#and my dads like whenever I come home I always greet everyone

[lovestryke]

i think if you grew up in my household you would have put a gun to my mom and dad's heads already

[russellsppttemplates]

Sharing is caring (George Russell)

A long weekend with the Russells

Note: english is not my first language. I know this is very very very overdue, but hopefully it's still enjoyable!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: pregnancy

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you guys doing well back there?", you asked the kids as George drove the four of you up to his parents' house. According to the screen display, you still had a little over an hour until you arrived at George's parents house where you would be staying for the long weekend to enjoy some family time before the season picked up again.

"Does anyone need a bathroom break?", George asked, looking at Olivia and Arthur through the rear view mirror, "I'm fine", Olivia chirped in, "me too, I'm okay", Arthur added.

"You're doing okay, too?", George asked you, hand on your thigh as he drove, "I'm fine. I never want to say it too loud, but I think morning sickness stopped two weeks ago", you added.

"Little one has had enough causing raucous", George whispered, turning his attention back to the road ahead.

"We're nearly there, right, daddy?", Arthur asked as he recognised the streets as the car approached his grandparents' house, "yes, we just turn here and at the end there", George replied as you texted your mother in-law, letting her know to open the big gate so no one had to get out of the car.

"Guys, you're here! Did you have a good trip?", Allison welcomed you into the house, hugging the kids who immediately ran and hugged her legs, "grandma!!", they excitedly said.

"We did, it was fine. There was a little traffic at the end, but we were so close I think it barely bothered us", you said as you greeted Steve, walking inside the house and making sure the kids left their shoes by the door.

"I'm going to take the bags upstairs", George said, kissing your forehead, "I'll be right back", he smiled as you ushered Olivia and Arthur to the bathroom, "Y/N, here, darling, our some slippers on!", Allison offered.

Since Allison and Steve lived on their own again, as every child had now fled the nest, they updated the bedrooms, you and George staying in the guest bedroom with a double bed and the kids occupying the room they had for whenever the grandchildren stayed over.

"Lunch is ready, so when you can come down, we're waiting for you", George's mother called him as he helped you sort out the room for your children, "we'll be down in a little, thanks!".

After eating and helping tidying the kitchen, George took the kids out to the garden, hoping to use up their energy since they spent the whole morning inside a car.

"Is the swing alright, dad?", George questioned, "yes, me and Benjy sorted it out a few weeks ago. It's good as new", he answered, prompting George to take the kids to the renovated swing set.

When he was younger, he didn't spend too much time at home since racing required him to spend a lot of time away, but the times he did spend back home were filled with memories os this swing.

"Is this the old swing you told us about?", Arthur said, unsure of the whole apparatus since he heard stories from when his father and his uncle and aunt were much younger.

"Yes, me and uncle Benjy used to spend a lot of time here with auntie Cara, too! Who wants to go first?", he said as Olivia volunteered.

"It's safe, Arthur, see?", she said as she balanced her body back and forth, making her brother feel a little more comfortable with the whole thing, "I'll share it with you later, okay?".

"Sharing is important", George began, "and the fact that you guys always share is very nice, me and mummy are very proud of you", he said as Arthur picked some flowers from the grass and gave some to Olivia.

"We're siblings, of course we share everything", Arthur said naturally. It was true. For him, even if Olivia picked on his buttons a few times, he wouldn't ever not want to share something with her.

"Would you want to share your things with somebody else?", George tried as the kiss both looked at him like they didn't know what he was on about, "what I means is, would you mind having to share your things with someone else?", he clarified.

The pregnancy news were still between you and George, excluding your doctor. Because the kids could easily spill the news to somebody else and you had been specially careful so the news would stay between the people you wanted to until the doctor considered it was okay.

"I always share with my friends, too. But yesterday I had all the grapes mummy cut up for me because they were really good and I really wanted them", Arthur admitted as Olivia quirked a brow, "I think we could, yes. Even our toys, we share them too", Olivia added.

George seemed satisfied enough with the answers, hoping that when you broke the news they wouldn't have a complete meltdown.

"C'mon, Liv, it's Arthur's turn", George requested gently, the girl hopping off so her brother could have a go.

"What is mummy doing?", your son asked, "she was helping grandma with tonight's dinner when I asked if she wanted to come with us", George offered.

When they arrived back in time to have a quick shower and get ready for family dinner, you and George dressed them in comfortable clothes since it was just close family. Once they started arriving, the kids found their spot on the floor of the living room, playing with toys and colouring books while the adults caught up with eachother.

"Y/N! I haven't seen you in so long!", Cara said as she came up to you for a hug, "we've been busy, but we managed to sort some time out to come up here", you smiled, offering her the little pastries you had been working on with your mother in-law, "these are delicious!".

Excusing yourself from the group, you went to check on the kids, sitting on the sofa and getting a few cuddles from your nieces and nephews, "auntie Y/N!", one of them gasped, "you almost fell asleep while I was showing you my drawing", he said as Arthur snickered, "I'm sorry, sweetheart, you can show me again, please", you offered, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes.

"Darling, do you want some wine? We found your favourite in the shops the other day, Steve bought a couple of bottles", your mother in-law smiled as she stretched her arm to receive your glass when you were all in the dining room, "I don't, thank you for thinking of me, though", you smiled, exchanging a look with George that wasn't missed by his sister.

"I saw that!", Cara pointed out, "what was that?!", she questioned her brother, knowing he would break under her stare.

"Y/N has something to tell you", he quickly offered, passing the ball to your court as you felt everyone's eyes on you.

"This is not how it was supposed to go, but there wasn't a proper plan either, so... we are having a baby!", you announced, unfolding your leggings and letting your small baby bump show.

"Oh my goodness, another baby!", Allison cooed as your children looked at George for confirmation, "you're going to have a little brother, guys!", he said as they ran to hug you baby bump.

"I noticed your tummy was bigger, but I just thought you had a big lunch!", Arthur said, delighting everyone as they laughed, George watching everyone congratulate you before also congratulating him, "congratulations, darling", his mother kissed his cheek.

"We've been a little more careful this time around, did all the tests and in the blood test, the doctor told us were having a little boy", you smiled, kissing the top of your kids' heads as they latched onto your sides.

"Well, we can celebrate with the wine still! Some juice for you, Y/N", Steve poured in your cup.

When it came to bedtime, the kids didn't want to sleep in a separate room from you, and since the bed was big enough, you allowed them to sleep with you and George.

"That's what I'm saying, guys. It doesn't mean mummy is sick, but it means she needs our help more, she won't be able to do all things at once and it's our job to make sure she rests, as well", you heard your husband tell the kids while you brushed your teeth in the en suite bathroom.

"Time for sleep, kids", you said, lying down on the mattress, you and George brushing each of their hairs as they switched off, almost like a button, "they used up all their energy today", George began, "Did you know these two were wondering how they could help you, because they were worried that you are tired. You even fell asleep on the sofa..!", George tried his best to mimick his nephew shocked expression, earning one of your beautiful laughs.

"I love them so much", you sighed, "and I love you", you kissed his lips.

Kissing your forehead, George's hand managed to reach your bump despite the little boy latching on you like a koala and your daughter lying on top of him, drawing random shapes on it, "not as much as I love all of you".

[chaotic-mystery]

Pairing: dbf!Joel x reader

Summary: it’s my take on what illicit affairs means. Every time I listened to it I imagined Joel, specifically dbf Joel. I hope the swifties go *easy* on me and pls don’t say anything if you didn’t like it.

Warnings: angst. And more angst. Swearing, forbidden relationship, arguing, fwb, alluded age gap but not specified. Use of nicknames (kid, baby……don’t look at me ok I didn’t do IT), reader is not physically described, no use of y/n. I think that’s everything but tell me if I’ve missed something! || wc: 1.8k || a/n: I love you @planet-marz1 for beta reading this & all my babies who held my balls and pushed me through this <3 thank you thank you thank you. ||

He was someone you should have never been attracted to. Your parents’ friend, a family friend. Someone they trusted to watch over you if they left town, to check on you as if he cared about you. No one noticed the lingering stares frequent more and more with each stop at your parents home. No one noticed the way you returned the gazes at him, the longing feeling of wanting to feel his mouth all over your body with his hands not far behind to get any spot he missed. It all came together when your dad had a party, the champagne coursing inside you and giving a little liquid courage. Joel couldn’t keep his eyes off of you and it didn’t feel wrong, no matter how much you tried to convince yourself it was. Nothing more was going to come from this, it was just a fling for the night and you’d go right back to how things were. At least that’s what you told yourself when you kissed him in the laundry room, the soft orange glow casted over you two from the street lamp outside.

Yet here you are months later, telling everyone you were going out for a walk, already covering up your demeanor for when you return. Joel parked down at the end of the block and you found yourself reciting that you can always stop this whenever you wanted to. He’s careful not to sit there for too long after you get inside his truck.

“Did anyone see you?” He asks, wiping over his mustache quickly while he looks in the rearview mirror about a dozen times.

“No, they didn’t see me.” You mutter from behind your hood. You reached out to grab his hand from his thigh, tucking your fingers between his palm and the fabric of his jeans.

“Okay, good. Good. Missed you.” He says as he pulls into the same vacant lot as last time. It wasn’t always like this, parking here behind the abandoned mall. He used to book hotel rooms for you two so you’d feel safe with him, feel special. The red rose petals scattered everywhere on the floor and the bed no matter how cheesy it was, you liked it. It was a scarlet colored secret between only you two and it was thrilling to keep, in a way. The more you met up with Joel, the less distance he put in between your town and the lucky room for the night. Nights turned into a couple hours, which slowly morphed into quick meetings here, in this empty parking lot to an abandoned mall.

“Thanks for not wearing that perfume this time, doll. Almost got caught last time because I smelled like you.” He tries to lighten the mood as he shakes your thigh gently. It was the perfume he used to love when you’d wear it, the one you had on that night the first glance he took of you started this entire affair.

It became harder and harder to not hide your scent on him when he’d come over to your parents house as if he wasn’t just with you. Your dad would ask why he smelled of your perfume, Joel turning to you so you have to lie and say you greeted him outside before letting him in. Couldn’t leave a trace of you in his little world no matter how badly you wanted to. To desperately leave a subtle token of you on him, that he was yours, that this older man wanted something to do with you.

Joel wastes no time getting your navy blue hoodie off your torso and his lips on your neck, telling you once more that he missed you all day. The same words he spoke before suddenly didn’t make your heart flutter after the hundredth time hearing them. The smile doesn’t form as wide as it once did when he calls you ‘baby’. Funny how that works, finally getting what you wanted to hear him say and it wasn’t holding its weight anymore like in the beginning. They were just words you were taking for what they were; sweet nothings. You two developed a look to share while with others, a little nod of your head towards outside when you needed to speak in private and say what you couldn’t in front of anyone else or just needed to be close to one another. Those moments kept you wanting more from him, every single time.

Behind closed doors seemed like the only time you were everything to Joel, it was the sliver of time you got validation that he even liked you. He grew paranoid and tended to be cold when he was around your parents, no eye contact, hardly any conversation shared with you. When you were alone in the backseat with the sweat drying on your back as you laid against his chest, you were the one he wanted to be with…until it was time to come back to reality and get dressed like nothing happened.

“You don’t even look at me anymore when my parents are around, you’re acting too suspicious, Joel.” You mutter, dragging your thumb across his shoulder as you stared into the fabric of the seat behind him.

Time and time again you so desperately wanted to go public with Joel but every time you mentioned it he got upset, telling you that would be the dumbest thing to do. According to him, it was best to keep meeting in the back of his truck for a half hour and being dropped off with one less piece of you each time. You no longer felt like his baby anymore no matter how many times he called you that. Not a single thing he mutters to you while he’s on top of you in the truck replays later as you try to sleep like the early days. It was becoming more and more diluted with each quick goodbye kiss.

Joel pulls away and sits up straight, moving his hand to your thigh and giving a squeeze.

“Don’t do this right now, kid. C’mon, you know how I feel about ya.” His head hangs for just a moment as if you scolded him. Pulling his head up to look at you in the eye, Joel cups your face softly before speaking again.

“I’d lose so much if I told everyone about us, you know that right? You’re dad would probably beat my ass and never talk to me again, I don’t think any of our friends would honestly. I’d lose so much if everyone knew, not just you.” He sighs tiredly and lets go of your face and sits straight up in his chair before putting a hand over his mouth and the other on the steering wheel as he looks out the window to the empty lot, rain clouds scattered above and turning everything gray.

Was that all he was worried about, losing your dad as his friend and the other so called friends he had? Really?

You wait for what feels like forever before you scoff and sit back in your seat, arms crossed over your chest, feeling like nothing but a godforsaken mess for putting yourself in this situation.

“I thought you liked this..” He waves his hand back and forth between you two without turning back to look at you. “...This works, this is easy and it’s safe. Why do you wanna ruin somethin’ like that, baby?” Joel chews on his cheek waiting for your response, hoping somewhere in his words that it clicked in your mind to keep this between you two.

“I did like this, Joel. I liked being your little secret in the beginning. Learning our little unspoken language and how to find you during parties when you wanted to see me, staying out all those nights with you and we’d talk about everything and you’d drop me off in the morning before my dad woke up to see me sneaking in. I did…like being your secret. We started doing things that couples do, real couples. Why is it so wrong of me to want tha-?” You ask firmly, feeling your heart beating in your throat when he cuts you off with his booming voice.

“Because we can’t! We just can’t! I’m sorry, kid. You know we can’t do more than this. I’m sorry. You’re a beautiful and talented human being, you can g-” Now it was your turn to cut him off.

“Joel, don't even give me that shit. I don’t want to hear that.” You turn in your seat to fully look at him, eyes not leaving his face for a second.

“Do you understand how much I would lose if we went public with this? I’m willing to throw all of that away to be with you. That is how much you mean to me. You mean more to me than my dad potentially not speaking to me ever again, possibly being kicked out, shunned, all of it. I don’t want anyone else but you, okay?” You had found your voice halfway between your counter argument, and damn did it feel good.

“Kid…we just can’t. I’m sorry. We can still be friends and I’ll always be around if you need me. I just, I think I put you in too deep with this.” His eyes flick between himself and you. The only noise audible was the rain pattering down on the windshield, thunder booming softly after a few seconds.

The tears sting your eyes and cascade down your warm cheek.

“Baby..” Joel coos and tries to wipe your tear away but you turn away before he can get close.

“Don’t call me that. Don’t call me kid, don’t call me baby.” He sighs with obvious frustration at your words and tucks his hand back next to his side. The hurt mixes with rage and the tears keep rolling down your face, Joel sits there unsure of what to say.

“Look at me, Joel. Look at this idiotic fool you’ve made me. Sitting here begging someone to be with me and love me so loudly, all the while it’s not reciprocated. You don’t want to show everyone how much you want to be with me, you just want to keep me a secret. Take me home, I’m done.”

You grab your sweater off the backseat and put it back on before buckling up once more.

“Kid, I’m-“

“Don’t call me that! Take me home, or I’ll walk.” You shout, the crack in your voice making your tears flow faster. Joel looks away and turns the truck on, driving back to your street in complete silence. He barely turns the corner at the end of your block and you get out without another word spoken to him. It was the one and only time he watched you get inside the house.

[asimpwithfreetime]

Request for non-yandere version of you are ours (Tonowari x FEM! reader x Ronal) please.

Coming right up! I hope you like this! It starts like the other one, but has a few changes.

For anyone interested, here is the yandere version

You are ours (Tonowari x Fem! Reader x Ronal)

Summary: Y/n was a normal Metkayina fisher until certain couple laid their eyes on her. You were already mated or so you thought.

Content warnings: English Isn’t my first language and this hasn’t been proofread yet. For the sake of the fic, your mate’s name is Upxa.

General warnings: jealously, breaking up with your soon to be mate because he is a stupid asshole, angst, comforting reader, Ronal and Tonowari being there for you.

[ 3rd person POV ]

Y/n was quietly cleaning her fishing tools, she had caught a bunch fish and she felt proud of herself. She straightened her posture when she saw Tonowari walking close to where the fishers were. He was looking closely at their catch.

[ Y/n’s POV ]

“Hey, I haven’t seen you around before” Tonowari greeted me. “I am Y/n” I greeted back, shyness getting the best of me. He smiled fondly. “You seem like the best fisher around. Why haven’t I seen you before?” He questioned me.

“Usually Upxa is waiting for me, I leave my catch here for the rest of the clan and go to him. He always has something for me to eat” I said. Tonowari’s expression darkened a little bit. I gave him a questioning look.

“Who is Upxa?” He faked a smile. “My future mate, we will mate before Eywa in a month” I responded, I got nervous because he was acting weirdly and he was awfully close. He clicked his tongue. “Nice”. The conversation died there.

I went to Upxa right away and told him about it. He felt weird and that night didn’t come down to the comunal dinner. I sat between some of my friends, feeling someone’s gaze all over me, piercing through me.

The next day I was met with a strange feeling, like something was going to go wrong that day.

I was greeted by the same people and did the same routine, but something was off. Tsireya came to me with a playful smile. “My dad… I mean, the chief wants to talk with you”. She said to me.

I walked towards Tonowari’s and Ronal’s marui pod. I saw the couple sitting there, simply talking with each other as Ao’nung played with a few fishing tools before choosing one.

Ronal fake coughed, making Ao’nung notice the scene and leave. “Y/n, it is nice to finally meet you” the Tsa’hìk says with a smile. “We would like to accompany you in your day today” Tonowari smiled.

“What would I do?” Y/n asked. “Just show us your technique so we will learn how to fish like you” the chief. I smiled brightly, missing the soft blush that tinted their cheeks.

For the day, a showed them my ways and had fun. I couldn’t believe Ronal and Tonowari were this fun to be around. Tonowari seems like the calm tree that never moves more than its necessary, but instead he is a jokester. And Ronal, oh, she is a fierce but she still has a bright smile whenever she is in a good mood.

I had so much fun that I didn’t see Upxa in the sore looking angry.

That night, I went down to the comunal dinner, being asked to sit but the Olo’eyktan and the Tsa’hìk. A great honor.

Upxa didn’t show up.

[ 3rd Person POV ]

Tonowari and Ronal smiled to themselves, they loved the idea of not having to see your soon to be mate. Just one day, only ONE day and they had found the missing piece to their union.

After the dinner, everyone went home and Y/n found Upxa really upset. “So that is what you do now?” Upxa asked, the anger slipping off his tone.

“What?” Y/n was dumbfounded. “Don’t try to look innocent, why were you on a date with Tonowari and Ronal? I know they are our Olo’eyktan and Tsa’hìk but no need to get touchy” he sounded really mad, venom in his voice.

“I didn’t mean that, we were just having fun” she responded. He blamed her “I am the Na’vi our people will make fun of, being cheated on before getting mated. Just my luck, I should have chosen Ka’it (female Na’vi name).” He sounded angry.

“At least she wouldn’t have been caught”.

“If she is so amazing, go off with her then! I won’t get mated before Eywa with a dumbass like you! Never letting me explain, controlling wether or not I talked to the other fishers and now that I am making friends you act like this” Y/n exploded into a verbal bomb.

“They are not friendly, Y/n! They were flirting with you!” He said, “if you don’t want to see it, then we won’t be together anymore” Upxa said before running away from the Marui.

Y/n felt to the ground crying. How could she tell her parents (Metkayina from another island) that she had lost her soon to be mate. Soft steps woke her from her self-pity drowning. “Hey, we heard what happened, can we come in?” Tonowari’s soft voice said. Y/n let out a soft yes before both na’vis entre red the Marui pod and kneeled at both of her sides.

“Don’t cry, a strong woman kiko you should not wasted her tears in useless peopl” Ronal said, drying her tears with a soft cloth. “You deserve way better” Tonowari said, kissing the crown of her head.

“You deserve to be ours, to let us pamper you, take care of you and love you” Ronal said. “ you bright yo a room just by smiling and being with you one day has made us feel your connection” Tonowari said.

“Eywa has lead us to you”

Taglist: @maxinej

[notsoattractivearenti]

Start of A New Life (Christian Pulisic x Fem!Reader)

WC: 4.3K

Warnings: pregnancy, childbirth descriptions, slight mentions of difficulty concieving

A/N: dad!christian for you all!!! this is so not proofread lol. hope you guys enjoy and i’d love to hear your thoughts thru ask/reply/reblog 💗 apologies for any errors! feedbacks are highly appreciated 🤍

—

Two red lines. “Pregnant - 2-3 weeks”. Another two red lines.

My heart suddenly skips a beat. My hands start shaking and I feel a gasp just leave my mouth. I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now. Is this real? I thought to myself. I have to take another look at all three pregnancy tests that I’m holding on both of my hands just to make sure I didn’t see them wrong and of course, nothing changed. Tears start to fall from my eyes, I am on cloud nine knowing a mini me – or my husband – is growing inside me. It’s happening… It’s really happening! 

—

Christian and I have always wanted children of our own, and we have been trying for a baby for more than a year. We are well aware that not everyone will get pregnant as soon as they start trying, but honestly, at some point it can be exhausting and painful during the period. We had gone to the doctor, got ourselves checked up and luckily no issues were found, so the doctor just suggested we keep trying and be patient. There were times when we were so close to giving up – I was sick of seeing negative results over and over again – but we reminded ourselves that if it’s meant to be, it will happen when it happens and there are couples who have been trying to conceive way longer than us and still haven't succeeded.

I used to constantly apologize to Christian whenever I got a negative result on the pregnancy test because I felt like the problem was me and I was afraid I could never give him a child – I truly wanted to fulfill one of his lifelong dreams: becoming a father. And every single time Christian would tell me to stop apologizing to him and quit being hard on myself because it was never my fault. I knew he felt disappointed to see a single red line instead of two, but like always, he cared a lot more about my feelings. He never failed to comfort me during those times and would go out of his way just to make me feel better – and I am forever grateful to have such a loving and supportive partner for the rest of my life.

—

Christian has been in training since this morning – shortly before I found out I’m pregnant – so I decided to plan a special, little way to reveal the grand, long-awaited news before he goes home. I really cannot wait to see his reaction and I’m “positive” it’s going to be the sweetest thing ever. Since he transferred to his new club, he usually comes home from training feeling all happy and pumped up – imagine how he will be when he finds out he’s going to be a dad! My man may not be the most expressive person in the world, but I know no matter how little he would show his emotion on the surface, he is going to feel immense happiness deep inside his heart.

I searched through Pinterest for some references and after a while, I finally made up my mind. I don’t necessarily have good eyes on aesthetics and stuff so I just go for a simple way. I go look for some adorable little pregnancy announcement onesies, a gift box, and a few small decorative pieces so it would at least look cute and pleasing. I arrange the “present” as soon as I get home, put the box on the kitchen counter, and write a note on the outside – it says: “For my special man ♥ ps: no question asked! ;)”.

A few hours later, he finally comes home.

“Y/N, sweetheart, I’m home!”

Usually, I would come to him at the front door, greet him back and we would start sharing about each other’s days. But this time, I’m pretending not to hear him and make myself look busy in the kitchen – even though Christian and I actually cleaned the entire kitchen last night. To be honest, the reason I’m doing this is to cover my nervousness. I know he’s going to be excited but a little part of me worries he would change his mind about having a child after so many failed “attempts”.

“Y/N?” He sounds confused.

He then goes around the house looking for me before eventually finding me in the kitchen. I can hear his footsteps but I keep pretending like I am completely unaware of him. He comes over to me and hugs me from behind, and greets me with kisses – and of course, I act surprised when he does that.

“Hey baby, did you not hear me?”

His raspy, gentle voice gives me chills. It never fails to make me feel weak on my knees. But for now, I have to keep my act together.

“Oh sorry, I got so caught up here washing dishes!”

I’m trying to make an impromptu excuse but I’m pretty sure it sounds really weird to him now. I mean, right now there are no dirty dishes to wash except one mug I currently have in my hands… I just know he is a bit confused.

“Umm, Y/N, didn’t we just wash th-”

“So how was training?” I cut him off before he questions me any further.

“Well, great as always. Tired, sure, but you know…” He pauses to kiss my neck, “whenever I see you after training, I am so recharged right away.”

I bite my bottom lip and feel my cheeks are turning red. Ugh, focus Y/N… Remember the big news you have yet to tell him! I remind myself quietly.

“Recharge? What am I, a phone charger?”

I instantly regret that lame, super unfunny joke I just said. He chuckles, I believe he is just being the supportive partner he always is.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good one, Mrs. Pulisic.”

“Oh by the way, I think I see something that looks like a gift right over there,” he points to the gift box over the counter, “is that for me?”

“I don’t know… Maybe?”

“What is it?” He straightforwardly asks about it.

“Christian…” I sigh.

“What did I do to deserve it?” He quickly asks again.

I turn around, rolling my eyes at him to show him in a jokey way that his questions annoy me.

“My goodness, Christian, just open the goddamn gift!”

He quickly walks across the room while saying the phrase “What’s in the box? What’s in the box???” repeatedly. I carefully watch every little move he makes – I really want to cherish this moment.

“Awww, baby, am I really your special man?” He cutely pouts and puts his hands over his chest when he reads the notes.

I can’t help but laugh at his adorable face.

When he starts opening the gift box, I can feel my heart jump a little. I subconsciously start fidgeting my fingers and shake my legs – I really am that nervous. I almost certainly know that he’s going to react positively but, what if I could be wrong?

Before I know it, I see him gasping, then has his hands covering his mouth, with both of his eyes widened. He then turns to my direction with the look of disbelief written all over his face.

“Y/N???” His jaw drops and his breath hitches.

“Are we… Are w-” He is really caught off guard by this big news he is losing words for a moment.

“Uhm, sorry, I uh, I wh-” he pauses for a good second before continuing, “Are we having a baby???”

“Yeah…” I excitedly nod in response. “I just found out this morning.”

He then runs back to me, hugs me tight and buries his face in between my neck and shoulder – I can slightly feel his tears over my shoulder.

“You’re going to be a dad, Christian.” I whisper to him.

And just like that, I just made him cry even harder.

“My love…” He sobs. “Thank you… Thank you. I love you!”

He looks down and puts his hand on my tummy, then his eyes go straight into mine.

“It’s a bit surreal thinking about how our child is now growing inside you… You’re unbelievably amazing, Y/N.”

He then kneels in front of my tummy while holding my waists with both his hands, and talks to our growing child.

“Hi little angel, I can’t wait to meet you… I love you so much already.” He kisses my tummy after.

—

We started telling our family and close friends a few days after the first sonogram. Everyone was so happy for us and has been very lovely and wonderful to us – especially me, of course. Both mine and his family would go all the way to make sure I got everything I need, and the moms have been offering generous help and willingly guiding me through my first pregnancy whenever I need them to.

During the ultrasound, Christian didn’t let go of my hand even for a second and asked the doctor so many questions that I didn’t even think about – apparently the night before he had done his research and I was not aware of that. When we got to see our growing fetus on the screen and listen to their heartbeat, Christian – who usually doesn’t really show his emotions on his face –  became very emotional and it kind of freaked me out. Being a dad is truly one of the biggest dreams he has ever had. Now that it’s really coming true, his emotions are all over the place and because he is not used to experiencing such overflowing emotions, he is still trying his best to manage them. Though I think that is adorable, I just love to make fun of him for it.

“You know, Chris, I’m wondering who the hell is actually with a baby?” I poke fun at his “hormonal” reaction. “Because it’s like your hormones are going crazy while I’m here able to control my emotions.”

“Oh shut up,” he moans, “what’s happening is that my heart is warmer now while yours is still ice cold.” 

My jaw drops at his immediate, clever clap back. Oh how I love sassy Christian!

“Stop it!” I laugh really hard. “That’s a good burn on me, Pulisic!”

—

Since Christian found out we are expecting, he has been extra attentive, present and caring to me. Though I appreciate it greatly, it can be too much sometimes. Therefore I would ask him to back down a bit and thankfully he never fails to understand that I still need my space.

No matter how busy he might be, he never wants to miss going to every doctor appointment. He also always pays very good attention to our baby’s development – he even has a binder made specifically for it. He gets excited all the time when the baby kicks, and when the baby is kicking so hard he would talk to my tummy.

“Sweetheart, please be good in there. Don’t hurt Mommy, okay?”

“My little angel, don’t kick Mommy’s tummy that hard, please. Let’s not make Mommy feel hurt.”

He always communicates with the baby and every time, they would respond to Christian. It’s like they have bonded really well even before they meet, and the thought of him being so close with our child really melts my heart.

He loves taking pictures of my growing bump. Every single time he would tell me I look really beautiful while carrying our child, and my reaction would either be thanking him shyly or telling him to shut the crap – depending on my mood that day, really. Pregnancy has given me mood swings lately I can’t even predict how I would be feeling that day whenever a new day starts. But Christian has always had a lot of patience and I admire how he would perfectly handle me no matter how good or bad my mood might be. Yeah, he is without a doubt going to be the best parent and I can’t wait to witness it.

We decided to not find out about our baby’s sex because we want to surprise ourselves. Besides, we really don’t care if we’re having a boy or a girl. We don’t want to set certain expectations especially when it comes to their sex or gender because all we care about is that they’re healthy and come to this world all safe and sound. Although, we have prepared some names – but we don’t feel like making the final decision before the baby is actually born.

—

Today I woke up at 4 in the morning to a cramp on my stomach – a bit similar to the menstrual cramps I used to have at the beginning of my period. It comes and goes irregularly, and at first I got scared thinking something bad might be happening. But then I remember what my doctor had explained before: the cramp might be a sign of early labor. I then wake Christian up, letting him know I am possibly entering the early labor stage. When I tell him about it, his eyes widen all of the sudden and he slightly jumps off the bed.

“Wha- Y/N should we just get you to the hospital right now???” He sounds so worried.

“No, I don’t think so. Let’s just time each contraction and when the contraction interval is around 5 to 7 minutes, then we can go.”

I have to explain it calmly because he is visibly alarmed. Even after I do so he is still looking so tense.

“Chris, I’m alright. You can relax for now.” I assure him.

“Okay,” he takes a deep breath before continuing, ”if you say so.”

—

Almost 15 hours later, the contractions start to come closer apart and when I check my phone, the interval of last contraction to current contraction is 5 minutes, so I tell Christian that it is finally time to go to the hospital. Already dressed, he immediately grabs the car keys and sets up some blankets on the passenger’s seat in case my water breaks. After that, he goes back into the house to grab hospital bags then puts them in the trunk of our car. Not long after, he sees me struggling to get into the car, so he gently helps me and once I get in, he makes sure I am sitting comfortably before locking all the doors at our house.

“Okay, everything is set, now it’s time to go.” He says as he starts the car.

He looks at me for a second and gives me a kiss on my forehead before he takes the wheel.

“Let’s go have a baby, shall we?”

—

The midwife informs me that I’m now 10 centimeters dilated, meaning it is finally time to push. I am still in incredible pain and genuinely terrified to do so because I don’t know if I can still bear the pain while pushing a full-sized human baby out of my vagina. Also, I have heard about this thing called “ring of fire” – it’s the strong burning sensation that you will experience when your baby is crowning – and now that it’s about to happen, I can’t stop thinking about it. While getting into the birthing position, I turn to Christian who is standing next to me.

“Christian, I’m scared…” I whimper. “I don’t know if I can do this…”

Hearing what I say truly breaks his heart. He hates knowing I’m scared yet he can’t do anything about it except giving me the encouragement he knows I need. He then looks deep into my eyes, smiling at me while caressing my hair, with his other hand holding mine tight.

“Yes you can, my love.” He softly says.

“You are the strongest person I have ever known so I know you know you absolutely can! It’s okay to be scared but baby, I’m here.” He kisses my forehead. “Let’s go meet our little angel, yeah?”

I nod and take some deep breaths to prepare myself. Then I let the doctor know I’m ready and they immediately tell me to start pushing.

One push, two pushes, those were not so bad. Starting from third push, it starts to feel very, very painful.

“You’re doing great my love!”

He is basically being my ultimate cheerleader the whole time. He doesn’t let go of my hand no matter how hard I might grip his hand. He says he doesn’t feel a thing though I know he is lying his butt off for my benefit.

“Chris this hurts so bad…” I bawl, squeezing his hand hard. “This really hurt…”

His eyes suddenly become all teary. He can no longer hide his ache seeing the woman he loves greatly has to endure unthinkable pain to bring his child into the world.

“My love I’m sorry…” He weeps. “I’m sorry you have to go through this… But sweetheart you know you can keep going, a few more pushes and our baby is here…”

I keep pushing even though at some point I didn’t feel like I could do it anymore. But having Christian there gives me the strength I need during the birthing process.

“Y/N, let’s give one big final push!” Says the doctor.

“Uh, yeah, okay…” I say to them as my breath hitches.

I’m already very exhausted but unfortunately there’s no way I can stop. I can feel my baby is crowning and this “ring of fire” sensation is no joke – so when the doctor told me to do one final push all I can think of is that this pain will be over soon.

“C’mon sweetheart! You can do this!”

I hear a loud crying from my baby.

“Congratulations, it’s a girl!” The doctor excitedly announces.

“Oh my God, honey, we have a daughter!” I turn to Christian and see him already flooded with tears.

“Our little princess…” He sobs. “One more beautiful girl for me to love for the rest of my life.”

—

Christian and I can’t stop looking at our newborn daughter. 

“Chris, look at her… She’s so tiny.”

“These little fingers are the cutest.”

She wraps Christian’s forefinger with her entire hand.

“She has your lips, Y/N.” He points out. 

“Yeah… But she mostly has your features so I was basically just an oven!” I jokily grunt.

“Well you know it isn’t my fault that my genes are more prominent, is it?” he playfully replies, “I’m just that good.”

I roll my eyes, pretending to be irritated.

“Smug butthead.”

“Hey, watch your words, Mommy!” 

Christian got me laughing and blushing. He just reminds me that I’m a mom now! It feels like we just had the talk about growing our family yesterday and the next thing I know I am now in a hospital, just giving birth to our sweet little angel who is sleeping peacefully in my arms at this moment. This still doesn’t feel real… Our lives are now officially changed forever and I couldn’t imagine mine before her.

“Hey,” Christian wraps his arms around me and rests his head on my shoulder, then whispers, “I love you.”

I have not stopped smiling and I can feel my smile getting wider.

“I love you.” I reply.

“You’re my everything, Y/N.” He adds.

“Oh no, you’re about to say some sappy monologue aren't you?”

“Yeah, here it comes…”.

Before he says his little speech he kisses me on the cheeks.

“Y/N… I can never thank you enough. You have made my dreams come true and I still don’t know why I deserve you in the first place! Thank you for making my life a lot more perfect than I ever imagined.”

I’m starting to sob.

“Christian…”

“I hated seeing you in so much pain just to bring her into the world.” He continues. “I wish it was me instead… But you continue to amaze me with your strength. And now, I love you so much more – more than I ever love anyone, even myself. Ever since you came into my life you have changed my world for the better. I never wanted to live my life with anyone else but you, and I’m beyond grateful we have a beautiful child together.”

“I will take good care of my girls for as long as I live…” His voice starts to shake. “I love you. I love you so much. You are the best thing that ever happened to me, Y/N.”

Tears immediately streaming down my face. I just gave birth so my hormones are all over the place, and his beautiful speech doesn’t help. He got me speechless and extremely emotional.

“Ugh,” I jokingly grunt as I wipe my tears with my hand, “how dare you make me cry, Pulisic.”

And suddenly we see our baby giving us her first big smile – it’s like she is reacting to all the love and emotions her parents are experiencing right now!

“Awwwww!” Christian and I make the same sound in unison.

And of course, it makes me cry even harder. Christian is emotional too, by the way, but not as messed up as I am currently. He grabs some tissues and gently wipes my face – which is all wet thanks to the river of tears – with them right away as I am still holding our daughter.

“Y/N, my love, I don’t think you will ever stop crying from now on, no?” He laughs.

“Obviously not!”

—

“So, have you two decided on baby girl’s name?”

Christian and I instantly look at each other when the nurse asks that question. As I said, we have prepared some names for our baby but we have yet to choose the perfect name for her. Christian then grabs a piece of paper with the list of names from his pocket and as soon as the nurse leaves the room, we start discussing right away.

“Okay, uh… Which one do you love the most, Y/N?”

“I don’t know, Chris,” I reply, “there are too many options.”

“Well you can’t say you don’t know,” Christian sighs, “we have to pick two.”

An idea suddenly passes through my head.

“Why don’t we try this out: we say any name we each feel perfectly fitting for her at the same time. What do you think?” I suggest.

“Yeah okay, it’s worth a try.” He agrees.

“Alright, let’s say it in the count of three.” I instruct him.

“One, two, three…”

“Dylan!”

“Emery?”

He didn't sound sure at first, but then changed his mind immediately. “Oh, I like both names!”

“Dylan Emery Pulisic… It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

I agree with him. I look at our little bundle of joy in my arms and I just know those names were made for her.

“Yeah, that’s definitely her name.”

—

Even though we are now taking care of our newborn together, Christian did have to  fight just to get enough paternity leave. It was not easy for him because Dylan was born in the middle of the season and he is one of the most crucial players for the team, but he really wanted to take care of his daughter especially during the first few weeks of her life. Not only that, he feels like I have done so much already and he wants to also take care of you while you recover from the whole pregnancy and childbirth periods. He wouldn’t even mind getting less playing time when he comes back, because in his own words: “Now my priorities are my girls, football is much less important than both of you.”

Before Dylan was born, Christian had been practicing basically everything to prepare him for fatherhood. He can change the diapers, clean and bathe the baby, perfectly wrap her, he knows how to help soothe the baby, burp her after feeding – anything, really. He truly is excited to embrace this new life as a parent.

Dylan’s first week at home was hard, I had to adjust my sleeping schedule because until she’s a bit older I have to feed her every 2-3 hours and it messes up my sleeping. Not only that, she would loudly scream and cry all of the sudden and it mostly happens in the middle of the night. But Christian is always there, ready to help no matter how tired he might be – it’s a bare minimum but not all dads would be very hands-on like him – and I’m beyond grateful I don’t have to do everything alone. We always stay up late together, like when I have to feed Dylan at 12 AM and 3 AM. Most of the time, when we heard Dylan crying in the other room, he would tell me to go back to sleep and offer to take care of her. I would see them from the baby monitor and I’m telling you, he truly is the best dad. Seeing him being so loving to our daughter makes me already think about having another baby… But obviously both of us want to focus on raising Dylan so we decided to put the conversation on hold until Dylan is old enough to be a big sister.

Two weeks after Dylan came into the world, Christian decides it is time to introduce her to everyone at Milanello. So he brings both of us to the training grounds and shows her off to the staff and players. The club even got Dylan a mini home jersey kit as a way to welcome her to the Milan family.

One of his teammates greets us the second we get into the dressing room and ask about his current state. And to be honest, Christian’s heartfelt answer to it reminds me how lucky I am that I get to do this parenthood journey with him.

“Christian, hey! How are you feeling now, bro?

“Well I am a husband and a brand new father, so from now on I will always be feeling a lot happier than I have ever been. I am now on the start of a new life, thanks to my amazing, beautiful girls.”

—

taglist: @pulisicsgirl @neverinadream @swimmingismywholelife @chilwellspulisic @bracedes @lovelynikol16 @thoseboysinblue @lizzypotter14 @masonsrem @landoslover

[pluviophile-imagines]

Sleeping in the Garden: Part I

in which bakugo katsuki is your next door neighbor, and he’s just gotten custody of two girls he’s far too young and far too inexperienced to be a father for—but he’s bakugo katsuki, so he’s damn well going to do it anyway

bakugo katsuki x fem!reader

wc: 21.5k genre: pro hero au, neighbor au, single dad au, slow burn, kidfic type: longfic (6 parts) reader: fem (she/her pronouns, fem terms, neutral clothing) part warnings: children (7&16 years old), parent illness/death, discussions of toxic relationships (pre-fic), discussions of age gap (pre-fic; 20 & 34) note: this is the first part of my submission to the @mybigbangacademia big bang! this was an incredible opportunity, absolutely full to the brim with such talented writers and authors, and i for one can’t wait to check them all out! i’d also like to give a quick thanks to @phen0l​ and @sipsteainanxiety​ for their incredible beta work ♥️ this fic is a real work from the heart, something i’ve been working on for over a year now, so i hope you all enjoy!

masterlist || part ii ⟹

You sit at your kitchen counter to do your work. It’s not exactly ideal; you can’t see them, and you’re certain your back will ache in the morning as punishment for using the tall bar chair for an hour and a half, but you make it work. The minutes pass, the girls continue to work on their assignments and help each other out when needed. It isn’t until a text chime blares out that you turn around and realize how long it’s been.

Ayame is looking down at her phone, reading the text with her arms still preoccupied with academics.

“Did your father get back to you?” you ask.

“He’s not my father,” Ayame snaps immediately, head snapping over to fix you with a fierce glare. “Despite what he and everyone else thinks, he is not my dad, so don’t call him that.”

You raise your hands in surrender, palms out. “Peace. Understood. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She seems to startle at that—her glare doesn’t pause but her brow furrows further in confusion and when she speaks it’s muttered more than angry. “Yeah. You shouldn’t’ve.”

“But I need to know he knows where you are.”

“He does,” she grumbles. “He’s stuck in traffic, he’ll be here soon.”

Your next door neighbor is the number two pro hero.

It’s a nice neighborhood—admittedly most of the inhabitants are getting on in years, and at times can be unbearably wealthy, but you’re not about to complain when you inherited your half of the duplex already paid off by your grandparents. It’s an unusual western-style house, connected on one side to a reflected twin, with three floors, three bedrooms (though you’ve converted one into an office), two (and a half) baths, and a shared rooftop terrace with the remains of planter boxes and a run-down little greenhouse that your grandfather once used to grow food; a nice place, something you’d never have been able to afford if you hadn’t come into it by luck.

The leftmost wall is shared with none other than the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, though contrary to what the name might suggest he’s actually a pretty okay neighbor. That is to say: an almost entirely absent one.

You don’t see the man very much. Hero work, you presume, keeps him more than busy; when he’s home there’s always a shiny, clearly expensive sports car in the driveway (you have no clue what kind but it looks like something a car nut would drool over) and you definitely see it gone more than not. The older ladies like to coo at him when he shows up—sometimes with another tall, built hero in tow, often with groceries in arm. You’ve only talked to him a few times but he remembers your name, and he gives a brusque little nod of acknowledgement whenever you wave at him in greeting. He’s not exactly known in the news as the friendliest type but you’re never felt entirely unwelcome when you’ve gone over to let him know that you’ll be on vacation for a week, or that you’re expecting a handyman to stop by to fix your sink. And that’s just about all the friendliness one inherently needs from a neighbor, so you’re content with the whole relationship.

That kind of goes out the window when the girls show up, because you’re too meddling for your own good and nobody, not even (or perhaps especially) an incredibly busy top hero, is prepared to suddenly take on two children without warning.

You’re not one to keep up with hero gossip—not one to pour through those magazines filled with blurry photos taken from a distance, speculating about which pros are dating which models and how long they last in bed—but since you’ve moved in next door to Mister Number Two you’ve kept half an ear out for stories involving him.

It’s not as if you’re prying, really, because the whole damn country has been unable to shut up about it since the day Dynamight went into a hospital and came out with an elementary schooler in arm and a teenager trailing behind. Your own grandmother called you a day afterwards to ask if you’d met them. And more importantly you’re there—you work from home and you share an entire wall (and a porch and a roof) with them, so it’s really only natural for you to take notice.

It’s only been two weeks, and things are showing no sign of dying down. You don’t know their names or their ages or even how Dynamight is really related to them—it’s all been conjecture, from what you can tell, and either way you figure it’s none of your business—but it’s impossible not to have noticed the younger’s red eyes. They’re stark in contrast to the other’s dark brown, and they match perfectly with those of the very man they’re living with. The conclusion is less of a jump and more of a modest step.

Today, when you lock up your door behind you with Tadeo on his leash for his afternoon walk, you find that they’re standing at the top of Bakugo’s front stoop. The younger sits pouting on the top step with her head propped in her hands and the elder leans back against the railing with an angry expression, phone held up to her ear as she speaks rapidly into it. You don’t entirely want to impose or assume, nor do you want to seem unapproachable, so as you pass the pair of them you give a little smile and a friendly bow of the head in greeting.

The little one perks up slightly, responding in kind. The older one glances at you, but is solidly preoccupied.

“I’m Riko!” says the girl. “Your dog is cute!”

You give her your own name. “I live next door. It’s nice to meet you. Tadeo is cute, isn’t he?”

Riko nods excitedly. When she opens her mouth to speak again, however, the older girl behind her lets out a huff that startles her into turning around. At the same time, Tadeo yanks you along, eager to continue his walk; and while Riko looks disappointed to see you go, her companion distracts her quickly by bending down to hand her the phone and, you’re fairly sure, giving her some kind of order for what to say into it.

You pay it little mind. In fact it’s dashed from your thoughts quickly as you allow your dog—surprisingly strong for how little and old he is—to lead you down the road, determined to sniff at a fire hydrant and then a telephone pole and then a mailbox. The neighborhood streets are familiar. It’s the very start of spring so the early flowers are beginning to break through the soil and the weather is nicely brisk but not too cold, and you let Tadeo dictate your route according to his own graying canine whims.

Soon enough, though, you’re approaching your house the way you’d left. Thirty minutes have passed—a longer walk than typical, but it seemed Tadeo needed it and it was a pleasant enough day that you hadn’t minded—and that’s why you’re mildly concerned when you come up to the building to find Dynamight’s two mystery wards still hovering on his front porch. Riko perks up once again at your reappearance, pulling her head out of her hands.

“Ayame,” you hear her hiss, turning around to tug at the other girl’s pleated skirt, “Ayame she’s back.”

Ayame looks up from her phone, looking terse and annoyed, and glances down at Riko before zeroing in on you.

“Hey!” she calls out. “Can my sister pet your dog?”

You smile, pausing right in front of the stairs. “Yeah, sure thing. He’s friendly. And old, so don’t let his excitement fool you—he’s about to go in and take a nap until dinner.”

The girl races down the steps like a bullet, falling to her knees on the sidewalk right in front of your dog and reaching out to pet his face. Tadeo responds in kind, hindquarters swaying frantically to keep up with his tail and barking excitedly as he puts his front paws up on her knees to get closer.

“Riko!” Ayame scolds immediately. She puts away her phone and comes down the steps herself to stand over her sister with hands on her hips. “Don’t just sit on the ground like that, you’ll get dirty.”

Riko only laughs as your dog licks at her face. Ayame’s nose wrinkles in distaste. You can’t help but smile at the pair.

“He’s so cute,” Riko coos. She looks up at you with a grin—there’s a gap where she’s missing a tooth in the bottom row. “My dad says dogs are messy and too much work and so we’re not allowed to get one unless we’ll be taking care of it.”

“That’s a reasonable rule to set.”

“My dad’s a hero so he’s really busy.” Her attention is back on Tadeo. “But I think he’d like a dog anyway.”

“You think?”

“Mhm.” She nods. Her hair is pulled up into a pair of pigtails, tied by two sparkly pink bows, and it sways back and forth with the motion of her head. “He always goes on runs and he keeps asking Ayame if she wants to join him. I think he gets lonely.”

“He is not asking me to come with him because he’s lonely,” Ayame mutters.

“But if we get a dog he’ll just take it and you can stay behind!”

“Yeah, maybe.” It’s absent-minded, a little dismissive; she’s returned her attention back to her phone, clearly wanting to drop the topic and equally clearly disagreeing though she doesn’t outright say so.

“I don’t think staring at your phone is going to make daddy come home any sooner,” Riko says matter-of-factly. Then she leans forward to whisper to you, in that loud way little kids do when they don’t understand how to be quiet yet, “Ayame forgot her key.”

“Which wouldn’t be a problem,” Ayame snaps, “if he would answer his phone! Or act like the guardian he’s supposed to be!”

Her tapping is furious as her thumbs fly in a flurry across her screen. When she puts the phone to her ear, she shoves her free hand in her pocket and glares off in the distance as she waits.

“He’s just—ugh.” She huffs and shoves the phone into her pocket; you’re pretty sure it had immediately gone to voicemail. “He turns off his phone when he’s on patrol so the only way to contact him is his earpiece and his secretary says this isn’t an emergency.”

“Well, it’s not!” chirps Riko. You’re pretty sure it wouldn’t be received well if you agreed.

Ayame just huffs again, this one a bit more growled. She bites her cheek, glaring off at the distance for a moment—surely cursing Bakugo out in her head silently—before letting her eyes roll back, heaving a big sigh, and then turning her attention to you curiously.

“You live next door, right?”

“Yes. I’ve been meaning to come introduce myself, but I didn’t want to intrude. I’m glad to have the chance today—even if the circumstances are less than ideal.”

“That’s an understatement,” Ayame grumbles under her breath, but she holds back the eye roll that you can tell has been building up and instead gives you a short bow of introduction, stating her name.

You give her your own in turn. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Now we don’t have to keep calling you Miss Sunny.” She snickers a little, not entirely cruelly but certainly with the kind of vaguely derisive tone only a teenager can manage. You don’t take it to heart.

“Miss Sunny?”

“‘cause of the sunflowers!” Riko pipes up from where she’s still doting upon Tadeo. He’s relishing the attention, rolling around on the street with his tail valiantly putting up an effort to keep wagging despite being pressed into the pavement. Looking up at you and beaming, she points over at the meticulously kept flower boxes you’ve managed to fit along your stoop and down the sides of the stairs, filling up every available space in front of your house. And the balcony above, the leaves lush and full and spilling out down the railing.

The boxes are painted with bright, pretty sunflowers. You can see how they made the connection.

“I’ll take that as a compliment. Sunflowers are one of my favorites, actually,” you tell them. “I can’t grow them year-round but when they’re in season I keep as much as I can. And when they’re not, well. I supplement.”

“Did you paint them?” Riko asks in awe.

“My mother did, actually, when I first put them in.”

“She’s a really good painter.”

“They’re just sunflowers, Riko,” Ayame says.

Riko pouts at her. “But they’re nice.”

“Anyone could do it.”

“No, I bet you couldn’t!”

“Uh, yeah, I could.”

“No you couldn’t.”

“Yeah, I could.”

“Then do it.” Riko finally stands from where she’s been petting Tadeo to fix her sister with a baby-cheeked glare and put her hands on her hips.

“We can’t get inside our house, Riko. Where are you expecting me to find paints?”

As if on cue, before you can decide whether to intervene or not, Ayame’s phone begins to ring again from her back pocket. She answers with such speed you might think it was her quirk. The conversation is short, barely a few sentences exchanged, and when she hangs back up she’s somehow notably more agitated.

“He has to stay out longer,” she says, now so angry she’s moved past shouting and turned monotonous. Or, perhaps, moved past the anger stage of grief and launched straight to depression. “It’ll be another hour and a half, Riko, I dunno what to do.”

The statement gives way to another huff. She glares down at her phone like that’ll somehow make it light up with a response saying he’s five minutes away.

“Ayame,” you say kindly, and her head snaps up immediately to look at you. “Do you want to wait for your father at my house?”

For a moment, more anger flashes across her face. She blinks it away, frowning, then glancing over at Riko not for advice but rather to check-in. “Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“It’d be irresponsible of me to let you two stay out here when I live right next door and can let you in. C’mon, or Tadeo will get impatient.”

She nods. Riko jumps up, following you closely as you lead them both up the front stoop. Tadeo leads the charge, excited to return and have his dinner. He scratches at the base of the door as you pull out your key to open it, and he sprints in with you tripping behind him the moment it opens; Ayame and Riko follow after you. You find your large guest slippers easily, and your smaller guest slippers with much more difficulty—you don’t have children over particularly often, admittedly—but soon enough you’ve pulled off Tadeo’s harness and leash to hang up and are leading them further into the house.

“Here, make yourselves comfortable.” You gesture to your dining room table. “I’m sure you both have work to do, I can help if you need. Do you want any food?”

They both shake their heads, though Riko hesitates and waits for Ayame to respond first. You choose not to check a second time with her.

Soon enough the girls are sitting around your dining table. Riko has her homework pulled out, and so does Ayame, but Ayame’s work is long forgotten as she’s sidled over next to her younger sister and is bent over the younger’s work, helping her. From your kitchen, where you’re fetching yourself a glass of water, it makes a sweet sight.

“Ayame,” you realize suddenly, “you should text your father and let him know you’re here.”

She glances up at you. Again that anger passes across her face like a shadow, but when she speaks it’s calm. “Oh. Yeah. Probably a good idea.”

You watch as she slides herself back over to where her things are, including her phone. Her work is organized cleanly, papers and notebooks stacked by subject with only a few on the table while most remain in her bag. In contrast, Riko’s side is a mess; she has fewer papers but despite that has more supplies. Three pencil cases, all different shades of light pink with varying baby animals on them, have been opened and half their contents strewn about the table and even the floor. Despite this, she’s dutifully working on a writing assignment, face scrunched up and tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration.

You sit at your kitchen counter to do your work. It’s not exactly ideal; you can’t see them, and you’re certain your back will ache in the morning as punishment for using the tall bar chair for an hour and a half, but you make it work. The minutes pass, the girls continue to work on their assignments and help each other out when needed. It isn’t until a text chime blares out that you turn around and realize how long it’s been.

Ayame is looking down at her phone, reading the text with her arms still preoccupied with academics.

“Did your father get back to you?” you ask.

“He’s not my father,” Ayame snaps immediately, head snapping over to fix you with a fierce glare. “Despite what he and everyone else thinks, he is not my dad, so don’t call him that.”

You raise your hands in surrender, palms out. “Peace. Understood. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed.”

She seems to startle at that—her glare doesn’t pause but her brow furrows further in confusion and when she speaks it’s muttered more than angry. “Yeah. You shouldn’t’ve.”

“But I need to know he knows where you are.”

“He does,” she grumbles. “He’s stuck in traffic, he’ll be here soon.”

“Thank you! Okay,” you nod, making up your mind about how to proceed. “Okay, let’s pack up now so you’re both ready to head out when he arrives. We can watch some TV or something.”

Riko perks up at the mention of TV. She’s already packing up her things before Ayame can agree; it takes them both little time at all to gather everything and fit it all back into their school bags. Soon enough they’re both seated on the couch with a brightly colored hero cartoon playing on the screen.

Ayame is on her phone; Riko is enraptured by the television. You have work to do still, so you sit at the table facing the kids with your laptop before you.

Soon enough Ayame is standing, announcing that “Uncle’s home!” mere moments before a harsh knock raps on your door. Both the girls follow you as you head to the door and open.

Bakugo is there. He’s scowling—though admittedly, you’ve often wondered if that’s the only facial expression he’s capable of. He’s gruff when he greets you, gruff when he greets the girls, and gruff when he tells them it’s time to go.

“Y’have fun?” he asks, seemingly to Riko, though his eyes end up on Ayame as he says it.

“Yeah!” Riko bounds up to him, already in her outdoor shoes. “Miss Sunny’s great!”

The grunt he gives in return is pleased. “Good. Comin’ home with me, though, right? No fuss?”

She shakes her head, pigtails flying across her face with the notion. “Nuh-uh!”

He nods at the bright pink bag in her hand. “Y’want me to carry that, kid?”

Her expression falls. She clutches it closer, face scrunching up, and stares up at him with a look that isn’t quite suspicious or accusatory but certainly doesn’t seem inclined to take his offer.

The low puff of air he lets out is something like a sigh, perhaps disappointed, though you don’t think it’s quite at her. He lowers himself to her height—lower, crouched down with arms braced on his knees to look her in the eye. When he speaks it’s startlingly placating.

“Ya don’t gotta say yes. Was just tryin’ to be nice, yeah? C’mon. I’ll walk you in. You can carry it.”

Then he rises to his feet, and holds out his hand, and Riko’s hesitance disappears as she takes it. In fact she’s beaming. She doesn’t look back as she follows him over to his door.

Ayame hovers in the entryway, leaning through the open door watching Bakugo lead Riko into his house. Once they’re out of sight, she turns to you.

Her eyes are cast downward, a little to the side. She seems to rock on the balls of her feet slightly, almost as a comfort, and is clearly working up the nerve to say something. You wait, letting her take her time.

“I, uh. Earlier, when you called Uncle my dad…”

“No worries,” you assure her. “I shouldn’t have assumed, and I’m sure you get it a lot and I know it’s been a stressful day, so really. It’s fine. If anything, I’m sorry.”

“Nobody’s ever… apologized before,” she mutters. “Not for real, anyway. It’s always—like, they all start saying uncle all rude and condescending like I’m not well aware they’re still calling him my father in their heads. But you apologized and you haven’t called him that since, so… I dunno. I ‘preciate it, I guess. It feels like you’re the first person who’s really listened to me in a while.”

You give her a quiet smile. “I’m sorry, that sounds difficult to have to go through.”

“I just said you were the best one to respond, y’don’t gotta apologize more…”

“But I upset you,” you counter. “I do regret it.”

“Right.” Her shoulders heave, not really a shrug. “Well. I better go off then. Thank you for helping us.”

“You’re always welcome.”

She turns and heads to her own door. You wait for her to get inside, too, before you shut your own and make your way back to your office. You have a little more work to get done before you can start making dinner.

Not five minutes later, however, you hear a knock on your door again.

Bakugo is standing there when you open it, fist raised to knock a second time. He lowers it immediately, letting it fall to his side aimlessly.

“Did Riko forget something?” you ask, thinking back to the messy array of writing implements and assorted school supplies—all glittery or pink or shimmering—that she’d strewn about your living room, certain she must have misplaced one or two beneath a pillow or a rug.

“Hah?” His brow furrows at the question. “No. What, did you find somethin’?”

“No.” You snort a laugh. “Why’d you come back, then?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

It’s gruff, low, said without meeting your eye.

“For letting them in? No worries. I couldn’t just let them wait around out there for you.”

His eyes narrow. When he speaks the tone is defensive, the words slightly growling. “We‘ve been looking for some new sidekicks to pick up the slack so I won’t be working so late anymore, but it’s a process ‘n we’ve only just started.”

“Whoa, hey, I’m not judging you here. You’re a busy man. I get it,” you rush to say. He’s still glaring at you a little, and admittedly it’s probably one of the most intimidating glares you’ve ever been on the receiving end of. “I get it, really. It’s been sudden. They’re great kids, I was happy to have them over for an hour or two. The company was nice, actually. It’s usually just me and the dog during the week.”

The words soothe him. Or maybe he realizes he’d been overreacting—either way, his shoulders relax and the tension eases. Though he doesn’t quite seem like he’s no longer glaring, you’re coming to realize that perhaps he never does look very relaxed. At least you’re no longer feeling like he’s attempting to send you flying back into your home with a single, very intense glare.

“They’re welcome any time,” you continue. Steer away from need and help, you decide. And anything too critical. “If they want.”

He grunts in what you decide is appreciation. Better, then, than the other attempt. Could be even more coherent, if you tried at it a bit—but you’ve already made the appeal to Ayame, so you suppose she can pass along what you told her. In the meantime you choose to change the subject.

“Hey, do you mind if I ask… why’d Riko respond like that when you offered to carry her things?”

You’re not sure he’ll tell you, really. But he surprises you. He sighs, long-suffering and annoyed, and says, “Ayame told her I’d take all their things when they moved in with me. She hasn’t quite stopped believing it.”

There’s an attempt made at biting back your laughter. It’s a failed attempt, but an attempt nonetheless. Your stifled giggles earn you another glare, but this one seems less serious.

“Don’t fuckin’ laugh.”

“I’m not laughing,” you lie through stuttered puffs.

“It ain’t funny.”

“It’s kinda funny.”

He rolls his eyes. “You ‘n fuckin’ soy sauce face…” he mutters, and you don’t know who soy sauce face might be but he sounds like he has a good sense of humor. “Don’t go laughin’ in front of Ayame, it’ll only encourage her.”

“I promise I won’t laugh in front of Ayame.” You do mean that—you really don’t want to encourage her.

“Good,” he grunts, then pauses momentarily. “You said it was just you and the mutt during the week?”

“Over the work week I don’t get many visitors—I mean, I’m single, no roommate. My family lives about an hour away by train, not a trip anyone’d wanna make on a work day. My friends have careers.” You pause after that spiel, realizing finally what he likely meant by the question. “I work from home. Have an office here.”

His brow furrows. “The fuck do you do, then? As a career”

“I’m an accountant,” you reply easily, getting used to his mannerisms. “Freelance. Clients are mostly small businesses, a few tiny companies. Most of my work’s done in my office. So, yeah, here pretty much all day, save for the occasional in-person meeting. Those only happen a few times a year.”

“So, what, just some fuckin’ hermit?” It’s not entirely derisive, the way he says it. More just surprise, a little curiosity.

“I have friends, Bakugo. I go out for drinks, the occasional girls’ trip. I visit my family and they visit me. Perfectly healthy, I promise. Not a hermit.”

He grumbles at that, but clearly you’ve convinced him that you’re annoyed by the implication, because he mumbles out a, “sorry,” afterwards and sounds genuinely apologetic.

“It’s fine. Nothing wrong with making sure. I’m just offering for if you need it. I’m sure you have plenty of options, but. If you think of me. I gave Ayame my phone number; you should have it already, from when I first moved in, yeah?”

Nodding at first, he pauses, and then frowns. “Actually…”

“What, you lost it?”

He looks a little sheepish, somehow. Still surly and cross, but apologetic. “I got a new phone. Lost all my contacts. Was about a month ago. If you’d’ve texted me I’d’a figured it out, but…”

“No worries.” You reach into your pocket and take out your phone. It takes a moment to find his contact—the pair of you really haven’t spoken beyond the initial exchanging of numbers and one incident where Tadeo had gotten loose and Bakugo had found him for you—but you send off a quick text once you do, and are filled with amusement when his own back pocket immediately plays the sound of an explosion.

He doesn’t acknowledge it, so you don’t either. You wonder if he even knows how funny that is (endearing, even, if you were to be bold) or if he thinks it’s completely normal. What he does is pull out that phone (which looks downright tiny in those huge hands… it’s the same model as your own, your mind is left spinning a little) and, clearly, add you to his contacts once more.

“Perfect. We’re all set, then? Just text me if you need me. Yeah?”

A nod, a low grunt of approval; his phone is back in his pocket quickly, and then he’s turning to go. You shut your door right as he opens his own.

The next time you see him afterwards is a week later; he’s locking his door on his way out of his house, you’re on your way in from your morning walk with Tadeo.

“Bakugo!” you call out as you make your way up the front stoop.

He turns to you as he pockets his keys, gives a curt nod and a low rumble of your own name. “Mornin’.”

“This is great timing, actually. I needed to talk to you.” Pausing, you take a moment to take in his attire and recall that it’s a Tuesday and he’s almost certainly headed off to work. “I promise it won’t take long.”

He raises an eyebrow, not exactly kindly but not altogether brushing you off. “Spit it out.”

You shift the leash in your hand to the other one. The process tugs Tadeo over to your other side, crossing in between you and Bakugo, and it draws Bakugo’s attention to your dog, who pauses briefly to sit and beg at his feet. To your surprise it works—your neighbor squats down, raising a hand to scratch at Tadeo’s ears. He looks at him for a moment, and that stern look softens just a bit.

Then you remember what he’d just said. “I was thinking about starting a garden,” you say quickly.

Bakugo pauses, looking up at you and then rising to his feet to regard you fully. “A garden?”

He seems to be sneering, and you bristle.

“Yeah, my grandfather had one back when he and my grandmother lived here—”

“The fuck’re you telling me for?” he interrupts. This time you recoil, pursing your lips.

“It’d be up on the roof, which we share,” you say slowly. “Wouldn’t it be rude of me not to check with you first?”

You might add that you hadn’t bothered to ask when you’d made your little flower garden in the front—it’s on your side entirely—so you haven’t exactly made a habit of asking him about unimportant things, but that scowl softens a little, replaced by a slightly furrowed brow and a seemingly sheepish breaking of eye contact as his eyes dart to the side.

“Do what’cha want. I don’t care.”

You nod. “Okay. Thank you. And if Ayame and Riko—or you, I suppose—want to help out at all, I’m sure I’ll need it.”

At mention of the girls, he finally seems to register exactly what you’re saying. He nods finally, expression relaxing, and though you almost feel it’s too little too late you’re pleasantly surprised—and appreciative—when he apologizes.

“Sorry. That’d be good for ‘em. Real good for ‘em. Thanks for reachin’ out.” He pauses, seems to hesitate, then clears his throat and tells you, “Their mom had a gardening quirk, y’know. They’ve both got ‘em too. I dunno if they told you.”

You blink. “No… I didn’t know. It’ll be a team project, then. If they’re interested, anyway.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’ll let ‘em know.” He’s nodding, clearly having convinced himself. “When’re you gonna start?”

“Mmm, next week. It’s still a little early to start planting but I’ll probably head up to clear out the space and make planter boxes this weekend. You’re welcome to join for that but it’ll be tedious stuff. Next week I’ll start planting, though.” You purse your lips. “The greenhouse is too broken down, I’ll have to completely remake it, but we shouldn’t need it for a while yet so I suppose I can put that off…”

You trail off, realizing that you’re thinking aloud and rambling at Bakugo far more than he cares about. But when you turn your attention back to him, from where you’d been staring absently off to the distance, you find that he’s regarding you with an amused look.

“That what that mess up there is? A greenhouse?”

Frowning, your response is indignant. “My grandfather built that ‘mess’ himself, I’ll have you know.”

“Not very well, clearly, seein’ as it collapsed like that.”

Your jaw drops. Coming from someone else, you might interpret his words as teasing—but he’s so blunt, and gruff, and his expression hardly shifts to indicate that he’s anything but serious, so you blink at him in almost shock.

That makes him tense. “What?”

“Was that a joke? I didn’t know you were capable of humor.”

“Hah? I’m funny as fuck.”

“Mmm. Very.” You purse your lips, playing at disinterest, but the smile tugging at them does you no favors. “Making fun of something my grandfather poured his heart and soul into… very funny. You’re a real upstanding hero.”

“That damn greenhouse fell down weeks after he made it, ‘n when I offered to fix it up he refused every time. Stubborn old man insisted he’d get ‘round to it. Never did. Obviously.”

“You offered to help?” you ask in shock.

He raises an eyebrow at you, clearly indignant. “I worked on that garden for months after his back gave out. Your grandmother wouldn’t stop nagging me when I missed too many days, said he got restless and wouldn’t leave ‘er alone. ‘course he only ever watched me by then, but I get it. ‘n she fed me in return, always reminded me of that when I slacked off.”

Bakugo had moved into the house next door during the five year stint between graduating university and your grandparents moving out that you spent living in an ever-changing series of small apartments further in the city. You’ve known that he’d had a good relationship with them, but you hadn’t known that he’d helped with the garden at all.

They ask you about him, fairly often in fact, though you’ve never been able to give them the detailed report of his current status that they always want. You’ve always thought that at least part of them giving you the house had been some convoluted attempt at setting the pair of you up together. Perhaps that’s why he’s always kept his distance. Perhaps it’s your other theory—that he just likes old folks. Or maybe he just makes more of an effort to be there for them. Considering his heroic choice of career, it’d make sense if he felt obligated. But it’s undeniable that he’s always reached out more to the elderly in the neighborhood over the younger corporate executives and trust fund kids who otherwise populate it—understandable, frankly, considering how unbearable the latter kind of person tends to be even in the best of circumstances.

Though, you admit, you’ve also lucked into your own property through inheritance. Perhaps you shouldn’t be so quick to separate yourself.

“They ask after you, you know,” you tell him in an effort to break the silence that’s fallen over the pair of you as you’d ruminated.

“Don’t s’ppose you had much to tell ‘em.” He chuckles, then pauses. “‘til Riko ‘n Ayame showed up, anyway.”

“Trust me, I didn’t have to tell them about the girls. Grandma called me the moment she saw them on the news.”

Anger crosses his face when you say that. You tense when you see it, wracking your mind in an attempt to figure out why he might be suddenly pissed at you, but when he growls out, “fuckin’ paparazzi, damn shitty gossip magazines, waste of fuckin’ space,” you realize it’s about the fact that you mentioned the news.

“Oh. That’s… an understandable response. To that photo.” You hadn’t quite put that together, but it does make sense. Dynamight has always been known to be especially private regarding his personal life and even antagonistic towards the press; he has an infamously bad attitude towards reporters out in the field and is rarely interviewed, and when he bothers it’s always abundantly clear that his manager has forced him to. “Really intrusive, actually.”

“No fuckin’ right to take photos of my fuckin’ kids when their damn mother just fuckin’ died.” The scowl on his face is heavy, and you’re very happy that it’s not directed at you. “Wish I could blow up every damn copy of it.”

“Yeah… yeah, I get that. I guess it’s lucky that others haven’t been spread around…” Or their names, you think. Names and ages and life stories—none of that is out there, which is frankly surprising, but good.

“Luck’s got nothin’ to do with it. My team knows how to stop that shit before it spreads.”

“I’m sure it doesn’t hurt to have the threat of number two hero Dynamight coming after you to stop it, too.” You shoot him a grin.

He doesn’t return it. The topic at hand, you think, bothers him far more than he’s even letting on; now he’s silent, and you hover awkwardly, not entirely sure how to continue the conversation. It isn’t unbearable exactly, but considering you’re holding him up from going to work you decide the silence is better off broken.

“Hey,” you say, “I’ve been meaning to ask, actually, and because you mentioned them earlier I might as well. What are their quirks?”

“The girls’?”

“Yeah. They haven’t told me—well, I never asked them, anyway. You said they were related to gardening?”

“Riko’s is called Boom Bloom. She can speed up the growth of flowering plants ‘n when they bloom they’ll explode. Ayame’s is similar—’s called Bloominescence, hers glow. Takes a lot out of ‘em, though. Can’t do it often.” He pauses for a moment. Then he adds, “I expected ‘em to be real filthy tree-hugger types when I learned. Figured there’d be fuckin’ flowers everywhere. Thought the petals ‘n leaves’d get all over the damn place. Thank fuck they ain’t like that, think I’d go insane.”

You bite your lip. “Sounds like something you’d hate.”

He snorts. “Let that be a warning, then, yeah? Don’t go trackin’ dirt around my place. If ya turn ‘em into that shit I’ll never let ‘em visit you again, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear, Dynamight, sir!”

You get another snort of laughter for the dig. But then he falls silent, looking at you pensively. That crimson stare regards you as you twist the leash in your hand a few times, a nervous tick. The way he’s looking makes you feel a little raw—like he’s taking you in, pulling you apart, seeing what makes you tick. And the silence is heavy, palpable.

“What about you?” he breaks it suddenly.

“Hm?” You know, and you stiffen despite yourself. You know what he’s asking, and you only have two options: the truth, or evasion. You’re giving him one last chance not to ask. He doesn’t take it.

“Your quirk. You haven’t told me what it is.”

It’s not an altogether unexpected question, not when you’ve just asked about the girls’ quirks, but it’s one that you hesitate answering nonetheless. And you could refuse to—it’s personal, though not technically rude most people understand when you choose not to say.

But you don’t really want to, not the least because the man before you is a pro hero who could most certainly look it up on his own time; if he’s going to cut whatever this relationship is brewing into short because of your answer here, then you’d rather know now than months down the line.

So you roll your shoulders back, look him in the eye, and tell him you’re quirkless.

Dynamight isn’t known for being the most understanding of pro heroes. In fact what he’s known for is a certain level of ruthlessness; a resolve to win fights while on duty and a lack of patience for anyone who he butts heads with, professionally or otherwise. Where no.1 hero Deku is considered the modern Symbol of Peace—all charismatic smiles and diplomacy, having learned well from his late mentor the great All Might—the man you’ve just informed of your quirklessness is colloquially called the Symbol of Victory, and weakness is hardly something you’d assume him to be particularly accepting of. Despite your logic telling you it’s ridiculous to be concerned, there’s a little nagging worry in your mind that he’ll turn away, get in his car, and drive to his agency and you’ll never talk to him or his girls again.

But Bakugo doesn’t do that. He hardly reacts at all, in fact. Instead he nods, purses his lips as if in thought, and grunts out, “a’ight. Good to know.”

Somehow he’s managed to give the best possible response. You have to give him credit; you never would have assumed that from the interactions you’ve been having with him all week.

“I can garden despite that, though,” you assure him with a smile. “In fact I can’t say it has a single effect on my gardening ability whatsoever.”

“Mmm.” He grunts. “And carpentry? Can you rebuild that fuckin’ mess of a greenhouse up on that roof?”

“Well, I’ll have you know it isn’t my quirklessness that makes my carpentry skills suck. It’s a lack of practice. And there’s no better time to start than the present.”

Bakugo wrinkles his nose, brow furrowing in tandem. “Don’t fuckin’ think I want you to practice with a big ass structure made of glass that my girls’re gonna be goin’ into.”

“Mmm that’s understandable, I suppose. Maybe you should find me a good carpenter to help me out, hm? Since you’re so—”

Before you can finish the sentence, Tadeo begins to bark frenziedly, lunging at the end of his leash and tugging you towards your front door. You stumble that way for half a step, unprepared for the sudden attack, before you manage to steel yourself and brace against his forceful jerking.

Bakugo, however, takes that as his cue to leave.

“‘m runnin’ late already,” he tells you. “Don’t build that greenhouse without supervision, I won’t have it collapsin’ on my fuckin’ girls.”

Then he nods in farewell and then turns to walk away, off towards that sleek, flashy car sitting parked waiting to take him into the city where his countless sidekicks and managing staffers and support technicians await his return to work.

You turn back to your front door and let Tadeo drag you inside.

The roof, when you first go up, is a mess.

You’d expected it. You’d experienced it first-hand before, even; you’ve often gone up with intent to clean it since you’d inherited the home and moved in, yet it’s always been too looming of a task to tackle on a whim and a mere weekend of time.

But there’s nothing quite like outside pressure to make you buckle down and take on such a challenge, and doing something for other people is precisely the pressure you apparently needed. It takes you a little longer than a weekend—in fact, in the week between you beginning the project and the roof being ready for planting, you spend most of your long, agonizing meetings with your laptop set carelessly on the concrete floor amongst the dirt and rotting wood, and a bluetooth headset in your ear as you advise your various clients about their finances.

It’s a good process. Mind and body moving, allowing for each to operate at a better capacity. You barely realize that you’re making progress on the roof until your daily alarm goes off alerting you of Riko and Ayame’s potential arrival, and then it’s a mad dash to get down to your house and shower off all the dirt and grime accumulated by your efforts. You often return up there the following morning, when the wind is biting cold and nipping at your cheeks and ears, to admire your handiwork with a new eye.

There’s an end in sight, eventually; by the time most of the old planter boxes are gone and you’ve reclaimed what you can of the greenhouse Bakugo had once called a mess to pile up in the corner for what will eventually become your own, it’s Friday, and you’re ready to start making new ones.

You’d created a plan weeks ago, complete with growth times and when to plant so that you’ll be able to harvest throughout the spring and summer and on into autumn. Now you take the time to design the layout, easy to see now that the space has been cleared out, and spend a day assembling salvaged wood and new supplies—helpfully brought up for you the evening before by, you’re informed but not present to witness, a small team of Bakugo’s pro hero friends—into the calculated sizes, shoving them into the designated spots, then filling them with soil.

The plants you choose to take on for the first year are simple, relatively easy to care for; carrots and zucchini, tomatoes and chard, cucumbers and potatoes. You’ll add more as time goes on, expanding and improving, especially if Ayame or Riko (or, ideally, both) take to it enough to reliably help you.

They both certainly enjoy it enough that first weekend to show up the second day early in the morning. Ayame has more of an attention span than Riko, naturally; Riko will help for a good fifteen or so minutes at a time, then wander off to do her own thing. That’s solid, you think, for a seven year old.

They help you out more than you anticipated; a few hours every weekend, in Ayame’s case at least, and in Riko’s often passing the time with you after school when she’s done with homework. For the first couple weeks after your initial meeting, they’re around more often than you entirely expect (though you’re happy about it, to be honest).

Ayame has her key past that first day. You doubt she’ll make that mistake again. But it’s hardly fair, in your opinion, to expect her to take care of Riko in Bakugo’s absence—especially when you’re around and more than capable. So they both spend much of their time at your place during the hours before dinner that he isn’t around.

He hadn’t been lying that first day. Once the new sidekicks are hired, he’s back long before dinner, often right when they’re getting home from school, far more consistently, and it becomes less frequent for the girls to stop by out of need for an adult; Ayame is more than capable of being in charge for the hour or so between their arrival home and Bakugo’s, but you always keep an ear out and often end up answering the door to one or both of the girls at some point during the day.

Riko takes, almost immediately, to paying visits to your door and no further just to stand outside and talk to you; Ayame stops by as well, though she’s far more abashed and taciturn about it, and tends to come in entirely with the excuse that she wants a quiet place to study. You enjoy both forms of visitation. There’s no shortage of occasions where Bakugo is unexpectedly required to stay later or go back in after returning home, however. You’ll get yourself a text on those days, curt and straight to the point and a bit crass—though you wouldn’t expect anything else—asking you to let them in, though more often than not the knock comes before the request and they’re already settled.

Ayame soon joins an after-school club, however. She’s cagey about what it’s for but it has her staying later at her high school three days a week, which leaves Riko with nobody to watch her on the occasions her father cannot.

You’re the natural pick to fill that role. And you like it. What you’d said that day still stands, the break from your typical workday is appreciated. Riko is good company for the hour or two she tends to spend with you. You’ll make her something light to eat and help with her schoolwork for much of it, then take a break and do something else for the rest of the time. Sometimes she wants to watch TV—there’s a show she adores, a cartoon called Twinklestar after the titular character who is, naturally, a pro hero and princess of a deserted human colony on Mars—but sometimes you can get her to garden with you, or help out with things around the house.

That’s what you’re doing now.

Ayame is still at school, at her mystery club. Riko has been with you for nearly an hour now. After an episode of Twinklestar, you’d convinced her to come join you outside while you hang up a suncatcher that a friend had sent you while overseas, and she’s been entertaining herself with a little keyring game that she’d found squirreled away in some drawer in your house. You’re not really sure where you got it, or when—it’s probably a holdover from your uni days, there’d been times when you’d hoarded such little pockets of joy and played them under your desk during lulls in lectures; low on brain power and high on dopamine—but it’s age appropriate and she’s been well absorbed while you work, so you’re not going to complain.

Your biggest worry now, frankly, is the very real chance that Bakugo will arrive home and witness you in your currently failing attempts to set up the suncatcher. You’ve brought out a step stool, and you’re perched at the top of it, hammer in hand as you stand on your tiptoes to put the nail in place and pound it in as a peg to hang the decoration. You’re just barely too short. Really what you ought to do is go back in and retrieve the taller step stool from the kitchen, or the ladder that you keep folded up under your stairs, but somehow that feels like admitting defeat.

Instead you balance precariously atop the one you first brought out, tapping at the nail far too lightly so as not to knock yourself off balance and hoping to whatever might be listening that your dour, captious neighbor doesn’t arrive home to lecture you about setting a good example for his daughter and not doing something so needlessly dangerous. He’d probably startle you—for how big the man is, he’s annoyingly quiet when he wants to be. Then it’d be his fault if you fell, really. For scaring you. Some hero he’d be.

Of course that’s when your foot slips. It’s only fair. Punishment from the universe for getting angry at something Bakugo hadn’t even done yet, a swat on the back of the hand.

And it’s your fault, really; hardly even a slip so much as your ankle rolling and your legs being thrown from under you. Though the stepstool you’re perched upon is small, your life flashes before your eyes; you imagine dashing your head on the concrete steps, breaking an arm or a leg at the very least, already trying to figure out how you’ll call an ambulance and what you’ll do with Riko—send her across the way to stay with Ms. Rose or Ms. Tulip for the remaining few minutes before Bakugo comes home? You certainly wouldn’t bring her to the hospital—when, rather than slamming into the hard ground, you’re suddenly caught by a pair of big arms.

It’s effortless. They hold your weight without struggle, having found purchase on your form with practiced ease. You’re left reeling, wide-eyed, and unable to do much beyond staying limp within them in an attempt to reorient yourself.

“Whoa, there!” your savior says good-naturedly. He doesn’t hold you any longer than necessary, placing you down on your own two feet before you can even fully register what had happened. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah.” Still a little dazed—understandably so, you should think—you shake your head in an attempt to clear it as you regard him.

The man who’d caught you is someone you really ought to recognize immediately, though in your defense you’re a little too busy thanking everything that you haven’t fallen and busted your head open (or at least broken a limb) to register his face until he sets you down.

He’s absolutely massive, towering well over you and boasting an equally impressive width, with a mane of bright red hair and a warm grin exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth. Another point in your defense for not recognizing him: he’s out of uniform, dressed in casual clothes, and you are not nearly versed enough in pro heroes to recognize even the top ten without those brightly colored and intricately decorated hero costumes.

It’s Red Riot, sturdy and robust, not even batting an eye as he subtly inspects you for injury. You brush yourself off a little self-consciously.

Up where she’s been hovering near the door, Riko squeals in excitement. Your attentions are both pulled to her as she darts down the stoop and flies past you, making a beeline for Riot. His face lights up as she approaches.

The moment she’s close enough, he grabs her from the ground and swings her up, pulling excited giggles from her lips as he sets her up on his shoulders. “How’s it going, kiddo? Being good for your sister?”

“Ayame isn’t here,” Riko whines a little, pouting, and though he can’t possibly hear her at all the evidence is plain in her voice. “She’s joined a club after school.”

“Really, now?” Riot is even better than you, you realize; he sounds even more interested than you do without even a hint of condescension. He’s always been known for how well he works with kids—even you’ve heard that—and it’s evident in full force as he interacts with Riko. “What club?”

Riko wrinkles her nose. You watch as she rests her elbow on his head and braces her chin in the palm of that hand, pouting, in a pose reminiscent of a grouchy adult lost in thought.

“She won’t tell me.”

“Oh?” Riot laughs good-naturedly. “Well, everyone gets to have their secrets. I’m sure you have yours.”

“I don’t,” Riko says flatly, in a tone so confident and annoyed that it makes both you and Riot burst into laughter. Luckily she takes it as a compliment; grinning wide, even joining in on the laughter though you doubt she quite knows what’s amusing.

“You must be the neighbor, yeah?” Turning his attention to you, Riot says your name, and at your nod, he gives a quick bow, Riko still perched on his shoulders and giggling wildly as she holds onto his neck. He does most of the work, keeping a hand on her legs to ensure she won’t fall even as his head bears most of her weight. “Kirishima Eijirou. Red Riot.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

“Bakugo had to stay behind at work, something came up. He asked me to come relieve you of duty.”

“How valiant of you.”

“Just doin’ my job as a hero, ma’am. And, uh, hey.” He gives you a warm smile now, softer than the victorious smirks after won fights and beaming grins during awards ceremonies that you’ve always seen in the press. You think you might be a little flattered to be receiving it. “In case he hasn’t said it himself, thank you for helping Bakugo out. You’ve been a lifesaver more than you know. He really appreciates it, though I’m sure it might be hard to tell.”

You snort. Clearly he knows his friend well. “He’s said it, actually, but I’ll say again that it’s no problem. We have fun. Right, Riko?”

“Yeah!” Riko cheers with hands thrown up in the air carelessly, prompting Kirishima to again grab her legs to keep her stable before she can fall the impressive distance to the ground.

“Good to hear it!” he gives back the same energy, even uses his hands to kick her feet against his chest, drawing out more giggles from her. When he says more, though, it’s aimed directly at you, voice amiable. “What were you doing up on that death trap, anyway?”

“It’s just a step stool…”

“How can I help?” he clarifies. The corners of his eyes wrinkle a little as he smiles at you.

You gesture back at the mess behind you. You’re not even sure where the hammer went, you’ll have to go searching before you go back in, but it’s okay; you’d managed to get the nail in deep enough that it’s in no danger of falling, so it’s mostly the unhung suncatcher lying in a heap on the stoop that draw Kirishima’s eye.

He whistles at the sight. “Pretty.”

It does look pretty lying there, crystalline prisms tied together with fishing line. It’ll look even nicer hanging up where the morning sun will catch it and cast rainbows across your front doorway. You think that’ll be a nice way to start the day, out on your porch after you’ve walked the dog, laptop in hand to begin working.

“It’s a Prism Prison.” Riko bends down and leans over so that her mouth is right near Kirishima’s head, and speaks in a stage whisper, eyes wide like she’s telling him a secret.

“Like from Twinklestar?” he asks without missing a beat, and with just the right amount of awe in his tone.

“Uh-huh!”

“Does it have any villains in it?”

“Yeah, yeah! Miss Serpent and Gunk Guy and Novagleam!”

“Novagleam?” Twinklestar’s greatest nemesis—her evil clone, created by a mad scientist, determined to hunt her down and steal her quirk for herself. It’s wildly endearing that Red Riot recognizes the character immediately. “Well, then, we’d better set it up, huh? Otherwise the villains might escape!”

Riko gives a horrified gasp. “Oh, no! We gotta, we gotta!”

She starts squirming around from her perch; Kirishima’s grip tightens on her legs as he chuckles and approaches. A nod from you to the suncatcher takes you a moment to decipher, but as he gets to the first step you realize he intends to help Riko put it up herself and is asking you to hand it up. You dart up ahead of him and by the time you’ve retrieved it he’s moved the step stool and had his hand held out.

Handing it over, you watch as he passes it up to Riko, and with how tall he is—and, therefore, how high up she is on his shoulders—it’s no struggle for her to hook it onto the nail you’d put in mere minutes ago.

She cheers when it settles, and Kirishima whoops in turn, stepping back enough to make sure she won’t hit the very thing they’ve just hung up as he finally sets her down.

“There,” he says. “Now we’re all safe, yeah?”

He casts his gaze over to you, and gives a subtle nod at the step stool to let you know exactly what he’s really saying. It makes your face heat up a little—embarrassed, but only slightly, at the mess of an introduction and his apparent self-assigned duty to make sure it won’t happen again. Maybe you shouldn’t befriend any more pro heroes.

“All right,” he says assuredly, turning over to Bakugo’s door and fiddling with the knob, clearly to open it. “Riko, Daddy wants me to bring ya back to his work to have dinner in the city, we’ll stop by on the way and pick up Ayame from school. Why don’t’cha head on inside and grab somethin’ to play with for the ride? I’ll be right with you to help you pick.”

Riko, like all little kids, jumps at the prospect of visiting her father’s workplace. Squealing, she bursts into the house just as Kirishima pushes the door open and you hear the sound of her footsteps as she sprints up the stairs to her room. You stifle a laugh. She’s probably already dumped all her toys out of her toy chest and is sifting through all the options on the floor.

“Bakugo’ll have your head if he comes home and her room’s a disaster,” you tell him when he turns back to you.

“Ah, but he’ll clean it up anyway, and he likes taking care of things. I’ll be doing him a favor if I leave him a mess.”

You recall, distantly, what you’ve heard of their history together; that they’d been in the same class at UA along with a record-breaking number of other top heroes. Unprecedented, you remember all the reporters saying, even back when they were all first breaking out onto the scene at eighteen and nineteen and twenty. A monster generation of pros, all coming off a war in their first year, trained by All Might himself.

Living right next to you. Helping you put up your suncatcher. Dropping little bombs about the quiet interworkings of their friends’ minds, learned from years of camaraderie.

Best not to ruminate on that too much.

“Don’t think he’d take too kindly to you spilling his secrets, either,” you tease.

“He’ll forgive me.” Kirishima waves it off. He leans against the frame of Bakugo’s front door, one big hand around the edge of the door and swinging it absent-mindedly. “We should exchange numbers, by the way. Odds of this happening again are pretty high, would be good to be able to text you so you can tell Riko what’s happening.”

“Ah! Yeah, sure.”

“Gimme your phone, I’ll call myself.”

You reach into your back pocket to retrieve it and unlock it to hand it over without question. That hand that’d been swinging the door around abandons it, letting it close on him without so much as a jolt to his body, and reaches out to take the device from your outstretched grasp. He looks down at it, finding the phone app easily.

“How’s the garden treating you, by the way?” he asks conversationally as he types in his number.

“Hm?”

“The garden,” he repeats, glancing up. His thumb presses the call button and you hear his back pocket begin to chime with a ringtone. “I helped bring up supplies a few weeks ago, how’s it going?”

“Oh! Thank you! I would’ve struggled getting all that up there without you guys, you helped a lot. It’s going well! Things’ve been sprouting and some are beginning to blossom, we’re gonna plant for the summer sometime soon. I could probably give you some if you want. You like zucchini?”

“I will adore any homegrown vegetables, dead serious.”

He certainly sounds dead serious. You smile. “Perfect answer. I’ll have Bakugo bring you some of the next harvest.”

Grinning, those sharp teeth on full display, he hands back your phone and you take it. “I look forward to it.”

Where Riko’s visits tend to be requested by Bakugo and done mostly out of necessity (no less welcome, though, of course), Ayame’s occur during much the opposite times. Often she’ll stay behind after he comes and picks up Riko, claiming that she works better at your place. She’ll also show up at your front door later in the afternoon, backpack slung over her shoulder, complaining about her house being too loud with Riko watching shows or Bakugo helping with her homework. You invite her in every time.

Then she joins that club, and for three days a week she doesn’t come home until after Bakugo has. Her visits drop in frequency at first. Then after the first two weeks they increase; she’s compensating, you think. If you didn’t know any better you’d say she missed you. She’d never tell you that, though.

There’s a concept known as parallel play—two toddlers playing adjacent to each other, not quite interacting with one another but undeniably playing together. Ayame’s visits remind you of it. She’ll unpack her bag onto your dining room table and set to work silently while you do your own work, typically on your laptop sitting at the couch or across the table from her or up at the counter bar in your kitchen. You’ll venture into your office to take phone calls, or excuse yourself to the back terrace, but you tend to stay on the main floor with her.

At first she rarely holds more than a few conversations with you, and they’re often little more than you offering food or help with schoolwork and her turning you down. By the time she joins her club she becomes a little more talkative—often about her work, sometimes about her day. The latter you tend to have to probe for.

You ask if she wants to stay for dinner every time. She’s yet to accept. As the weeks go by, however, she grows more hesitant to reject the offer; soon enough, you think, she might just do it.

Today she’s been particularly quiet. It’s been three weeks since she joined the club; even you can’t tell how much she’s enjoying it and how much she’s merely done it to get the adults in her life off her back. You’re pretty sure she likes it okay.

Her teachers, you know, had been pressuring her to join an extracurricular. There’d been leniency for the first few months of the semester, a general understanding of and sympathy for her situation (it’s hardly easy to transfer to a new school so suddenly, let alone as a result of one’s mother passing and being forced to move away from one’s childhood home to live with a man you’ve never met before) allowing her some time to breathe, but life doesn’t stand still no matter how much one feels it ought to. Teenagers might be distinctly lacking in forethought, but Ayame has enough sense to give in on certain matters.

You haven’t pushed her to tell you about what she’s doing. You know she’s wary of you, worried you’ll go running to Bakugo immediately, and you can respect that. Frankly you’re also just not as interested as he and Riko are—you figure if it’s something embarrassing then you’d just feel bad if you wheedled it out of her, and it isn’t as if you think she’s doing something wrong.

So you haven’t so much as mentioned that Riko keeps asking you about it, even if you find it amusing. Ayame, however, is notably more suspicious than thankful.

“You haven’t asked me about my club,” she says as you sit down across from her after making yourself tea. She’s been working for nearly two hours with you; you’d just had to step out to take a call. “Why not?”

You shrug. “If you wanna keep something a secret that’s your right, I’m not gonna try to pry it out of you.”

“Oh…” The tension in her shoulders eases a little, defensive posture loosening as she sits up straighter. “Thank you. I thought for sure you’d be curious.”

“Well, I’m not not curious,” you clarify. “But my curiosity doesn’t trump your comfort. I’m okay never knowing if you never want me to.”

She doesn’t seem to know how to respond to that. She stares at you, mouth slightly agape, but doesn’t say anything; instead, after a few moments and with a light dusting of pink across the bridge of her nose, her head snaps downward and she returns her attention to the papers before her.

You do the same. It’s silent for some time, a few minutes, as the pair of you work sitting across the table from each other. But then Ayame speaks, suddenly, voice wavering a little with hesitance and bashfulness and unable to meet your eye fully.

“It’s cooking,” she says. You look up from your laptop and raise a brow, silently asking her to clarify. She does. “The club I joined. I wanted to join the cooking club at my old school but… I never had the chance to. I always had to watch Riko.”

“Ah.” You nod in understanding. “I’m glad you have the chance now. It’s an important skill to learn.”

“Don’t tell Uncle,” she demands curtly. “Or Riko, because she’ll tell Uncle.”

Now you lower your laptop, just slightly. Her shoulders tense from the motion. You ask anyway, though you know it’s at the prospect of the question you’re about to pose.

“I won’t, I promise. But… can I ask why not?”

For a moment, you wonder if she’ll answer at all, or if she’ll stubbornly ignore the question and remain silent for the rest of the visit as she has so many of the other times you’ve pushed for explanations like this. She surprises you instead by sighing, and tapping her pencil rapidly against the table, and then answering.

“Because he’ll get pissy.” It’s sullen, and she obstinately refuses to look up from her work, but she responds. You give a warm smile of encouragement, and she sighs again. “He’s, like, really particular about cooking, okay? But if he knew I wanted to learn from someone else he’d get all… y’know. Pissy. ‘Cause he cares or whatever.”

“Or whatever,” you repeat, not entirely mocking but rather in agreement. “Is he bad?”

“At cooking? No. He’s good. Really good.”

“So..?”

“So that’s the problem. It’s intimidating being in the kitchen with him and not knowing, like, how to cut things or what temperature to cook at. He’s always judging, and yelling at me when I mess up.” She hunkers down where she’s seated, crossing her arms. Her next words are quieter, and you might call them petulant if they weren’t clearly laced with hurt. “He never yells at Riko when she makes a mess…”

You wish you could comfort her more. Maybe Bakugo does yell at her, and maybe he doesn’t yell at Riko, but in your experience even his normal voice sounds irritated and you’d probably wager a guess that she’s misinterpreting, and whether or not that’s the case it certainly doesn’t help the way she feels about it. So you take a different approach.

“It’s very mature of you to find an alternative way to learn, then. You must care about this a lot.”

It works. She perks up at the praise.

“Mom was always busy… she never had the time to help me learn. Or cook much at all, anyway. But I’ve always wanted to know.” It’s the first time you’ve heard her talk about her mother, you realize. Her tone is melancholy, a little wistful. She swallows, shakes her head, and adds, “And—and when I go visit Grandmother, I’d like to have some skills beforehand, so that I can focus on learning the recipes and not the basics.”

“Well, your secret’s safe with me. And…” you hesitate, not entirely sure how she’ll take it, but say it anyway. “I’m willing to teach you some things, too, if you want.”

Her head snaps up to you, eyes wide with excitement. “Really?”

“Of course! You’re always welcome, and I’m always making something.”

“Thank you!”

“In fact,” you start, “do you wanna help me cut strawberries?”

“Like… right now?’

“Yeah. I’m making a strawberry shortcake later this afternoon.” You look down at where she still has schoolwork scattered across the table. “Oh, if you have to keep working that’s okay. We can do it another time, too—”

“No!” she exclaims, already jumping to her feet. “I’m okay. I wanna help! But I do have to go back soon, Uncle’s gonna be making dinner soon and he’ll probably want me home so I can make sure Riko doesn’t interrupt him.”

Nodding, you stand up after her. “Understood. We’ll be quick, then. But not too quick, because we’ll be cutting things, and I’m pretty sure if I send you back to Bakugo with fewer fingers than you had when you showed up then I’ll get arrested or something.”

The joke gets you a little laugh. You think it might be pity, but you don’t really mind.

The strawberries are in the fridge. You direct Ayame to get out two cutting boards as you rinse them, dropping them into a paper towel lined bowl and setting them down in between the two cutting boards she’s laid out on the counter.

“Knives are in the knife block next to the sink,” you command her next. “You want a small one, a paring knife, not a really big one.”

She nods. It’s not until she’s pulled out an older one that you realize the one she ought to be using isn’t in the block at all—you’d used it this morning and cleaned it by hand, so it’s on the drying rack where you’d put it to let it air dry,

“Mmm, sorry, not that one.” You reach over to take the knife from the drying rack and slide it over on the counter for her to use. “This one’s sharper. Safer.”

Ayame’s brow furrows. “Wouldn’t that be more dangerous?”

“The opposite, actually. A dull knife can still cut you easily, but you’ll struggle more with cutting what you want to cut, so accidents are more likely. A sharp knife, however, will cut things far easier, and do what you want it to do with less force.”

“I see…”

“Now. Let me cut one.” You pull out a strawberry, one big enough for her to see what you do with it. “Pull off the leaves, throw those out. Then we cut it in half, put the flat side on the board, and cut out the center white part with the stem. Other half, and now we’re done.”

You hold up the cutting board to show her more clearly what you’ve done. Then you pick up both pieces and drop them into the bowl you’ve set up in between the pair of you.

“Now you try.”

“Okay,” Ayame says, clearly more to herself than to you. She pulls the leaves off, then holds out her knife and begins to follow your lead, cutting the fruit in half before setting the flat side down. “Cut out the center.”

“Careful, don’t point the blade at your fingers like that. You could slip really easily and chop off part of them instead of the strawberry.” You reach out slowly, trying hard not to startle her, and move the knife and her fingers into a far more safe position. “There, see how your fingers’ll be out of the way even if the knife slips?”

She nods. “Yeah… Okay, yeah. Lemme try again.”

She does it perfectly the second time around. You tell her as much, watching as she swells up with pride, and then turn to your own cutting board to take your half of the strawberries and start hacking through them. She doesn’t need any more help past what you give to her at the start; you’re still faster by leagues, certainly, but it’s to be expected. You’ve had far more practice.

Soon enough you’re finishing not just your own portion, but half of Ayame’s that you stole as well. She’s nearing the end of what’s left in her bowl; in fact, just as she finishes the last one, her phone lights up. You pause in your own work, glancing over as she checks the message.

“It’s from Uncle,” she says, attention fixated on the phone screen. “He wants me to go help Riko with her homework while he works on dinner.”

“Then you’d better head back over.”

She looks up to meet your eye. She seems hesitant—a little dejected. “Yeah. I’ll, uh… I’ll help clean up? I’m sure it can wait a few minutes…”

“No need, you were already helping me by cutting. I’ll bring over some of the shortcake when I’m done with it, sounds good?” You wink at her. “The best part of cooking is getting to eat the fruit of your labor, we wouldn’t want you to miss out.”

“Okay.” She’s smiling now, nodding at you, clearly excited by the prospect.

“And if you like it, I could send you the recipe. It’s fairly easy, good for beginners.”

“Yeah! Definitely! See you after dinner, then.”

With that promise, she’s heading for the door, pausing only momentarily to nab a cut strawberry to pop in her mouth as she’s leaving.

Spring gives way to summer. Your days are occupied with the garden and with work; the end of the semester draws near for the girls, Ayame is busy preparing for exams which, ironically, means you’re seeing more of her. She studies late with you now, staying for dinner on occasion, and she even helps you make it sometimes, finally confident enough after weeks attending her cooking club to allow herself more freedom in the kitchen.

You find it surprisingly nice. There’s a certain kind of pride that comes with aiding her, helping her along and cheering alongside her when she does it properly for the first time. And with seeing her become more and more comfortable cooking, and by extension with you.

That isn’t to say she’s entirely open. She still locks up sometimes, goes quiet when you say something that reminds her of her mother or pry a little too hard. On very sparse occasions she’s had to leave and go back home—you look on the bright side when that happens, that she’s comfortable enough at Bakugo’s (or, perhaps more accurately, with Riko) that it’s a place she can go to calm down when she’s feeling too much.

Riko, meanwhile, eagerly awaits summer break. She’s made countless friends at her new school, and she talks at length about every one, excitedly telling you about how they’ll see each other every day while school’s out and play when they don’t have to do schoolwork. She’s expressing a bit more interest in the garden, too, after a day where her teachers explained how good for the environment household gardens are.

In the last remaining weeks of the first semester, a large plant appears in a pot in the corner of the roof.

You certainly didn’t plant it, nor did you bring up the pot or the soil or anything else. But it’s meticulously cared for, large and thriving, and though you don’t mess with it too much you do pay enough attention to notice when it begins to flower and then, slowly, bear fruit.

It’s a pepper plant. Not a bell pepper, certainly—hot peppers. Thai chili peppers, you’re fairly certain; they’re the right size and, as they continue to grow, your little inspections begin to leave your fingers feeling itchy with the telltale sensation of capsaicin.

Where before you thought it might have been Ayame’s pet project, the realization of what they are has you assuming a new culprit. And that assumption is proven correct a few days into the girls’ summer break.

Now that the weather is sweltering, and the midday sun is borderline unbearable, you shift your gardening time to after dinner when the sun is lowering. Of course that does very little for the bugs, and it leaves you with fading light, but you prefer it over the heat.

Bakugo apparently does too. Or perhaps he just doesn’t have the time otherwise. Either way, when you climb up the metal steps to access the roof, you find him crouched over the mysterious pepper plant.

For a moment, you watch. He’s solidly occupied by it, with his own set of supplies at his feet and his attention solely on the plant. You can’t quite see what he’s doing, but he’s definitely looking at the peppers; you get small glimpses of his face and he looks, you think, strikingly serene.

The missing scowl almost throws you for a loop. You’d have thought it’d be permanent by now, but clearly it isn’t.

And you’ve had enough of your creeping. You clear your throat, walking up onto the roof to catch his attention. “Lovely evening for gardening, huh?”

He looks up. The serene expression is gone; you almost wish you could bring it back yourself.

“I was wondering what that plant was,” you say, undeterred by his silence. “Should’ve figured it was yours. Dunno why Ayame would be growing chili peppers.”

“I’ve had it for years, actually.”

His voice, when he finally speaks, is nice to hear, even if it’s gravelly and curtt. You cock your head at the admission.

“Really? Kept it indoors?”

“Balconies, mostly. The terrace for a bit. Too shady, though. Full sun up here’s better.”

“It seems to like it.”

“Yeah…” Bakugo looks back down at it, clearly proud. “Been usin’ this plant forever. You like spice?”

You shrug. “Normal amount.” Then your eyes narrow as you give him a side-eye. “Something tells me my normal is different from your normal, though.”

He snorts. “Probably. S’okay, just means we won’t be competin’ too bad for these things.”

“True enough, I suppose. How long have you had it?”

“‘bout a year. Give or take. Longer than I’ve had this house, that’s for damn sure. Lugged it all the way to the back terrace when I first showed up, dirt ‘n all.”

“You take good care of it.”

He puffs at the compliment, just slightly. Not much.

“‘Course I fuckin’ do.” He stands, rolling out his shoulders and loosening himself up from squatting for what you’re sure is a long while. Meanwhile you pick a spot and kneel next to it, pulling out tools and other supplies from the tote you use to bring it all up. “I better head back down before the girls drive each other insane. Enjoy your gardening.”

“Mmm. I will.”

He goes to head down the stairs, but pauses, turning back momentarily to look at you. “Oh, one more thing.”

“Yeah?” You lean back to look at him, just in time to see his eyes jump up from what you’re pretty sure is the spot under your legs. You look down, where your thighs are taut from your position and bulging where the tiny shorts you have on are pressing into the skin, and move them to check beneath. “What were you looking at?”

When you find nothing, you return your gaze to him, and he’s pointedly looking away; it’s difficult to tell in the fading light but you think he might be a bit pink.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, barely audible from how far away you are.

“But—”

“Nothin’!” he says again, louder, as he raises a hand to rub down his face in exasperation. “Just—forget it. Didn’t see shit. Wasn’t even what I wanted to tell ya.”

“Okay…” you draw out the word in confusion. “What did you want to tell me?”

“We’ll, uh. We’ll be taking a trip to see my parents next weekend.” He’s flustered, you realize; voice gruff as always but less assured than normal, stumbling over his words just slightly. It’s endearing, though you’re still perplexed by what brought it on. He clears his throat. “Just… y’know, figured you should know.”

“Oh? Have fun.”

“We’ll be back ‘round Tuesday.” His attention snaps over to the pepper plant. “Peppers should be ready to harvest ‘round then… ‘ll be able to grab the early ones ‘n the late ones, but go ‘head ‘n nab the rest if I’m gone.”

“Sure thing.”

“Don’t let ‘em go to waste.”

“I make no promises except that I’ll try.”

“‘kay, y’got me there. Night, then.” He pauses, a little frown, eyes off in the distance as, despite saying goodnight, he still hovers. That red gaze darts back to you. “Don’t stay up too long.”

“I won’t.” You raise an eyebrow. “Don’t fall on your way down.”

This time he huffs out a bit of laughter. And rolls his eyes, taking the hint as he turns to really leave. “Fuckin’ won’t. No nagging needed.”

Before you can retort that he’d nagged you first, he’s gone, and you stare a little dazedly at the place he’d just disappeared. Had he been dawdling to keep talking to you? You couldn’t tell.

Shaking your head, you turn back to your plants. No use lingering on it.

Ayame shows up at your door unannounced one Tuesday morning directly after they return from their trip to Bakugo’s parents’. You find her leaning up against the side of your house, right next to the door, as you return from your walk with Tadeo’s leash in hand.

She greets Tadeo eagerly, though that’s easily overshadowed by his own frenzy. His tail wags so enthusiastically that his whole butt shakes, and he attempts to jump on her once—she puts a stop to that by pushing his paws off her thighs and giving him a stern “no” before bending down to his height to pat his head.

“Good boy,” she coos to him, then looks up at you without letting up from her affection. “Morning.”

“Morning! You’re here early.”

She’s dressed fashionably, in distressed jean shorts with fishnets beneath and a ripped-up black t-shirt with a skull on it. The bright pink band on her wrist might ruin the aesthetic, but she makes it work; Riko gave it to her. At your words she stands to look at you fully.

“I know, I…” She frowns, looking away and shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts. “I dunno. I needed to talk, I guess? And you were… my first thought? So here I am?”

“Here you are,” you repeat. “You’re always welcome to talk with me, whenever you want to. Come inside, I’ll make you some tea.”

“Thanks.” The tension in her shoulders eases at your words. She follows you quietly when you open your door and gesture for her to join you. You haven’t set out your guest slippers for her—this visit, after all, is unexpected—but she’s seen you take them out enough times that she finds them with little prompt before you can finish taking Tadeo’s harness off. He sprints off to wait by his food bowl the moment he’s free.

“Have you had breakfast?” you ask as you walk into the kitchen. “I usually make mine now.”

“Um… no, but I’ll be making breakfast with everyone this morning. Uncle’s up but we’re waiting on Riko, she’ll probably wake up in an hour or so. Thanks, though.”

You nod in acceptance. “Let’s just have some tea, then. Let me know if you change your mind, though; we have time and I have plenty of food.”

The first thing to do is feed Tadeo—you direct Ayame to do that, turning your own attention to brewing a pot of green tea for both of you as she scoops kibble into his bowl. Predictably, he sets about devouring it as soon as it hits the metal, and without you asking her to, Ayame has already removed the water bowl from the raised tray to dump and refill it.

It’s quiet as you prepare the tea. You decide that if she wanted to talk now, she’d have initiated it; instead she leans herself back against the countertop and watches as you pad about the kitchen. She might not be eating with you but you take the chance to start the rice for your own breakfast, rinsing it and turning the cooker on while the water comes to temperature.

Once the tea is steeping, however, you send her to sit at your dining table; she seems a little stiff still, but better. Hopefully even more so as she gets more comfortable. You join her quickly.

Sliding her cup of tea over the table and hugging your own as you sit down, you give her a warm smile. “All right, what’s up? Is this about your trip?”

She’s been stressing about it, you know. Worried that Bakugo’s parents will reject her.

“No. It’s—” Ayame cuts herself off with a sigh. Shoulders tense, she stares down at the steaming cup in her hands with a strange look on her face. “It’s a boy.”

“Oh?”

Her nose wrinkles. “If you’re gonna be weird I’m not gonna talk to you.”

“I won’t be weird, promise. You sound like you’re very conflicted.”

“Hayao’s his name. He’s the first guy who’s ever been interested in me and he’s, like… I dunno. One of the cutest guys at school. All my friends were so jealous when he asked for my phone number.”

“Yeah? Sounds flattering that he was interested.”

“It was. Is! I mean, he really is cute… They say he was on the hero track in junior high, but his parents refused to let him do something that dangerous. And he’s pretty smart. He asked me to help him study for our literature exam at the end of the semester, which is how I knew he was, like, into me? Because he didn’t really need the help, yanno? Which was cute. And—yeah, flattering. He asked me out on the last day of the semester, right before break. I thought it’d be nice, getting to go on dates and stuff when school’s out. But…” She trails off. Her gaze falls to her tea before her, and she traces the rim dejectedly with the pad of a finger.

“But?”

“But, I dunno. It’s just not really working? He kinda ignores me whenever we hang out as a group and his friends kinda laugh when I try to talk to him. And he lets other girls hang around him all the time—people don’t really know we’re, like, together, so I don’t blame them but I mean he should tell them right? I dunno. I feel kinda sick when I see him now, or when I might see him, or when he texts me. Like my stomach drops and I almost wanna throw up? My friends say it’s probably butterflies but I really don’t think it is. I think it’s anxiety? I dunno.”

“I see.” You nod sagely. “We do not like this boy. Message received.”

“No, it’s—” She cuts herself off with a huff and her eyes cut to the side. Still cradling her teacup, her knuckles go white with a self-soothing grip. “The truth is I don’t think he really likes me.”

“Oh.”

“Like…” Ayame’s shoulders slump. “My friends are like ‘just go along with it, you’ve never been asked out before’ but I’m miserable. All he wants to do is talk about school and Dynamight.”

That makes you pause. You hadn’t quite thought about it, but it makes sense in hindsight—people wanting to get to know her and Riko because of their connection to the number two hero. Especially stupid, shallow teenage boys with no understanding of how much that might sting.

“Well… okay. Firstly, I have to say I disagree with your friends here. No guy is worth feeling miserable for.” You pause, and she snorts, but doesn’t disagree. So you continue. “Do you wanna work out what you think you should do? Or just vent, because I’m here either way.”

“I… dunno what I can do.”

“Well, you could always break up with him, no shame in that. Or,” you add quickly when she opens her mouth, “you could talk to him about it, communicate what’s wrong. If he’s the kind of boy you should stick it out for, he’ll be receptive to that.”

She’s silent for a moment, staring dejectedly into her tea before her. You let her think, process your words, while you sip on your own and watch as Tadeo, done with his breakfast, waddles over to his favorite armchair and hauls himself up to settle in for the morning.

Then you turn your attention back to your visitor.

“What’re you thinking?”

“I…” She sighs. “I don’t know if he’ll be receptive.”

“You never will unless you try.” You take a sip of your tea and give yourself a moment to arrange your thoughts. When you can order them into the right sentences to get across what you want to say, you lean in, lacing your fingers together on the table in front of you. “Look, Ayame, relationships are hard. They take work, even when it’s the right person. I’m not going to tell you if this boy is right or wrong, you’re the only person who can decide that. But no matter what, none of your choices here are going to be easy.”

Ayame squirms in her seat. That, clearly, had been the wrong way to go about it. You can practically see her shutting down at the prospect. A new approach, then—you lean back instead, bracing yourself on the floor with your arms and looking across the table at her.

“You know, the first guy who ever expressed interest in me was the school delinquent when I was a second year. Real cute—though he’d take issue with that description—very charming, got in a fight for me. I liked him a lot, I really did. But..” You let it linger, hoping to create intrigue.

It works; she looks up at you, tilting her head in question. “But?”

“I wasn’t ready.”

She ruminates on that for a moment. Her face is pensive, her gaze unfocused. “How’d you figure that out?”

“I melted down two days after he first asked me out and my mom had to break up with him for me on my phone while I was crying my eyes out on our living room floor.”

Ayame gives a burst of laughter, then covers her mouth. You shake your head and laugh, too.

“It’s okay to laugh, it’s funny. Really!” you insist when she shakes her head in disbelief. “She read the text out loud and I was wailing, absolutely bawling, rolling around on the floor begging her not to and then begging her to just send the message. I swear, that woman had so much patience for me…”

“How’d your dad react?”

The question, admittedly, takes you aback. You tilt your head, trying to gauge Ayame’s intent—it’s an odd jump to make, you think, but she’s looking a little expectant and you realize she’s fishing. You haven’t talked to her about your father before. So you decide to be candid.

“I don’t have one, actually. Had a stepdad for a bit when I was really young but he left… when I was about Riko’s age, maybe a bit younger. Then it was just me and my mom—at least, until I got accepted to university and my grandparents offered to put me through it.” You smile softly, hoping to get across your affection instead of letting Ayame feel awkward or ashamed for asking. It only kind of works.

“Oh.” She deflates a bit. “Sorry, I didn’t realize…”

“It’s okay, it’s not something I try to hide. And you didn’t know either way. Besides,” you gesture between the two of you, “we gotta stick together, yeah?”

If you weren’t looking for it, you might have missed the way her lips quirk up slightly at your declaration. “Yeah.”

“Good. So I wasn’t ready—that was my point. Who knows what would’ve happened if I’d tried to force it; maybe I would’ve been miserable and come to resent him, and he didn’t deserve that. The way it worked out was better for both of us.”

“How?” She sounds a little desperate. You think you understand. It must be hard to believe that her situation can work out. Maybe that’s right—maybe this specific boy really can’t—but that doesn’t mean it’s permanent.

“How’d it work out? Kenzou and I stayed friends—well,” you hold up your hands to do air quotes, “‘friends,’ because admittedly we were both still pining—until graduation when I kissed him and we started going out for real. And that lasted a good long while the second time around. I don’t regret taking a little longer to date him, because it meant that when I was ready it was a much more successful experience. And trust me, if a boy really likes you, he won’t care.”

“You mean he’ll wait for me?”

You tilt your head. It’s more difficult than you anticipated, walking the line between encouragement and setting her expectations too high.

“If he likes you,” you settle upon saying, because it’s safe. Safer than telling her this boy will wait for her; you honestly doubt that, from what she’s been telling you. “And if he’s the kind of person who’s satisfied with that. But if he doesn’t, it’s not your fault. There’ll be other boys who do like you and who are the kind of person who’ll wait for you, if needed.”

“I guess.”

“Just trust me on this. It’s true.”

“I… okay.”

She doesn’t believe you, that much is obvious. It’s never going to be easy to convince a teenager that life continues after high school—never going to be easy to convince them that what’s before them right now might not be the ultimate happiness they think it is. Maybe you should have just told her that he’s a jerk and she shouldn’t waste her time.

But no, it means more if she comes to that conclusion herself. All you can do is finish your cup of tea and hope she takes what you’ve said to heart.

“How’d he get in a fight for you,” Ayame asks suddenly.

“Who, Kenzou? My high school boyfriend?” You chuckle. “Teenagers tend to be a lot more subtle than younger kids, but I still got picked on a lot for being quirkless. He caught some boys stealing my stuff—one of them was levitating it up above me so I couldn’t reach it—and stepped in.”

“And beat them up?” She’s excited now, a little starry-eyed at the concept.

“Oh, soundly. Used his quirk to overpower them—he was a hero prospect, too, once upon a time, though he’s always been too critical of the hero system to become one, even back then. ‘Course quirk usage got him in a world of trouble with administration, but… he always said it was worth it to meet me. I learned later on that he’d liked me for a while, actually, just didn’t know how to approach me.”

“Wow, that’s… so romantic. I wish a guy would do something like that for me…” A sigh, wistful, and you’re reminded that the girl before you has never had a relationship before. She deserves a first boyfriend like your own, you think. “I can’t believe you’re not still together.”

You snort. “Well, our lives just diverged. We’re still friends! He visits me whenever he’s back in Japan.”

“Back in Japan?” The awestruck tone has returned tenfold. “Where does he go?”

“Oh, all over the place. To tell you the truth I hardly know what he does. Something about quirk research, it’s all a little over my head honestly. But he comes back about twice a year to see his family and stops by when he has the chance. I’m sure you’ll see him someday.”

Just as you finish the sentence, in the kitchen behind you, your rice maker gives a little chime to indicate it’s done. You pause to look back at it, and—prompted by the music—Ayame glances at the clock on your wall.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the time. “Oh! I should probably go back, Riko should be up now.”

She jumps up from her seated position, careful not to rattle the teacups on the table. You follow after her, albeit more slowly, as she removes the house slippers (you should get a pair just for her, you think; Riko, too) to change back into her shoes.

“Thank you!” she says as she opens the door to go, turning back to give you a small bow that makes you grin from where you hover just inside. “I don’t know if I’ll break up with him… but your advice helped. I’ll see you this weekend? For the garden?”

“This weekend,” you assure her, and with that she runs off to catch her train.

The following morning, as you return from your daily walk with Tadeo, you find your neighbors (plus one) gathered at the front stoop.

The addition is a teenage boy. A little taller than Ayame, dressed in the most unremarkable teenage boy outfit you think you’ve ever seen, he hovers near her and seemingly refuses to take his attention away from Bakugo, who he’s intently talking to. Riko stands at her father’s side, hand in his, while Ayame is turned away with her arms crossed over her chest and a frown gracing her lips.

Riko is the one who notices you, turning and waving with her free hand as she tugs at the other one to get Bakugo’s attention.

“Miss Sunny! Miss Sunny!”

You give a little wave, gesturing for her to return her attention to her father, and intend to pass on by without issue. Unfortunately Tadeo has different plans.

He goes certifiably insane as you try to pass, barking up a storm and managing to tug so hard against his leash that you stumble (a true feat of strength, considering how small and how old he is) towards the group of four at the front of the steps. You do your best to reel him in but he’s making a beeline straight for Ayame’s visitor and before you can manage to pull him back towards you to pick him up, he reaches the boy’s legs.

The kid (what was his name? Hayato?) yelps, leaping back and almost cowering behind Ayame. She seems unimpressed—the whole family does, and you almost feel sorry for him considering he now has the number two pro hero, a seven year old, and his own high school sweetheart staring at him in varying levels of disdain. You hadn’t even known Riko could look that bored.

Tadeo seems largely unfazed by the sudden movement. He attempts to out-maneuver and bypass Ayame’s body but she’s faster, head whipping down from where she’d been staring down her nose at her friend to bend over and snatch up your dog swiftly and gently.

He’s still yapping up a storm when she hands him off to you with a troubled expression.

“Sorry about that,” you say cheerily. “He’s usually so chill. Dunno what’s up with him today.”

The kid (Hayao, you remember suddenly. You’d been close enough) side-eyes Bakugo, stepping forward slightly and opening his mouth to speak when your neighbor beats him to it.

“Nah, s’fine.” He gives a dismissing wave of his hand. “Mutt’s so old I doubt he even has teeth left to bite with.”

“Yeah,” Hayao rushes to agree. “It’s okay.”

“Yeah?” Tadeo makes a particularly valiant struggle in your arms, wiggling around. You might be playing up how hard it is to keep hold of him, if only to watch the boy’s eyes land on your dog and widen as he hesitantly takes a step back. “Don’t worry, I got him.”

“Well it doesn’t matter,” Ayame cuts in, “because we gotta go or we’ll be late.”

Hayao’s attention is pulled from the dog as she grabs him by the wrist and begins tugging him away down the road. He stumbles after her; before they can get far, however, Riko darts forward to intercept.

She gives the teen a hug, wrapping arms around his waist and looking up with a bright grin to say, “Bye-bye!”

He seems to startle from it. He’s stiff as he stares down at her with wide, baffled eyes and clearly has no clue what to do with his hands as he holds them both out wildly. “Uh, yeah, bye.” Then he looks up at her father with a strikingly nervous expression. “Good to—to meet you, Mr. Bakugo—Mr. Dynamight, sir.”

Ayame pulls her sister off him, hissing something like stop being weird before grabbing Hayao’s hand again and pulling him down the road all the more insistently. Riko is entirely unaffected as she stands with suspiciously innocent posture and waves as they head off.

She comes bounding up to where you’re hovering next to Bakugo with Tadeo still in your arms. You set the dog down as Ayame and Hayao disappear over the hill, and Riko sidles up next to her father.

“Did he notice?” he asks, still looking down the road.

“No, daddy,” she says sweetly, giggling like it’s the funniest joke she’s ever made. You glance down at her to find that she’s not-so-subtly trying to shove something into Bakugo’s hand.

“Nothing less from my best fuckin’ sidekick,” he responds gruffly as he takes whatever she’s trying to give him. You can only gape as he turns to you—no, your dog—and bends down to offer Tadeo the mystery item.

It’s a dog treat. You remember a jar full of them always on the kitchen counter back when your grandparents still lived in your current home. You’d asked them where they bought the things, because they looked fancy as hell and Tadeo always seemed to adore them—still does, clearly, judging by the way he barks and his whole lower half shakes with the force of his tail wagging—but you’d never gotten a straight answer. Now you think you might have found it.

“Played your part well, too, mutt.” It’s surprisingly affectionate—for Bakugo, anyway. He gives Tadeo a pat on the head as the dog snarfs down the gift; you haven’t yet overcome your shock when he stands.

“What the fuck,” you’re saying before you can stop yourself. “Is that why he was being weird?”

“Used to love those things. Made ‘em for him all the time.” Bakugo stands to his full height before turning to his daughter. “Ready to go, bug?”

“Whoa, whoa, no you can’t just leave after that, I need an explanation.”

Bakugo doesn’t answer you at first; he lifts Riko with ease, resting her on his hip. She’s still acting incredibly self-satisfied.

“My dad asked me to put a dog treat in Hayao’s pocket,” she tells you smugly.

Her father frowns, turning to her and raising his free hand to press a finger to his lips and shush her playfully. “We agreed not to tell anyone. Secret mission, yeah?”

She pouts at the reprimand. You interrupt, slightly annoyed.

“Why, exactly?”

“He’s not really interested in Ayame,” he tells you hotly, though you get the feeling the anger isn’t directed at you. “Punk’s just some fuckin’ hero fan. Wanted to meet me, weasel his way into my good graces or some shit. If I told Ayame directly she’d just get pissed off at me. Trusts the mutt, though, so figured I’d use that.”

The explanation surprises you, just a little. Frankly you hadn’t thought he’d paid enough attention—not to Ayame’s emotional state but to her boyfriend himself and his unsaid intentions behind asking her out—to have come to such a conclusion. Ayame almost certainly hadn’t told him as she’d told you, so it had to have been his own observations and his own conclusion from them. You wonder, briefly, if you ought to tell him about the conversation yesterday morning, but decide not to. It feels like a breach of trust somehow, and even if she doesn’t feel comfortable talking to her guardian about things you’d rather not make her feel like she can’t trust you, either.

Riko, however, has a different plan. Perched against Bakugo’s hip, she squirms, calling for the attention of both of you.

“Ayame told me Miss Sunny told her to break up with him,” she informs the both of you proudly.

Bakugo’s head snaps back to you. You shrug. “She came to ask for my advice yesterday morning.”

“That’s why she was stompin’ around so early? Thought she had a school thing.”

“Don’t you get up that early?”

“I don’t stomp.”

Biting your lip, you meet Riko’s eye and widen your own comically until she giggles. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“I don’t,” he insists, sounding indignant.

“He does!” Riko interjects. “He stomps all around and wakes us up when we’re sleeping even though we’re all the way upstairs.”

You raise an eyebrow and meet Bakugo’s gaze. It doesn’t even require words—he narrows his eyes in response and turns Riko away from you.

“Don’t manipulate my daughter. She’s only sayin’ that ‘cause you laughed.”

“I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.”

“Playin’ dumb doesn’t suit you.” You watch his jaw tighten with his words, and it makes a smile pull at your lips. It’s never less than amusing, the way he takes things so seriously.

“Still in the dark here,” you respond, voice sing-songing. “I’ve thought up my fine, by the way.”

“Your fine?”

“Yes. My fine. Well, Tadeo’s, I suppose.”

“For what?” Bakugo sounds incredulous.

“For his participation in your plan,” you chirp in response. “You used my dog, you have to give him something in return.”

“We gave him a treat!” Riko pipes up helpfully in response.

“Ah, true, but he played a vital role, no? Wouldn’t you say he ought to get more?”

“Hmmm…” she purses her lips, mimicking someone thinking hard, before nodding enthusiastically. “Yeah! He should get all the treats he can have!”

“I agree.” You nod with her before returning your attention to her father. “So, in order to provide him with as many treats as he deserves, the fine is you telling me where to get those, because I could never get a straight answer out of my grandparents…”

His scowl deepens. He opens his mouth, and you can tell already that he’s going to brush you off. Sorry, bud, you’re already telling Tadeo in your head, because you’re never going to learn where his favorite treats come from.

Riko, however, has different intentions.

“Oh! Oh! I know!”

“Riko—” Bakugo starts, but she’s already saying it.

“Daddy makes them! He makes them from scratch! I helped him yesterday, he asked me to help knead the dough, but I wasn’t allowed to help put them in the oven because the pans are too heavy and it’s too hot and I might burn myself.”

Against your will, your jaw drops a little. When, you wonder, will this man stop surprising you—making dog treats from scratch for your grandparents’ elderly dog? You’d never have guessed. Your mind recalls the jar of them from a year ago, full to the brim every time you’d stop by, and wonder how much baking he’d had to do to keep it that way.

“Oh,” is all you can say in response. “So it’s not some… crazy expensive boutique.”

Standing before you, he looks embarrassed; a little sheepish. “Nah. Was gonna give you the rest of the batch tonight, actually. Wouldn’t want ‘em to go to waste.”

“How much?”

He shrugs. Riko bobs with the motion, giggling excitedly. “‘bout thirty. Not a ton.”

You nod. “Okay. Okay, how’s this. If Tadeo did his job properly, and Ayame comes back single… you’ll take a day and make five batches. If he didn’t, we just get the leftovers.”

“Deal,” he barks. Riko cheers. Tadeo, not to be outdone, barks as well.

That afternoon you don’t see them—you have a call with a client that lasts well into the afternoon, and on Fridays Bakugo always makes sure to come home early to make and eat dinner as a family. It’s sweet, you think; your mother used to do the same, though on a less consistent schedule. The perks of owning one’s own agency and being one’s own boss, and not having to be subject to the ever-changing requirements of the service industry as your mother had been.

In the evening, however, Ayame and Riko wander up while you’re working on the garden. It’s been thriving; you’ve had to wage a small war with blossom end rot on your beefsteak tomatoes lately, but other than that you haven’t had any pressing issues, and everything else you’ve harvested has been on time and good quality. With summer coming to a close, and the weather beginning to cool, you’ve begun the process of planting for autumn and winter harvests.

Riko finds a spot near the stairs and sits herself down on the concrete before one of the dilapidated flower boxes you’ve yet to clean up, filled with overflowing weeds and stubborn herbs. Her hair is plaited now, two long braids down her back tied with little pink bows at the end—it had been down this morning, and you get the feeling her sister might be behind the style change.

“Uncle’s finishing up dinner,” Ayame tells you as she approaches, and you nod.

“Well, you two are more than welcome out here while you wait, if he says it’s okay.”

“My dad’s a really good cook,” Riko says from behind you.

“Is he now?”

You can’t see, but you can hear how vigorously she’s nodding from the sound of her voice. “Yeah, yeah! He says his daddy taught him.”

“Your grandpa?”

“Yeah! He’s a really good cook, too. He made us food when we went to visit him last weekend.”

“Really? What’d he make?”

Riko regales you with all the food Bakugo’s father made the three of them over the two days of their visit. She lists off all the dishes, then starts on the ingredients—with extensive help from her sister, who corrects her when she mispronounces things or gets lost in her train of thought.

“I got to practice cooking a little,” Ayame adds to you quietly while Riko is talking, smiling excitedly. “Uncle’s mother didn’t let him in the kitchen while I was there, so his father helped me, and let me help him some.”

“Was it fun?”

“Yeah. It was.”

“Did you learn some stuff?”

“He showed me how to make tonkatsu. Said I was a natural, actually.” She sounds proud as she tells you, perhaps a little bashful. “I wanna visit again soon. Uncle said we might go back for a weekend when school starts back up, I think I’d actually be really excited for it.”

It’s then that you realize Riko has stopped talking. You raise a finger to quiet Ayame, who pauses immediately.

“Riko? You wanna keep talking?”

She doesn’t answer. You turn around, only slightly concerned, but find her attention completely gone. She’s turned away from you, having scooted even closer to the busted flower box, and she’s put herself to work on her own form of unstructured gardening as she pulls up weeds and pushes the dirt around into piles. It isn’t impossible to get her to focus and do real gardening with you, but it’s hardly worth it for the minor upkeep you’re doing tonight, so you turn back around and drop the conversation to let her play.

With Riko solidly lost to the infinite possibilities of her imagination and the planter box, you’re left with Ayame, who stands across from you. Beckoning her down to join you in your work is easy; a quiet gesture with your head and she’s kneeling with you, pulling from her pockets gloves that she’d taken from the pile near the stairs.

You hardly have to direct her on what to do. She’s already weeding with you, meticulously plucking unknown stems from amongst the shoots of your late-blooming carrots and radishes and onions.

“It sounds like it was a productive trip for you, too, then,” you tell her.

She nods. “Yeah. It was really nice. Uncle’s parents are great, they were real nice to me. I appreciated it. His mom took me to her work on Monday, actually. She’s a fashion designer. She took me to lunch, too, and we talked. It was… fun.”

“That’s great!” Not that you’d thought it likely for Bakugo’s parents to react poorly, it’s still good to hear that they’d welcomed Ayame readily.

She doesn’t seem to want to keep talking, though. She lets the conversation die down, and you let her, the pair of you focusing on the work before you in silence. Though there’s a more pressing discussion to be had.

Once the pair of you seem to get into a groove, you broach the topic. “So did you do it?”

“Do what?” Ayame blinks at you, and you push down the urge to tell her that she’s not nearly good enough at lying to convince you.

“Break up with him,” you decide to say instead.

“Oh… yeah. I wasn’t really sure this morning—I mean, I wanted to but I didn’t want to? So I wasn’t going to? But…” She moves to kneel next to you, not even bothering with gloves as she digs her hands into the dirt. “Tadeo’s freakout this morning made me change my mind.”

That throws you for a loop. Somehow you hadn’t been expecting it—somehow you’d thought it’d have been your talk with her, if anything. Maybe you should give Bakugo more credit.

“Your talk helped a lot too!” Ayame rushes to add. “I just… well, you told me to choose and I was still unsure. But, like, dogs are really good judges of character, you know? And Hayao… really didn’t like Tadeo, either. He kept talking about him on our way to school. And I don’t wanna be with a guy like that. So I told him we were through when we showed up. Which was probably not a good plan, I probably should have done it after school so he could have the weekend to, like, process or whatever. But I can’t take it back now, I guess.”

“Hey, look at it this way: if you’d waited then you’d have spent the day fretting, and that’s worse than what he got. Plus you might’ve overthought things and not gone through with it. Good on you for getting it over with.”

She doesn’t seem like she believes you; she nods absently, keeps her attention fixed on the work before her. You decide to go for a different approach.

“How’d he take it?”

Ayame makes a face.

You chuckle quietly. “That bad, huh?”

“He was awful. Told me I was a bad girlfriend anyway. Said I was all distant, I guess? Like, we were dating for two weeks. He really can’t judge that. And—and if I was that bad, why didn’t he break up with me first? Would’ve saved me the trouble…”

“How’re you feeling, though?”

“Uh, good, honestly?” She shoves her hands in her pockets, then seems to realize just how dirty they are and removes them, instead moving to brush them off over the seeds she’d just planted. “I mean, all things considered. Also I’m not supposed to know but Riko told me Uncle got me purin from my favorite bistro to cheer me up, so. Great? I guess?”

“Food solves all of life’s woes,” you tell her sagely, and she huffs a laugh. “Really, though, I’m proud of you. Breakups are hard on everyone involved, including the one who does it. It’s a difficult decision to make, but I think you made the right one.”

Again she makes a face, this one even more exaggerated. “Don’t be weird.”

“I’m not being weird! I just think you made a mature choice and I’m proud of you!”

“Yeah, okay.” Despite the dismissive tone, her next words are clearly genuine as she sidles up next to you. “Thanks for the advice, weirdo.”

“You’re always welcome.” You nudge her softly, drawing a smile from her surly face with ease. “I’m just glad it helped.”

She nods. The pair of you fall silent for a moment, you returning your attention to the seeds you’ve just planted and her simply squatting next to you watching you work.

Then a voice calls out her name.

“Ayame!”

You both startle, whipping about to find Bakugo standing at the top of the stairs, arms crossed. Though his face is stern, he doesn’t seem angry—no more so than typical, anyway—and the call of her name hadn’t been particularly irate either.

“Set the table,” he orders, then turns to go back down before Ayame has even acknowledged him.

She huffs audibly, and mumbles a snippy response under her breath even as she stands to do as he asked. “Couldn’t even say please? Like living with a drill sergeant.”

Despite yourself, and the knowledge that laughing will only encourage her, you snort in amusement. Luckily he couldn’t have heard either her comment or your reaction—Ayame does, though, and you catch a hint of a smile as she walks over to the stairs where Bakugo waits.

He lets her go down first, then follows, though not before locking eyes with Riko and telling her to behave for you—and then giving you a curt nod before ducking down.

Riko is entirely occupied with her broken-down planter box. It’s funny, you think (adorable, even) how much she enjoys the dirt, when her other primary loves have always been pastel pink and sparkles. Considering her quirk, though—and her mother’s—it makes sense. You suppose you ought to be happy she’s not using it to explode half your garden. Instead, she’s tearing up the weeds from the dirt and using them to make what you’re fairly certain are dolls; little stick figures with arms and legs made of stems and flowers as heads, which she’s moving around in piles of dirt. If you asked, you’re certain each pile would have a convoluted, highly detailed story behind it, explanations for what structures they are and what the different dolls are doing within them. You choose to leave her alone.

Instead you focus your attention back on gardening. While the conversation with Ayame had, obviously, been important to have, you hadn’t actually gotten much work done during it; too busy talking.

So you take the time now to actually garden. There’s mulch to be added, leaves to trim back, plants to water. You tentatively have hope that you’ve fixed the blossom end rot that had been plaguing your tomatoes, though it’s a bit too early to be fully certain of it.

You get to the eggplant, however, and realize that while you hadn’t anticipated it, it’s ready for harvest. You’d brought up the right tools to do it, a pair of shears, but they’re not on your person—they’re over in the pile of supplies you’ve left near the top of the stairs.

Now, you could go get them yourself. But there’s a certain child in the vicinity that you’d like to get to help out at least a little.

“Riko, sweetie,” you call out, “there’s a pair of shears over there that I need. Could you hand them to me? The orange ones?” You reach out your palm and wait for her.

But it’s not an eight year old’s hand that gives you the shears. The hand that reaches out is far too large—larger than your own, even, hardened with rough work and attached to a massive forearm that also couldn’t belong to a little girl. You yelp in shock, yanking your hand back and dropping the tool in the process.

Bakugo grumbles as he stoops to pick it up and you’re left reeling with your hand pressed flush against your chest where your heart hammers rapidly beneath your ribs.

“It’s just me, dumbass.” He holds the packet of seeds out for you again, scowling all the while.

“I didn’t know you were still up here, prick.” There’s a number of more obscene insults you might have employed if not for Riko still hovering in the vicinity, but unlike her father you refuse to encourage that kind of language from her. It doesn’t escape him; his eyes crinkle and his mouth twitches in what must be him holding back laughter. Your own eyes narrow as you stare at him. There are more pressing matters either way—such as how he in all his pro hero muscle managed to climb back up the metal staircase to the roof without making a sound. It’s worth asking. “How are you so quiet when you’re that big?”

“Trade secret.”

The only response you have to give to that answer is a low hum—not quite dismissive, but certainly unamused. You make an attempt to turn your attention back to the box before you, seeds in hand, but Bakugo doesn’t stay quiet for long.

“Riko,” he says suddenly, drawing the girl’s attention from her little floral dolls. “Go help your sister set the table.”

She pouts a little, but with a stern look from her father she’s quickly tossing the handmade doll in her hand to the side, rising to her feet, and darting off back towards the top of the stairs where, you realize, Ayame hovers and is clearly waiting for her—she must have come back up with Bakugo, you think. On her way over, Riko pauses briefly near Bakugo to stand up on her tip-toes and pull him down so that she can press a kiss to his cheek. You smile a little at the sight, at how he caves to her tugging so easily, and at how Ayame beckons her to lead her down the stairs—they’re steep, a little rickety, and you’re glad that Ayame is making Riko go first to ensure she stays safe. They disappear down, the metallic sound of their feet tapping on the iron rungs fading as they descend.

And then you realize that Bakugo is still standing before you, watching you as if waiting for something.

“Is there… a reason you’ve stayed? Need to tell me something?” you ask, but he remains stubbornly silent, still scowling, not quite meeting your eye. You sigh quietly, this time turning away from him entirely to focus on the dirt before you, and mutter under your breath, “Okay. Nice chat.”

There’s a kind of tension in the air. You can’t quite place what it is, but you can feel his stare on your back like the midday sun, and you have a funny feeling that if you were to turn around he’d be wearing an expression on his face like he’d smelled something funny. The only thing you can do, you decide, is continue until he eventually says what he wants to say or gives up and leaves. Luckily you don’t have to wait nearly as long as you feared.

“Was wonderin’ if you wanted to join us for dinner,” he says after a few minutes. You pause in your work.

“Huh?”

“Dinner,” he repeats. “You got plans or d’you wanna eat with us?”

Now you stand fully, staring at him with your mouth a little slack. “Oh! I’d, uh—I’d love to! I was hoping to finish planting tonight, though.”

“How much?”

“What?”

He rolls his eyes at you. “How much planting, dumbass. How much time.”

“Um, well, like half an hour if I’m doing it—”

“Then I’ll help.” Bakugo nods decisively. “Food can wait ten minutes.”

Arrogant—for reducing the time to one third by virtue of his help—you might say teasingly if you weren’t half in shock. Instead you nod silently, mouth a little slack, and gesture towards the pile of supplies at the edge of your planter boxes before lowering yourself again to return to your previous task. In your peripheral, you can see him retrieve what you can only assume is gloves and perhaps a trowel before he returns to your position.

Crouching down next to you, he sets to work by your side.

It’s silent for a while. He doesn’t seek direction nearly as much as you had expected; that’s a pleasant surprise, not needing to handhold him through helping you. The other pleasant surprise is that the quiet between you two isn’t awkward. It’s comfortable, easy. There’s no air of awkwardness lingering, or any hovering inability to speak. That’s proven, if anything, by Bakugo breaking it quite suddenly halfway through the work.

“She broke up with him.”

You pause. Ayame, surely, hadn’t informed him; that leaves only one option. “Riko told you?”

He grumbles inaudibly towards the dirt in front of him, and you suppress a laugh. It doesn’t work; he shoots you a glare that has no heat.

“Shaddup,” he barks at you with a scoff. “Ayame told you herself, then?”

“I think she likes me more than you,” you tell him smugly, earning yourself a second scoff, this one louder.

“Y’don’t gotta rub it in. Riko tells me everything, anyway.”

“Mmm. Smart, getting the little one in your pocket. They do teach you some good tricks at those hero schools, huh?”

The huff you get this time is certainly laughter. He nudges you with his shoulder—just like Ayame had done, you note with silent amusement and perhaps an equal amount of affection, though admittedly this one leaves an ache beneath your skin that she certainly hadn’t managed—and doesn’t budge a millimeter when you return the gesture.

“You still owe Tadeo a month’s worth of those treats, though.”

“Hah?”

“Your little scheme worked, that was what finally convinced her. I can’t take all the credit. Though,” you add, pretending to think carefully, “he is my dog, so I think I get half credit for that trick anyway—”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not,” he interrupts. “Riko was my assistant, if anyone gets half credit it’s her.”

That gets you to burst into laughter. He says it so seriously; as if he were genuinely offended you hadn’t given his daughter the recognition she deserved.

“Okay,” you say through your peals of laughter, “okay, that’s true. But I really do have to hand it to you. It was smart. Maybe smarter than my own approach.”

“Nah, you told ‘er what she needed to learn. She needed that, too. And she ain’t gonna fuckin’ hear it from me, even if I’m right.” He pauses, then rolls his eyes and huffs angrily. “Scratch that, ‘specially if I’m right. She listens to you more.”

It isn’t as if you can refute that. Though, to be fair to him, his ability to bond with Ayame is weighed down to an extent you’ll never have. Even if you don’t know every detail, that much is abundantly clear.

“She’ll come around,” you say finally, and though you can’t possibly guarantee it you’re pretty sure it’s the truth. “Eventually.”

And he grunts, a tentative agreement. You both fall back into that comfortable silence.

Ayame and Riko have to venture back up to fetch the pair of you, lost as the pair of you become in working together. You haven’t become so absorbed in gardening with another person, you realize, since your grandfather’s health had grown so poor he’d been unable to maintain the prosperous garden you’d been accustomed to while attending university. It isn’t until Ayame’s voice calls your name, and Riko calls for her father, that you realize how dark it’s become.

The feeling that blooms in your chest as you watch Bakugo pluck Riko from the roof and swing her into his arms to carry her inside, as you gesture for Ayame to go down ahead of you and follow behind as she tells you what they made for dinner, is a little odd but warm. You think maybe you’d like for this to be your new normal.

[hannyoontify]

seventeen as your older brothers

warnings | mentions of food/snacks, implications of alcohol consumption (not the reader), friendly insults (pls lmk if i missed anything)

notes | this has been a brain rot for a while now, so i’m glad that i have this writen down now lol. This was like a brain dump for me LMAO like i was js writing whatever came to mind when i imagined each member as an older brother. oh also this has no correlation with any of the members' siblings/lineage. pretend it’s in an alternate universe where you’re their only sibling

seungcheol 

for other people, it was always ‘sorry my folks won’t let me’ to hanging out with friends. but for you? oh no no no it was ‘... seungcheol said no’ and everyone knew there was no refuting it bc once cheol makes up his mind, there was no changing it. he’s like your third parent, always calling and making sure that you’re where you’re supposed to be. on days when you come back late at night, it was seungcheol who’s patiently waiting for you in the living room, not your parents (he had convinced them to go to sleep and swore to stay awake until you got home) but like he would be such a sweet, protective older brother :(( if he’s out grabbing snacks or groceries, he always makes sure to grab a bag of your favorite snacks and when he gets home, he js silently drops it on your bed and leaves your room. and omg sometimes he would help out with your math and chem homework, and nine times out of ten, it led to both you and your dad getting yelled at by cheol at 10 pm at night at the kitchen table bc neither of you could understand cos, sin, and tan 

jeonghan 

having jeonghan as your older brother would be so interesting omg like when you guys were younger, you were able to count on one hand the number of times you’ve won a game against him. he always said that it was bc he was js better than you but everyone and their mother knew that the little shit eater (affectionate) was shoving uno cards up his sleeves whenever he could. as you guys get older, he would probably cheat his way out of doing chores and leave you to do the dishes all on your own. he would only come back later bc he felt bad and he would help you put away the cutlery. he would randomly come into your room and stand by the doorway for 3 minutes before he js leaves LOL omg and when you were in middle school, he packed your lunch everyday and occasionally wrote a note that reminded you to do drink water bc you never fucking drink water and it pisses jeonghan off

joshua

DUDEEE i think you would be that friend who has a cute older brother. like that one time shua gave you and your friends a ride to the beach, your friends were all giggling and shit in the backseat whenever he smiled. at one point, you had to scold joshua bc his friendly behavior had all of your friends crushing on him and told him to stop being so nice but he js laughed and ruffled your hair. but i feel like having joshua as a brother would be so nice. like if you were in a bad mood, he always left food and water outside your door and texted you smth like ‘there’s food outside if you want any. you can do so much better than that jerk anyway’ AHHH AND AND when you were still in school, there were some days where shua comes home at 5 am, covered in glitter and smelling like alcohol and sweat. he would go into the kitchen, where you’re eating breakfast before going to school, and he would js grab a cup of water, ruffle your hair as a greeting before disappearing into his room. the first time that happened shua made you swear up and down that you wouldn’t tell your parents (you didn’t and you never have)

junhui

JUN WOULD BE SUCH A FUN BIG BROTHER LMAO LIKE he would conjure up the most random food concoctions in the kitchen at 2 am and then force have you be the taste tester. 8 times out of 10 it was edible, but once in a while, you would have to spit out the lump of… burnt charcoal?? you spit it out and complain that it tastes disgusting and junhui would js laugh at you. it was disgusting, but you considered it some of your favorite memories with jun. and you guys would have like an unspoken kind of connection like you guys can stare at each other and js understand how the other person’s feeling it’s rlly nice actually, to have a brother who js knows how you feel without saying a word. OH and you guys would def watch comedy shows together late at night and you guys def have inside jokes from the shows you watch heh

hoshi

oh my god imagine hoshi as your older brother holy crap. i feel like he would either be a super protective older brother or an older brother who acts like a younger one. like your parents genuinely questioned how hoshi could be older than you sometimes. but having him as your older brother regardless of either would be so fun. like the mafia game is def 100% banned from family gatherings bc last time it happened, soonyoung was doing cartwheels around the living room, screeching and accusing your great aunt of being the mafia LMAO LIKE bro takes mafia a little too seriously LMAOO but seriously like you probably started his horanghae agenda. when you guys were younger, he was obsessed with tiger patterned things and so you started calling him ‘tiger’ as a joke and it js kinda stuck (woozi hates you for that btw) oh but he would be so annoying like if he sees you with your crush, later that day he’ll be like ‘oooooo was that one person you were talking-’ and you have to throw a handful of lettuce to shut him up

wonwoo

the most chillest older brother EVER. like if you randomly walk into his room and ask for a ride to the mall for you and your friends, he would put down his book and grab his car keys without a second thought. and if your parents said no to hanging out with friends, you knew that wonwoo would find a way to sneak you out later. i feel like when you guys are hanging out together, you would each be doing your own thing. he would send you a meme via messages instead of js showing you on his phone since you were on the other side of the couch and then you guys would js laugh about it together. i feel like wonwoo would be like a ‘silent but deadly’ kind of protective brother. like he doesn’t stop you from going out and trying out things but if you’re ever in trouble, he’s always one call away. like he is such a supportive and understanding brother i love &lt;3

woozi 

jihoon as your older brother would be so interesting. like he’s always staying up and working until the crack of dawn in his studio but if he sees you awake past 12 am he would be upset that you weren’t getting enough sleep. ‘go to sleep, it’s past your bedtime’ ‘IM A GROWN ASS ADULT JIHOON’ ooo also i think jihoon would be like a little more serious older brother. like if you ever had any worries or concerns, woozi would immediately put down whatever he was doing to listen intently to what you had to say. whether you wanted advice or some comforting words, jihoon always has something to say that would make you feel better. he would also randomly stop by your room to make sure that you’re doing alright and that you were taking care of yourself. ooo and if you’re into music, he would be your #1 supporter and critic LMAO like right after your piano recital he would go up to you and say ‘you could’ve worked on the dynamics a little more’ before handing you a big ass bouquet of flowers ‘good job today, you did amazing’

minghao 

meditation sessions together!! if hao notices that you’re looking a little too stressed, he would force you to get out of your room and have you meditate with him in the living room. he still kinda thinks of you as his baby sibling. he gets worried that you’re overdoing it sometimes and makes sure that you’re taking it easy. he’ll randomly text you throughout the day to make sure that you’re doing alright and if he’s making himself a cup of tea, he always asks you if you want some too. oh and he would definitely help you with your homework when you need it. OH OH OH AND ALSO i feel like he would be a rlly good listener. like you can vent to him all you want and he won’t judge you at all, just listen and nod his head until you feel better

mingyu

mr gyu!!! lowkey tho i feel like he could be an annoying older brother LMAO like kinda like jeonghan he’ll come into your room, knock over something and then just leave. you thought it was annoying but you knew it was his way of showing that he cared about you and making sure that you were doing alright. and if he makes food, he always makes sure to leave some extras in the fridge for you so you could never stay mad at him for anything. oh my god and if you ever start dating someone get ready for the older brother interrogation!! his bigger, physical build would scare the living crap out of your partners LMAO ‘touch [Name] and you’re done for’ kinda vibe and it’s true but he’s also like ‘new friend!!’ but he’s gonna make sure that he intimidates them first before befriending them lol also i feel like when you guys were younger, despite being the younger one, you got mingyu into trouble more than you did lolz

dokyeom

dokyeom is like a 2+1 deal lol like he’s your older brother but he’s also your best friend. you’re somehow always looped into his dumb antics but he’s the only one that gets in trouble for it. oh oh oh and if you’re in a bad mood, he’ll burst into your room with his portable karaoke machine and disco lights to cheer you up. omg and he would like change the lyrics of the song ‘why is my little sibling crying~~~ don’t you know you get 100 times uglier when you cry~~~ that piece of shit wasn’t worth it anyway~~~ stop crying and join me in my singING~~~~~’ it always manages to cheer you up and before the tears have all dried up, you’re already laughing while you’re singing with dokyeom (you really appreciate how hard he works to cheer you up)

seungkwan

okay bc why is arguing with him lowkey funny LMAO LIKE seungkwan will be chilling in his room and you’ll barge in, yelling at him for leaving the toilet seat up LMAO or not cleaning up all the hair he sheds after a shower and he’ll start yelling back in his defense LOL and omg we all know how much seungkwan loves his mom so in most cases, if you ever do anything, seungkwan’s gonna immediately run to your mom ‘MOMMM THEY’RE DOING IT AGAINNNN’ but yea you guys would def get into immature fights abt the TV remote control or who gets to sit in shotgun lol but also i feel like seungkwan would be kind of like subtle in the way that he shows that he cares for you. like he’ll always make sure your favorite snack is stored in the pantry and restock it the day that it disappears, and he knows you’re sensitive to the cold, so if you ever fall asleep with your window open, he’ll come in and close it so you don’t wake up the next morning with a sore throat. you both dance and sing to wonder girls together whenever he visits home and he’ll throw his slipper at you if you get a single dance move or lyric wrong ‘i can’t believe i’m related to you’

vernon

NO BC VERNON WOULD BE THE SWEETEST, BEST OLDER BROTHER EVER :(((( like when you guys were younger, he would read you bedtime stories and if you were crying, he would silently hold your hand while you get consoled by your mother until you feel better. i can imagine hansol walking you and dropping you off at school before going to his own, and he always makes sure to see you enter the building before he leaves to go to his own school (stop this is making me so soft) and when you guys are older, similar to wonwoo, he doesn’t really intervene in your life and the choices you make unless it’s smth really dumb and a bad ending was inevitable. like he doesn’t pry about your personal life but he occasionally checks in to make sure that you’re feeling alright and he always lets you know that he’s always there if you need to talk to someone abt anything. he kinda joins in whatever nonsense you do, like you have an extra concert ticket? vernon is your ride + concert buddy. you wanna go to the beach? vernon already has his sunscreen applied. you’re running away and joining the circus? you guys can be a duo act

dino

omg literally thing 1 and thing 2 like i feel dino would also be a sibling that you would get into petty arguments with. ‘stop calling me your younger brother, i’m literally [insert number] of years/days older than you’ ‘then maybe you should start acting like it- STOP I DIDN’T MEAN IT I’M SORRY HELP’ (he started tickling you) LMAO LIKE lowkey you guys can argue but you know it’s over if you guys ever get into a physical brawl, cuz bro knows how to FIGHT. he can throw a mean punch and you’ve witnessed firsthand what his fists could do (he beat up a school bully in 7th grade) i feel like you two would get along like 2 peas in a pod tho (secretly when no one’s looking) like you guys are always on the same wavelength and have similar habits that you guys picked up from each other. and despite being the younger sibling, chan often fell victim to your pranks and jokes (poor boy save him) and similar to dk, it was like having a best friend and a brother all in one and you can bicker with him all you want

reblogs and feedback is always appreciated ^-^

[loving08]

Love or Pain

Nicholas leister x reader

summary: Y/N and Nicholas has been best friends since childhood but Y/N started to have feelings for Nick. will she confess her feelings to him or the entry of Noah in their life will change everything??

Part 2

Third person pov:

The next morning Y/N was still asleep when her Mom Y/F/N came to wake her up " Y/N, c'mon its time to wake up sweetheart, I have made your favourite today, french toast and maple syrup. let's go downstairs yours Dad is waiting for you". Y/N wakes up and goes to her bathroom. After freshening up she goes downstairs to join her parents for breakfast.

She started eating when her Dad Y/M/N asked her "How was the party yesterday, didn't had any problems right". Y/N shook her head and said "Yes dad it was good and No we didn't had any problem" her mom came back from the kitchen and asked her "So how was Nick, is he okay?" Y/N didn't want to say what really happened so she said "Maybe, he didn't talked much just said that he will have a hard time adjusting to everything".

Her parents smiled sympathetically and her mom said "Tell him that he is always welcome here, its also his home he can come here whenever he wants". Y/N just nodded her head and they continued eating. Y/N parents had known Nick's parents since college, so both the families were very close. Her parents has always been easy going and she always had thought of them as her friends, she would tell them everything and due to that they also know about her love for Nick. They think that if both of them are happy then they are okay with whatever relation they have between each other.

After finishing breakfast Y/N said "Mom I'm going to get ready and go to Nick's house". Her mom gave her a nod and she goes to her room to get ready. After getting ready she goes to her car and started driving, when she reached Nick's house she saw a car was already parked there, knowing who have already arrived there she goes inside. When she enter, she saw two females with William, Nick's father. William's back was turned towards her so she debated going towards them but when he saw her and called her over she had no choice.

When she reached near them, he introduced her to both the females "Y/N meet Rafaella my wife and Noah her daughter and she is Y/N my son's best friend, basically she is like my daughter". Y/N smiled politely and greeted them "Hey its nice to meet you guys, I have heard so much about you guys from my parents I was dying to meet you both". William smiled at her enthusiasm, he always liked her polite and kind nature for everyone. From the corner of her eyes she saw Nick coming downstairs, she turned towards him with a beaming smile and greeted him "Good morning Boo, hope you had your breakfast properly today". Y/N knows if she doesn't take care of him then he would never pay attention to himself, especially now.

Nick was having a bad start since the morning, starting from his bad headache to his rude awakening in the morning from the alarm clock and meeting his dad's new family. He was just waiting for Y/N to come just so they can leave here, so when he heard her voice he runs out of his room to go downstairs. when he looked at her and her beaming smile for him he relaxed. He knew that just by looking at her, he will be okay and said "Good morning to you too Bee, and yes I ate the breakfast I know you told them to make for me". Y/N just smiled and hugged him when he came closer.

"C'mon let's go, we can't keep Jenna and Mario wait any longer they both are blowing up my phone" Y/N said and they both laughed. William looked at his son when he laughed and smiled to himself, he knows that after his late wife's death they both have been drifted apart but he is thankful to Y/N and her parents. Whenever she would be around Nicholas, he would laugh or would have small smile in his face. William is happy that there are people for Nick when he needed someone. As Y/N and Nick started to leave, William walked them to the door and watched until their car disappear and he return inside.

In the car soft music was playing and Y/N was sitting at the passenger sit while Nick was driving. She was looking outside when she felt his eyes on her turned herself to face him, with one eyebrow raised she asked " what is it?? is something on my face?" Nick laughed and said "No, no Bee there is nothing on your face", "what is it then" Y/N asked. They reached the cafe they were to meet their friends and Nick parked the car and turned to looked at her.

"Its just.. I.. feel very lucky to have you by my side, you always make my day better and I just wanted you to know that" Nick said, Y/N smiled at him and gently brushed his hair and said "you don't have to tell me all this Nick I know how much you appreciate me, you don't have to tell me all the time, okay" Nick nodded his head and smiled at her. Y/N shook her head, a smile still attached to her face and said " c'mon, let's go and meet them" and they both gets out of the car goes inside the cafe.

Part 3

[cameronspecial]

Thorn In My Side, Rose In My Hand (Part 7)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings:  Swearing

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 4.6K

Summary: After a frustrating argument with his dad, Rafe goes to seek comfort in Y/N’s arms. This leads to him finally asking for the moment he has been waiting for. 

Masterlist

Y/N wakes up the next morning in the Camerons’ guest bedroom. She has a slight headache from the alcohol she drank the night before. She thinks about what almost happened with Rafe and is glad he pulled away. Now, being sober, she remembers what she saw at Midsummer and finds herself upset again. They never had a chance to talk about it. Her thoughts are interrupted by the sound of the bedroom door being opened. Sarah comes in with a glass of water and Tylenol. Sarah being 14 meant that Rafe forces her to stay at a friend’s house whenever he throws a party. “Rafe told me to bring this up to you,” Sarah tells her as she hands over the things. Y/N takes the medicine, “Thanks.” “No problem. The boys are making breakfast downstairs,” Sarah informs as she walks towards the door. “And Y/N, I’m sorry about Wilson.” 

After a few minutes of lying in bed, Y/N finally makes her way downstairs and greets everyone at breakfast. Everyone eats with pleasant conversation. Sarah needed to get to the Trembley’s house to babysit the kids, so Mason offered to drive her, which left Y/N and Rafe alone to do the dishes. “So what does last night mean for us?” Rafe asks, handing over a wet plate for her to dry. Y/N takes the plate and starts to dry it, “Rafe, I appreciate you waiting to kiss me, but I saw you with Elizabeth at Midsummer and I know you know how I feel about her. I know that the unconscious part of you chose her because it would hurt me. So I can’t be with you right now. I need some time.” “Okay, I get that. I’m sorry that it hurt you, I wasn’t trying to. I want to be honest and tell you we did end up kissing last night too. But we only ever made out, it never went further than that,” Rafe confesses. This eases Y/N’s mind a little, but she still needs time to figure things out, “I understand, thanks for telling me. Since we are done, I think I’m just gonna go to the beach for a bit.” She places the dish towel back onto the oven railing and heads to the guest bedroom to get her stuff. 

She gets her stuff, heading back downstairs to say bye. “Can I borrow Sarah’s bike to go home? If she needs it any time soon, she can just text me and I’ll bring it over to her,” Y/N asks. Rafe looks over his shoulder at her from the sink, “Actually, hers is being tuned up at the store, so you can borrow mine. I’ll pick it up next time I come over. It should be around back near the pool.” Y/N nods her head. “Cool, thanks. See you later.”

———

Y/N got home safely and is now relaxing on the beach. She always tries to spend as much time here as she can during the summer because she feels at peace surrounded by water. She is relaxing on a water inflatable when Lacet finally makes her way to Y/N. “Look who is finally awake. It’s like three in the afternoon,” Y/N teases, shielding her eyes from the sun. Lacey groans, taking a sip from her coffee, “Shh, I still have a headache from last night. I never want to drink again.” 

Y/N laughs at her friend’s misery, “I’ve heard that before. At least it sounded like you had fun last night.” 

“You and I both know I like to pretend. This is totally tmi, but important to the story. I was on the toilet this morning because we both know that being hungover gives me the shits. But like I was looking at these recipes for different ways to make wellingtons and it got me thinking that we should have another girls’ dinner. Maybe tonight?” 

“Oooh, I love that idea. I could go over some of my writing with you. I was able to write another chapter.”

“I cannot wait. I can make some mocktails for us. Because mama cannot do another hangover tonight. I’m gonna make a beef Wellington and a mushroom one.” 

“Lol, I like the sound of that.” 

“So, now that we have that out of the way. How are you feeling about Wilson?” 

“I’m feeling better since last night. I mean I’m more hung up on the fact that he used me. Looking back on our relationship. I wasn’t really into him that much anyways. I think in a way, I was using him too.”

“Really? How so?”

“At first, I definitely do think that I liked him. But as I started to get to know him, I realized we weren’t good for each other and I should’ve ended it then. And yet, when I started to realize that maybe I didn’t hate Rafe, I pushed myself to be with Wilson because I didn’t want to admit it. We dated for a month, even though I knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. I definitely don’t think that what I did was as bad as what he did because I did genuinely want to explore what we could be, but I wasn’t exactly perfect in the relationship either.”

“You are right. Using Wilson to ignore your feelings about Rafe wasn’t great. But at least, you recognize that. I bet you Wilson doesn’t even think he did anything wrong.” 

“True. I just want to get past the whole thing though. And before you try to shift the conversation to Rafe. I’m really not ready to talk about where we are out right now. Maybe tonight after I’ve eaten some delicious wellingtons and mocktails.”

Lacey nods, knowing her friend just needs some time to process what she is feeling. The two girls spend most of their time in the water for the rest of the day. Only making their way to Lacey’s house when the sun started setting.

——— 

The next day, Y/N is picking up some groceries for her mom. She rounds the corner of the aisle and accidentally hits someone else’s cart. “I’m so sorry,” she begins until she sees who she hit. “Oh, Elizabeth. How are you?” Y/N tries to be polite with the other girl. They may be rivals, but they are mostly civil with each other. “I’m pretty good. I’m sorry to hear about the break up though. What Wilson did was totally a jackass move,” Elizabeth replies sincerely. “Thanks. How are things going with you and Rafe? I saw you guys at Midsummer and he told me about you guys during the party,” she says, hoping to see if Rafe and Elizabeth’s stories match up. Elizabeth’s face turns into a slight frown, “Nothing really happened. We just made out both times. Honestly, I’m pretty sure he was just using me to distract himself from you.”

This causes surprise to cross over Y/N’s face. “Why do you think that?” she inquires with her head slightly tilted to the side. “Well, at Midsummer, I stopped making out with him because he groaned your name when I played with his hair. Then at his party, we were making out, when all of a sudden his phone started ringing. With the way he shut down the party after the call and from the rumours I heard, I’m pretty sure he dropped everything to go pick you up. Anyways I gotta go. Bye.” Y/N calls out a goodbye as Elizabeth walks away. 

Rafe told her the truth after all. What is more interesting to the girl is that Rafe seems to have done the same thing she has done. She finishes up her shopping and heads back home. 

———

A week has passed since Y/N’s break up, which means that school is also bound to start up again in about two weeks. Rafe is sitting in the living room, watching some random show he isn’t really paying attention to. His focus is diverted to his dad as Ward walks into the room with a huff. “Tell me why I just got a call from Mr. Porter saying that if you don’t give his son a public apologize, then he will have no choice but to file a lawsuit against you for assault,” Ward gripes to his son. Rafe honestly thought nothing more would come from the punch because it had been a week since it happened. “He was an ass to Y/N. I had to make sure he knew what happens when he messes with her.” Ward runs his hand down his face, “God, I knew that girl would get you in trouble. I want you to give that public apology tomorrow morning. You are going to do exactly what Mr. Porter says because if you don’t, then I’m not gonna clean up your mess this time. Is this understood?” Rafe agrees with the statement. He knows Y/N would prefer he takes the peaceful way out of this situation. 

He thinks the conversation is over, but his dad doesn’t get up from his seat on the couch. “I also want to know why I was sent a parent approval form from Marvin to sign, so you could start an internship with him,” Ward interrogates, his voice beginning to rise. Right, Rafe had forgotten to talk to his father about this before the paperwork was sent. “Well, Marvin and I were talking a few weeks ago about his law firm. He said he needed some extra help with some organizational stuff, so I offered to help,” Rafe begins to explain. “You wanted me to figure out how to do swim team, university work and an internship at Cameron’s Development, so I thought this would be a good trial run for university and Marvin thought the same. He said if I have any trouble with handling the internship and everything else, then it would be fine if I quit. Pre-law students are always looking to intern with him.” 

Ward shakes his head in disapproval, “If you wanted to intern somewhere, you should’ve just come with me. I don’t understand why you would work at a law firm. It has nothing to do with development.” “I know you have this life plan for me, but I wanted to do something for myself once. I may have been given help from Marvin to get the job. But it’s something new though and I asked for myself. I want to be able to experience other things in life other than just the development company,” Rafe clarifies to his dad. “Whatever, I’ll sign the stupid paper, but I don’t understand why the fuck you would make that choice. Why can’t you just do as you are told?” Ward complains to his son, storming off toward his office. Rafe expected a screaming match to happen between the two of them, but this felt worse somehow. 

Rafe keeps trying to do what his dad wants, but even when he thinks he has it figured out, he still disappoints his dad. Instead of feeling the normal anger that would normally radiate off of him after an argument with his dad, he feels this sadness that washes over him. His mom would always push him outside of his comfort zone and it was part of the reason why he offered to help Marvin. He thought his dad would understand that and be proud of him. But like always, Ward just wants to be able to control every aspect of Rafe’s life. Ward has this life plan for Rafe that he isn’t allowed to deviate from. Rafe knows Sarah doesn’t have to listen to what her dad plans for her life. He doesn’t understand why his dad puts all this pressure on him. Rafe feels like utter crap after that conversation and there is only one person, who he knows can make him feel better. She can be found in the Y/L/N residence. 

———

Y/N sits outside in the gazebo, reading her book in the hanging basket. She lifts her eyes from the page when she hears a knock from the screened door. “Hey, Y/L/N. Care for some company?” Rafe interrupts as he slowly opens the door. She could see his  watery eyes, looking like he is going to burst at any second, “Of course, what’s wrong?” She immediately wraps her arms around the boy and buries his head into her neck whilst leading him to sit on the loveseat. “Why does my dad insist on controlling my life? Why can’t I just do things for myself without him questioning everything?” Rafe cries, feeling safe to now let himself be vulnerable with the girl. 

Y/N knows this is always a source of upset for him. Rafe’s relationship with Ward will never be anything like Mason and Marvin’s. “I don’t know why your dad is the way that he is. But I do know that you are not at fault for how he treats you. He has issues that he doesn’t realize he needs to fix and that is not on you,” she tries to comfort. 

“I know. It’s just last time we were fighting about how I didn’t want to join the uni swim team because I wanted to focus on school and my internship. And he absolutely blew up about that. Now, I want to do a trial run to see if I can find a balance between school, work and swim team and my dad isn’t proud that I’m trying. It’s like one step forward and twenty back. I don’t know how much longer of this I can take.” 

It pains Y/N to hear how much pain is in Rafe’s voice as he explains it to her, “Why didn’t you tell me things were getting this bad?”

“Last time it got this bad, you were avoiding me.”

“Oh, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. But I’m here now.” 

“I know, thank you. You are the one person that could’ve made me feel better right now, honestly.” 

“I’m glad I can return the favour.”

Rafe smiles, knowing she is referring to how he took care of her after Wilson broke her heart, “Right, how are we feeling after that?” 

The look in Rafe’s eyes tells Y/N that he is really asking how she feels about him, “I’m actually feeling great considering we only broke up a week ago. I think my heart was always set on someone else.”

“Oh, yeah. Well, that someone is ready for more. If you are ready too, of course.”

“Really? Would he maybe want a kiss? I wouldn’t want to take advantage of his vulnerability,” she jokes as she strokes his hair.

“He absolutely wants a kiss.”

Rafe removes his head from where it is buried in her neck and pulls Y/N into a kiss. His lips passionately move against hers and after a few seconds, his tongue makes its way into her mouth. She feels butterflies in her stomach and she hears him groan as she gently tugs his hair. Rafe removes himself from her lips and starts attacking her neck with kisses. She lets out a soft moan when he reaches her soft spot just under her ear, which causes him to grin and start to suck on the spot. Eventually, the two pull away from each other because of Rafe. He places his forehead on hers and looks into her eyes. They both have a soft grin on their lips. “Would you want to go on a date with me the day after tomorrow?” he whispers to her. They may have just been kissing, but he still is fearful that she will say no. She gives Rafe a quick kiss before answering, “Of course. I would love to.” 

———

The next morning, Rafe gets up earlier than usual to make his public apology to Wilson. It wasn’t very public seeing as he was just instructed to go to Wilson’s and the only people there are Wilson, his parents and all of his dinner guests from that night. However, the Porters still had to make a ridiculously big deal about this and have Rafe make his apology on a makeshift stage and podium. “I am sorry for assaulting you, Wilson. I was wrong for doing so. You are an amazing person and the fact that my dirty and violent hands touched you never should have happened,” Rafe reads off of the cards that one of Porter’s employees is holding up for him. The group claps and Rafe zones out as everyone bustles about around him.

Once he is allowed to leave, Rafe makes a mad dash to The Wreck to meet with Lacey to ask her for help with his and Y/N’s date tomorrow. “I hope you know that you are paying for whatever I order. And I plan to order a lot,” Lacey notifies him, not even looking up from the menu as he sits across from her. Rafe laughs at her antics, “I don’t expect anything less. But I need your help with something for Y/N and mine’s date tomorrow, please.” “And what exactly does that help entail?” Lacey replies; this time actually diverting her attention to the boy. “I just need you to cook some things for me. I’ll make you a list of the foods and then you can give me the bill after you get the stuff you need,” he answers. “Okay, I can do that. Especially if it’s for Y/N. Now, let’s order and then we can talk about this more. Mama is hungry.” 

———

 Rafe picks Y/N up at ten in the morning. He told her he had a whole day planned out for them and he knew she is an early bird anyway. He is wearing gray flannel on top of a gray T-shirt with some jeans. When Y/N opens the door, Rafe just pauses and admires her beauty. Her purple sweetheart neck raglan sleeve sweater shows her collarbones, which have a golden heart-shaped necklace resting between them. Her black pleated skirt rest just above her knees and this causes his eyes to follow down her legs to her white embroidered high-top converse. He knows she embroidered the flowers onto them herself. Her fingers are littered with rings and her double ear piercing both have hoops in them. Her hair twisted back behind her head with a claw clip. Rafe notices she is wearing some light makeup; god, he wants to smudge that pinkish-red lipstick. 

Y/N smiles softly at him and gives a tiny wave, “Hey, are you okay?” Rafe snaps out of his trance. “Yeah, just soaking in how happy I am to finally be taking you out on a date. Are you ready to go?” he admits whilst holding his hand out to her. She nods her head and takes his hand as she places her brown purse across her body. They get into his car and he drives off to their first destination. 

———

The massive grin on Y/N’s face, when she sees the sign for Outer Banks’ biggest independent bookstore, tells Rafe that he is on the right track for their date and this causes his heart to swell with pride. He holds open the door and she practically runs into the shop. They randomly walk around for a little bit to start. The conversation only begins after Y/N sees the Percy Jackson books. “Rafe, these are my absolutely favourite books. I owe my love of reading to Rick Riordan,” Y/N gushes to him. Rafe loves how passionate she is about the books and how she is not afraid to show it, “Really? How so?” 

Y/N's heart leaps at the genuine interest that Rafe is showing, “When I was a kid, I had a hard time learning to read. So I hated doing it. My parents tried getting me to read so many different books. I never really felt seen with any of them. But with Percy, I felt a connection with his character because of his dyslexia. His sarcasm and jokes made him relatable to me and I fell in love with reading because of it.” 

“I never knew that you could connect to a character on that level. The last book I remember reading is the Harry Potter series and I don’t think I really felt that way about any of the characters.”

“Yeah, it feels kinda magical when you can. It really helps you immerse yourself in the story. I’m actually thinking about starting a YA book club. Maybe, you can join and you’ll find your connection.” 

“I would love to join. You really have interesting perspectives on books and I would love to learn more. Plus, I think it would be fun to have reading dates together.”

Y/N is surprised that Rafe actually likes her idea. The excitement she feels about being able to show him some of her favourite books grows. The rest of the time at the bookstore is spent with Rafe holding Y/N’s stack of books she wants to buy, listening to her point out the books she has read or wants to read. He finds it adorable and it reminds him of a little kid on a scavenger hunt. It takes a lot of convincing from Rafe to get Y/N to let him pay for all of her books. He asks her to take the books out to the car, saying he thinks he forgot something in the store. He quickly locates the Percy Jackson series and runs it up to the cash register to pay. Rafe knows he could probably borrow the books from Y/N, but he wants it to be a surprise that he is going to read them. 

———

The next destination for their date is Rafe’s kitchen, where Y/N finds all the ingredients she needs to make chocolate chip cookies on the island. “I thought we could make cookies for dessert for dinner,” Rafe announces to her. Y/N looks at him with delight, “Okay, but only if you let me take the lead.” “I will always let you take the lead,” Rafe confesses with adoration in his eyes. This causes Y/N’s cheeks to heat up. 

Y/N’s back is facing Rafe; she is concentrating on mixing the ingredients, so she doesn’t notice Rafe scooping some chocolate chips into his mouth from the bag. She turns around to ask him something when she sees his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk and giggles. “Are you eating some chocolate?” she laughs as he nods his head with a guilty look on his face. “You really are just like a child. Come here, please. I need you to help me place the balls on the pan. You roll the balls and I’ll place them.” Rafe listens to her order and scoops some of the dough into his hand and forms just about the smallest ball she has ever seen. This causes some more giggles to fall past her lips. “Those are too small and it looks more like a cube than a sphere. Here, let me help you,” she instructs, wrapping her arms around his to help guide him with making the next ball. She directs his hands to the ball and helps him take some cookie dough into his hands. She places her hands over his as she helps him make the motion to make the balls. 

Y/N is not going to lie; she gets a little distracted by Rafe, who smells like the salty sea air and a hint of chlorine. She pauses for a second and this causes Rafe to look down at her to see if she is okay. He smiles when he notices she is admiring his smell. She snaps out of the daydream and continues to help him form a golf ball-sized dough ball. Now, knowing how to make the balls, Rafe continues on his own. Y/N places the pan in the oven when all the balls are formed and they go to watch Clueless as the cookies bake. 

———

Dinner is served picnic style on the beach, watching the sunset. Battery-powered lanterns litter the sand around the picnic mat to create light. It illuminates the spread of sushi, pasta, cheeseburger sliders and mini tacos; all of Y/N’s favourite foods and all cooked by Lacey. The couple gorges themselves on the buffet before they cuddle together on the beach, sharing the cookies they made together. “When did you think you started to fall for me?” Y/N ponders, taking a bite from the cookie and then handing it over to Rafe. 

“You are going to call me a liar. But I think I’ve been slowly falling for you since we were five. I remember thinking: ‘She is totally wrong about who won the race, but I love how she isn’t afraid to fight back in her own way.’ Also, I found it funny how long you could hold a grudge. How about you?” 

“That is totally a lie and such a cliche. For me, it is probably when you took me to McDonald’s after my first date with Wilson. You knew what I needed and what I liked without me having to tell you. I really appreciated that. You also did a bunch of things that Wilson didn’t even do for me on our date and I kept thinking about that.” 

“No, it can’t have been then. It was so recent.”

“Maybe it is. Maybe it isn’t. It’s when I knew for sure though that I had feelings for you. Maybe I started unconsciously falling for you way before then.” 

“Good. Because I want the book of you and me to be a really long one. So your chapters have to start before that.” 

“Okay, whatever you want.” 

“You’re cold. My swim team sweater is in the basket for you.” 

“How did you know I’m cold?”

“Caring for you is my sixth sense now.”

Y/N untangles herself from his arms and goes over to the basket to put on his hoodie. He loves to see her wearing his number and last name on his back. One day, it’s going to be hers too. She goes back into his arms to cuddle for a little bit. After a while, he notices she is growing tired and they pack up to go back to her house. 

———

Rafe is parked outside of her house, waiting for her to get out of the car. She doesn’t move, but instead turns towards him, “Can you sleep over? I don’t really want this date to end.” He tiredly smiles at her and turns the car off. They get into her room and go around getting ready for bed in sync. The scene felt perfectly domestic as they brushed their teeth together. He gets into the bed first and lets his arms wrap around her when she lies beside him. She rests her head on his chest and her eyes flutter closed, “Goodnight, Rafe.” “Goodnight, my rose,” he whispers, placing a kiss on her forehead before falling asleep. 

———

Marvin and Cassie Y/L/N find their daughter in bed the next morning in the arms of Rafe Cameron. They are not surprised by the sight and are glad the two have finally gotten together. “You owe me a book,” Cassie mumbles as she closes Y/N’s bedroom door and they walk downstairs. Marvin lightly grumbles, “They really couldn’t have waited a year. I thought they would finally realize it in university.”

“Not them. They were meant to be.” 

Taglist: @itsalexwin​ @sublimepenguinpeach-blog​   @gillybear17​   @terraeluce​  @f4ll-for-you​

[aprilthearcher]

burning red [roman roy x reader]

word count: 1.8k

[somewhat angst]

warnings: curse words, ooc roman ?, english is not my first language, not edited, rushed ending.

a/n: somewhat inspired by “red” and “false god” by taylor, idk i was just listening to these two songs on loop. i’m also supposed to be studying, but instead i wrote this, so enjoy! love me some greg sprinkles, couldn’t not include him. alsooo, this could read as being part of the same story as my previous roman blurb, but you won't have any problems if you haven't read it.

Loving Roman was complicated yet insanely easy, too tiresome at times and then incredibly invigorating. He had that effect on people, or maybe just her. Everyone else was probably too complicated for her to like. Not funny enough, not witty or smart enough, not loud enough. No one was Roman enough, not even across the whole damn world. 

Getting him off her mind had been more difficult than she’d expected, probably because (Y/N) only realised her feelings for him after she couldn’t stop thinking about him. He had taken over her whole body without knowing. It was Roman’s lips she imagined when kissing blonde, ginger, brunette guys at pubs; it were Roman’s eyes she thought of when her friends would ask her about her favourite colour; it was Roman’s face she conjured up in her head when they’d ask about her type of man. 

At first, she believed it to be some sort of sick joke the Universe was trying to play on her: discovering she had feelings for her long-time friend — one she’d known since they were in diapers, who would grab her by her ponytail whenever she was paying attention to his siblings instead of him (just him) —, barely two or three weeks in her first year of university, a university that was on a whole other continent, separated by an entire ocean. Still, (Y/N) knew she could fly back home in a couple of hours — “I’ll arrange a jet for you if you wanna come down”, her dad would always say over the phone —, but the idea of seeing him again with this new information in her head and heart (that couldn’t help but jump at the mention of him) terrified her.

Her mind would make her remember him and his antics in the worst possible times: while dancing with some random guy at a club, his hands on her hips, the cheap cologne contrasting the rich scented one Roman couldn’t get enough of. On a first date, set up by her friends who believed she had to let go of this “prude” behaviour and just let someone take her to their bed. When joking with the guys that approached her and her friends at the bar, knowing exactly what Roman would think of them, the cruel comments he’d throw, the silly faces. The soft eyes when they were both too drunk to even speak a coherent sentence, although most times nothing was coherent with Roman. She had tried looking for those same bright eyes; once more, she ended up disappointed. None of them were Roman. None of them ever will be, no matter how much (Y/N) tried to shape them into a replica of him. All of Roman was unique. 

Hence, the dreadful turmoil inside her stomach once Shiv, with some tint of malice in her eyes directed at Roman, introduced her to Tabitha. “Roman’s companion”, she’d said. The blonde, curly haired woman greeted (Y/N) with an eager smile on her face. She said her name at the same time both of them shook hands. A voice inside her head told her this was all wrong. How long? Where did it happen? Why? Why? Why now that she was back?

“Oh, you don’t need to tell me your name,” Tabitha mentioned playfully, a short roll of her eyes a second later. “You’re all Roman’s been talking about lately”.

“Only lately?” Shiv laughed, taking a sip from her glass she focused her eyes on Roman , then (Y/N). “Roman’s always talking about (Y/N). I mean, he was practically her lap dog when they were children.”

“Oh, fuck off Siobhan,” Roman bark back.

“Well, he only mentioned you as of now.” The knot in her stomach tightened. The worst part was she could see Tabitha hadn’t said it out of spite, nor jealousy, but as a fleeting comment to add something more to the conversation.

He hadn’t mentioned her to Tabitha? Not even once? She had tried everything to block him out of her head, to keep him out of her dreams and fantasies; to catch herself every time she was going to bring up him in a conversation again, and he didn’t say her name until he found out (Y/N) was coming back to New York? What kind of sick fuck was he? What kind of sick fuck was she, devoting probably her whole life to Roman fucking Roy?

“Oh,” (Y/N) managed to croak out before her father appeared beside her and whispered in her ear that she should spend some time chatting with the other guests.

                                                       * * *

Cousin Greg was great company, quite weird before you took in the awkwardness that seemed to surround him and make him stick out like a sore thumb in the midst of all these old, rich people, but great nonetheless. He had asked her about her years in London, what she studied and what she did for fun, her friends and hobbies. (Y/N) found herself enjoying the night, sitting on a couch by his side, meanwhile both of their cheeks were getting rosier and rosier with every new cup of alcohol brought to them. Greg was in the middle of telling her about how he had screwed up the first day at his job on one of the parks owned by Waystar, cracking up from time to time from how she tried to hide her laugh in order to keep the attention away from them, when two hands settled on his shoulders, hard and making a noise that was apparent that the gesture was meant to at least hurt him a little. Roman was behind him with a clench jaw and big, maniac eyes. 

“Greeeg, I think Tom was looking for you, man”.

“Oh, really?” Greg turned his upper body in Roman’s direction, which from the side looked somewhat weird because of his tall, lanky form. “Because, because I just saw him and he didn’t say anything”.

“Yes, oh really, man. And he said if you didn’t go talk to him right now, he would fire your sorry ass”.

Greg was on his feet quicker than she'd expected after seeing him drown glass after glass with her. He towered over her for a moment, saying a quick “see you later” before going in search of Tom. 

“You’re mean, Roman”.

“Yeah, well, tell me something I don’t fucking know”. 

They fell silent for a second. Around them, people were still in mindless conversation, setting down empty cups on the waiter’s tray while picking up new ones from another one. Alcohol seemed to be the only way to survive a family gathering at the Roy’s, even a harmless one. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Roman asked. She turned her head to the right to face him, he was already looking at her. His eyes no longer had the maniac fog blurring them, there was now a tranquil pool of honey.

                                                    ***

“My dad is probably gonna be mad if he finds out I ditched the party”.

“Please, (Y/N), since when did you become such a goody two shoes?” Roman leaned against the railing of the terrace, following her with his eyes while she approached him and finally set her elbows on top of the banister. From this position, he looked taller. “Don’t tell me you were like this in London. I mean, with no one to hover over you, you sure had a looot to do, didn’t you?”

“I went to London to study, remember? Not to go out and get drunk every night.”

“Well, I’m sure if you had been with me, you could’ve done both.”

“Yeah, probably, but you weren’t with me.”

“Whose fault is that, huh?” He crossed his arms over his chest. Her eyebrows raised.

“Are you saying it was my fault? We haven’t seen each other for how long and it was all my fault?”

“Why are you acting like it isn’t? It literally is, (Y/N), you left m.. you left and, and you never came back.” He had walked a few steps away from her. 

“It’s not like you couldn’t have visited, Roman. Just ask daddy for one of his jets, it’s literally that easy.”

“Yes, but - but you left, (Y/N). You left, and it’s not like you chose some university a state away, you chose one a whole continent away! That’s got to mean something!”

“As if Roman fucking Roy couldn’t get one goddamn plane and fly over to London!” She had abandoned her previous position, now fully facing Roman, who was still a couple of feet away, getting closer to the door. He was trying to run, just like it he always did whenever they fought.

“I didn’t - I didn’t want you to get annoyed by me! To realise what a true moron I was. Then you barely talked to me after you arrived at your fancy university and - and started your very difficult subjects.”

(Y/N) closed her eyes in confusion for a moment. Though it was easier to throw everything at him, (Y/N) knew that she was also responsible for their lack of communication over these last years. 

Only the bustling, almost never-ending nightlife of New York could be heard. Her chest hurted, her eyes would fill with tears at any point now. She was tired and drunk, and just fucking missed Roman too much for them to be fighting the first night she was back in the city.

“Now you are not saying anything?” Roman broke the silence. He was closer to the door, she noticed. “You know what? Fuck you, (Y/N). Fuck you for making feel all this – all this fucking, fucking shit!”

“What fucking shit?” She asked quietly, desperate for an answer, the answer.

“I - I don’t know what fucking shit, just shit, okay?”

“Say it.”

Roman didn’t respond, instead he turned her back on her, walking towards the door. Before he could reach the handle, she screamed at him.

“Fucking say it, Roman.”

“I’ve just told you, I don’t know. It’s just shit, okay? All of it,” he screamed back, opening up his arms, exaggerating his point. “I - I run out of breath and then my chest is all funny, and and I hate seeing you laughing with fucking Greg of all people. It’s shit, fucking shit!”

Drawing closer to him, she tested his limits. He was breathing hard from all the screaming and moving around the terrace to put distance between them, but he didn’t stop when (Y/N) got so close their bodies were almost touching. It was her with whom physical closeness wasn’t a problem, he always told himself it was because of how close they were pretty much their whole lives.

They only looked at each other for a few moments, the waves of conflict had calmed down fast and efficiently enough that for anyone else it would seem like nothing had happened between them. 

Roman wished — deep, deep down — that they could stay like this forever, without having to go back and confront his family, especially his father; that they could make this terrace, above Logan’s place ironically enough, a little haven, only for them; that they would never be found.

[bonbonchocolates]

Step Daddy

Yandere Stepfather Namjoon X Reader, Yandere Taehyung x Reader

Summary: When your stepfather's intentions are not good.......

Warnings: yandere Namjoon, yandere tae, locking, mentions of blowjob, bad mother, non-con touching, stabbing

A/N: Again originally from my Wattpad account. I feel like this is the worst oneshot I have ever written. I know you all will not like it.

Masterlist

____________________________________________

"Y/N!"

Yelled your step father, grabbing your attention.

"Did you call your dad again?"

He inquired.

"Yes, so what?"

"Didn't your mother tell you not to call that man ever again?"

"Listen here he is my dad and I can call him whenever I want."

"This is the last warning I'm giving you, never ever call that man again."

He warned you and left you. As if you are going to listen to him. Everyone tries to control your life, your mother, your stepfather and even your friends at school. You hoped that your dad got your custody instead of your mom. You really miss your dad and your mom never allows you to meet him or your younger brother. She never allows you to even call him.

In another way you can say that your mom controls your life. What you wear, where you go, with whom you do talk to, everything is decided by your mom. You are fed up of it, now you're eighteen years old and can take your decisions yourself.

____________________________________________

Time Skip:

You knocked at the door of your step father's house. Yes, step father's house, even though you're living here for eight years you still don't consider it as your home.

After a few minutes, your step father opened the door, he had a bright smile on his face. You entered inside without greeting him and went upstairs to your room.

You hated your stepfather so much, though he is always good to you. He is the one who broke your parents relationship. You were such a happy little family back then but Mr Kim Namjoon aka your stepfather came in your mother's life and destroyed our happy family. You remember that day ten years ago when you saw your parents fighting over something. You couldn't understand anything because you were a child and your little brother Jungkook had no idea what was going on. You just watched our parents fighting and then my mother leaving the house with an unknown man, who is now your stepfather.

You thought that your mother went forever, leaving you and your little brother alone. For a year you stayed with your father and brother. Your father tried his best to handle both of you alone but he had to go to his job too. So you had to take care of your little brother, who was only four years old. You were happy that way but one day your mother came with custody papers and took you with her. You didn't want to go but she dragged you and the last thing you saw was your little brother crying.

When you arrived at your step father's house you found out that you now have a little step sister. At first you thought that your mother took your custody because she loves you. But as days went by you realised that your mother brought you here just to take care of your little step sister. You saw how she loved your step sister more than you.

She is a very selfish woman and the worst mother. She always controled your life and never tried to understand you. Even though your step father treated you nicely and told you that he is your dad now but you made it clear that he can never replace your father. You hate both him and your mom.

____________________________________________

"Y/N"

You heard the voice of your step father. You left what you were doing and went downstairs.

"What now?"

"Dear can you please go to the basement and get me the tissues from there?"

You were about to say so but then remembered that if your mom comes to know about it she will get angry. You didn't want unwanted drama so agreed. You climed down the stairs and opened the door of the basement.

Who keeps tissues in the basement?

You imagined it to be very dirty but as you entered inside it was very clean which was unusual. It looked like someone cleaned it recently. You assumed it was your step father, he left his job recently and now does the household chores.

You saw a bunch of tissue papers kept on a faraway self. Without wasting any time you went towards it to grab the tissues and quickly leave from here. Just then you heard the sound of the door. You looked behind you to see the closed door. You quickly grabbed the tissues and went towards the door. You turned the door knob but you couldn't open it. You tried again and failed.

How did I get locked up here?

You banged the door and screamed inorder for Namjoon to hear it and come to your rescue but nothing worked. You don't even have your phone to call someone.

"Namjoon, I'm trapped here"

You tried to call for help and kept on banging the door but all your efforts went to vain. A few minutes passed this way, by now Namjoon should know about it.

What if, he's the one who locked me here?

No, he will not do such a thing, will he? I don't think so. I waited for I don't know how long. I kept on waiting for him and then suddenly the door opened revealing Namjoon. This is the first time you were happy seeing him.

"Ohh thank God you came"

You sighed in relief and a small smile made its way on your face. Your smile dropped immediately when you saw Namjoon checking you out hungrily. You decided to leave from here but as you were about to leave someone grabbed your hands and pushed you on the floor.

"Namjoon ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND?"

You yelled at him.

"It's daddy for you"

He said with an evil smirk on his face.

"Stop this nonsense"

"Stop talking back to me. Be a good girl and suck daddy's d*ck."

He is not serious, right?

"What ?"

"You heard me right, so come here now"

"NO!"

Then you felt a stinging pain on your left cheek. He had just slapped you.

"No food for you today"

With that he left and locked the basement door again. No, how are you supposed to escape from here now? Unknowningly a drop of tear rolled down your face.

Why does all the bad things happen to me?

You then decided to search for a way to escape from here. You can't let your fear take control over you. You started to search in the basement and just then you found something shiny in one of the shelves. You picked it up and found it to be a knife, you quickly kept it in your pocket of your jeans. You can definitely use it to protect from your stepfather.

___________________________________________

Author POV:

"Honey, I'm home"

Yelled Y/N's mother with her younger daughter.

"Papa"

Minji (Y/N's step sister) came and hugged Namjoon.

"My princess, I missed you"

"I missed you too, Pa-"

"Where is Y/N?"

Y/N's mother asked grabbing their attention. At first Namjoon panicked but quickly became calm.

"She still hasn't come home now"

Namjoon tried to act as if has no idea and luckily Y/N's mother didn't doubt him.

"This girl, let her come home."

____________________________________________

Time Skip:

"Momma, I found this letter in unnie's room."

Minji handed the letter to her mom.

"Open it, honey"

Namjoon came in and stood beside Y/N's mother. She quickly opened the letter.

Mom, I won't be coming back home anytime again. There is a boy I like, actually I love him and he loves me to. So I am running away because you all will never allow me to be with him. Don't search for me. -Y/N

"What? Who did she run away with?"

"Maybe that boy, Taehyung. Didn't you see how close they were? I already had an idea. Believe me it's not our Y/N's fault that the boy trapped her."

Namjoon tried to show that he really cares about Y/N.

____________________________________________

Taehyung POV:

I heard someone banging the door and went to open it. As soon as I opened it someone punched on my face and grabbed my collar.

"Where is Y/N?"

"What are you talking about, Mister?"

I had no idea what was going on right now.

"Just answer my question"

Y/N's stepfather yelled at me.

"Y/N ran away with you right?"

Y/N's stepfather punched me again. He looked like he is about to murder me anytime.

"Listen to me mister, Y/N is not with me"

I tried to convince him because I really don't know where Y/N is right now.

"Y/N! Y/N! Where are you my child?"

As if she cares. Her mother had tears in her eyes but honestly this acting was not suiting her. I know what kind of a mother she is but the real question is where is Y/N?

"Mam, believe me Y/N is not with me. If you don't believe me you can go and search my house."

With that Y/N's stepfather left my collar and went to search, his wife following behind. I wiped my face and straightened my collar.

After a few minutes they came back.

"I told you, Y/N is not with me."

Ignoring what I said they left my apartment. I went and looked the door. Then a question striked on my head, how did they know my address?

____________________________________________

Y/N's POV:

I felt a weight on top of me. As soon as I opened my eyes I found Namjoon on top of me, sucking on my neck.

"So you are awake, now no one can save you from me."

He tried to open my t-shirt. I stared to panic. I can't let him do this.

"LEAVE ME"

I yelled at him but instead he started to bite my neck. Then I remembered something and tried to reach the pocket of my jeans. Luckily I was successful to take out the knife and quickly stabbed Namjoon on his shoulders.

He cried out in pain. I pushed him and he fell down. I was feeling very weak due to lack of food and water but still I stood on my foot. Without wasting time I ran towards the door and found it unlocked. I opened the door and ran from there. As I climbed up the stairs, I found it was completely dark, assuming it was night time.

I was about to go to my mother's room to talk about her husband's deed but then stopped.

Will she believe me?

So I unlocked the front door and ran outside the house. As I went outside I found no one there. The streets were totally empty. I kept on running and stopped after sometime, thinking that I'm safe.

"Y/N!"

Just then I heard the voice of the person whom I was running from. I looked back and found him standing a few feet away from me. It didn't look like I stabbed him a few moments ago.

I began to run again and then I found a car parked at the side of the road. The car looked oddly familiar but my brain is not working right now so I couldn't pinpoint whose car is this. I could see someone inside the car.

"Help me, please"

I banged on the window of the car and cried for help. The person who was inside the car quickly came out.

"Taehyung"

I said and hugged him. I was so happy to see him, my best friend and my crush. He returned the hug.

"Y/N what happened to you?"

"Taehyung please save me from him"

I couldn't control my tears and I had no idea that I was wetting his shirt.

"Ok first get inside."

He made me sit in the passenger seat of his car and closed the door. He too entered the car and sat on the driver's seat.

"Now explain to me what actually happened? And why are you running?"

"I-I H-he-"

I kept on shuttering and was about to say something when my eyes went on the rear view mirror of the car. I found Namjoon standing a few feets away from Taehyung's car.

"Taehyung, start the car."

He was confused at first but then his eyes too went to the rear view mirror. He started the car without asking me anything.

____________________________________________

Taehyung's POV:

Currently we are on the outskirts of the city running away from Y/N's stepfather. There was no chance of informing the police because, Y/N's stepfather was on a good post in the police department a few days ago before leaving his job. Secondly that man is very good at manipulating people.

I looked at my side I saw Y/N sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat. She looks so small and cute. She told me everything and I feel really bad for her that she had to go through all of it. But my Y/N is a smart and a strong girl that's why she escaped before something worse would happen.

I was very angry at Y/N's stepfather but I was grateful of him too. Only because of him Y/N is with me right now. I planned my entire future with her, even our five kids. I knew that Y/N liked me but if I would say my plan to her she would reject me. She wants to study and stand on her feet but I want her to be the perfect little wife and the mother of my children for me.

My love, now you don't need to worry about your stepfather because I promise I'll get rid of him. The only thing you need to worry about right now is me, your future husband.

____________________________________________

[callsign-joyride]

Ok but, Hangman as guy in your neighborhood, you are both back from college, he has a “she grew up hot” moment, and starts “coincidentally” mowing his lawn and washing the car at the same time she walks her dog. Summer fling, maybe 17 on the SOS prompt, really whatever you think works

Honey, Honey | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: You lose your virginity to Jake after he walks in on you.

Content warnings: SMUT (18+), female masturbation, fingering, protected p in v

Prompt: "Oh no, don't stop on my account. I'm really enjoying the view."

Author's note: I kind of got lost in the sauce while writing and didn't follow the request exactly but I hope that's okay. It still has the same girl next door trope!

This was written for my Summer of Smut writing event. Feel free to send in requests!

You had been looking forward to moving back home after college graduation for months. Going to school in California had been your dream, but you missed the way that Texas felt like home. A few of your friends stayed local after high school, so it was one of the rare moments where you were able to hang out as a group. Your San Diego apartment had been mostly vacated, but you and your roommate had decided to rent it out as an Air BnB for the summer because it was in the heart of the city. 

“I think that Seresin boy might be back for a few weeks,” your mom said over dinner. 

You dropped your fork on your plate and sighed. Of course she brought him up. He was about a decade older than you, and your mom was never really able to let go of the fact that you had a crush on him when you were little. When he left to join the Navy, you stayed close with his family, occasionally coming over for cookouts or playing with the littles. 

“Good for him,” you grumbled out.

The Seresins were having a cookout for Memorial Day Weekend. Your parents were out of town attending a wedding of some friends. You grabbed a hard seltzer from the fridge in the garage before walking over to the neighbors. Mrs. Seresin greeted you and grabbed a lawn chair so that you could sit by the campfire.

“Wow, you really grew up,” Jake said as he plopped into a chair next to you.

“Well, I haven’t really seen you in what, ten, fifteen years? A lot of growing up happened in that time.”

“So, you in college or…?”

“Just graduated from UC San Diego, actually. I wanted to spend the summer at home before shit gets real, so here I am.”

He raised his eyebrows at the mention of San Diego.

“I’m stationed at North Island right now. It’s kind of surprising that we haven’t run into each other.”

“I don’t think it is, though. San Diego is big and I live like ten minutes from campus. So unless you’re bar hopping with a bunch of 20-year-olds, I doubt we would’ve run into each other.”

Jake chuckled in agreement and scooted closer to you. Maybe it was a combination of the summer heat and your drink, or maybe it was just Jake, but you felt a warmth in your stomach. It was almost like he wanted to kiss you, but more guests started arriving and he had to forfeit his seat to help his dad with the grill. You talked to other people in the neighborhood while eating and playing games. You didn’t realize how much you had to drink until almost everyone had left at around midnight. 

“Alright, I think I’m gonna head home. Woah,” you said as you stood up and grabbed your empty can.

“Do you need someone to walk you home, honey?” Mrs. Seresin asked.

“I think I’ll be fine. It’s just right next door.”

“Okay. Well, we’re here if you need anything. There’s always someone home so feel free to come by whenever.”

“Thank you.”

Jake opened the gate for you as you left and you mumbled a thank you before heading over to your house. Maybe it was because you were desperately single, but Jake looked just as good as you remembered. Better, actually. You kicked your shoes off by the front door and reached into your bag for your earbuds. One of the network channels was doing a marathon of all of the Marvel movies, so you put that on and lay on the couch.

Jake’s mom talked him into checking in on you when they were done cleaning up the yard. He was only reluctant to go because he was sweaty and tired from being outside for most of the day. What he didn’t expect though, was to walk into your house and hear you moaning. You couldn’t see him because the back of the couch was towards the back door, and you couldn’t hear him because you had your earbuds in.

“Oh my God!” You gasped. Your hand was still in your shorts but you were too busy freaking out about the fact that Jake `had just walked in on you to worry about that.

“Oh no, don’t stop on my account. I’m really enjoying the view,” he said. He stood in front of you and nudged your legs open before taking your hand out of your shorts. His calloused hand replaced your smooth one and you pulled him closer to you before moaning.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said before leaning in for a kiss. It was a clash between tongues and teeth as he got you off and slowed his pace.

“I-I’ve never-,”

“What?”

You sighed as you looked at the cocky smirk on his face.

“Jake, I’m a virgin.”

“Wait, really? How? Look at you. You’re hot.”

“I’ve done other stuff but I’ve never… y’know.”

“Do you want to?”

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks before you looked at your feet. 

“With you? Yeah. Why? Is that bad?”

“Bad? Hey, don’t be shy. We can do this but only if you want to.”

“I want to.”

“Alright. Where’s your room?” 

You stared at him in confusion.

“You’re not losing your virginity on a couch. At least let me be proper about it.”

You nervously led him up the stairs and to your room. You moved to California pretty much right after graduating highschool, so not much had changed. It still looked like a teenager’s room because you were usually home from college for a week or two at a time. You weren’t particularly embarrassed about it until now, with the lilac colored walls and stuffed animals everywhere.

“Um, I’m not here all the time. Here, let me…”

Jake watched as you cleared the bed of your stuffed animals and throw pillows. He was trying not to laugh. You turned to him and smiled once you lit the cinnamon roll scented candle on your dresser. He sat you on the bed and started to kiss you before laying you down and taking your shorts off. You couldn’t help but grind yourself against him, and both of you groaned at the feeling. A wet spot was starting to form on the crotch of his grey basketball shorts and you could see the outline of his cock.

“I gotta get you ready,” he whispered into your ear as he tugged your panties off and started to finger you. You writhed in his arms as he got you closer to your release, and he slowly pulled his fingers out of you before grabbing his wallet and taking out a condom.

You looked at him with wide eyes once he took his shorts and boxers off. His cock hit his chest and he was huge. You were kind of able to guess, since he was well built and athletic, but you were still intimidated by the size.

“I’ll go slow. Tell me if you want me to stop, okay?”

“Okay.”

You let out a gasp as he started to enter you. He could tell that you were tense with pain, so he leaned down and kissed you while moving one of your legs to rest on his hip. You let out a cry when he was fully inside of you.

“I’m sorry. Are you hurt? Do you want me to stop?”

“I… No, I don’t want you to stop but it hurts a little.”

“That’s normal. Here, let me move you so that you’re on top. You’ll have more control.”

“Okay.”

Jake guided himself into you and put his knees up so that he could help you ride him. With his hands on your hips, you were quickly bouncing on his cock. He knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer with the way you were moaning his name, and you could see it in his eyes. So it wasn’t much of a surprise when he pulled your hips down and stilled inside of you. He rolled the two of you over while he was still inside and started to rub your clit while going through the motions of the rest of his orgasm. He grunted in your ear when you came around him and slowly pulled out of you after a few moments.

“Where’s your bathroom? I’m gonna get a towel and clean you up,” he said. You sat up and looked at him as he walked to your bedroom door.

“Right across the hall. Did I bleed?”

“A little, but it’s nothing to worry about. I’ll be right back.”

Jake was gone for a lot longer than you thought he would be. You were somewhat surprised when he finally walked back into your room with two glasses of water and a damp washcloth in his hands. The washcloth was warm, too. He threw the washcloth in your hamper when he was done and climbed in the bed next to you.

“You’re staying the night?” You asked.

“I can leave if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine. I kind of like this,” you said as you scooted into his arms.

“So, do you plan on staying in San Diego when you get back?”

“Yeah. I have a job lined up and everything. Why?”

“I wanna take you on a date sometime. I know a few good spots.”

“Sure. Wait, how long are you in town for?”

“Another week and a half.”

“We could just go out while we’re both here. Get the first date out of the way, y’know.”

“Your mom would freak if I picked you up, though.”

“Okay, get your head out of the 1950’s. We’re both adults who can drive. It’ll be fine. Plus I’m pretty sure my mom has wanted me to get with you since I transferred to UC San Diego. She’d probably be popping champagne if she found out about all of this, honestly.”

“Well, it’s good to hear that I’ve already got mom’s approval.”

You laughed and grabbed your phone before turning your lamp off. You fell asleep listening to some ocean sounds. When you woke up, Jake was smiling and scrolling through social media. He put his phone down and hugged you before going to make breakfast. He gave you his phone number before leaving. You were a giggly mess as you laid back on the couch and texted your closest friends about the events that had happened the night before.

Taglist:

@littlebadariell @cycbaby @luckyladycreator2 @idontcare-11 @blue-aconite @maverick-wingman @shawty-fenty @littlemisstopgun @rosiahills22 @katieshook02 @justanothermagicalsara @caitsymichelle13 @smoothdogsgirl @adoringsebstan @cherrycola27 @alexxavicry @mrsjaderogers @mak-32 @thefandomimagines @tallrock35 @caatheeriinee07 @bradshawseresinbabe @atarmychick007 @3sriracha @genius2050 @halstead-severide-fan

[hearts4yawnzzn]

Only His // Lee Rang

Lee Rang x Siren!oc

Warnings!: this will be exactly written as the kdramas first season after 3 parts, so there will be mentions of; gore, death, murder, suicide, and torture.

Word Count: 2182 words.

~ HER POV ~

My mom has always refused for me to get into any physical contact with anyone else, although the reason is still unknown, she gets weird and tenses up whenever I ask her about it, I never knew why.

Yes, I could ask my dad, but he's always been dismissive about the subject, especially when I ask about it every single day. And honestly, I grew tired of it. I'm sick of hearing the same words when I ask about something so negligible.

"Miyeong-ah! Come down for dinner!" My mom calls out as I hear the clanking of pans from the kitchen, I hurriedly dismiss what I'm doing and speed out of my room and down the stairs.

If I'm being honest, I've always thought I've lived a fake life, ever since I was born, I would only get treatment from 'special' doctors. I'm sick of being different.

~ NO ONE'S POV ~

Miyeong's father was helping her mother set up the table, it was always four, not three. As Miyeong Ascended down the stairs, she rushed to kiss her father on the cheek and sat down across from him, her mother soon presented herself by carrying a big pot and placing it on the table, everything else was set beforehand.

"Eomma, why are you always forgetting that three people live here? You always put an extra set as if someone is going to randomly join us." The girl didn't waste a second waiting for her parents as she dug in, starting by eating some kimchi with her rice.

Her mother didn't have anything to say to her, frankly because she had no idea as well. The lid of the pot was open, and everyone was greeted by the mouth-watering smell of the cooked meat.

"The food tastes as amazing as it always is, honey." Her father complimented his wife, but Miyeong was sick of it, she was sick of living in such a fake ass family. Her metal chopsticks drop from her hand as she let out a loud scoff, sitting back in her chair.

"Eomma, Appa, are we going to keep doing this? Tell me why I can't communicate with people like a normal person!" she was enraged, the girl has said this many times before, but she never continued, now is her chance to finish.

She pushed her plate back aggressively, her parents looking at her in disbelief like their daughter had just gone insane.

Her mother slammed her hand down on the table, but her daughter didn't falter, she has learned to stand up against her mother, ever since day one. All by herself.

Miyeong wouldn't dare to show anyone around her that she was terrified, her parents never hit her, but still, she was scared of that possibility.

"Yah! Have you lost your mind!? Sit down and eat your food!" they were both yelling at each other, while the father stayed silent, he has endured this for the past 23 years, ever since they found her.

"No! Do you think I'm dumb!? You don't even treat me like your own daughter anymore!" tears were threatening to spill from her eyes, but she needed to hold back, just a little bit longer until she can leave this place.

The place she used to call 'home'.

"You're giving me so much stress! You don't even respect your own mother!" the girl stared at her in disbelief, she let out a scoff that soon turned into a laugh, was the woman in front of her serious right now?

Miyeong had planned it all.

She planned to pester them every day for the last 23 years.

She had planned to get into a big fight with the woman sitting across her, just a few days before the lunar eclipse.

Her bag was already waiting for her at the door, all she had to do now was make a dramatic closing to this argument, take her bag, and leave.

"I've been asking you every fucking day for the past 23 years! You didn't even say shit to me!! You think you can call yourself my 'mother' just because we both live under the same roof!?" she sat up from her chair and roughly pushed it against the table.

The entire table rocked as some of the empty glass cups were shattered onto the floor.

"I have had enough of dealing with you, and your husband." her tone was low, but you could feel the venom seeping through her words as her fists were balled, knuckles turning white.

It was time for her dramatic exit, Miyeong nodded her head one last time before taking out something that she was sitting on, papers. She gave one last look at the papers, then to the woman in front of her before finally throwing them to her face.

The old couple sitting at the table was stunned, they had never expected that their 'daughter' was capable of doing something like this. They had always thought of her as someone weak and emotional when facing herself or others.

Miyeong didn't dare to look back, she walked away from the table and headed towards the front door, as expected, her bag was on the floor, right beside her shoes. The brunette hurriedly put on her shoes and slung her bag over her shoulder, she didn't even know if she ore her shoes right, but that was not important.

Her hand made contact with the doorknob, and without even thinking back, she twisted it and opened the door, walking out of the darned house before slamming the door shut behind her.

Now all she could do is run, even though she might have planned this for 23 years, she didn't know she would get this far, she didn't know where to go.

She wanted to get lost, so she wouldn't get found by them ever again.

She will never go back.

Miyeong made sure, throughout planning her escape, that she wouldn't get caught by them again.

And nothing will stop her from getting what she wants.

The 23-year-old kept running through the streets, she was running for only a couple of minutes, but it felt like hours.

Her throat was becoming dry and cold, she wasn't taught to build her stamina. Ever since she was young she was homeschooled, her 'parents' haven't even bothered to give her PE classes.

The brunette kept looking back, she was terrified of them following her, she needed to look back to make sure they weren't there.

The bag on her shoulders was very heavy, it was putting so much weight on her, but that was not going to stop her.

Miyeong took the first left she saw, it looked like an apartment complex for rich people.

The people who kept her isolated for 23 years were definitely rich, the man who called himself her 'father' used to come home wearing suits every day, while the woman who called herself her 'mother' would always wear designer bags, shoes, clothes... Anything that she can get her hands on.

She diverted her sight to the main entrance, two bodyguards guarding the front while two other bodyguards were situated near the main gate.

Without placing any suspicion upon herself, the girl managed to swiftly walk over and sit on the bench. She took her bag off of her shoulder and placed it beside her, the heavy pressure she felt on her shoulders was instantly lifted, and she sighed in relief.

Miyeong didn't expect any company, she knew no one, she wasn't allowed to own any type of electronics, and she wasn't allowed to go outside.

Communication was definitely not her strongest skill.

The sound of the main gate slightly screeching open caught her attention, her head instantly turned to observe the vehicle approaching. The brunette raised her head to take a look at who was inside, the windows were very tinted. She barely saw their faces, but they definitely saw hers.

A woman was sitting in the driver's seat, she had long dark hair and an almost petite figure. On the other hand, a male was sitting in the passenger's seat, his hair was obviously short, and he was biting the nail of his thumb while resting his arm on the window. He looked really annoyed about something.

But other than that, Miyeong was curious to know more about him. By just barely looking at him once, she felt like she has known him for centuries, but maybe even then, he could be a rich clueless dumbass that she could rob. After all, aren't all rich people clueless and dumb?

The white car was heading for the garage, Miyeong stood up from the bench and approached the main gate, in order not to look suspicious, the brunette approached the secretary's desk and asked her if she could borrow her phone to 'make a call', while giving the secretary and excuse that her phone 'ran out of battery'.

The secretary didn't think anything of it and gladly handed her the phone, Miyeong smiled followed by a short bow.

She pretended to dial someone's phone number and placed the phone to her ear, "Hey Unnie! I'm in the building right now but I forgot what number your apartment is..." she proceeded to walk towards the elevator, nodding, and humming a few yeses. Miyeong averted her eyes and stared at the floor number above the elevator going up.

"Unnie, which floor are you on again?" The number above the elevator stopped, "Ah the 6th floor? Alright I'll be right there!" she 'hung up' the phone and returned it to the secretary. The girl quickly walked over to the elevator, and pressed the 'up' button several times, as soon as the elevator opened, she hurriedly walked inside and pressed the number 6 button.

The elevator closed and started to travel up, she tapped her foot against the floor anxiously, she was overthinking the situation now.

The brunette had no fighting skills and extremely poor communication skills. A 'ding' sound reached her ears as the elevator opened, she peaked her head through to make sure no one was in the hallway, once she confirmed that the coast was clear, she walked out of the elevator and proceeded to look for the guy's apartment.

It's like he knew she was going to rob him, or that he forgot to close his own door. Maybe he is that stupid.

Miyeong quietly approached the open door and she made the open gap a little bit greater so she could fit through.

Once she was through, she looked around his apartment, of course, it was very modern, and everything looked brand new and spotless, this man owns the latest models and versions of everything!

Out of her own curiosity, Miyeong slowly started heading for his kitchen, looking around in awe. She stared at his fridge, opening it slowly as she put some of the stuff inside in her bag, carefully closing the fridge, Miyeong stalked towards the living room.

It had two pairs of sofas, and a big TV against the wall, and a table in between with a vase full of red roses.

The apartment itself was very quiet and dark, the only source of light was coming from the kitchen. How could he just disappear after going inside, was he pranking her?

Miyeong made her way to the bedroom, she looked to her right to find a closed door with the light on.

'He must be taking a shower or something, I should probably hurry.' she shrugged and walked inside his room, she looked for anything that might contain some money or anything she could sell.

She stopped in front of a closet, extending her hand out to open it, but she felt a strong grip on her shoulder, turning her around and grabbing her by her neck, placing her in a chokehold.

The girl's hands immediately gripped the person's wrists, trying to pry their hands off of her, she looked up to see them.

Of course, it was him.

"Why did you break into my house?" his glare could burn a hole between her eyes as he spoke with a harsh tone, his grip slowly tightening on her neck.

Miyeong let out a small yelp as she coughed out her answer, "You left— your door open—" She was trying so hard to loosen his grip, but he was too strong.

His strength was abnormal, possibly too strong to even be human.

The man was raging, his question wasn't being answered and he definitely didn't seem like a patient type of person.

Miyeong was slowly losing air, she could barely breathe with the grip he had on her,

She had tried to speak, to give him an answer, but it was of no use.

The girl harshly closed her eyes as the grip on his wrist lightened, and when she opened her eyes again she felt lightheaded.

When their eyes met the male widened his in shock, his lips slightly disconnecting from each other.

And he immediately let go of her.

[zeb-z]

sw au Leo and Vegetta and Foolish OH MY

Leo! Foolish finds her as a toddler on Coruscant, the day the Jedi temple burns. He’s just an aide to his senator then, barely hired due to staff shortages caused by the war. She’s upset and alone and largely ignored by the rest of the people minding their own business on the lower levels. Foolish scoops her up, gets her some water and something to eat, and waits to see if anyone comes back for her. No one does. From then on, it’s him and Leo against the world.

She sits in on a lot of meetings she shouldn’t be in, is around for a lot of busy work involving information she probably shouldn’t be privy to. But that’s okay, because she’s hardly noticed half the time, and the other half it’s easily excusable - Foolish couldn’t find a sitter on such short notice since the last one quit, she’s hardly interrupting, it’s good lessons for her to learn if she’s going to step into power one day, or even just a raised eyebrow and a ‘are you really going to tell me how to raise my kid?’.

Rarely is Leo actually told to wait somewhere else with one of Foolish’s aides, even rarer is she forced to stay home. She never stays behind whenever her Pa has trips to other planets, especially to Coruscant, unless it’s an extremely extenuating circumstance that’ll last a few days, and Roier is able to watch her. When Foolish is elected Senator, and has far more responsibilities that require him to be present on Coruscant, and no longer can rely on Vegetta, he tries harder to find trusted caretakers that Leo could like - it takes half a year for him to give up entirely. As much as he doesn’t want his child around the nest of spiders that is the Imperial center, he’s not wrong in it being a learning opportunity. And his enemies know of her existence anyways - she’s much safer at his side. And that’s where she’d prefer to be. However, this does make it rather difficult to make friends her age - as if her role as a senators child wasn’t isolating enough.

Leo is adored and doted on, just absolutely spoiled, because Foolish has the connections and the money to do so, so why shouldn’t he? Especially because they didn’t start out that way, with credits to burn and a taste for finer things.

Vegetta is a sculptor, who’s branching out into architecture after gaining enough fame and wealth to be comfortable. Him and Foolish meet very early on, where everyone else always seems to meet - everyone of importance, anyway - at a high end party during Ascension Week. Young Leo bumps into Vegetta while looking for her dad, and he helps her find him, and they strike up a polite conversation. At the next party, one of the ones Leo is at home asleep for, because it’s a later in the night, champagne and under the table spice, kind of Ascension party, they bump into eachother again, bonding over something that isn’t just the usual greetings and well wishes, and the rest is history.

Early into Foolish’s role as governor for his planet, on a day like any other, Vegetta leaves on some sort of trip, purely business. This in and of itself isn’t unusual, neither is the lack of contact for a few days at least - as much as Foolish loves his boyfriend, he’s not the clingy type, he understands that they are both busy people, and he trusts him implicitly. He picks up their weekly hologram call without a fuss. “Don’t worry, mi amor, I’ll be home before you know it. Tell Leo I love her, and miss her very much.” Then he misses the next weeks call. And the next. And the next. A missing persons report and follow up don’t seem to go very far, despite the strings Foolish tries to pull - every sign points to the classic case of an upper class affair, where the guilty party can easily change their face and name to chase after someone else - according to Imperial Law Enforcement, at least. Foolish is introduced to Jaiden soon after, his first Ascension week without Vegetta in a long time. He’s certain this isn’t coincidence.

Roier! Son of Vegetta, pilot with a dream, you know his whole thing. He meets Foolish and Leo through Vegetta, and is adopted in very quickly. He stays around even after Vegetta disappears, still calls Foolish his father and Leo his sister. They try to make it to most of his races, somehow managing to blend in with the crowd without making a fuss of his status, even on the most backwater planets. Roier usually makes it to Ascension week parties at the minimum, enough to keep appearances, and to keep an extra eye on Leo. As much as everyone knows Leo as Foolish’s child, Roier is very often forgotten - which is a good thing. It means he can get away with the racing he does.

Leo meets Vegetta young enough to hardly remember much of a time before him, but she’s old enough to remember when he left. Per Foolish’s advice, she doesn’t read gossip rags, and doesn’t pay any mind to whatever she may hear along the grapevine from spending so much time around socialites and politicians. She’s learned enough to know that this is the game that is played, and that entertaining conversation doesn’t always mean honest conversation. Late nights back at home, when Roier is also over, they like to point at different stars and wonder if that’s where their father is at now. On one planet, he’s lost on a hike and is still wandering. On another, he’s finding inspiration for his next major construct in the zen of nature, and left his com (and ship key) behind. On this one he’s fighting dragons to get the greatest treasure to gift to his children. That one, he found a portal that took him back in time, and he has to fight as a knight of the Old Republic. Something fantastical that’s keeping him from coming home.

Roier teaches Leo to fly! After the first few lessons, Foolish lets Leo pilot if they’re just flying around their home world, and sometimes lets her handle part of take off when ascending out of the gravity well to reach hyperspace. Leo Taxi! :’)

[pens-and-gems]

The Wish Chapter 1 Preview

Hey everyone, this post is a preview to my upcoming story titled The Wish. Kinda inspired by my own life, it's about a high schooler, stressed out with her family and school both, wishes that she never existed. Unfortuntately, the wish comes true and now, she must not only get her life back, but also learn to appreciate the small stuff.

Anyways, here's a preview for Chapter !~ Enjoy!

Chapter 1: Scheduling

Thursday, 7:00AM:

7:20AM-Have Breakfast with Family

7:30AM-Board School Bus

7:50AM-Chew Mint-Flavored Sugar Free Gum to Prevent Bad Breath

7:55AM-Get to First Period, Start School

8:00AM-2:50PM-Start School

3:00PM-Fencing Practice

4:00PM-Board Bus to Take Me Home

4:30-6:30PM-Study for AP Chemistry Test

6:35PM-Dinner at the Pretensions'

7:00PM-Get Wilbur to Bed

7:30PM-8:30PM-Finish Book Report on Fahrenheit 451

8:35PM-Get Ready for Bed

8:45PM-Watch Netflix until 9

9:00PM-Bed time!

Extra Notes:

*Pre-Calculus Test Tomorrow

*Spanish 3 Honors Project Due Next Friday

*History Oral Report on WWII Next Monday.

*Fencing Tournament Saturday at 1PM-4PM

"There, my schedule for tomorrow is complete." I said in relief as I sat in my desk in my room on  a Wednesday Night, waiting for the day to completely end, so I can finally start a new one. My school counselor suggested  to me that I should start scheduling my tasks, so I can balance both my school and home life since I tend to be really busy with classes, fencing, and babysitting. Basically, the typical responsibilities almost every seventeen-year-old would have when they're almost done with high school.The truth is, I didn't always like doing these tasks. In fact, I only do them so I can prove myself to them. Them as in my folks; also known as my parents.

You see, my parents are very busy when it comes to their jobs. My mother, Barbara works late as a nurse while my father, Jonathan is a graveyard worker at the hotel downtown. So my siblings and I don't tend to see them often; especially my younger ones: Harold, Bethany or "Betty" as she preferred, and Wilbur. Futhermore, my two older siblings, Wendy and Steven, who are college students, are usually the ones in charge; despite their busy hours of studying. I guess they got use to it so much that they even began to act like Mom and Dad themselves. My oldest sister, Wendy at twenty-three last week had me clean the kitchen from head to toe and whenever I missed a pot or did something wrong, she would snap at me and tell me to do it again. In fact, she would complain about how "that's not how Mom would want it done!" I can still hear her obnoxious shriek in my ears.

Just as I was about to shut off the light and hit the hay, a knock was heard. I groaned to myself and told them to come in.

"Hello baby sister," Wendy greeted me in the most fake loving tone ever.

"Even the deadliest of all killers could fake that." She ignored my sarcasm.

"I know you don't like being bothered, especially this late at night," she continuned.

"It's only two hours and fifty three minutes until midnight, but talk." Wendy rolled her eyes at my deadpan remark. "Anyways, there's been a state of emergency at the hospital tonight. Mom's gonna be busy for the next two nights, and Dad's most likely gonna sleep in. So be prepared, sis. You might have to set up to watch the little ones longer than expected."

"WHAT?!" I began to freak out and flip through my agenda. "But that totally messes up my schedule!" I tried to show her.

UPDATE: 1/11/24

Fixed and edited some mistakes that a friend from Discord helped me out with.

[bella-goths-wife]

Michael Myers with people being homophobic towards his S/O (male reader)

You had spent all day fussing over the home and cleaning where ever you could trying to make everything perfect

Michael had raised an eyebrow at your behaviour to which you calmly explained that your parents were coming over and that your mother was very strict with how she views how a house should be ran and that everything needed to be absolutely spotless

“Hey Michael?” You said calmly said “do you mind if you hide upstairs while my family is over? You being here would kind of freak them out y’know with you being a serial killer and all”

Michael nodded “fair enough” he thought. He couldn’t risk being detected and he knew killing your family would upset you

So by the time your family arrived, the table was set, dinner was ready and Michael was tucked away upstairs away from your family’s prying eyes

“Honey” your mother greeted you with a hug before squishing your cheeks “how’s my handsome boy”

“I’m good mom, how are you” you said, welcoming your mother and father in before giving your sister a hug

“I would be better if I had my boy back home with me” she says in a playfully sarcastic tone

“I know mom but I had to move away someday” I said while ushering everyone to the table

I put the food out in front of everyone and filled their plates. I got a few compliments on the dish I had prepared

“It’s great son, you always were a good cook” my father said with a small smile before taking another mouthful

“Yes but he shouldn’t have to be” my mother piped up, I cringed as I knew straight away what this conversation would turn into

“Martha” my dad said in a warning tone

“No Tom, it’s not normal, we’ve got a lovely, handsome boy and he’s not got a wife yet. He needs someone to look after him and the house” she said while using overdramatic hand gestures

“He cleans and cooks better than me mom. I think he’ll be fine on his own for however long he wants” my sister snapped back before finishing her meal

“Don’t talk to me like that young lady, and you should have learnt how to do that a long time ago and god as my witness I tried to teach you” my mother spat out with her hands out in a mock surrendering

I kept my head down and my eyes fixed on my plate. It always hurt whenever they talked about me getting a wife, they never knew how close I was to having a husband who I had to hide upstairs away from their curious gaze.

It’s time (y/n). You can do this

“I…I’m actually seeing someone at the moment” I said, looking up from my plate to see my fathers shocked expression and my mother’s delighted one

“You are!? Who is she?” My mother exclaimed, clasping my hands

“Good for you son, is she a looker?” My dad says with a cheeky grin on his face while giving me a playful elbow

“It’d be nice to finally have a sister in love to talk shit with about you” my sister said in a joking manner, a playful smirk made its way to her face.

“Amanda, language!” My mother scolded, earning an eye role from my sister.

“So son who is she?” My father asked again with an excited expression

“You can do this (y/n), they love you” you though to yourself before opening your mouth to speak

“They’re called Mike” I started “he’s a bit stoic but he can be sweet”

“What?” My mother asked,slowly pulling her hands away from mine, pulling a confused face

“OH I get it, he’s joking with us Martha! Good one son you almost had me” your father laughed followed by nervous laughter from my mom and sister

“Don’t back down, they’re just shocked that’s all. You can do this (y/n)” you thought

“No dad. Im serious” I continue “I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now but I’m gay and I’m dating a man called Michael. Im actually engaged to him”

“You can’t be serious” my sister piped up “that’s disgusting why would you date a man? Your a boy aren’t you? Or have you decided your a girl now as well?”

Tears prickled in my eyes, how could she say that?

“No I’m a boy and I’m in love with a man, it’s perfectly normal or have you been trapped in the 1850’s?” I snap back

“Mom?” I say gently, she had been looking down for a while now and not moving. I see tears streaming down her face

“Your not my son” she whispers out, it’s barely audible. She gets up from her seat, so does the rest of my family

“Mom please, I love you” I say grabbing her hand

“DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME. MY SON IS DEAD, YOU ARE NOT MY FUCKING SON” she screams in my face before yanking her hand out of my grip

My sister and mum storm off, leaving only me and my father in the room. He’s looking straight at me yet if feels like he can’t see me at all.

“Dad please, I don’t want to lose my family, please” I begged him

“How could you do this to me?” He whispers out

“What?” I say confused

“How could you do this family?”

“Please dad” i pleaded

“HOW COULD YOU HUMILIATE ME AND YOUR MOTHER LIKE THIS?” He screams, slamming his hand on the table

“PLEASE DAD IM SORRY” I backed away in fear

“YOUR MEANT TO BE MY SON! MY BOY? YOUR MY ONLY SON AND NOW I FIND OUT THAT THE BOY THAT I HELD IN MY ARMS THE DAY YOU WERE BORN TAKES IT UP THE ASS? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO YOUR MOTHER. THE WOMAN CARRIED YOU FOR 9 MONTHS AND THIS IS HOW YOU REPAY HER?” He screamed, grabbing my shirt with his two fists and lifting me up

“BY DOING WHAT? DAD? MARRYING THE MAN I LOVE AND WHO LOVES ME? FINDING SOMEONE WHO LOVES ME FOR ME AND WOULD DO ANYTHING AND I THE SAME? HOW IS ME LOVING SOMEONE WHO SEES ME FOR WHO I AM HUMILIATING YOU? OR IS THIS JUST BECAUSE MY BULLIES WERE RIGHT? THAT YOUR SON WAS A LITTLE (F slur)?”

My father punched me in the face before dropping me to the ground. I looked up at him in shock, he matches my expression while he looks down at his hands, they’re spread apart with a little blood on his knuckle from my nose

“H….how could you?” I say, terrified and alone. My father who had held me so affectionately mere hours before had hit me. I touched my nose and realised it was bleeding heavily and was possibly broken.

“If you marry a man. Y….you will no longer be my son. You will no longer have a family” he says the shock leaving his face and returning to a look or disgust

I look down at the floor and contemplate my decision. I don’t get up from the floor, my tears wet the carpet below my along with my blood

“Get out” i whimper, my throat sore from all the yelling

“I hope he’s worth it” my dad says before getting ready to leave

“He is Tom, his love for me is so great that he would risk his life, yours is limited to risking your reputation” I spit out looking him straight in the eyes

He stops his attempt to leave and for a moment I think he’s going to come back. He storms out instead and slams the door after him. I bring my knees to my chest before hiding my face in my arms, crying violently.

The slammed door must have alerted Michael because I heard him rushing down the stairs. I feel his presence but I don’t lift my head, I’m too exhausted

He put his arms around me and held me on the floor. I was shocked he had never been one for affection

“I love you” I state as I cry in his chest, he just holds me closer and draws patterns in my back with is finger

He puts me on the coach and asks me what wrong with a head tilt

“They disowned me because I said that I was gonna marry you” I stated weakly,

He points at the door before pulling his thumb across his throat and then titling his head. He was asking if I wanted him to kill them

“No I don’t want them dead. I just don’t want to talk to them ever again” I say. Michael brings his thumb up to my nose and wipes the blood before raising his eye brow “my dad hit me” I say, confirming his suspicions

He picks me up and puts me In bed before holding me closely and waiting for you to fall asleep

“Yep” I think “he’s definitely worth it” I smile as my exhausted eyes close and I drift away into a peaceful sleep

Of course Michael wasn’t gonna leave it, your family hurt you and no one hurts what’s his

He already knew where they lived because of how long he had stalked you for

He killed your sister first with a throat slit

Your mother was next with a knife to the eye

Your father was next, The police found him with his bruised hand cut off and shoved down his throat and with multiple knife wounds to the back

He backstabbed you metaphorically, Michael back stabbed him literally.

Poetic justice, am I right?