feed her.

Paxton leads Devi to the living room and leaves her with a peck on her forehead and the TV remote before rushing back to the kitchen. And this is where the next problem presents itself, because Paxton doesn't know how to cook.

At best, he can scramble an egg and microwave a hot pocket. Both of which he thinks Devi would not appreciate. So, Paxton grabs two packages of ramen from the cabinet and drops the noodles into a pot of boiling water. He thinks he can spruce it up with an onion, trying to recall all the tips and tricks he'd seen on the Food Network, but as he's cutting it his eyes begin to sting and he can't see all that well because he's blinking back tears and he's starting to feel like a contestant on Chopped when he slices his finger with the knife. He winces at the initial pain, but the cut is shallow, and it would be fine but now his blood is all over the cutting board and the onion and there goes that idea.

Paxton is praying that it can't get any worst from here, because if one more thing goes wrong he's not sure he'll be able to keep it together.

He turns off the stove and removes the pot from the heat, pouring the noodles carefully into two separate bowls. It's certainly not Michelin star worthy, but Paxton promised Devi dinner and it's better than nothing.

But it's as if he’d been a war criminal or a serial killer in his last life, and the universe is determined to punish him, because Devi is sitting at the dining room table waiting for him, and all Paxton has to do is take three moderately sized steps to make it to the make it to her. But his foot gets caught on the corner of a rug and he staggers forward, the noodles and bowls flying out of his hands and straight onto Devi. The broth stains and drenches her dress and the noodles coat her from her hair down to her shoes, but she's still sitting, as if she hadn't processed what had just happened.

“Shit,” Paxton swears, crouching next to her and flicking noodles off her thighs. “Are you okay? Any burns?”

“I'm fine,” she says, glancing down at him, and her eyes are a little wide and her chin wobbles slightly, and he feels his heart drop into his chest because she's about to cry-.

The sound of her laugh startles him and his head snaps up, thinking she might've cracked before he had.

“What?” he asks, concerned.

“I tried to tell you,” she says, but she doesn't look upset. Noodles cling to her cheeks but her smile stretches the entire length of her face. She doesn't even sound like she's gloating, even though she had been right, and as a result of his unwillingness to listen she was now wearing their dinner.

Paxton’s fingers curl around the hem of her dress, causing broth to seep down his fist. “I wanted to make this perfect for you.”

“And it was,” Devi insists, hands coming up to cup his face.

“Devi,” he grimaces. “You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not!” she objects. “It was perfectly us. And I like that.”

Paxton lifts a brow. “You like being covered in soggy ramen noodles.”

“You're deliberately missing the point,” Devi rolls her eyes and pinches his cheek. “I like being with you, even if the day is a complete disaster, I'll be happy because I was spending time with you. And, I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm a bit of a disaster magnet.”

“I think it's cute,” Paxton murmurs demurely.

“See,” Devi says. “You know what I'm talking about, and you agree.”

“The noodles don't help though.”

Devi makes a face. “No they do not.”

And while Devi is taking a shower in his bathroom and Paxton is laying in bed, thrumming his fingers against his stomach, he thinks about what she had said about this date being perfectly them. He smiles to himself.

#daxton #nhie #brrrr.. see.. he cooked her dinner! :)#paxton is a chef!!#world renowned!!!#h.l. writes

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hopefulobjectmiracle · 3 years

Text

wearing the smile you gave me

This fic was prompted by a sweet anon, and I decided to dedicate it to my dear friend @randomcanbian because I love her. I know the next few days will be hard for you, and I hope this makes your week a little less difficult 💕

Pairing: Brittany S. Pierce/Santana Lopez

Prompt: “My shirt is way too big on you...but it’s cute”

Words: ~2.3k

Additional Info: Fluff, Canon Compliant, Married!Brittana, Future Fic.

Read on AO3

Brittany wakes to the soft sound of snoring. The clock next to her bed reads 6:04 AM, but it’s still dark outside.

She rolls over in her bed and breathes a sigh of relief. Santana had gotten home last night, safe and sound. Not that she wouldn’t have, but New York is a dangerous city; one that the two of them hadn’t spent much time in together prior to their wedding. And so Brittany couldn’t help but worry about her anyway.

It’s been four months since the wedding, and married life has been treating them well. They've settled into their new apartment fairly seamlessly, and have been taking classes at Columbia together just like they always planned. Santana would never admit this to Mr. Schuester, but his ‘hunch’ from way back when had turned out to be right - she really did want to go into law in order to make a difference in the world. Preparing for law is difficult, but Santana is loving that she gets to have such an important goal. Brittany is taking classes part-time in the math department, spending most of her time training at the Paul Taylor Dance Company.

It’s not easy, though. Santana often works late nights at the diner to earn extra money - late nights that keep Brittany up worrying about her. Occasionally, like yesterday, their schedules don’t overlap and they aren’t able to spend time alone together. There are bills to pay, classes to attend, and responsibilities that neither one would have ever dreamed of as a teenager. And yet - it’s perfect, because it’s the two of them. Brittany thinks that her teenage self would be damn proud of where they are today.

Now, Santana lies next to Brittany, her dark hair fanned out across her face and her features lax with sleep. Brittany smiles as she traces a finger across Santana’s cheek. This is her Santana, hers alone; the soft, sweet girl that no one but her ever gets to see. And Brittany gets to spend the rest of her life with her. She gets to wake up every morning to that beautiful face, spend her entire day loving this incredible woman, and go to sleep every night knowing that Santana will be right next to her.

Forever.

This thought alone sparks Brittany’s every nerve, and is enough to send Brittany stumbling out of bed, deciding that she isn’t going to be able to fall asleep again before sunrise. Four months in, and it’s finally hit her on this dark, cold morning - this is it. This is forever with the girl she loves.

She quickly smoothes the blankets over Santana, presses a soft kiss to her forehead, and all but sprints to the kitchen of their tiny condo. Lord Tubbington, whom Brittany hadn’t even realized was awake, uses this as an opportunity to climb onto their dining table, attempting to make himself at home in their fruit bowl.

“Quiet, you!” Brittany whispers. “Don’t be an asshole, Santana needs her rest.” Lord Tubbington hisses at her, and Brittany sighs and picks him up, depositing him on the kitchen counter. He mewls in protest, and she jabs her finger at him. “Behave. My wife needs sleep, and I will not have you and your gang ruining it.” She sneaks a glance back into the bedroom. Santana is thankfully still asleep, and Brittany breathes out another sigh of relief. She turns back to Lord Tubbington and says, “I’m keeping an eye on you, mister.”

Brittany leans forward and opens a couple of cupboards mindlessly, unsure of what to make for her wife’s breakfast. It’s a rare free Saturday morning, and she is not going to let it go to waste when she can do something special instead. She sifts through the ingredients they have in their fridge, making a mental note to stock up on bagels. Brittany sighs. She wishes that NYC had at least one Breadstix - she isn’t really the best cook, and Santana only deserves the best.

Still, Brittany thinks Santana will appreciate anything Brittany makes for her, because she knows that what really matters to Santana is that Brittany loves her enough to make an effort. Even if that effort results in burnt lasagna. Which is an event that Santana has sworn to never bring up again.

Brittany shakes that thought away. Santana’s had a hard week, and Brittany needs to do everything in her power to make it better. She spins around the kitchen again and grabs the recipe book they keep on the counter. She flips through it, landing on a page with a list of Italian recipes. She scans the pasta section, hoping to find something easy enough to make. Raviolis, farfalle, fusilli...

Fettuccine Alfredo. Bingo.

Brittany thinks back to her wedding, when Kurt and Blaine burst out laughing when that dish was served for dinner. Apparently, when Sue had locked them in that elevator - a scheme that Brittany had no involvement in, thank you very much - Sue had slipped them a basket of Breadstix food, including a recipe for the pasta. A couple of weeks ago during a drunken night out, Kurt had been so gracious as to share it with Brittany, and ever since then, she’s had it in her back pocket; an ace up her sleeve that she had forgotten about until now. It’s Santana’s favorite, and Kurt’s recipe is simple enough that even Brittany can’t screw it up.

Brittany takes out her phone and scrolls through her pictures until she finds the recipe. She sets the phone on the counter and gets to work, pulling out the noodles, parmesan cheese, garlic, butter, and cream. She turns the stove on, placing a pot of water on the burner. As she’s boiling the water, Lord Tubbington climbs up next to her, knocking her phone off in the process.

“Damn it, I told you to stay away,” Brittany snaps, making a shooing motion at Lord Tubbington. She crouches down and looks at her phone, checking to make sure that no damage has been done.

On the screen is now a photo of the night Santana came to visit Brittany at the dance studio, complete with a big bouquet of flowers. That had been one of the most magical days of her training at the studio, and Santana being there had only made the night better. Brittany picks up her phone and beams. Not for the first time tonight, Brittany is made aware of how lucky she is to be able to have this life with Santana. She places the phone onto the counter again and begins grating the cheese.

Hours later, Brittany is stirring the alfredo sauce on the pan, contemplating the possibility of a four-dimensional cube within the macroscopic universe, when Santana comes padding into the kitchen. “Hey,” Santana says, startling Brittany out of her reverie.

“Hi!”

“Mmmm...that smells so good,” Santana says, stroking Brittany’s arm and inhaling the scents of garlic and cream with a sleepy grin on her face. “What’re you making?”

“It’s a surprise,” Brittany sing-songs. “And good morning, honey,” she says, giving Santana a kiss on the cheek. Santana yawns and rubs her eyes, her hair sticking in every direction. It’s the most gorgeous thing Brittany has ever seen, and - oh.

This is new.

Santana is wearing Brittany’s MIT shirt. The oversized one that Brittany used to throw on daily when she was at the school. The one that was her only source of comfort so far away from home; the one that she put away after reuniting with Santana because she simply didn’t need it anymore.

Now, it somehow looks even better on the person that is Brittany’s forever home. The shirt hangs loose on Santana’s diminutive frame. She’s not wearing anything under it, and that makes her look even more appealing than Brittany had ever thought a T-shirt would look on any one person.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” Brittany says wonderingly.

“Yeah, babe, is that okay?”

“Okay? I...” Brittany is at a loss for words. She slides her hands down Santana’s lovely arms and yanks her in for a kiss. She cups Santana’s face, holding her close and keeping their foreheads pressed together after they break the kiss.

“I’m going to take that a yes,” Santana says, grinning as she pulls back.

“You look incredible,” Brittany breathes. “You have no idea how much I-”

A loud noise goes off right then, making both girls jump. Brittany hurries back to her saucepan, pouring its contents into a bowl.

“What exactly is that?” Santana says, peering over Brittany’s shoulder. Brittany spins around and covers Santana’s eyes.

“No, Santana! It’s supposed to be a surprise,” Brittany says, steering Santana away from the stove.

“I want to help you,” Santana says, attempting to push past her back into the kitchen. “You don’t have to do this all by you- ”

“No can do, honey,” Brittany says, sweeping her hands down Santana’s back and hoisting her up from underneath.

“Britt - ah - what!” Santana yells as Brittany picks her up. She struggles to get out of Brittany’s arms. “Put me down!”

“Sorry,” Brittany says, adjusting Santana in her arms. She walks over to the bedroom and deposits Santana onto the bed, sending her tumbling into the mattress. “You stay here until the food is ready.”

Santana faux-glares at her from where she’s sprawled on the bed, and then sighs in defeat. “Okay. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Brittany leans in and kisses Santana’s forehead. “Stay here.”

Brittany races back to the kitchen, pouring the sauce over her noodles and sprinkling the remaining cheese over them. She takes out the orange juice from the fridge, removes the muffins from the microwave, and neatly arranges everything onto a tray. She carries the tray to the bedroom, careful not to trip over Lord Tubbington’s now-sleeping form.

Santana’s face lights up when she sees Brittany, and she gasps in awe as she takes in the breakfast Brittany made. Santana ducks her head, bashful and so, so cute. “Britt,” she says, smiling softly. “You made all of this for me?”

“Only the best for you, babe.”

“How did you do it? I thought...” Santana trails off. “You’ve always said that you can’t cook. But you made my favorite meal for me.”

“A chef never reveals her secrets,” Brittany says, winking at her. She makes a mental note to thank Kurt at their next night out.

“Oh, yeah?” Santana teases. She leans in closer. “And what else does this mysterious chef do?”

“Right now, she just wants her wife to eat her breakfast,” Brittany says.

Santana rolls her eyes. “Okay, okay. But you need to come eat with me.” She sets aside the tray and draws back the covers, gesturing for Brittany to join her in the bed. Brittany crawls in and tucks herself against Santana, pulling the blankets back over them. Santana sets the tray on their knees and hands her a fork. The two of them sit in companionable silence for a couple of minutes, taking turns feeding each other small bites of the food; just relishing in each other’s company.

“You know what?” Brittany says suddenly.

Santana swallows down a bite of pasta. “Hmm?”

“This shirt that you’re wearing…” Brittany reaches out and gently fingers the fabric. “This is what I used to wear when I was away. I don’t know why, but it would always make me feel safe. It helped me when I was isolated from you and all of our friends. It made me feel less alone.”

Santana nods her head in understanding. “So, how come you don’t wear it anymore? It’s pretty badass, and I bet you looked so cute in it. It’d be perfect for late nights when I’m at the diner.”

Brittany shrugs. “I don’t need it now. I have you to make me feel safe. Even when you’re not here physically, I have the knowledge that you’re my wife,” she says, showing off her wedding ring. “You believed in me when no one else did, you supported me through everything that happened before MIT, and you even managed to figure out that I wasn’t happy and got me the hell out of there. Why would I need some old shirt when I have you, my darling wife, to keep me safe?”

Santana grabs Brittany’s hand and kisses it. “You make me feel safe too, Britt,” she says earnestly. “Life is so, so hard sometimes, and you make me feel like it’s okay to just be myself in a world that doesn’t always like me.” She looks down and presses her lips together. “Growing up, I never thought I would have that. I always thought I’d marry a man, and he’d sit around judging me on everything I did.”

Brittany winces, remembering how heartbroken Santana was for most of their high school years and how long she’d had to struggle with her feelings. She remembers too, how her own heart broke every time Santana recited a hypothetical future with some nameless man, knowing that it would never make her truly happy.

“I never thought I’d be able to feel so free and so loved,” Santana continues. She cups Brittany’s cheek. “But here you are,” she says, grinning helplessly.

“Here I am,” Brittany agrees, bringing their lips together in a soft, slow kiss. Brittany tries to pour all the love in her heart into that kiss, hoping that through the kiss, Santana will feel even a fraction of the infinite love Brittany holds for her.

“And I’m going to stay with you, Santana. I’m going to love you and make you feel like this for the rest of your life.”

“I’m going to do the same for you, Britt.”

As they lie together, talking, kissing, loving one another, their stomachs so full, their bodies so comfortable, and their hearts so happy, Brittany thinks once again that this is really it for them.

This is forever, and Brittany wouldn’t have it any other way.

#glee #brittana #brittana fic #brittana fanfiction #brittana fanfic #glee fanfiction #brittany x santana #santana x brittany #naya rivera #heather morris #evelyn writes fic #anon i hope you like it too!!

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renjunbae · 3 years

Text

resurface; kim jungwoo.

synopsis : all you had wanted was a quiet summer by the beach to relax, escape the oppressiveness of the city, and get your mind off of your last disastrous relationship, but apparently peace was hard to come by, especially when a figure from your past reappears unexpectedly in your life.

pairing : kim jungwoo x fem!reader

genre : beach resort au, university au, romance, fluff

warnings : (very) mild profanities

length : 7.1k

soundtrack : let me drown - deanz ft. andy delos santos; u n eye - boy in space; sun goes down - aiyo

author's note : this is part of the ot23 "resonance beach" collab hosted by @amorajae. thank you so much for letting me participate & go check out the collab masterlist for more addicting summer reads!

Socializing had never been so suffocatingly painful and pretentious.

Clinking champagne glasses, aimless mingling and a forever unending charade of polite smiles that never quite reached one’s eye, they surrounded you like a shroud that made it hard to breathe, a shirt that was too tight and biting uncomfortably at the neck. Much like the very dress you were wearing at the moment; form-fitting, over-the-top fancy, and narrow in all the spots you hated.

Oh, how you wished to change out of it all. Rip off the structured binds around your entire being, take off and away from the repetitive scene that had become more frequent over the past weeks and the main cause of your headaches. But there was nothing you could do about it except stare uselessly at the clock as its hands ticked by at an excruciatingly slow pace, and you hated that fact more than anything else.

“Well then, it has been lovely to meet you, Miss (Y/N). I can see that your parents have done an excellent job raising such an elegant and well-mannered young lady.” The concluding words, along with an outstretched hand, snapped you out of your misery and forced your attention back to the middle-aged man before you. Already, you were struggling to recall his name from the brief—or was it excruciatingly long?—introduction he’d done when he sought to strike a conversation with you twenty minutes earlier. Was he a superior of your father’s? Or maybe a recent acquaintance of your mother’s? You didn’t know, nor cared, really. After two hours of entertaining your parent’s countless associates with answers to their onslaught of questions about which college you attended and other various aspects of your personal life, you no longer had much energy left to spare for further pretense.

For the entirety of the exchange, you’d somehow gotten by with absentminded nods and murmured agreements. Thankfully, your latest companion was too immersed in his tales to notice your drifting focus and lack of interest, at which you almost heaved a sigh of relief. If your parents had received word of your misbehavior, you’d be a goner for sure, and you certainly were not looking forward to another round of their droning lecture about mannerism, etiquette, and public image.

“It was nice meeting you too,” you managed to return with a smile that was just about passable for being semi-enthusiastic, though inside, you were cringing hard at your poor attempts of keeping up the graciously civilized front your mother had always insisted for you to display in public. Forget the crowded dinner parties, forget the fancy evening galas, with every passing minute you were closer to less than a hair’s breadth away from plopping down on the nearest sofa and calling it quits. But you retained your composure and made sure to wave politely as the man stepped away, only letting out a long-held breath after his figure had completely disappeared amidst the crowd.

The room was getting uncomfortably stuffy, and your desire to leave was ever growing as you struggled to get through the throng of chattering bodies for some space alone. Sure, you’d been at a number of clubs and parties with your friends, but they were always on the more laid back and easygoing side of the atmosphere spectrum. You didn’t have to put up a perfect front for others to examine, nor be pressured to uphold your entire family’s reputation. And you certainly wouldn’t be obliged to answer your mother’s calls from ten feet away, beckoning you over to no doubt meet another friend of hers.

It was all the same, over and over. Introductions, small talk, and then going into the personal life of the (L/N)s’ “all grown up” daughter.

“Neo Tech University? The top school in the area? How nice!”

Your father beamed proudly. “Of course, she’s my daughter, after all.”

The adults laughed. You didn’t join them, instead picking at the fabric of your gown until the conversation required your participation again.

“She’s matured so much, I bet she has all the boys at her heels already,” The lady commented, to which your mom immediately responded with a pleased smile and, “Of course, she’s got a boyfriend too. They’re soo cute together. Hey, honey, how come he hasn’t come around in a while?”

God, why? Why, of all things, did they have to bring this up? You felt your insides squeezing together painfully at the mention of the topic, your fists clenched so hard you could feel your fingernails digging into your skin. You’d thought this night couldn’t get any worse than it already was, but you were wrong, it just did. Their gazes were all set on you expectantly, and you hated the attention. Hated being the focus of the conversation and picked apart to the seams.

“We broke up,” you said eventually, avoiding your parents’ eyes.

Your mother's smile fell away to an expression of shock and disbelief. “Why? I thought you two were doing so well with each other.”

Yeah, we were, before he cheated on me, you were tempted to say. To firmly erase any of your mother’s misconceptions that she had even a single idea of what was going on in her daughter’s life. But you just shrugged nonchalantly, as if the breakup was only a trivial matter. If you’d told them the truth, your mother would’ve no doubt considered it a huge blow to her reputation.

“It’s alright, you’ll find someone else who’s worthy of you,” the lady patted your shoulder sympathetically, and you felt your face heat up in a mixture of humiliation and frustration. The last thing you needed was someone telling you that in public.

You figured this was a good time to leave, maybe dig a hole and bury yourself in it. Tonight had been a suitable enough reason. Murmuring a quick apology to the adults, you excused yourself and made your way toward the exit before your mother could intercept. People stared as you passed, but at this point, their hypercritical looks were the least of your concerns. If grown-up life was beyond the point of “childishness” and “selfish acts”, then you’d grown beyond the point of caring.

By the time you’d arrived home, it was already ten o’clock. You and your parents had left for the gala around six-thirty, which meant you’d spent at least a good three hours and a half at the venue, engaging in hollow, repetitive conversations with near strangers. It was exhausting, to say the least, and you found yourself craving a warm bath the moment you stepped through the door. But you had your priorities set straight, and after changing into some casual clothing, you made a beeline for the kitchen to make yourself a pot of ramen. You were practically starving after almost an entire night of strolling around and snacking only on lady-like portions of foreign delicacies at the event.

While the water boiled, you dialed your best friend’s number. She’d told you of her plans—or the lack thereof—this evening, consisting of nothing but binge watching anime and consuming an inhumane amount of triple chocolate fudge ice cream. That was basically an open invitation for you to call her whenever you felt like ranting about old men and how it just wasn’t fair no one else was obligated to chat for hours on end with them about stock market prices, and you accepted it gladly.

Yera picked up on the second ring. True to her word, you could hear the incoherent Japanese shouting of the characters in whatever anime she was binging at the moment.

“How did it go? The gala?”

Just the sound of her voice was enough to ease some of the tension in your shoulders. Your best friend always knew what to say and how to lift your spirits in times like this, no matter how blunt and straightforward she may be, and you were looking forward to her advice.

“Terrible,” you groaned. “Whoever came up with the idea of stuffing over two hundred boring, judgmental business people in a room far too bright and oxygen-lacking must’ve been out of their mind.”

You heard Yera snort from the other side of the line. “Yeah, no shit, sherlock. You know, I’d reassure you it’s not that bad, but I know it’s exactly that bad.”

You shifted your position so that you faced the kitchen window, where a view of the city’s nightscape unfolded before your eyes. The sky was dark, but thousands of glimmering lights made up for it—neon billboards, cars flying by on the busy streets below, office lightings, roadside lamps, and glowing patches of yellow from residential buildings like your own. You stared out at the sea of twinkling sparks, and for a moment, felt so very small amidst the immensely vast world.

“They mentioned him.”

There was only a beat of silence. Yera didn’t need long to catch onto who you were referring to.

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, they were talking about boys and then my mom brought up the fact that I have a boyfriend—had, actually,” you sighed, an action you found occurring more often than not lately. “Guess I forgot to tell them he’s an ex now, but then again, they didn’t ask before.”

“Gosh, that must’ve been so awkward.”

“It was,” you shut your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose with your forefingers. “You tell me. I had to leave, right away. I’m just glad it’s over now.”

“Wait wait wait, hold on. How many of these event thingies have you gone to in the past week?”

“Three, not counting the time my mom had some friends over for lunch. They stayed until dinner, actually, and we had to go out and eat.”

“What the heck?? And you let them drag you along?”

“It’s my duty to accompany them, I guess. They’d be mad if I don’t go and let them show me off for a bit. But then again, there usually aren’t this many events. My dad just signed a contract with some important clients, and my mom’s been invited to a bunch of social gatherings, plus the fact that normally, I’d have school as an excuse. There’s just been more of them recently, and it’s not like I have any good enough reason to opt out.”

Yera gasped. “It’s summer. Summer!! That’s all they should need. It’s summer break right now and it’s your time off. They shouldn’t need any more reason than that. And whether it’s the norm or not, you have to know that you are in charge of yourself and that you get to decide what you do with your own life, not them.”

“You have a point, Yera, you always do, but...” you shook your head. “I honestly don’t know at this point. Things are easier said than done. I hate it all, but in a way, it’s part of my responsibility.”

“Okay, oookay. That’s it. No more dinner parties or rich people galas for you, (Y/N). It’s your time off and I’m going to make sure you take some time off. Aren’t you tired of them ordering you around? You’re the one who’s in control of your own life, (Y/N). Go have a nice vacation and stay away from adult business for at least a few weeks, or I’m not letting you anywhere near my mom’s homemade honeycomb brownies again, got it?”

If Yera was bringing her mother’s brownies into the deal, then you knew she was serious. Somehow, despite the situation, you almost felt like laughing. Felt like you were invincible, as if her words brought a surge of confidence along with it. Smiling up at the night sky, you said, “Well, I guess I have to do it for those brownies.”

“Good, now go on and take on the world!”

The world—or, namely, your parents—was clearly not amused when you dragged your suitcase into the living room at eight in the morning the next day, dressed in a flowery blouse, your favorite jean shorts, and a pair of heeled sandals. They’d been eating breakfast at the dining table just ten paces across as you entered, engrossed in a conversation about the latest commercial trends and news of the business world. They looked up at the sound of wheels against the marbled floor, an initial expression of shock crossing their faces as they took in your outfit and the luggage in your hands.

Your father looked almost bewildered as he glanced between you and your mother, who’s brows had deepened into a frown. She shook her head as if to clear away thoughts of disbelief, though you could detect the note of disapproval that was weaved into the action.

“What’s with this?” she asked, her tone stern and commanding, almost as if to compel you into saying exactly what she wanted: “Nothing, mom. I’m not going anywhere.”

It had always been that way. You’d intend to do something, and she’d shut you down before you could even try. But not this time.

“Carrying out my plans for summer break,” you replied and paused before continuing. “Why?”

The lines on your mother’s forehead deepened. “Plans?”

She was waiting for you to either straight up admit what you were up to or give up. You knew that, and you didn’t want to beat around the bush either, so you looked her right in the eyes and said, “Summer vacation plans, mom. I’m leaving today.”

“(Y/N), I thought we already talked about this. You can’t just—”

“Go around and quit my duties? Yeah, I know.”

“Then what are you doing right now?”

“I’m not quitting,” you said through gritted teeth, “I’m taking the break that I deserve.”

“You’re running away,” your mother accused, her voice trembling with incredulity and, despite her apparent effort to keep it controlled, a slight hint of anger. “You’re going back on your promise and you’re not going to do what you should just because you don’t want to. Stop being so selfish and naive, (Y/N). You’re not a child anymore.”

It was something just suddenly snapped inside you, and all your pent up frustration boiled over. “Selfish? Mom, do you ever think about how I feel? I’ve put up with all the things you wanted me to do and I can’t even have a single moment when I try to focus on my own happiness for once?”

“You promised—”

“I’m not a replacement for him!”

Your parents stared, momentarily speechless from your outburst. In the silence, you felt the frustration and anger wear away and bubble down to something that resembled a fevered hurt. The broken pain in your mother’s face seemed to mirror your own, but the words slipped out anyway.

“No matter what, I can’t be him. I can’t replace him. I know that’s what you want me to be, and that if I was, maybe you could think that he’s never gone, but I can’t. I just…”

You could see that your comments had hit their mark.“(Y/N)—” your mother started.

But at this point, you were too tired of arguing to continue. You didn’t wait to hear what she had to say, only picked up your bags and headed for the entranceway. You exhaled as the door clicked shut behind you. Gosh, I’m really going to do this, am I?

Resonance Beach Resort was a nice change from the usual fast-paced schedule of your daily life that was full of unwanted obligations and tasking duties. You'd visited often in your early childhood and teenage years, and had loved the place for its elegant, luxurious accomodations and the spectacular view of a pristine beach that spanned along the resort's outer edge. But since some time ago, all the pressure and weight of your increasing responsibilities had suddenly just came crashing down on you, and you found yourself taking cram school more often than not due to your parents' constant urging. There just simply wasn't any time for you to take the long vacation you desperately craved. Now that things have finally lessened up to nothing but socializing with your parents' acquaintances, this was the first place you'd thought of for the perfect getaway. Just hide away from the rest of the world for a little bit before reality kicks in and you'd sink back into your busying routine. Here, you could finally have some peace and quiet, be able to breathe easier for once. No more business events or get-togethers, no more forced polite conversations over tall glasses of champagne. If you were going to party, then you should at least do it properly. You figured that aside from relaxation and watersports, Resonance Beach Resort had exactly that.

You'd switched over to your spare phone for the duration of your stay. If your parents decided they've had enough of your “childishly selfish acts”, they'd be greeted by a long period of ringing without answer, followed by an irksome beep and the message that, "sorry, the number you've dialed is not available".

The fight still simmered fresh at the front of your mind, and you shook your head in an attempt to brush it away. A small part of you felt almost guilty about your abruptly impromptu runaway, but it was merely a fleeting thought that passed as quickly as it had come. You knew how hard it was for your parents since what had occurred years ago, and that they were afraid of the same thing happening with you. Still, it wasn’t fair for you to bear the burden of two and act in as a mere substitute only to make someone else feel a bit better. Since when did you owe your parents your entire summer break to play pretend anyways? It isn't as if it actually helped you do anything except feed your growing boredom and frustration for hours on end.

You walked into the entrance hall and made your way to the reception area that sat in the middle of the gentle hum of music and red carpets and golden chandeliers. After going through the check-in process, you received your room cards and headed toward your room to drop off your luggage first.

The west-side elevator was mainly empty aside from a few other visitors who, like you, arrived earlier than most do. They’d entered before you and stood along the side panels, each scrolling through their devices for news and texts. Why take the time and money to come and visit, you wondered, if they were going to just be on their phones all the time? But then again, you were glad none of them paid any attention to you and savored the peaceful silence. The back of the elevator was adorned with clear glass panes that overlooked the beachside, allowing riders to gaze out at the scenery below them as they rose high above ground. You stared at the swaying palms and foaming waves in the distance, and thought that—despite being here so many times before—the view had never looked so welcoming before. You couldn’t wait until you could get down there and enjoy the feel of the warm sunshine on your back, hear nothing but the calming hum of the ocean.

There was a short ding! as the elevator doors opened and a middle-aged woman exited. You turned briefly to watch her leave and the doors clang shut once more behind her. Some passengers shifted around to space themselves more evenly upon her departure, but other than that, it was the same, still, silence as before. A few more minutes passed, and the process repeated until it was just you and another man standing by the front. On the controls panel, only one floor button was lit up.

He was handsome in the most traditional sense, tall and fit with tousled dark hair, flawlessly smooth skin and wide doe eyes directed at his phone screen. Although he was only dressed in a simple graphic tee and sweatpants, they looked too expensive for the average person to afford and the look suited him so well he could no doubt pass for the modern-day version of Cinderella’s Prince Charming. You almost laughed at the thought. That had been your reaction too when you first saw your ex, and you fell for him so quickly, so easily, it didn’t take much to convince you that he loved you as much as you loved him. After all, why not? His family had been wealthy and influential like your own, and your parents—mostly your mom—had absolutely adored him. You thought you’d been living the perfect fantasy until it all broke down and your palace had turned into nothing more than rubble and ashes.

In the quiet buzz of the elevator, you could hear as the stranger dialed a number on his phone and put it to his ear. Whoever on the other side must’ve answered immediately, because the man started to talk right away.

“Hey, where are you guys?”

“Okay, just checking that you’re in the suite because I don’t have the key.”

“Yeah, I’m almost there, why?”

“Woo wants another bag of his favorite chips from the convenience store? Seriously? We’re at a fancy beach resort and he wants chips from the convenience stores? God.”

“Yeah, I brought them, don’t worry. I swear he stuffed my trunk full of them when I wasn’t looking because I barely even have space in there anymore. Geez, you’d think he would die if he went a day without those.”

“Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm. That’s fine by me. Sounds fun. See you.”

You didn’t mean to eavesdrop on the conversation, but the slight echo in the space made it easy for you to hear every word the man said. And for some reason, it brought back long-ago memories of you and your brother, having the time of your lives marveling over the elevator’s view. Arguing about whose snacks the ones in the bag were. Roaming around the resort like it was your own home. That wasn’t possible now, of course. He was farther away than ever, and happier. There wasn’t anything you could do except be happy for him, though that did nothing to help the sore ache in you.

Your entire life felt like a train wreck at the moment, but then again, that was why you were here at Resonance Beach Resort in the first place. And as the elevator dinged once more, you were determined to make your summer better. Much better.

An afternoon in the sun seemed to do its trick.

After spending several hours out by the rolling waves, reading magazines and enjoying the spontaneity of doing whatever you’d wanted to on a whim, you were ready to call it a day. The freedom was exhilarating, and though you’d done much less that you would’ve on a typical weekday, you felt much more fulfilled than before. You’d eaten a quick informal dinner down in the dining hall, too tired to spend time on a full-course meal, only stopping by the vending machine on your way back to your room for a drink.

You inserted your money into the slot, pausing for a moment to look at your choices. Ginger ale would be good, you decided absentmindedly, your thoughts already drifting elsewhere. When the drink rolled out of the machine, you stooped to pick it up before preparing to leave. You turned and, not realizing there was someone behind you, ran right into them, your arm bumping against theirs. The impact knocked the can of ginger ale out of your hands and you quickly bent down to pick it up before it could roll away.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault.”

You straightened up to see the man from the elevator. He rubbed his neck sheepishly, an apologetic smile on his face. He was close enough that you could see the curved bow of his lips and the way his eyes crinkled in good humor, the way the tips of his ears were red in embarrassment at having knocked into you.

You blushed at the close proximity between you and the stranger, before remembering your manners and shaking your head lightly, “No, I’m sorry, it was my fault as well. I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to say or what to do, until the man’s eyes landed on the room card in your hand.

“Suite 1009? What a coincidence, my friends and I are right next door. Want me to walk you back since we’re—you know—going the same way?”

You gave a little startled laugh, finding a bit of comfort in the fact that even a man as good-looking and confident-seeming as him could stumble over his words in situations like this. You’d pegged him for the type with an air of arrogance, but his voice held a sort of genuine sincerity and modesty along with the charm you’d expected. “Of course, I’d love that.”

As you walked down the corridor together, he seemed to realize something, and started in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. My name’s Jaehyun. Jung Jaehyun.”

“I’m (Y/N),” you smiled. “It’s nice to meet you. Is this your first time here?”

“Well, yes, my friends and I were planning to go somewhere for the summer, and one of my friends recommended this resort. How did you tell?”

“I used to come here a lot, but I haven’t visited in a while. I came back to escape city life, I guess, though I must admit I missed this place tons. The things adult life takes away from you are just plain cruel.”

“I know right? Sometimes I wish I could just go back to seventeen and—”

“Relive that teenage dream?” you finished.

He laughed. “Yeah, exactly.”

“That’s what everyone says.”

“What, don’t you agree?” he looked at you in feigned shock.

You looked up at the ceiling as if searching for the answer in the lights above. “Yes,” you said truthfully, “I do agree.” Though it wasn’t exactly how you felt completely all the time, there was no denying that at least you’d loved the various aspects teenage years had to offer.

“You sound almost cynical about it.”

“Do I?” you shook your head. “Oh, well, personally, maybe, I guess?”

He gave you a weird look. “Think you could sound any more unsure about that?”

The two of you burst out laughing, the sound echoing against the walls of the hallway. As you chatted with Jaehyun, there was an undeniable tingle at the bottom of your stomach, spreading to the tips of your finger and your rosy cheeks. You didn’t know if you were willing to fall in love again, especially after your previous failures and bad encounters in romance that extended beyond your last relationship, but there was no denying that Jaehyun was fun to be around and you enjoyed his company immensely.

So when you both arrived at your destinations, you almost felt sorry to go. You lingered for a second, turning to him almost hesitantly.

Of course you’d see him again, being next-door neighbors for the next few weeks or so, as long as he’s here, but you didn’t want to leave and be all alone by yourself just yet.

Jaehyun seemed to feel the same, and he paused. “So, see you soon?”

You started to respond with a definite yes, but didn’t get a chance to answer. The door next to yours opened slightly, and some inaudible conversing trickled out from the crack. You caught a few words in the back-and-forth as you stood by your room, an amused smile at your lips. Jaehyun rolled his eyes, clearly used to this type of behavior from his friends.

“Oh, don’t mind them. They’re always like this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “They seem fun to be around.”

“Yeah, yeah, when they’re not nagging twenty-four-seven at me to get snacks for them.” Though you could see by the teasing grin on his lips that he was only kidding.

Jaehyun’s friend pushed the door open a little more so that the conversation became more distinctable. And then, a sudden recognition made you freeze in your tracks. Your heart dropped. No. No way. The smile fell from your lips, replaced with a rush of confusion and near-disbelief.

Was that…?

You heard his voice before you saw him.

“Jaehyun! You’re back, just in time—”

Brown hair, plump lips, and bright, playful eyes. His boyish features evolved into something more mature but not unlike its younger version, still lined with the same youthful innocence as years before. He was taller too, though in that moment, at first glance, you felt as if it was the only significant change in him. The familiarity jolted awake a feeling you had not felt since long ago, flipping back the pages of yesterday until it landed on a distant memory that seemed so close yet was so far away. It was like the world stopped spinning for a moment, freezing in time that had both given and taken so much from you.

Your stomach twisted with a mixture of fluttering anticipation and dizzy uncertainty.

Why here, of all times and places, did you have to meet Kim Jungwoo again?

Kim Jungwoo, who was your first love, but also your first heartbreak.

It all started the summer before your high school sophomore year, with an ice cream date as friends and a piggy back ride. You and Jungwoo had known each other for years, having met in elementary and developing a close bond over time. Though you each had your own separate friend groups, outside of school, the two of you often hung out together and spent time at each other’s houses. It wasn’t abnormal for you to have dinner at Jungwoo’s place—because your parents often went on business trips and rarely ever cooked even when they were home—and it certainly wouldn’t be a strange sight to see him on your couch, watching TV and snagging snacks from the basket on the coffee table as he waited for you to finish up your homework so the two of you could go out to the nearby park. It was practically routine when, two weeks after break began, he asked you if you wanted to go down to the beach with him and get some ice cream along the way. You texted back a quick “yes, of course” before flopping back onto your bed and blinking up at the ceiling as if in a dazed dream. And for some reason, you thought hard about what to wear.

It was an issue you never had to concern yourself with before. Jungwoo had seen you in your pajamas, bed hair and all, random mismatching clothes you’d thrown on in a hurry, and even ridiculous costumes you wore as a kid. He’d seen you down in your lowest low, face a mess with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Heck, he probably knew all your embarrassing moments by heart and could recite them on a whim. But recently, you’d started to feel more self-conscious around him, and as days passed, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror more and more, holding up different tops and pants in an attempt to decide which would look nicer. A few years ago, you would’ve laughed at the thought. You? Fussing over clothing for Jungwoo’s sake? Ridiculous, you’d never needed to. But now, it seemed that the fact that he was a boy—and a very attractive one too—just sank in, and suddenly you became all too aware of it.

After shuffling through your wardrobe for ten full minutes, you finally ended up with a closet strewn messily with discarded options and clothing racks and an outfit you dimly recalled that Jungwoo had once expressed his liking for. You’d chosen a pair of thin, spaghetti sandals that were lined with gold, a gift from one of your mother’s shopping sprees, and made an effort to brush your hair neatly to go along with it all. Good enough, you supposed, as you turned left and right to check up on your appearance. Hopefully.

You grabbed your phone and keys, scribbled a note for your parents that you doubted they’d even read, and made your way out the door. Jungwoo was waiting for you at the front, standing casually by his car with one hand in his pockets. Your heart beat faster as you approached, the continuous drumming resonating within your chest and ears.

He’d been looking down at the pavement, scuffling a stray pebble around with his toes, but quickly lifted his head at your footsteps.

“Hey,” he greeted, smiling up at you.

“Wow, looking unexpectedly grown-upish today,” you lifted an eyebrow, trying to mask your nervousness in his presence with the usual snarky remarks. You spoke with a heavy hint of sarcasm, meaning that you were only joking about the matter, but what you said was true in a way—Jungwoo did look nice, though you weren’t about to say that aloud to him. It was as if you’d just noticed how much older he’d become, and how much more matured he looked.

“Really,” he said flatly, though his eyes were crinkled in good humor. “You’re the only one in the dark then.”

You laughed. “Because other people still call you an adorable baby?”

“Haha, so funny.”

You settled into the passenger seat beside Jungwoo and watched as he leaned over to put the vehicle in ignition. His hair had grown longer since his last haircut a few months ago, and they fell over his eyes. He shook them out of his face, reaching up a hand to brush away any remaining strands that stuck to his skin. He turned to grin at you before switching over to your favorite radio station as he started to drive. You tapped your fingers to the beat, and not a minute later, the two of you were singing along to the familiar tune. Jungwoo’s voice soared up and down as he sang in a weird mock accent, and you tried hard to keep your own from trembling with uncontrollable laughter. You both knew that Jungwoo was an amazing singer, but even more so a natural at comedy.

Jungwoo parked the car a few blocks away, deciding that trying to find an open spot in the crowded beachside lots was too much of a hassle. Summer had lured many people out with the promise of good weather, and combined with the dazzling scenery of the sea, who was to say no? The brightness of the skies was all too infectious, your mood soaring like the winds above that cast a blessing of gentle coolness upon the world. It was all so perfect that you’d even surrendered to Jungwoo in a water fight, although quite begrudgingly and continuing to splash in his way afterwards.

The sparkling waterdrops glittered midair like multifaceted diamonds so that although knee deep in water, you felt almost as if you were living in the midst of a glowing fairytale. After spending some time among the rolling waves, the two of you decided to walk around a bit and let the warm air dry your clothes before going to the ice cream store. Morning went by all too quickly, and soon noon had arrived. The sun shone brilliantly overhead, the pavement burning at the soles of your shoes. You grimaced at the heat, hopping slightly to avoid getting scalded and wishing you’d worn something that wasn’t so flimsy and thin. Jungwoo seemed to notice your discomfort, glancing your way worriedly.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” you groaned. “But thanks for your concern.”

He stopped as if to consider something, then squatted down in front of you. “Here.”

“What—” you started in surprise, caught off guard by his sudden action.

“Come on, I’ll carry you.”

You thought your face couldn’t get any redder than it already was, but you swear it just did.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to. It’s my fault anyways. I should’ve worn something more suitable,” you managed.

He grinned up at you. “Yeah, you probably should’ve, but that's what I’m here for, right? Moral and well—physical—support when you make those beginner mistakes.”

“Argh, you bastard,” you half-huffed, half-laughed, whacking his shoulder lightly with one hand.

“Hey! I’m just trying to help here.”

Caught up in the slight back-and-forth, you’d forgotten entirely about the source of it all and let out a strangled gasp when a red-hot pain shot up your feet.

“Yeah, it’s not up for debate at this point. Come on, just get on already. Grab on tight.”

With surprising strength, Jungwoo hoisted you up upon his back, his arms wrapped firmly around your legs to secure you in place. Instinctively, you reached over to cling onto his neck like your life depended on it.

“Gosh, not—this—tight,” he choked out, and although you knew he was half-joking, you mumbled a laughing apology.

You were tense at first, afraid to make a single wrong move. But after a while, you felt tired of staying so still and uptight like a board and relaxed some more. When the sun’s rays stung at your eyes, you laid your head sideways against Jungwoo’s neck, your breaths falling together in the same even rhythm. He hummed a tune you did not recognize, probably another one he’d just made up randomly, and you smiled.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” you replied innocently. Just thinking how ridiculously likeable you are.

You wondered if Jungwoo could feel, through the thin fabric of your shirt, the pounding of your heart at his back, the same way you could smell the scent of the salty sea air and his favorite cologne on him. Raising a fingertip, you traced a heart lightly against his skin. He flinched. You held back a laugh. You’d done it right on his most ticklish spot.

He wouldn’t be able to tell, what you’d drawn and what you felt toward him, but at that moment, it felt like a nice secret, nestled comfortably within the confines of your heart. Maybe you’d tell him one day, when the time is right. You’d like to.

The ice cream shop of Jungwoo’s designation was just up the street. Apparently, it had opened just a while ago and, according to Jungwoo, he was dying for you to try some of their flavors. You didn’t have a favorite place you preferred, so you agreed without any conflict. As the two of you neared, you held on for just a little bit longer before hopping off reluctantly and fixing your clothes. You wished it didn’t have to end, that the two of you could stay that way forever, snug in each other’s embrace.

But it all changed when you walked inside the store.

The interior was neatly organized, with pastel-colored walls and light brown tables of different sizes scattered around the semi-spacious room, most of them occupied by other visitors. A long counter spanned the back of the shop, most of it built-in glass cases that displayed a colorful array of ice cream in their silver tubs. A couple workers stood behind it in sky-colored uniforms, occupied with a variety of tasks and tending to customers.

You breathed in softly, taking in the scent of chocolate and vanilla and an assortment of fruit. The air around you was cool, and you were immensely grateful for the air conditioners that made the atmosphere so welcoming after spending a long time in the sweltering sun.

“It’s nice here.”

“I know right?” Jungwoo grinned. “Just wait until you taste their ice cream. It’s the best.”

There was quite a line at the counter, and your skin itched with the particles of sand that had stuck to it uncomfortably. Your hair was wind-blown and a tangled mess atop your head, and you felt conscious of the fact that you probably looked like a mess. “Hey, Woo, I’m going to the bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” he gave you a thumbs-up. “I’ll pick out something for you. I swear you’ll love it.”

“Okay, thanks,” you laughed. “I’ll look forward to it then.”

After fixing up your hair and wiping yourself clean with a paper towel, you felt semi-presentable and headed out of the restrooms to find Jungwoo. You didn’t see him at the tables nor in the line, but in the close distance, almost hidden from view the rest of the shop but clearly visible from where you were standing, caught your attention.

Jungwoo.

Except he wasn’t alone.

A pretty girl around your age stood by him, donning the uniform of the store workers. She seemed to have just gotten off her shift and was loosening her hair from the ponytail she’d previously kept it in. Jungwoo was chatting animatedly, and she laughed at something he said, then shot back with her own response. He reached over and engulfed her in his arms, swaying her from side to side almost exaggeratedly.

There was a familiarity, closeness, in the way they interacted, and as you watched on, you felt your heart slowly clench tighter and tighter until it felt impossibly suffocating. Was this what heartbreak felt like? An ache so terrible and soul-splitting that you couldn’t quench no matter how hard you tried.

At the side counter, they were still going at it. He grabbed at her to kiss her cheek, but she turned away, pushing herself out of his grasp. He made a few more futile attempts, to no avail, and the two of them burst out laughing, her high, lovely one mixing in with his lower, boyish baritone.

You looked down, and wished you could just disappear into a hole. When you returned to the table after you made sure the commotion in the front had died down, Jungwoo was already waiting with the ice cream. One for him and the other, your favorite favor. He handed yours to you, but you found that you didn’t have the appetite for it anymore. You managed to muster up a feeble “thanks” and a strained smile, staring at the cone in your hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t see Jungwoo’s expression, but you could hear the concern lacing his voice. As if he wasn’t laughing so merrily just a second ago.

“Nothing,” you replied, staring at the table. “I should probably go now. My parents said we were going out for lunch today.”

“But you said you didn’t have any plans,” Jungwoo said, confused.

“Well,” you shrugged, “It’s really my mom’s. Anyways, see you later.”

The bell jangled behind you as you exited the shop, the sound not as cheerful as it had been just a while before. A rush of hot air greeted you, but the stinging at your feet could no longer compare to that of the pain in you.

“Oh, okay. See you.” You could still hear his disappointed voice, although you couldn’t fathom just why he wouldn’t be glad to have some time with his girlfriend without you there as an awkward third-wheeler.

You didn’t see Jungwoo again that summer.

TO BE CONTINUED.

thanks for reading! send an ask or comment to be in taglist for upcoming chapters!

#renjunbae's works #resonancebeach #resonancebeachcollab #kim jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #nct #nct 127 #jungwoo #fem!reader #romance

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hobidreams · 4 years

Text

march 1858.

a visitor you never expected; a day you will never forget.

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: fluff words: 1.3k contains: historical au, child!yoongi, softness historical context: korean tradition dictates that people age up at the start of the new year (Jan 1), not on their actual birthday. traditionally, they also add an extra year as they consider the baby 1 year old at birth, not 0 years old. a/n: this drabble is sponsored by a donation to Black Lives Matter.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble four. start from the beginning?

For the entire week leading up to March 9th, as it has been for the past eight years, the palace lights up with an anticipatory hum, a buzz of excitement. Queen Jeonghui is in especially high spirits as she oversees the thorough cleaning of the grand hall and the preparation of the customary celebratory dishes, made with lavish ingredients especially imported from foreign traders. For the eunuchs, the guards, and all the palace occupants, it’s a relief to see the queen so pleased after what had happened a few months prior. Even as she cradles her left arm, hidden by a swath of silk, the smile never leaves her lips as she thinks of the prince and his impending, official tenth birthday.

You don’t pay much attention to the festivities. Or to be more accurate, you don’t have time to. As much as you’d like to pretend, the decorations aren’t for you. Anyhow, your mother has been overwhelmed with work lately as one of the few uinyeo in the palace, and as the head of them all. You are but a fledging apprentice, still learning how to diagnose and properly treat the illnesses that so easily strike the ladies of the court. If only the male physicians could ease your mother’s burden. But social convention must be followed. Even tonight, on Prince Yoongi’s official birthday, she cannot join the feast even though she has been invited personally by the queen.

“Mom, Da-ri-nim’s cramping has gone down,” you report happily, steps a little lighter as you walk over to where mother is hunched over an assortment of herbs. She’s crushing ingredients together with a mortar and pestle.

“Oh? That’s wonderful.” Mother brushes away a few strands of hair from her face. “She should be stable for the rest of the night, but we should keep an eye on her.”

“To make sure she doesn’t bleed too much?”

She smiles. “That’s exactly right.”

“Is the new medicine done yet?”

“Almost there.”

You lean against the desk, watching how the small pot of water simmers above the fire. “I reeaally hope this one works.”

“Me too. The extra amount of mugwort should be effective. Do you remember its effects?”

“Hmm. Most useful for thinning blood, increasing circulation, and…” You look hopefully at her. “Relieving muscle pain?”

Much to your relief, she nods, pride swelling in her chest. “Smart girl.”

The music outside does a crescendo then, notes floating through the cracks of the doors with sounds of laughter. The drums pound out a practiced beat, seeming to shake the ground itself with revelry. You’ve seen the dancers practicing out in the courtyard a few days earlier, and you can only imagine how lovely they must look now, all dressed up in handcrafted skirts and gauzy scarves. You wish you could see it! You’ve always loved to dance. Used to try on mom’s only fancy pink hanbok even though it was much too big for you, then spin round and round and round in front of the mirror to watch the skirt float. She’d scolded you harshly after: how could you possibly dirty or ruin a present from the king himself?! The first gift she had ever earned for her essential help with delivering the precious crown prince. But there are always more dances and performances. This is more important, and that’s okay too.

“We’ll go next year.” Mother says as if she can read your mind (or maybe you’re just bad at hiding your disappointment). “I promise.”

Before you can respond, the door slides open.

“Su-uinyeo-nim!”

“What’s wrong?”

One of the newer eunuchs stands in the frame, his face pale. “A dancer has collapsed! We didn’t want to move and bring her here, so please come with me!” He bows quickly, fingers twisted in the long folds of his sleeves.

“Understood.” Mother reaches aside for the parcel she keeps for emergencies. “Let it boil. Take care of the patients. We’re still going to celebrate after I get back, okay?” she says to you, then disappears with the eunuch.

You do as you’re told, checking on the women who lie on the beds. You replace the damp cloths on their foreheads that have become lukewarm with sweat, and help those who can up, so they can have some water. Many of them are recovering well from the ruthless winter sickness that swept through a whole group of maids; their fevers are mostly subsiding and coughs calming. Still, anything could happen.

When another noise comes from outside, you turn your head. Standing, you put one hand on the door handle and pull.

“Mom, did you forget—”

Your mouth drops slightly as you meet a dark gaze, one at your eye level and marred with a thin scar.

“W-Wangseja-jeonha!” You immediately drop into a bow, ninety degrees, with your back as straight as you can make it. You hold it for five long seconds. He’s still staring at you when you come up again. “M-May I ask why you are paying a visit here…?”

“I made Eunuch Kim sneak me away.” Despite his age, he sounds composed and mature, befitting a future king. He gestures casually beside him to where an exceedingly tall man stands, holding something covered with cloth. “Tray.”

Eunuch Kim steps forward, his cheek slightly indented from his polite smile as he takes away the covering to reveal a bowl, with silver utensils lying aside it. Steam rises immediately, transparent as it curls into the air alongside a comforting smell.

“This is…”

“Janchi guksu.” Celebratory noodles, which must have been brought directly from the feast. Undoubtedly prepared with the highest quality ingredients, and delicious. “It’s your birthday too, isn’t it?”

That was probably one of the last things you thought he’d say. Your heart squeezes; it’s a sort of weird, nervous glee at being unexpectedly seen. “T-That is—Yes! Oh, yes, it, it is!”

While you always thought it was fascinating coincidence to share the same birth date, you’d also long resigned to be overlooked by most in favor of him. Mother always brings you a new hairpin from town, and makes you savory seaweed soup in your own private celebration, and that’s enough. But now, to have the crown prince himself here! You haven’t seen him since that November night, and never this up close.

While his face remains impassive, it seems to soften at your smile. “Good. Then take this.”

You accept the tray that Eunuch Kim offers with grateful hands. You stare into the bowl with your heart pounding. “Can I ask… how did you know, seja-jeonha?”

“Mama told me.”

Your grin grows wider. Next to your mother, the queen has always been your role model. Kind, beautiful, and endlessly caring. Even that night, she had been willing to sacrifice herself for her son. And it seems the prince has learned compassion from the very best.

“I don’t know how to thank you. You didn’t have to trouble yourself, coming all this way.”

“Seja-jeonha. We only have a minute left,” the eunuch reminds in a soft voice.

The prince nods his acknowledgment. You expect him to walk away immediately, but he stays. “A king must protect and take care of his people. And… it’s a thank you. For that night.” He shifts his weight from one foot to another, almost nervous. “Eat well.” Only then does he stalk off with a swish of his opulent navy robes.

You stand there for a minute longer, watching him with admiration in your heart until your grumbling stomach makes you turn in.

Tonight, as the delicate noodles and light soup warm your body from the inside out, you make a promise to yourself. As you renew your fealty to the royal family, you add a new caveat, a second, private oath: unabridged loyalty to the crown prince, to the future king, to Min Yoongi himself.

#ficswithluv #bts imagines #bts scenarios #yoongi fluff #bts fluff #yoongi x reader #historical au #min yoongi #daechwita #rain writes #moonlit throne #a bit of a break haha :')#also tags aren't working again so #that's lovely :(

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j-ut-da-e · 2 years

Text

Bitter Taste

2. Big Happy Family - Part 1

Summary - BD Han was born on October 1st, 1989. They were just a nurse refusing to use their full powers before they became best friends with Klaus Hargreeves. After driving him to his father’s funeral, their life capsizes when they meet the rest of the Hargreeves family.

Pairing - Klaus Hargreeves x NB!OC

Word Count - 2916

Warnings - heavy swearing, talk of and actual drug use, withdrawal symptoms, self-harm, Klaus being an idiot

A/N - the scene where Klaus is pretending to be Five's dad is my favorite scene in the entire show, ty. lmk if I missed any warnings <3

Masterlist

Sun didn't greet me when I awoke the next morning. Only a cold bed and hair on my face. I rub my eyes and sit up slowly. The pants I wore yesterday were discarded on my floor, I didn't have the energy to put on actual pajamas.

A loud crash startles me, making my heart almost leap from my chest. I shoot a glare at my still locked door. Surprising, given Klaus's track record I had figured he would've broken in and slipped into bed with me. That's what he'd done every time before anyway.

I twist my hair around itself and clip it in place, my arm already sore from the small task. Reaching under my pillow, I feel nothing. I look over at the floor and see the pills all over my floor. Right.

Sighing, I heave myself out of bed and to the door. The smell of…something floods my nose as I open it. I went to the bathroom first, wanting to postpone seeing the man that drove me crazy even for a minute.

Jesus H. Christ. The scene in the kitchen is- to say the least, a war zone. Pots and pans are strewn about my counters, all dirty with various foods. Was he just starting things and then abandoning them?

Speaking of the devil, Klaus stood at the stove, stirring something in a pot of water. He was only wearing rainbow, leopard print underwear, something he seemed to be making a habit of in my apartment. My eyes absentmindedly trail up his body. He's almost rail thin now, he's always been skinny since we met, but in the last 6 months, he seemed to have lost even more weight.

"BD," he whines, "if you keep staring at my ass like that I'm gonna blush."

He bats his eyelashes at me and I roll my eyes, "What the hell are you doing to my kitchen? And God, what time is it?"

"Oh, I have no idea what time it is. And maybe I was feeling bad about that little spat we had last night," he ponders, waving his hands. A glint on his wrist takes my attention and I remember looking at a sobriety chip yesterday morning, "So I thought I would make us some breakfast, but I kept starting things, deciding I didn't want it, again and again, blah blah blah. Then I started boiling eggs-"

"Klaus," I interject, "you were in rehab, I'm not mad at you for being gone. But-"

"No, no, no. No, but," he says, coming over and putting his hands on my arms, "you said we're done being mad at Klaus, right?"

"I just know you put me down as your spouse so I just don't understand why they didn't call me…" I look down and put my hand over his, trailing down to pick at his rehab wristband.

"Maybe I just didn't want to lie on my forms anymore," he grins widely at me, but it doesn't reach his eyes.

Sighing, I pull him close. He wraps an arm around my waist and his other hand plays with pieces of my hair that fell out of the clip. "I did miss you, BD. And I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry for calling you an unpredictable junkie…I guess," we both laugh, pulling apart. "And you're so skinny," I say, patting his stomach, "I'll make congee for breakfast, okay?"

His eyes sparkle as he places a kiss on my cheek. I swat him away and he runs to the couch, giggling.

"You're cleaning up this kitchen by the way!" I call to him, he waves his hand and lights a cigarette, sitting next to an already open window.

It was five in the morning when I finished breakfast and Klaus and I sat down to eat. He burns his mouth trying to shovel in the food, exaggeratingly fanning his face. I laugh at his antics and mix my eggs into the porridge.

"We need to go back to the Academy today, by the way."

"Why?" I ask, quirking up an eyebrow, "Also how? You made me leave my car there, remember?"

"Oh, I went and got that earlier this morning," annoyance flashes across his face and he gives my wall the side eye, grumbling.

"Is he back?" He just nods his head once, "Hi, Ben, nice to have you back. "

Klaus rolls his eyes, "He says hello," he mumbles with his mouth full.

"I'll change when we're done and we can head over there. But you are not pulling that key snatching shit again."

☂

Tattered sweatshirt and baggy jeans now on, I head down to my car where Klaus is already waiting. I climb in and my face immediately scrunches. The air was choking me, it smelled like someone had smoked in there for 5 years and then sunk it in a lake.

"You know, I really appreciate you getting the car, but it smells like a damn ashtray in here," I say, rolling down all the windows and holding my sweatshirt to my nose.

He laughs nervously, "Oh, you know me- shut it, Ben!"

"Actually, tell Ben to become corporal and tell what the hell you did here. You've never even smelled this bad." Klaus turns around and scowls at the back seat, throwing a bottle of hand sanitizer back there.

Waves of nausea started washing over me about halfway to the Academy. When we arrived, I didn't even turn the engine off before opening my door and vomiting onto the sidewalk. Klaus grows silent beside me before climbing over into my seat and rubbing my back.

“Holy shit, babe,” I could feel a cold sweat forming all over my body, “Is it hitting you that hard?”

“It feels like someone is trying to slide their hands under my skin…”

“Yeah… yeah, just uh- just let it out. It'll be out of your system soon then we can go back to regularly scheduled programming.”

God this is so much worse than last time… Why isn't he going through withdrawal?

I reach over and turn off the engine, accidentally elbowing the idiot sitting in my seat with me. I carefully slide out, avoiding the new puddle I made. Klaus follows and puts his arm around my shoulders.

"Can you show me where a bathroom is in this place, I need to splash my face or… rip my skin off, one of those," I wipe my face with my sleeve and he pats my arm.

"Yeah, of course. But if you rip your skin off I really don't wanna see that, so can you like, leave your keys outside the door?" My eyes shoot daggers at him, "No? Okay."

Cold water only exacerbated my cold chills. After rinsing my mouth, I exit the bathroom and head toward the living room. Klaus said he would be there.

"Christ on a cracker!" I heard from across the foyer.

When I reach the open double doors I can hear Pogo speaking with him, "My apologies, Master Klaus. I have a query for you."

I press my back against the wall, "Oh?" He obviously had a cigarette in his mouth.

"Items from your father's office have gone missing." He starts, I can hear his cane on the ground as he moves towards him, "In particular, an ornate box with a pearl inlay."

"Really? You don't say?" Guilty.

"Any idea where it went?"

There's a pause before Klaus speaks again, "No, no, no. No idea. Sorry." Liar. "Drop dead." I hear him say under his breath.

"Would you shut up!"

"Excuse me?" Pogo asks indignantly.

"Pogo, I didn't mean you, I just... I…" he stumbles, "You know, there's been a lot of stuff I've been dealing with. Just a lot of memories coming up. All those good times. Well, not so much good times as really awful, terrible, depressing times."

Pogo sighs, "The contents of that box are…priceless. Were they to find their way back to the office, whoever took it would be absolved of any blame or consequences."

"Oh well, lucky bastard."

I walk away from the wall as Pogo leaves so it looks like I'm just walking up, "M- BD. Lovely to see you again."

"You too, Pogo…" I sigh as I reach the doors again.

Of course, he wasn't going through withdrawal. He's still high. Why was I stupid enough to think- forget it.

Klaus is standing next to one of the couches, smoking as I thought, his eyes widen when he sees me, "Hey, you feeling better, babe? I see all your skin is intact so that's good, right?" He asks, rubbing my arms.

I just nod, "Hey, can I just lay down here for a while, I don't think I should drive."

"Yeah, sure. Let's go up to casa Klaus."

Considering the mansion's size, Klaus's room is smaller than I thought it'd be. It was hazy. The walls were covered in string lights and posters, bands, abstract art, concerts. A desk is pushed up against the wall, covered in trinkets, and a shelf in the back corner of the room has a record player, cd player, and stacks of CDs. A small table sits by the bed with various kinds of drug paraphernalia, which he had promptly shoved off and under his bed.

His bed was small, pushed up against a window. The room was frozen in time from when he left home. "Home", would he call it that? This stuffy, oppressing Academy, would it be a home to anyone?

Facing the wall, I notice writing on the wall. Marker, pencil, crayon, all in Klaus’s handwriting. I trace my finger over the lines.

“It makes me feel like dark & small”

“Well I settled on “lamplight”(the first light in which I learned to see the divinity looking out the bedroom window)”

“Where the fire burns so do I. feel the pain ELECTRIFY ME. you cannot kill the willing to die.”

“Is this what they say to you?” I ask, feeling him lay down next to me. It's cramped, I can feel the heat radiating off of him.

I hear the click of his lighter, “Yeah, bullshit, huh?” he laughs dryly.

“It doesn't make much sense, no. But it is kinda beautiful,” I turn over, “I think the dead are luckier than us…”

“Ben doesn't agree.”

“I just think- is that my crop top?” I prop myself up on my elbow.

“Yeah, you like it?”

“Yes, I like it! I bought it, you-” I grab the shirt, “You know what, give it back. I never have anything to wear besides scrubs because of you!”

I start trying to pull the shirt over his head and he starts laughing hysterically, dropping his cigarette, “BD, if you want me naked so bad, all you have to do is ask,” he screams as I pull him up.

“Asshole,” I bite back a smile.

“Pervert!”

Klaus squeals and I yell at him as I continue trying to take my shirt back. I wasn't really mad at him, not about the clothes anyway. It was just something to take my mind off death for a while. We wrestle and I get the shirt halfway over his head, his arms up. A whooshing sound makes us stop dead and snap our heads to the door.

Five stands there in the Umbrella Academy uniform, hands in his pockets and an eyebrow cocked, "Well. Sorry to interrupt your….canoodling, but I need you two to do something for me."

☂

Five explained that he needed Klaus and me to pretend to be his parents. After I properly introduced myself, of course. The boy said he would give us twenty dollars each if we did that and didn't ask questions. We just had to go to a prosthetics company and convince some doctor to give Five the information he wanted. Easy enough.

The three of us were on the stairwell now, Klaus in a blue floral, frilly button-up, “I thought I told you two to put on something professional,” Five snaps.

“What? This is my nicest outfit.”

I look down at myself, “What? Jeans with butterflies on them aren’t professional?”

He sighs, “We’ll raid the old man’s closet,” he looks me up and down, “And Grace’s.”

“As long as I get paid- I mean as long as we get paid,” Klaus says, hugging me.

“When the job is done.”

“Okay, but just we’re clear on the finer details, we just gotta go into this place and pretend to be your dear old parents, right?”

“Something like that…”

“What’s our cover story?”

Five shakes his head, “What? What are you talking about?”

Klaus waves his hands around, “I mean, were we really young when we had you?”

“Like 16?” I continue.

“Like young and…terribly misguided?” he asks, his eyes shining.

“Sure.”

“Your mother, BD,” he looks at me dramatically, “you slut!” I punch his arm, hard, “We met at…the disco, remember that. Oh my god, the sex was ah-mazing…” he says, dragging out the syllables.

“Oh!” I rub my stomach, “And we’re expecting a little sister, Six,” I laugh and Klaus rubs my stomach as well, looking down mock-lovingly.

Five just looks at us in disgust, “What a disturbing glimpse into that thing you call a brain.” he sighs, starting down the stairs.

“Don't make me put you in timeout!”

The prosthetics company was downtown, not far from the Academy. Five made Klaus wear one of Reginald’s black, pin-striped suits. I wore a simple dress with my sweatshirt stuffed up it. I started getting the shakes when we made it into the building, the lights gave me a headache.

The three of us sat in a large office with glass on almost every wall. A man, the doctor Five talked with earlier sat behind a large desk in the middle of the room. Klaus and I were in two armchairs flanking him with Five standing in the middle of us.

“Like I said to your son earlier, any information about the prosthetics we build is strictly confidential. Without the client's consent, I simply can't help you.” the doctor says.

Five takes a step forward, “Well, we can't get consent if you don't give us a name.”

“Well, that’s not my problem,” he looks over at me.

Klaus stands, “And what about my consent?”

“Excuse me?”

“Who gave you permission…” he starts to cry, pretty convincingly, “To lay your hands on my son?”

I look up at the lights, trying to summon my own tears, “What?”

“You heard me.”

“I didn't touch your son.”

“Well, then how did he get that swollen lip, then?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. The realization of his plan hits me, but not in time to prepare.

“He doesn't have a swollen-”

Klaus rears back and slaps Five across the face. The force snaps his head to the side and I can already see blood forming at the corner of his mouth. I slap my hand over my mouth to stifle a laugh… or a scream, I’m not sure which.

My deranged “husband” walks back up to the desk, placing his hands on its surface, “I want it. Name, please. Now.”

“You’re crazy…” he squeaks out, now sweating.

Klaus laughs darkly, “You got no idea.”

The doctor's eyes snap back to me, “Ma’am, are you okay?”

I feel a bead of sweat drip down my forehead as a hot flash washes over me, “Actually, sir, I went into active labor this morning, but when my son,” I get up to stand next to Klaus, “when my son told me what you did, I marched my ass down here. So if you don't give us what we need I will make your big, shiny office a biohazard zone.”

Now, the man is frightened, looking between us. Taking up the snowglobe sitting on the desk, Klaus grins widely, "'Peace on Earth', that's so sweet," but not even a second later he smashes it into his forehead, the liquid spilling all over me. Glitter sticks to his hair and he looks back up, groaning and now bleeding from his scalp, “God, that hurt!”

“I’m calling security-” he says, reaching for the phone, I lunge over his desk and hit him with it before putting it to Klaus’s ear, “What are you doing?”

He turns on the fake tears again and chokes himself up, “There's been an assault...in Mr. Big's office, and we need security, now. Schnell!” he slams the phone down on the receiver and smiles.

“Now, here’s what’s gonna happen, Grant,” I whisper, spreading my hands out over the desk.

“It- It’s Lance…”

“In about 60 seconds, two security guards are gonna burst through that door,

and they're gonna see a whole lot of blood, a pregnant woman, and a child with a bloody lip, and they're gonna wonder, "What the hell happened?"”

“And we’re gonna tell them…” Klaus sobs dramatically, “that you beat the shit out of us!” he straightens and stops the tears, “You're gonna do great in prison, Grant. Trust me, I've been there. Little piece of chicken like you. Oh, my God, you're gonna get passed around like a… You're just... You're gonna do great. That's all I'm saying.”

“Listen, Lance. I’ve been there too and there is a way to get out of that little scenario…” I say, batting my eyelashes.

“Jesus, you’re a real sick bastard…”

“Thank you,” we say together, Klaus spitting out a piece of glass.

#klaus #klaus x oc #the umbrella academy #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #fanfiction #tua #original characters #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #luther hargreeves #umbrella academy #fanfic #tua s1 #tua rewrite #nonbinary

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fromthehellmouth · 4 years

Text

Red, Hot Skin

Word Count: 4.8k

A/N: mentions of a hot-water burn, fluff, a bit of minor tension

Drawing by me inspired by scenes from the story. I hope you enjoy! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Overview:

Tension ensues after you and Tom Riddle both attempt to retain your dignity following foolish mistakes. Tom risks breaking curfew to make up for a painful mistake of his.

Tom Riddle stood next to me at the workspace counter in the dim light of the potions classroom. His large pale hands planted firmly on the black counter, his sleeves rolled up below the elbow to reveal his toned forearms twisting slightly as I added the next ingredient to my simmering brew. It was part one of a group test where professor Slughorn would choose one student of a pair to perform the completion of a potion in front of the class. It was a way to test one’s ability to trust their partner, and would assure that both students equally understood the directions of the potion if they happened to be the one called to demonstrate. Professor Slughorn watched intently with a clipboard as I sprinkled the fine dust from my cupped palm into the cauldron. Reaching for the last of the peppermint sprigs, I extended my arm over the bubbling mixture when suddenly, Riddle aggressively grabbed my wrist.

“No!” he exclaimed, but it was too late, the thin leaf had fallen from my grasp into the boiling pot below. Slughorn jotted something on his parchment and looked at me, worry sinking into the lines of his face.

“Now you’ve done it.” Riddle all but growled next to me, taking a step back from the table in dismay. The mixture erupted and thick, red, oozing sludge sprayed from the cauldron, spilling over the pewter rims and onto the work table below. In my embarrassment I stood completely frozen, unable to scoop up the mixture with my hands because of the burns I would face as a result of touching the corrosive slime. So, I just stood helplessly, my eyes fixed on the mess before me.

“Oh dear,” Slughorn muttered, waving his wand and collecting the crimson sludge in a suspended bubble, eventually letting it plop back into the confines of the abused bowl. Slughorn scratched something else on the parchment in his hands and turned sympathetically to me with a soft expression. To my right I felt Riddle’s gaze boring into my face. I could sense the vast disappointment emanating from his glare and I had to force my attention on Slughorn to keep myself from glancing at his clenched fists.

As the students began to trickle from the classroom, I took my time in order to leave a comment with professor Slughorn about my performance for the day. I felt Riddle’s eyes on the back of my neck as he left the room and I was soon alone with Slughorn.

“I’m so sorry professor, I don’t know how the process could have slipped my mind.”

“The potion could have been botched by any student, but for next time I suggest you focus more on the ‘claims and cautions’ portion of the lessons, alright?”

I knew the words held little weight. It was a brew I should have mastered, and demonstrating my incompetence to the class was quite the blow to my psyche.

“Alright, thank you for the advice professor.” He nodded, and we exited the room together. Slughorn turned around, “I will see you next lesson--Oh, and Mr. Riddle, you as well.” Slughorn walked away and I turned around to see Riddle waiting outside the classroom, his eyes in shadow under his defined brows. “Why are you still--” but I was cut off, Riddle cornered me into the wall, glaring at me with piercing eyes. Startled, I felt hot under his gaze, my cheeks blushing bright pink, and my breathing faltered as I felt the pressure radiating from his eyes. “No one spoils my reputation like that, do you hear me?” I nodded, looking at the floor. “Now, go study for the next demonstration.”

***

The next morning I was determined to memorize the next brew by heart, and I decided to get up early and visit the library before breakfast. The hazy purple dawn glowed through the beautiful gothic windows of the library, and streams of sparkling rays danced on the crimson-carpeted floor. There were rarely students in the library so early in the morning, and I was able to swiftly collect the edition of “Deadly Draughts and Elixirs” Slughorn no longer provided in his classroom. Swiping to the chapter on “Uses for Peppermint,” I pulled out my crisp parchment paper and began taking notes on Slughorn’s suggested reading.

***

As students began to slowly appear at nearby study tables I quickly checked the clock, realizing I had completely skipped breakfast and charms was to start in 5 minutes. My heart racing, I quickly gathered my notes and my textbook, all but shoving them into my suddenly-very-small bookbag, and practically running out of the library. Professor Flitwick’s classroom being located on the third floor meant it took at least 7-8 minutes to reach--considering the staircases cooperated and no dreadfully slow first-years were infuriatingly placed in front of me at every turn. Practically sprinting, I exited the library’s massive entrance only to feel a sudden whoosh of air and a loud thud as I slammed into a tall firm body, and steaming hot tea splashed all over my chest. I let out a shriek of pain as the boiling liquid seared into my skin. I felt my eyes automatically welling with panicking tears--my breath coming out in shallow pants, and every nerve in my body tightened. The tears overcoming my stiff face and trickled down my hot cheeks, I pathetically glanced up to see who had collided with me.

Tom Riddle stood before me, mouth gaping, aquamarine eyes timidly glowing with fear and confusion. Immediately thrusting his hand into my shirt, he pulled the stained fabric sticking to my skin toward himself, allowing for a brief moment of alleviated pain as the cool air filtered through my blouse.

“I--” A single syllable escaped his lips before Madam Pince rushed from her desk to tend to my abrupt scream just moments before.

“What in Merlin’s name!” Pince cried out, gaping at my shell shocked expression, and noticing my frozen exterior she wrapped her arm around my shoulder, tightly gripping to my arm, and swinging me from the view of the boy who had spilled his morning tea into my tender skin.

“We’re getting you to Poppy right this minute, Salazar!” The last part she whispered under her breath as she firmly guided me to the hospital wing where Pince exchanged my paralyzed body to Madam Pomfrey’s care. Submitting to the matron’s grasp, I realized I would be missing my charms lecture entirely.

***

After the incident Madam Pomfrey guided me to a private bed where she told me to unbutton my top and drink a glass which she handed to me filled with a sloshing green liquid. She then applied a deep vermilion healing paste to my tender skin, her soft aged hands gently spread the cooling cream across my chest. Handing me a little black jar with the same red paste, she smiled gently.

“Apply this thickly every night, and whenever you feel the skin is unusually hot. Come back and see me in two days, alright dearie? If it starts to hurt badly you may most definitely see me sooner.”

I nodded, gently clutching the black jar in my hands as the paste slowly absorped into my skin revealing the red and irritated burn underneath.

“Now off to your next class.”

My bookbag hung heavy on my shoulder as I walked toward the exit of the hospital wing. I swung my bag in front of me to place the small black jar inside, and as I stepped outside I was met with the tall statuesque figure of Tom. His pristine uniform tailored perfectly to his broad shoulders, his shoes sleek black leather, his tie lay cleanly against his fitted white top. His hands were in his pockets, and he looked down at me with his eyes, not his face, so I could see the underside of his chin and the base of his defined jaw.

“I’m sorry, what business do you have by the hospital wing?” I muttered, looking away from his penetrating gaze.

“I have been waiting for you.” Emotionless. Smooth. Thick like the paste Pomfrey spread across my chest.

“And what is it that I can help you with, Riddle?” My voice was stern, my eye darting to meet his, my tongue running along the inside of my lips to keep my voice from exposing my irritation.

“I would like to offer my assistance for Slughorn’s partnered test.”

“We’re not allowed to help one another during the test, you know this.”

“Not during, before.” He finally lowered his face finally, so there could be a line connecting the angles of our jaws.

“You want to study with me?” My eyes narrowed. Yesterday the boy harshly told me to study by myself in the hopes of preserving is already pristine reputation.

“You need my help, and...”

“And what.”

“And I may owe you a new blouse.” He said smoothly, gazing at my brown-stained top where his cup had collided below my collarbone and above my breasts. I realized the top button was unhinged, partially exposing my sensitive pink skin. Quickly buttoning the little ivory disk and returning the eye contact, we were silent for a moment, and he took a step closer to me.

“You will accept my offer.”

“No I will not.” My lips pursed, and I crossed my arms, his sea-green eyes flickered with defiance, his eyebrows slightly furrowing to my nonchalant response.

“I don’t think you understand the situation.”

“I understand the situation perfectly, Riddle. I don’t need your assistance for the test. I... I have someone else.”

“You have someone else.” He repeated coldly.

“That’s correct, I have someone else helping me study, but thank you for such a kind offer.” A small patronizing smile fluttered across my features before I could stop myself, and in an instant, I felt my heart sink. I saw his expression flash with aggression in a blink of unrestraint before quickly resuming to his normal critical glare. It felt almost powerful to have effected such a narcissistic little--

“Very well then,” he turned his head to the side, revealing the muscular tendons in his pale neck, where almost translucent skin lay atop cool blue veins. “I look forward to your... performance.” He cocked a brow and swiftly turned around, briskly leaving me at the entrance of the hospital wing.

***

I had been planning on seeking out the help of professor Slughorn since the disastrous malfunction of my brew on the first day of the test, but after confessing to Riddle of my non-existent study partner, I decided to make my way to the dungeons to ask for his help. Down the stone staircases, the air seemed to dramatically drop in temperature, and the damp chilled corridor made my still-wet shirt stick to my skin with icy closeness. Knocking on the stone doorway to the potions classroom I cleared my throat.

“Excuse me professor?”

“Ah yes? What can I do for you?” Slughorn removed his glasses after placing a small golden stem of some kind into a minuscule vial with a pair of tiny tweezers. He smiled and I approached his desk.

“I was wondering if I could ask for help before the test tomorrow.” I let my eyes stray to the numerous bottles, jars, bowls, and flasks filled with colorful liquids of differing viscosity that scattered the table.

He hummed briefly. “I’m afraid I cannot help with that, it would be unfair to the other students if I offered help before a test to only one group, don’t you think?”

“That’s ok professor, I just thought it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

“Of course. Well, if there’s nothing else you need, at the moment I’m in the middle of quite a time-sensitive brew--”

“I understand, I’ll see you Friday professor.”

I stepped out of the classroom, greeted with that all-too-familiar figure I had come to expect outside of doorways.

“Do you follow me, Riddle?” I made no effort to catch his eye as I began to walk back to the Slytherin common room. The heels of my shoes clicked with the sway of my hips as the sound echoed through the stone walls of the dungeons.

“I wanted to see who your previously mentioned partner would be.” A small smile creeped onto his crystalline features slowly and unnaturally as if the sculptor forming his marble face was forcing emotions onto his art-like exterior.

“And you got what you wanted, did you?”

“My offer still stands.” Stopping a moment, I turned to face him. The light from a yellowing lantern glowed out from behind his tall shoulders, creating a blurry halo contrasting with his all-black clothing. The light conformed to the grooves in his face, appearing to drip down his hollowed cheeks and peek from behind his muscular neck. His eyebrows raised in anticipation. I said nothing and stood still when his hand stretched out to grasp the handle of my bookbag, relieving my shoulders of the stress they carried. He silently guided me to the common room, whispering the password and stepping in together, my eyes were met with the familiar glow of the Black Lake glittering in from the skylights above. Still holding my bag, we crossed the near-empty common room to the diverging staircases leading to his dorms and mine. He began up the stairs, looking down at me from an even higher advantage point than his normal towering height. He beckoned me with his eyes to follow.

I am not going with Tom Riddle to his room, now, am I?

My legs obeyed and he led me to his four-poster bed, curtains draped. With a wave of his wand the thick velvety fabric cinched, revealing his bed, perfectly made, textbooks and parchment sat carefully in the center. The room was considerably darker than the common room, which was illuminated by softly glowing emerald lamps and light refractions glinting from the water above us in the Black Lake. The only light from the room came from the slanted skylights leading to the depths of the Lake above, the room coated in a thick pale green haze. It was as if he had been smoking an intoxicating musk, smelling of fresh sea foam and teakwood. He beckoned me to sit on his bed, and unpacking the books inside, he placed them next to his own materials on the cushiony mattress. He pulled up a chair from his desk and told me to pull out my parchment as we would be taking notes. There was something about being so close to him, silently obeying his requests that seemed strange. I felt as if my mind had been blurred, masked, like perhaps the intoxicating aroma wasn’t really a smell but an aura of attachment, and in that moment there was nothing more I wanted to do than to follow his every word.

“What aspect of the test frightens you the most?” His words seemed to spill from his lips like warm sap dripping from the rough bark of a tree, I felt myself sticking to it, caught in its sweet trap, inescapable and cruel. Deadly.

“Perhaps the timing of when to stir after the specific steps--and also how much of each ingredient... and maybe the order of when to stir versus when to add?” I felt my face growing hot.

“You need help with the entire potion, then.” His voice was icy, hinting at superiority and criticism.

“No, just those few parts.”

“You just described the art of potion making in its entirety.” A small half-smile slithered across his cold features. I said nothing, looking down at the spread of studying materials, feeling overwhelmed and perhaps a bit ashamed that I had gone completely against my conscience and followed the boy to his room and sat atop his bed and--

“Firstly, I’d like to give you this,” he pulled from his pocket a small red square of paper, placing it in my hand. “It’s enchanted to find me once you write on it. If ever you have a question or need anything, I’ll know.”

I stared at the unassuming gift in my hands, wordless.

“It can’t be used during the test, or that would be cheating.” He added slyly, and I let out a small puff of air in response.

“Thank you.”

“Well then, back to the business at hand. Is there somewhere you would prefer to start?” He resumed his unnaturally rigid gaze, and gripped the sides of his chair firmly, he lifted and pulled the chair closer to my position on his bed, which caused the muscles in his toned arms to twist and pull and expose the sapphire veins which coiled across them like serpents. Transfixed still on the tiny red paper, I didn’t answer. In my silence he reached out, and touched my chin, cupping my jaw slightly in his hand. He slowly pulled my face up to his view.

“No getting distracted, do I make myself clear?” His lips barely moved, but I felt weak to my stomach. My eyes fluttered shut, and I pulled my face from his touch.

“Don’t do that.” I focused my gaze on his nightstand, forcing my attention on his little reading lamp which had rusted embellishments of snakes resembling vines curling along the base of the lamp.

“Why not?”

“It’s distracting.”

Silence.

“Lets start with the ingredients.”

I wordlessly nodded, fumbling with the books until I found the one I had begun to take notes on before I left the library this morning. I handed him my notes, which he gracefully pulled from my hand, and eyed quickly.

1. Shrivelfig

2. Porcupine quills, (as many as needed)

3. Peppermint sprig

“Your first mistake was when you added the peppermint sprig too early. This step comes after you stir four times counter-clockwise,” he looked down at my notes again. “I see you corrected this by noting that the mixture usually must be prepped before the leaves are added, very good.” I forced back a smile. “The peppermint is quite important to this particular brew, can you tell me why?” Lowering the notes, he stared at my nervous expression.

“They balance out the intense feelings of...” I stopped dead in my tracks.

“Euphoria.”

“...which are induced as the wizard drinks the potion.” I finished, my breathing was shaky, and I felt uncontrollably nervous as he slowly shifted in his seat, leaning closer to me, I felt his hot breath on my neck as he silently exhaled.

Pulling away from his intimate stance, I stepped off the bed.

“Tom, I don’t think...” He mimicked my movements, also standing from the chair, his bed now lying between us, he put his knee and hands on the bed, and looked up at me from his lowered position.

“What is the matter?”

“I shouldn’t be here...” I walked backwards, finding the door with my hands, and hurriedly making my way down the stairs, completely ignoring all my books still on his bed as I rushed through the common room and out into the cool dungeons outside. My heart beat a thousand times a minute, and my breathing was coarse and shaky, I stood with my back to the icy dungeon wall, my hands traveled to my chest in an attempt to force my erratic breathing to slow. Feeling the hot flesh below my touch, the slight pain flowing back into my consciousness, I remembered I needed to apply my burn cream. Realizing I had utterly missed supper, I decided it would be best to have Madam Pomfrey take a look at my skin.

***

There was no chance I would be back in the common room tonight after what had just happened. I thought, as I swiftly walked up the dungeon staircase to the main floor where I would find the hospital wing of the castle. Following supper, the castle was quiet. Most students had gone up to their house’s tower or down to the dungeons if you belonged to Slytherin or Hufflepuff. The corridors were nearly silent except for a few students quietly walking up the grand staircase or whispering respectfully due to the general understanding that students shouldn’t loiter in the corridors approaching curfew. Still, I silently walked to the hospital wing, hoping Pomfrey would allow me to rest there for the night if there was room for me. Nearing the door, I caught her eye, and she motioned for me to come into the room. To my relief, the lines of beds flanking the central walkway were nearly empty, and Pomfrey led me to a private bed toward the back where a privacy guard had been placed to shelter the injured student.

“How are you healing dear?” She smiled softly and my hand went to feel the hot skin, causing me to squint with a twinge of pain.

“Still painful I see...” her eyes wandered, looking at the floor near me, and suddenly it occurred to me what she was looking for

“My bag! I completely forgot to bring it!” My hand flew to my face, a wave of worry overcame me as I wondered if I would need to go back to his room to get my jar.

Madam Pomfrey’s expression was calm, and as the soft clicking of footsteps drew nearer, the both of us averted our eyes to the figure who approached the guarded stall.

Tom stood at the foot of my bed, and smiled weakly as he pulled the familiar black jar from his pocket. His sea-green eyes glittered faintly in the dimness of the hospital wing.

“I thought you might need this.” He handed me the jar, and underneath the glass bottom I felt something soft and crisp, looking down I saw the little red paper fall from the jar and into my lap, slipping it into the pocket of my uniform, our eyes connected and he opened his mouth as if to inquire something, but ultimately made no sound and exited the hospital wing. I was now alone with the matron, who noted at how lucky I was to have such an intuitive friend as she watched me apply the paste, critiquing my techniques, and explaining I should always go thicker if I’d like to be safe.

“Do you plan on making your way back to the dormitories or were you planning on spending the night here since it’s already...” she checked the clock “Well it’s already 10:10, but if you’d like to hurry back to your dorm I can inform Mr. Filch you’ll be--”

“If you don’t mind Miss, I’d like to stay here if that’s okay.”

“That’s certainly fine with me. I’ll be out, but if there’s anything you need, just ring and I’ll be back as quickly as possible. Sleep well, dear.” I watched her figure leave the hospital wing, and the dim lights overhead faded off, leaving only the faint glow of the moon filtering through the windows above the beds to shine geometrical patterns on the stone floor. I removed my shoes and socks, resting them at the foot of my bed, and undid my hair, feeling it coil around my shoulders. I placed the red parchment on the stand next to my bed, and slid my legs under the covers of the blankets.

***

As I lied curled up, I watched the minutes pass, my body far from sleep. 10:40, 11:15, 11:50... My eyes were wide open, gazing at the ceiling far above me. No one stirred in the hospital wing, and hidden away at the back of the linear room behind the stiff curtain, I sat up, turning my eyes to that small paper Riddle gave me a few hours earlier. Playing with the soft red paper I felt the curiosity bubbling up inside me. I searched for a writing utensil and scratched a quick message neatly into the paper. As I finished the paper thrust itself from my hands and fluttered through the hospital wing like a butterfly, and out the door it went. Now my excitement was nearing the brim as I sat awaiting a response.

15 minutes no answer.

Could he be asleep? I thought as I pulled my legs up to an angle, causing my blankets to tent with the movement.

15 more minutes.

I began to assume he had gone to sleep for the night, and just as I lowered my legs and began to relax my position I heard the faintest sound of someone walking the corridors outside the open door to the hospital wing. My eyes flew open and I felt my heat pounding in my chest.

Was he coming in person?!

The steps became slightly louder, but still effortlessly soft and steady. Soon a shadowy figure met me at the foot of my bed. Stepping into the light, I felt my heart nearly throwing itself from my chest. The soft light of the moon that filtered through the windows above my bed seemed to veil him with its glow. His composure resembled that of a statue of an angel covered with ivy and carved from sparkling ivory that would sit untouched in an overgrown garden. It was delicate and somehow firm.

“You’re lucky I am a prefect.” His whisper was barely audible, and as he again stepped closer to my bed he found his way to the chair next to me, and I could more clearly see his still pristine uniform was on, almost as if he had gotten ready to see me. I said nothing, and my eyes could not leave his face.

“Is your skin feeling any better?” His words were soft and silky, and as he neared my seated position on my bed I realized we had unconsciously copied our exact position when I rushed from his room. “I realize I never apologized for spilling on you... that must have been very painful. I’m sorry.”

“It still hurts...” I didn’t mean it as a way to force guilt into him, I just felt so strange by our hushed and intimate conversation I didn’t know what else to say to him.

“May I help you with it?” Reaching for the black jar I did nothing to stop him, my mind swirled with anticipation and emotion. He delicately unscrewed the cap, his long fingers clutching the jar harshly, and the whites of his knuckles stood like snow-peaked mountaintops on his smooth pale hands.

“Unbutton your blouse.” He softly commanded, and slowly my hands undid the highest three buttons of my top, fully exposing the reddened flesh below my collarbone. He was unexplainably addictive and enticing, and there was no natural reasoning behind the complete trust my body freely gave him. Dipping two fingers deep within the jar, and pulling them out, they were covered in the thick red paste. In a moment of searing eye contact he carefully placed his fingers onto my hot, waiting skin. I let out a soft wince as a spread the mixture across the affected area, a few times submerging back in for more of the wet cream. It was calming and yet exciting to feel him touch me so carefully and full of purpose.

“Your heart is beating so quickly,” he whispered. “Are you nervous?”

“Can I ask you something?” I attempted to dodge his question, but to no avail.

“Answer me first.”

“Yes, very.”

“Go ahead. What did you want to ask me?” I noticed the ghost of a smirk flash across his lips.

“Why did you pull my blouse from my skin when the tea spilled onto me?” I watched his eyes stray and I felt like I could almost see him retracing his steps and accessing the memory.

“I learned if someone has been exposed to a poison spill or a hot liquid the best thing to do is remove the item that the spill happened on. Fabric retains liquid by soaking it up, which would just allow the toxin to sit on your skin...” He caught my eyes. “But since I could not remove your blouse, it seemed the next best thing to get it away from your skin in any other way possible.” I nodded slowly, realizing that his quick thinking saved me from a potentially worse burn. “I learned it from personal experience,” he looked away.

“Someone burned you?”

“No, I spilled a corrosive potion on myself a few years back.” I let out a muffled laugh.

“Then what did you do? take your top off?”

“Is that what you’re thinking about?”

“No! just that you could have done something wrong in potions class...” I let slip a shy smile.

“There are many things you don’t know about me.” A tiny but genuine smile danced on his face for a moment, before he returned his hands to my chest, carefully spreading the soft cream and blowing cool air to speed its absorption. The breath made a small chill run down my spine, and turning my eyes back on his face, I couldn’t help but fixing my gaze on his red lips. Red like my simmering potion, red like his crisp parchment square, and red like the paste he gently danced across my tender, red hot skin.

tags: @tmr-simp-pride

#tom riddle #tom marvolo riddle #tom riddle fic #harry potter #harry potter fic #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle imagine

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