#➵ okay but what is that bang look fr

[suntoru]

hihi lily!! glad to hear you didnt end up with xingqiu's cut ehehe <33

bet you wouldve rocked it anyways

MELONNNN ML THANK UUU IF I DID I’D BE CRYING 💀💀 i would not have pulled it off but ily for the delulu <33

#➵ lily interacts #➵ from mooties #➵ melon! <3 #➵ everyone doing xingqiu dirty 💀💀 #➵ okay but what is that bang look fr #➵ it’s okay he pulls it off!! …haha…ha… #➵ /hj

[loverboybrightsideghost]

neat how in the book, crowley is at his lowest when he finds the burning bookshop. he always tries to maintain his Very Cool Guy persona but when he's in the bookshop he's literally described as being as far from Cool as can be. when he's very sad and very pissed off about his closest friend being gone.

#something something he tries to maintain his cool guy persona but his love for aziraphale is stronger #i mean at that point in the book crowley's like okay fuck this #i don't remember very clearly but i'm p sure at that point crowley after having found the book he's like. alright. tadfield. adam young. #did he even know what he was gonna do what he got there cuz i'm not sure that he did i think he just started driving #he was like fuck. we're fucked. but then he was like what the hell let's go out with a bang at least and just fucking DROVE #he did get a new pair of sunglasses though those were a must #'crowley was an optimist. if there was one rock hard certainty that had sustained him through the bad times...it was the utter surety that #he would come out on top that the universe would look after him' #he's literally just like me fr #what was this post originally about #oh yeah #crowley. character of all time #i don't feel like analyzing this further i'll do that tomorrow probably #bc i really truly have been rotating this in my head for the past few days #bluebird.txt #good omens #crowley's literally my bestest friend in the whole wide world

[lewisvinga]

empanadaaaas | carlos sainz x argentine! fem! reader

summary; who would’ve thought that carlos would find a new love after visiting argentina with his girlfriend

fc; rita mota

warnings; ?

taglist; @namgification @louvrepool @locelscs @thehufflepuffavenger1 @minseok-smaus @goldenmclaren @ollieshifts @lavisenri @graciewrote @xoscar03

notes; requested !

masterlist !

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yourusername uploaded to their story !

[caption 1; 🤍] [caption 2; mi amor with me in my beloved argentina 🫶]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

liked by carlossainz55, yoursister, and others !

yourusername:🇦🇷🤍

tagged; carlossainz55, yoursister

carlosainz55: 😍😍😍 liked by yourusername !

carlossainz55: vamos argentina ! 🇦🇷

yourusername: and that’s how you win papa l/n over 😁😁

username: not u taking a SPANIARD to latinoamerica ma’am…. STAND UP

yourusername: he’s a cute spaniard tho😞

username: told y’all carlos is for the latinas 💆‍♀️

username: ugh the wispy bangs r everything

username: i wanna be u

yoursister: tell ur bf to STOP EATING MY EMPANADAS

carlossainz55: ur mom made them for me🤔

yoursister: whatever mamá makes = mine

yourusername: i wish i could get him to stop but he refuses to eat anything else or else he’ll starve 😞😞

yoursister: y tu pobre hermana??? ella está muriéndose del hambre. 😒 [and your poor sister, she is dying of hunger]

carlossainz55: we went out for ice cream 2 hrs ago???

yoursister: where’s my empanada.

carlossainz55: in my stomach😋😋

username: those empanados look saur good i get carlos tbh

username: ARGENTINAAAAA🇦🇷🇦🇷

yourbestfriend: WOWZERSSS UR SO😍

yourusername: UR WOWZERSS😘

alexandrasaintmleux: so gorgeous 🥹 i’ve been wanting to go🤍

yourusername: next time bby, girls trip to argentinaaaa💕

username: this is so messi core

username: HELPPP

username: no1 gonna mention the last pic?? bc i’ve been thinking abt it for the past 30 mins 🚶‍♀️

username: carlos w the basic white dog in a latino household HELPPP😭

username: okay but y/n and y/s/n always eattt😫

username: now i’m craving empanadas 😔😔

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liked by yourusername, landonorris, and others !

carlossainz55: te quiero argentina por y/n y empanadaaaas [i love you argentina for y/n and empanadas]

tagged; yourusername

yourusername: carlitooosssss, q guapooooo😻 [how handsome]

carlossainz55: y usted tan hermosa, nena 😍 [and you’re so beautiful]

yourusername: so grateful to show you argentina 🤍🇦🇷

carlossainz55: so grateful to know this beautiful country 🤍

yoursister: i’m sick of y’all already🤢

carlossainz55: tengo un amigo bien guapo , [i have a very handsome friend] and he’s your age 😁

yoursister: ou say lessss

yourusername: NOT lando. anyone but lando

landonorris: what’s wrong w me😢

yourusername: british and doesn’t like fish 😕

yoursister: he’s cute i can get past it 😛😛

landonorris: you like fish?? yoursister i can get past it too😁

username: NOT THE EMPANADA MENTION LMAOO😭

username: carlos rlly loves empanadas he’s jus like me fr

username: y/n is everything 😫

username: hes sooo bf

username: sexy spaniard i get u y/n i rlly do

yourusername: weak for that spaniard 😞 i’m making him argentine tho #trust

carlossainz55: mi gente latino ✊

charles_leclerc: i’m afraid to ask how many empanadas you ate

carlossainz55: you don’t want to know.

username: when will it be my turn to find a spanish bf and take him to argentina 🚶‍♀️🚶‍♀️

username: ARGENTINA MENTIONED🇦🇷🔥

username: they’re everything to me pls

username: caption is SO true

username: i wonder how madridista carlos feels knowing y/n and her family are messi fans

yourusername: good thing we’re madridistas too💯💯

carlossainz55: i did that😁

#formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 scenario #formula one scenarios #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #formula one imagine #f1 scenarios #f1 social media au #carlos sainz smau #carlos sainz social media au #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz scenarios

[mystellenia]

ellie with a clumsy gf ୨ৎ

summary: how ellie cares for her clumsy girlfriend

content: nothing thats nsfw!! just ellie being a cutie concerned gf

notes: answer to this req!! SHES SO PUPU BABYGIRL IN THAT PIC I WANNA BITE HER JFWIBFJWKRJR. she's actually so beautiful i can't. entirely unrelated: idk how i feel about this... but i’m trying not to be like EW I HATE THIS FUCK THIS ITS SO BAD. like i dont even feel like that but we already know how i feel about this formatting. its growing on me tho

(wc 0.39k) so short i know guys i gotta dip my feet

constantly laughing but also concerned at how you manage to trip and bump and bruise yourself up on literal air

in apocalypse au, she's always been very aware of her surroundings bc of patrol and combat and stuff so she tries to keep you out of the way of things that she knows you'll bump into

always has an ice pack chilled and ready to go in the freezer in case you bump yourself real hard and it's sore because ice helps bumps not bruise right when you get them (looking at you guys clumsy ladies write that one down)

always warns you about things right as they're happening since you get into things SO FAST

like just as you're bumping into something or dropping an item she's blurting out, "wait! there's- a shirt on the floor"/"remember- that the washing machine door is open"/"baby, you're gonna drop that- just... like you did just now. you okay?"

always asks what you did to get a new bruise. she'll notice a new one and joke, "oh, what did you do this time?" and you'll respond, "i may have walked into the dishwasher while the door was down... but this one doesn't hurt that bad 😁" it's become like a little game

she's become sooo desensitized to any bump or bang sound in the house bc she knows its just you. not to say she doesn't care about you getting hurt--she immediately throws out a "you good?!" or "you need me?"--she just knows you know what to do: ice pack or heat compress. it's routine now.

read that low vitamin c levels make you bruise easily, so always has vitamin c rich snacks stocked up. oranges and strawberries and other fruits, always ready!

she's so stupid in love that she'll cut the fruits up into hearts or try nd make the most simple little animals with them from some mother of 3's tutorial on instagram reels and genuinely gets upset when she can't recreate them.

^ like you notice her absolutely maiming some apples and ask, "ummm why are you slicing and dicing that poor apple?" and she'll mumble, "it's supposed to be a stupid crab."

and for my ladies with darker skin where bruises aren't as visible or even just pale skin that just doesn't bruise easily, she's still just as concerned. and since there is no visible warning of a sore spot, she's hurriedly apologizing after pressing on a sore spot or laying on a tender patch.

@abbysbug @picklesarenice69

hello to my clitter critters. soooooooo erm sorry about going like basically inactive for like 2 weeks i got into the fight of a lifetime with my mother 😊 we still beefing 😊 dw tho when she's old and wrinkly i’ll have power of attorney and trust the cord WILL be plugged.

like i’m joking but as of now that bitch is an opp fr

but anywhoooo i’m back. and my dinosaur of a laptop had a health scare and i thought i was gonna have to plan a funeral for her but she went to the doctor (apple store) and she's all better. idk how it still works so well now bc my mom got this when obama was still president 😆 don't y'all worry tho this motherboard does nothing but purr we chillin (the fan turns on whenever there are too many graphics moving)

#mystellenia 𐑂°‧₊ #elle answers 𐑂°‧₊ #ellie #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader #ellie x you #ellie x y/n #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff #tlou #the last of us #the last of us x reader #the last of us x y/n #tlou x reader

[leclercloml]

Enchanted to meet you | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader

Summary: everyone's favourite swiftie is finally off the market, but who's that lucky guy?

Genre: SMAU

warnings: google translated french, grammar mistakes, incorrect time line to match the story line

Author's note: i reached the picture limitation so I'll do a part 2 of this as soon as I can and I'm still not very good at this, and I'm completely out of ideas, so please bare it 🫶🏻

fc: Gracie Abrams

yourinstagram

liked by oliviarodrigo, taylorswift and 23,45,873 others

yourinstagram uh-oh, I'm fallin' in love.

view comments

sabrinacarpenter oh no, I'm falling in love again

⤷username hahahahaha it's just a taylor swift reference guysss hahahahaha nothing too serious

⤷username Sabrina what do you know, please tell your kids too babe.

username mother mother mother

oliviarodrigo i think I know who it is

⤷conangray SHE TOLD YOU??!!

⤷oliviarodrigo she tells me everything

⤷username lmaaaoo Olivia knowing who's y/n love intrest is and conan going crazy over it is my new favourite thing

username whoever is her new boyfriend and if he's reading this, sweetheart sleep with one eye open

Twitter

Instagram

charles_leclerc

milan, italy

liked by yourinstagram, joris_trouche and 67,45,745 others

charles_leclerc what a beautiful show, love the songs, love the performance, thank you so much for inviting me to this beautiful event.

tagged: yourinstagram

view comments

yourinstagram I'm glad you had fun

⤷carlossainz55 he really did he won't stop humming "where do we go now"

⤷charles_leclerc hey! it's a good song

⤷username helloo?? What is happening??!!

username I still can't believe it's real, it feels like a weird fever dream 😭

username okay but are we not gonna talk about that caption and how girlfriend she looks in the 2nd slide??

⤷username finally! I was waiting for someone to say this!

username okay guys here me out, first y/n posting her pictures with caption "uh-oh I'm falling in love" which is a lyrics from Taylor Swift song called labyrinth and basically confirming she's in love and probably dating someone and then Olivia officially confirming it by commenting "I think I know who it is" and then Charles out of blue arriving at y/n concert which by looking at caption it seems like he was invited and the 2nd slide, he was in front row and the picture look way too "girlfriend" and charles is also single and so is y/n, so maybe...MAYBE Charles might be y/n new boyfriend?

⤷username ma'am the delusion is crazy

⤷username I've connected the two dots.

⤷username you didn't connect shit.

⤷username I've connected them.

yourinstagram added to story

comment disabled

Twitter

Instagram

f1

liked by scuderiaferrari , yourinstagram and 45,673,459 others

f1 CHARLES LECLERC IS THE WINNER OF 2023 ITALIAN GRAND PRIX! 🏆❤️

view comments

scuderiaferrari that's how we win a home race 💚🤍❤️

⤷username can't believe you guys didn't fucked up his race

username call me delusional but y/n is his lucky charm

⤷username no but fr

⤷username listen @/scuderiaferrari you guys need to invite her to all of the races now.

⤷scuderiaferrari on it 🫡

charles_leclerc

liked by yourinstagram, carlossainz55 and 45,274,523 others

charles_leclerc what a win! 1-2 brought it home for all of the tifosi's out there! And also congratulations to Carlos on P2! That's how we win it and also thanks to all of the fans, team and my lucky charm! Forza Ferrari Sempre 💚🤍❤️

view comments

carlossainz55 congratulations on the win mate ❤️!

⤷charles_leclerc thanks mate! congratulations on the podium!

yourinstagram SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU AND CARLOS!

⤷charles_leclerc couldn't have done I without you my lucky charm 🍀

⤷username AHHHHHH SHE IS HIS LUCKY CHARM SCREAMING CRYING BANGING MY HEAD AGAINST THE WALL!

⤷username just confirm your relationship already 😭😭

⤷username i don't think we need a confirmation this is already so obvious

landonorris congratulations mate!

liked by charles_leclerc and yourinstagram

username the ONLY driver to beat RedBull this year! @/yourinstagram please come to all of the races from now on 🙏

⤷yourinstagram I'll try my best 🤍

⤷username AHHHHHH!!!

PS: this is sooooo rushed I'm so sorry, I'll do a part 2 as soon as I can! Please give feedbacks 🫶🏻

Part 2!!

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #charles leclerc social media au #f1 driver x reader #charles leclerc x you #leclercloml

[sturncrazy]

STUCK🔥

part 1

matt sturniolo x fem reader (no use of y/n)

(anyone else is green )

warnings: SMUT 18+ (part two will be major smut this is the warm up🫣)

summary: you and your friend matt are arguing while coming back from a event and are faced with heightened tensions when the elevator of the hotel gets stuck…

authors note: i was INSPIRED by the sam & colby colab i had IDEAS. so this is gonna be a 2 part!! and guys just roll w me — let’s pretend matt wouldn’t be in fetal position crying if an elevator fr got stuck.

word count: 2,060

—————————————————————————

you fussed with the back of your dress desperately trying to reach for its zipper. bodycon dresses like this should’ve been used for torture. finally giving up on completing the task alone, you banged on the door to the adjoining room.

your best friend matt had asked you to be his plus one to a party for one of the various influencer acquaintances of him and his brothers. chris and nick had other plans for the night, and there was no way matt would ever go to any social event alone. so he’d asked you to join. plus he knew you’d love getting all dressed up and even getting to spend the night at a nice hotel covered by the party host.

“WHAT?” shouted matt from the other side of the door

“MAAAATTT i can’t get my dress zipped! help!” you whined back continuing to pound your fist against the frame.

“Okay—just a second”

you jiggled the door handle, impatiently. it swung open to a flustered half ready matt. his soft brown locks were tousled in front of his eyes. he was wearing a white button up, but had only managed to button a couple of the lower ones in his rushed state, exposing his lean and muscular chest. your eyes haphazardly glanced down.

“going for a new slutty look?” you mocked

“oh shut up. you have the patience of a two year old” he shot back as he buttoned the rest of his shirt. you snorted.

“well” he said raising his eyebrows at you

“turn around”

you spun your back to him as his fingers snapped up your zipper.

“thank youuu” you said turning around with a smile. matt’s gaze trailed down from your face and over your figure that was hugged tightly by the black sparkly fabric that stopped only inches below your waist.

“what?” you laughed, confused by his quietness.

“oh-uh-nothing-“ he stuttered, turning away to grab his tie

“am i dressed wrong?”

“no-no you-you look really great” he said with a half smile.

“cmon let’s head out i’ll call us a car”

the party was loud and ridiculously flashy. Matt mingled with people he knew while you stuck a few feet behind. most of the people at events like this had no interest in talking to a no one like you. over an hour had passed and you were just about to ask matt when was a socially acceptable time to head out when you felt someone tap your shoulder. you turned around to see a tall man smiling down at you.

“so why did no one tell me about the competition to bring the prettiest date?” he asked

“the—what?” you stuttered

“i’m joking! but whoever brought you tonight would’ve won”

“oh—thank you?” you felt your cheeks flush slightly

“so who did?” he questioned with a smirk

“i’m sorry?”

“bring you here tonight? who’s your date”

“oh! oh matt did! but not date im just his friend” you nervously giggled

“so what im hearing is your not spoken for?” you had to admit this man was charming and the first interesting thing since being at this party, so you figured what was the harm in entertaining him. as you continued to make flirtatious small talk you felt eyes on you. you whipped around to see matt from a nearby corner staring at you, clearly paying no attention to the two girls talking at him. you gave him a smile, but his blank expression didn’t waiver. it struck you as weird, but you figured he was probably just zoning out.

about 45 minutes of flirting had quickly changed from fun to monotonous. you were preparing to excuse yourself to “go to the bathroom” when a tight grip latched onto your upper arm.

“I wanna leave” matt said flatly in your ear

“wha—oh okay” matt headed for the door, leaving you behind. you said a rushed goodbye and chased after him.

“matt—wait!” he stopped and turned to look at you.

“what the hell?” you said catching up

“didn’t know if you were coming. cars almost here”

matt’s jaw was visibly clenched in the dim lighting of the car. he stared straight ahead not speaking. it was only about a 6 minute drive to the hotel but it felt like a eternity. the hotel lobby was empty as it was past 2 in the morning.

“what’s wrong?” you finally asked as the elevator door shut behind the two of you.

“nothings wrong”

“bullshit. you’re acting weird”

“nope. guess i’m just tired” he said still refusing to look at you

“no i know you and you—“ you were cut off by the sound of your phone going off

“that your new friend from the party?” matt snarked

“my what? what are you talking about?”

“that guy who was all over you”

“guy—is that what’s making you act all weird?—“ suddenly the floor beneath you jolted. the elevator had stopped moving.

“you gotta be fucking kidding me” matt muttered

“did the elevator just break?”

“fucking perfect” he said with an exasperated laugh. you frantically began pressing the help button.

“Hello front desk—“

“Hi—yeah—um the elevator is stuck—“

“Hi ma’am—yes we’re aware—my apologies maintenance has been informed”

“How soon will they be here?”

“within a half hour—“

“A HALF HOUR?”

“I’m so sorry miss, we send the majority of staff home around midnight. were handling this best we can—“

“Okay. I understand. just please as soon as possible”

you backed up to lean against the wall where matt had already settled. silence again.

“well you’re stuck with me now” you attempted to joke

“yup” matt said coldly

“matt seriously? do you have a history with that guy or something”

“it’s not the guy thats my problem”

“oh so what? i’m the problem”

“i didn’t say that—“

“well you implied it—can you look at me?” you snapped. matt turned his face to you.

“i don’t like watching some guy all over you okay—”

“I had no idea that you cared about that sorta thing i mean girls are all over you—“

“of course I fucking care—“

“but why—“ your sentence was halted by matt’s right hand harshly grabbing your waist and his left hand holding onto your cheek, pulling your body flush to his and your faces only a sliver apart.

“because tell me you haven’t felt anything between us. and i’ll stop right now if you do and forget this ever happened. tell me you don’t feel anything for me right now.” he said in a gravely whisper, the warm air of his breath caressing your lips. your eyes flitted back and forth across his that starred hungrily at your lips, pupils blown. without thinking you smashed your lips against his, closing the little space left between you. matt froze for a second before passionately joining you in the kiss. his hand wrapped around to your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him as the other latched itself into your hair. your tongues began to entwine with one and other, battling for dominance. Matt pulled gently on your lower lip with his teeth, before unlocking his lips with yours. you stared up at him breathlessly, not wanting to have stopped. he smirked at the slightly helpless expression on your face before using his grip in your hair to tug your head back to expose your neck. he lowered his lips to give you a sloppy warm kiss on your delicate skin. you let out a soft sigh and matt took this moment of weakness as an opportunity to push you up against the back wall. he continued to pull and kiss at your neck and collar bone, his hands digging into the skin around your hips. heat had began to form between your legs and you let out an involuntary moan as matt bit down on your flesh. one of your legs wrapped around his. he inhaled sharply and looked back up at you.

“careful—you might start something you don’t mean to” he panted

“i know exactly what i wanna start” you whispered before pulling him by his tie back to your lips. you rolled your hips up against him.

“oh you’re in for it now” he groaned against your mouth, pressing his crotch against you. your dress had now pathetically rolled up almost to your hipbones. matt pressed his clothed bulge between your legs, creating friction against your now exposed thong. you were practically dripping at the feeling. his strong hands slid down to your bare ass cheeks and squeezed the plush flesh as he continued to grind himself against you. soft sounds of pleasure tumbled from your mouth.

“your moans are even sexier then i imagined” he huffed against your neck

“yeah? you like hearing me moan for you, matty?” you whispered, wrapping your arms around his neck

“just hearing you does something to me”

“what does it do to you?” you said innocently. he lifted his head to look you in the eye. he moved one of his hands from your ass on top of your own delicate smaller hand which he then guided down his own torso. the two of you panting like wild animals against each other at the insufferable tension as your hand got lower and lower.

“why don’t you find out for yourself” he whispered as your hand finally reached his covered crotch. your eyes still locked to his, you pressed your palm against his hard on. the feeling of his size alone sent tingles through your body. he moaned at the contact. you repeated the motion. his eyes rolled back into his head. watching him like this was addictive.

“fuck—feels so good—“ he sighed out

“been hard all night cause of you”

“you have?”

“second i saw you in that dress all i could think about was fucking you”

“you thought about fucking me?” you teased. matt grabbed your wrist.

“all the time.” his eyes trailed down your heaving chest to your slightly parted legs, the delicate lace of your thong just visible. he let go of your wrist and ran his fingers from your hip over the top of your thigh to the waist band of your underwear and halted.

“you ever thought about fucking me”

“maybe” you teased, still trying to keep some composure. he lowered his touch expertly to your clit. you bit your lip.

“do you ever touch yourself when you think about me” matt began to drag his finger tips up and down your barely covered slit.

“sometimes”

“does it make you wet” he began to pull the fabric of your thong to the side. you let out a gasp as the cool air hit your exposed folds. you nodded slightly

“nuh uh. i wanna hear you say it.”

“say what”

“tell me i make you wet.“

“you make me so wet matt— i want you so bad—-“

“good girl” he said giving you a light kiss

“and good girls get rewarded” he hummed against your lips as he began to push two fingers into your leaking entrance. you let out a loud moan as you felt his digits begin to rhythmically penetrate your core. you clawed at his flexed biceps

“oh—god—matt—“ you whined

“you like that, beautiful?” he cooed into your ear

“so fucking much” matt began to pick up the pace. you felt a knot in the pit of your stomach start to form.

“shit—i’m close—“ right as the words tumbled from your lips the floor beneath you jolted once more. you and matt shared a panicked look as you both scrambled to collect yourself as the elevator retook its motion. you frantically yanked your dress back down just in time for the doors to slide back open. a hotel employee greeted you

“I am so incredibly sorry about this my sincere apologies. We’ll be comping a part of your stay—“

“oh really it’s fine. we weren’t paying for ourselves to begin with” you brushed off

“still if there’s any way we can make this up to you. let me assist you back to your rooms-what’re the numbers?“ he said hurrying down the hall. you opened your mouth to answer but felt matt yank at your list

“were both in 611, actually” matt barked. you raised an eyebrow at him.

“oh im not done with you yet.”

———————————————————————

ending note:

HEY YALLLLLLLL

IM BACK BABY!!

i’m so sorry i went MIA! i had the craziest last two months of my life and then to top it off i got hit w food poisoning and was in the ER sooooo BUT ANYWAYS IM BACK NOW AND BETTER THAN EVER!

hope u guys like this one i started it like a month ago SO it’s FINALLY coming along. PART TWO SOON

and she’s gonna be FILTHY

#matt sturniolo smut #matthew sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo smut #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo smut #nicolas sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nick sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x yn #matt sturniolo edit #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt nick chris #chris sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fanfic #matthew sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo fluff #christopher sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you

[nctstar]

Can I get a smut of Johnny suh using his size and strength kink on a petite female Y/N? Thank you~

heyy! i'm so sorry this is absurdly late :(( but hope you still like it! <3

small

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

pairing: johnny suh x fem!reader

other members: none

word count: 2.4k

genre: romance, smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni!! as per the request the reader is smaller than Johnny but I refrained from describing body parts or her specific size or anything like that, she is just short. if you're sensitive to this kind of talk though maybe don't read <3 mild profanity, lots of kissing, johnny carries reader, manhandling, descriptions of johnny's torso and body throughout, dirty talk about the size of his ding dong schlong, mild degradation (use of slut), ripping clothes bc those muscles do more than lift weights <3, clitoral stimulation/fingering, reader is pretty slutty and dumb during sex (aren't we all), missionary sex, praising (sweet girl, good girl), condom use, talking after sex (post nut clarity fr)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. 

a/n: i have been in such a writer's slump particularly with smut! like i think i need some time off to write some good fics and some good smut, so i'm sorry anon and to all my lovely readers if this is shit :(

“Now why would he ever say that?” You peeked at your friend pacing around your small room through your hair. Scissors in one hand, your (new) bangs in the other, you winced. “Wait, girl, I made a mistake I think.”

She sighed as you let the strands flutter across your forehead, uneasiness settling in your stomach. “Didn’t you follow what he said?” Brad Mondo’s curtain bangs tutorial continued in the background as you turned your head expectantly from side to side. Your friend held your head in place with open palms, looking at you through the mirror. “It’s actually kinda cute. Makes you look…well…”

“Don’t say small.” She snorted, bringing a hand to her face to unsuccessfully cover her mouth. “I don’t care, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time.”

You pushed yourself off the stool, rolling your eyes as you started undressing. “He didn’t mean it like that.” Your belt clinked as your jeans fell to the carpet, and you started bringing your shirt over your heard. “I’m sure it was his way of complimenting me.” Despite all your efforts, you couldn’t stop the annoyance that cemented your words into place. “I guess.”

“Girl, you need to tell him that it bothers you.”

“It doesn’t bother me.”

“Yeah, and it’s not weird to call some girl you’ve been on two dates with small.”

The doorbell cut through the air, making you both jump. “Shit. It’s like he heard or something.”

“Shit. Wait, just let him in and get him to wait downstairs. Okay?” Sudden panic was settling into your body, making your hands shake. Your friend got the message and hurried downstairs, zipping her skirt up in record time while hobbling downstairs. “Hope I don’t smell like chicken. I hate having shifts on Fridays.”

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you pulled the skirt over the curves of your thighs and butt, watching the way it held onto your body. Stuffing the ends of the top into the skirt, you walked over to pick out a pair of shoes.

“I’m heading out! Johnny’s waiting down here!” Your friend’s voice made your body do the kind of useless flurry that it does whenever you know you’re running out of time, and you drag out the highest heels you own. Small, my ass.

“Hey!” As usual, he softened his frame when he saw you, placing his hands in his pockets and smiling so big so you would forget to feel intimidated by his 6-foot stature, or rock-hard physique. His eyes were like small moons, bursting on his face whenever he smiled. “Hey, nice bangs.” You instinctively went to fiddle with them, silently cursing yourself for messing them up. “Thanks.” Your smile was a little forced, but you were giddy to see him, your body rocking back and forth without your permission, ankles rubbing against each other.

∞

“The pasta was so good,” you couldn’t stop raving, your hips knocking into Johnny as he walked you home, arms linked. “Like seriously, Johnny. So good.”

He laughed, the sound leaving him effortlessly. “I’m so glad you liked it. I remember the pasta here being amazing, but I was worried you would think I’m cheap or not taking you seriously. The place being run down and all.” You shook your head, your bangs shuffling from side to side as you did. “No, of course not. I would rather eat something good on the street than a tiny portion of something small and pretentious at an upscale place.”

He hummed, moonlight hitting his body, softening some angles and sharpening others, hair glowing golden brown as he walked. Your heels clacked against the linoleum of your front porch as you wondered whether your friend was home, but before you could reach for the front door, your knees buckled. You let out a small gasp as you felt Johnny’s arms around your body, pinching into your skin almost uncomfortably. “Oh shit! I’m okay, babe.” You both froze at the sudden nickname, his arms loosening around you as you straightened up. You shakily continued. “U-uhm, sorry, I mean-“

“I think your shoes broke.”                                                                   

Yeah, no shit, you wanted to bite back. But you held your tongue, frustration seeping through your pores as you held onto the rail, Johnny hovering protectively over you as you took the right heel off, now newly broken in two pieces. “Oh my god. These were so expensive! Ugh!”

“It’s okay. Maybe I can buy you another pair. Babe.” He said the last word almost sarcastically, and you glared at him. “Johnny.”

“I’m serious. I’m sorry those broke so easily. I’ll bring a new pair next time?”

“Johnny, wait.”

“You like me, right?” His face crumpled just a tiny bit. Not exaggerated like in the movies or anything, so subtle you would never notice from afar, or if you weren’t close. You warmed at the thought of knowing him so closely, so well, enough to know that something was not right in the lines of his eyebrows.

You gulped, not knowing how to respond.

“I feel like you kinda hate me.” He crinkled his nose when he said hate, almost sarcastically, but his tone jabbed you straight in the chest. You shook your head. No, of course not, you wanted to say. I like you. I like you so much. But I am small to you. I wonder if you think of me as small. Do YOU like me?

“I just, I don’t like being small.” He frowned, and so did you, the words sounding stupid as soon as they filled the small space between your bodies. “I mean, you called me small the other day. And I know you probably, well, definitely, meant it as a cute thing. Like physically. Like a term of endearment, you know? But, I don’t wanna be seen as small, like more than physically. You know what I mean?” You cringed internally at your words, watching him stare blankly back at you.

“Right.”

“I’m so sorry. I sound like such a jerk. I don’t mean to be hung up over one little word you said.” You bit your lip, tasting the remnants of your lipstick on your tongue. “It’s just what made me feel a little weird. But, I do like you, Johnny.” Your heart raced as you looked up at him. Your body moved without permission for the umpteenth time, and your arms melted around his hips, fingers splaying across the small of his back. Your mind screamed at you, but your body ignored it, burning up from within.

Tentatively, he brought one hand to your chin, skin warm but rough on yours. “I don’t think low of you. I never have. I just think you’re so fucking gorgeous. So perfect the way you are.” The butterflies in your stomach were now dancing, free, leaping over hills and grassy plains. “Sorry for the poor choice of words.”

You smiled, some of the tension leaving you as you let your bodies merge seamlessly, like lanes on an open road, like the sun as it meets the horizon. You kicked off your other shoe, standing on your tiptoes to meet his lips with yours. He tentatively glazed his hands over your sides, making you shiver and moan into his mouth. You brought your fingers to the nape of his neck, savouring the taste. “Mmm, Johnn-“

You yelped when he gripped your thigh, guiding it to press against his hips. “Jump up for me, baby.” You giggled, nodding as you straddled him, his torso gently rebounding back with your weight. As you met his lips once more, dragging your forearms across the top of his shoulders, you heard your front door open and close, the door to the downstairs bedroom fling wide open. As your back hit the bed, your hair splayed out onto the fresh sheets, knees bent, lipstick smeared.

Wasting no time to rid himself of his clothes, he spoke. “This room is fine, right?” Muscles bulging as he fiddled with his shirt, the ridges of his chest drawing in the singlet, you bit your finger almost comically. “Hello? Earth to _?” The brown of his eyes were soft, a sharp contrast to his stature. He smirked, his hair bouncing as he threw his head back slightly. “Like what you see?”

“Uh huh.” All the shame left your body as you drew circles on his body and face with your eyes, letting his thick frame tower over you. “Is this okay?” He breathed into your collarbone, and when you nodded fervently, you felt his lips suck and nip at your neck. Gasping, you gripped onto his neck, letting your ankles hook around the back of his jean-clad legs. “Y-yes. Yes please. Don’t tease, I want y-you so much.”

“Yeah?” He played with the buttons of your top, but you stopped him. “I can’t wait…just rip it off, please. I need you. Right now. Please, just use me. I know you can.” He drew an eyebrow upwards, and you almost felt a slight twinge of embarrassment until you heard the top rip, cold air exposing your lace bra, tits bulging as you arched your chest off the bed. “What a slut. Is this what you wanted all along?” He laughed as you wriggled under him, mouth latching onto the tops of your boobs. He released you only to throw your arms up, pinning your wrists down to the bed to watch your reaction. When you bit your lip in response, bringing your core closer to his, he laughed darkly. “Freak.”

“Yes, just for you, fuck, please.”

“Bet you’re just soaked under this tight little skirt. Want me to rip this off too?” You nodded before he could even finish his sentence, and the sound of your fabric ripping filled the air. “Mmm, just as I suspected.” As he dragged your panties down your thighs, you felt your wetness pool onto the sheets under you. “Please, please, hold me down and fuck me.” You whispered into his ear, letting your plump lips graze against his skin as you massaged the nape of his neck with your fingers. You whimpered when his jean-clad bulge bumped against your clit, the burn in your core growing with every passing second.

He kissed you deeply, pulling away at an agonising pace. “Tell me why, baby.” You whined, trying to gather some friction between your legs with no avail. His arms pinned yours to either side of your head, his legs like heavy weights against yours. “Please, I just, I want your cock i-inside me, w-want it to split me open…” He shook his head. “What makes you think I would do that to you? I’m too big for you, honey.”

You whined. “N-no, please. I don’t care, just, push it in me…” He laughed, kissing you. “Please, I want to feel so full…” He shushed you, sitting up to unbuckle his jeans. “Mmm, yes, yes please…” You were just babbling nonsense, the anticipation too intense to bear. His cock sprung out of his boxers, hitting his stomach, precum spilling out the edges of the tip. You heard him rip open a condom packet, dragging it on his length at lightning speed. He ran his cockhead through the folds of your pussy, making you whimper. “So wet.” He breathed, and you gasped as his tip entered you at an agonisingly slow place. “J-Johnny.” Your brain fought your body, wanting him to continue but feeling apprehensive at the impending stretch. “You’re so big. Fuck.” You snuck a hand down towards your clit, but Johnny grabbed your wrist, leaning over to kiss your chin. “Let me.” As he pressed one finger onto your core, you gasped, back arching, eyes squeezing shut. “O-oh, oh my…”

“You like that?” He started speeding up, your gasps and moans like drugs to his system. When he pulled away, he started pushing his length in, and you let out a deep breath, as if you had been holding it in the entire time. “Fuck.” You drawled, feeling him in every corner of your insides. “Fuck, Johnny. You’re, you’re so big, and s-strong.”

Johnny laughed, and you wondered for a second whether you had ruined the mood. “My cock making you lose your filter, babe?” You blushed, but the constant bump and stretch on your clit had your vision go foggy, your head spinning deliriously. You used your forearms to push away, breathing deeply as if his cock had suffocated you from the inside out. Johnny wrapped his arms around your hips, bringing you flush against his pelvis in one swift movement. “Uh uh, where do you think you’re going?” His snarkiness and the fulness in your lower stomach made your core squeeze excessively. “Ah, shit! Fuck, I think I’m gon-“ You felt it before you could finish your sentence, your climax stealing the words out of your mouth, making your heart thump incessantly against your ribcage.

Johnny cooed at your, his forearms now caging you by your head, peppering light kisses on your face. “You alright, sweet girl?” You nodded, gasping. “Please, please move.” He chuckled, groaning as he pulled back to thrust into you, making you throw your head back and scream. “Fuck, oh my god.” Your body shook with the force of his steady thrusts, his legs pinning your body down to the bed. “Good girl, that’s it.” He groaned, getting sloppier as he reached his climax. “You’re so good for me. So eager for me to pin you down and fuck you. Because I’m so big and strong, right?” You reached for Johnny’s neck, the embarrassment at your previous comments leaving you as you felt your core tighten, coil ready to snap. “Fuck, you just gripped me so tight, fuck. Nasty girl.” You moaned as you came, feeling him release inside the condom with a throaty moan.

Both of you heaving, gasping for air, you pulled Johnny close to your body, kissing his collarbone, his neck, his face. “I do like you, a lot.” Your breath tickled his skin as you spoke, and he stroked your hair gently with one hand, using the other to pull away from you to look into your eyes. “I’m sorry for calling you small. I admit, it’s a little weird.”

“Apology accepted. I think we’ve both called each other things we’re never gonna say again.”

“No, hon, you should always call me big and strong Johnny-“

“Johnny, please. Never mention that again. It was a moment of weakness!” You whined, shielding your face as he laughed, slipping off you to lie next to you on the bed. “Kinda sexy though.” You slapped his arm playfully, laughing as slipped down his forearm to take his hand in yours.

“I’ll think of something better for next time, promise.”

#kpop #nct #nct fanfiction #kpop fanfiction #nct scenarios #nct fanfic #nct imagine #kpop imagine #nct 127 #nct x reader #johnny suh #johnny smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #kpop smut

[rafesveryrealgf]

JJ Maybank x pregnant!reader

Summary: no plot fr, just a cute moment w jj and his pregnant gf

Warnings: pregnant reader, mentions of sex (no actual sex), cursing, dad!jj, pet names (baby, sweetheart + princess)

“J, can you please take a break for a second,” you yelled from the living room in hopes it would carry all throughout the hallway and into your unborn baby’s room where JJ had been working on building the crib for hours at this point and he’d barely had any luck. JJ wasn’t the type to follow directions and the nerves of being a dad soon sure as hell made it harder to focus on anything for more than a minute.

He was scared. He was nervous. but he was excited too.

The clacking and banging stopped for a minute so you could hear him speak clearly. “Just a minute, baby.” He yelled back.

You groan when you hear things banging around some more, crib pieces hitting the carpeted floor. You throw your head back against the couch, rubbing your stomach in hopes it would make you less miserable.

“You said that an hour ago, J. If you don’t get your ass over here, I’m coming to you.”

“Don’t- don’t move! M’coming!” He’s drops everything instantly, afraid that you’d injure yourself by simply standing.

As soon as you told JJ you were pregnant, doing anything for yourself was absolutely out of the question.

When you hit your third trimester, JJ was even worse. You need water? JJ will get it. You need to go pee? JJ is either carrying you there or holding your hand the whole way. If he had to work he’d make Sarah and Kiara take turns checking up on you throughout the day until he was back home.

You were now seven months pregnant and he decided since he was off of work for the day, that today would be the day he finally puts up the crib.

He ran to the living room just before you could stand up all the way straight.

“What do you need, baby? You hungry? Thirsty?” He questions whilst out of breath, now standing in front of you. He grabs your shoulders and sits you back against the couch. “Stay put. I’ve got it.”

He’s a second away from making his way to the kitchen to get whatever you need before you speak again.

“No,” You whine, throwing your head against the couch once again in annoyance. “I miss you, J.”

“Baby.. we don’t have much time left before the baby gets here. I’ve gotta put this crib together now.”

“Let’s just get Pope to do it.” You plead. “He’s good at following directions and shit.”

“You want another man working on my kids crib?” He scrunches his face up, waving you off and shakes his head. “S’not happening, baby.”

You look up at him and roll your eyes. “JJ, if you don’t get help, it won’t ever be put together.”

JJ scoffs at that, offended by your choice of words. “Wow.. okay, rude.” He presses a hand to his heart dramatically.

“I’m serious, J.” You inhale deeply following it up with a huff.

“Baby, have some faith in me.”

“Last time I had faith in you, it resulted in a pregnancy. So, I’d rather not.” You referred to the time JJ promised to pull out.

You were now seven months pregnant with his child.

He cringed at that, ashamed that he had such a weak pull out game. “Anyway,” he changed the subject quick. “It’ll be done by tonight, baby. Just wait and see.” He bent down to give you a quick kiss to your cheek before running off to the baby’s room again.

You exhaled sharply. You just wanted attention.

You got up from the couch quietly, afraid he’d come running to you before you could make it down the hallway.

When you got to the baby’s room, you stood in the doorway, admiring the way he looked while deep in his thoughts. He was sitting on the floor, his back turned to you and his back muscles moving as he picked up pieces from the white crib, from off of the floor. His biceps straining as he tried piecing them together.

“Baby,” you said quietly, leaning your head against the door frame, placing your hands on your swollen belly.

He looked back quickly. “Sweetheart, what are you doin’?” He questioned, standing up swiftly to grab you. “Go sit down.”

He put his arm around your waist to walk you back down the hallway.

“I need to walk around. Stop hovering.” You twisted your body so that you were no longer in his grasp.

He was a little taken aback by that. “I’m not hovering.” He scoffed. “I’m just tryin’ to care of my girls.”

You were silent for a bit. He was hovering. “I wanna be able to move around, J.” You whine. “I’m bored of just sittin’ on the couch. If you won’t spend time with me, I’d like to at least be able to walk around.”

“Alright, m’sorry. I’ll spend time with you, the crib can wait.“ He wraps his arm around your waist again. “What you wanna do princess?”

The corners of your mouth pull into a smile. “Wanna cuddle?” You say excitedly.

“Yeah.” He looks down at you, his ocean blue eyes staring into your soul, his lips form a big closed mouth smile. “Yeah, of course I do.”

#obx #outerbanks #jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank fluff #rudy pankow #outer banks #jj x reader #jj maybank fic #jj mayback x reader #jjmaybank #jj mayback imagine

[ihave-atummyache]

everyone is a little toxic (pt2)

Summary: reader lowkey deserves better

idk why i always make han suck so bad. i love him. i swear

reader lowk just as bad as skz fr!

angstyyyy but sfw

6.3 k words

enjoy (evil smirk)

Bang Chan:

After hiding out in the living room for a while, you decide that you should probably clean up the mess from dinner. You sigh before standing and heading to the kitchen. You scoop the leftovers into a container and start washing dishes and putting them away.

As soon as you're finished washing the dishes, however, you notice that the bowls are uneven, meaning that Chan didn't bring his bowl to the kitchen after he was done like he usually does. You sigh and decide to just face the music instead of avoiding it.

Your feet carry you to the door of his makeshift office before your brain can even process it. You don't bother knocking and Chan's back is to you but his head is on his desk and you can hear the soft snores leaving his mouth. You grab a throw blanket and approach his slumped form at the desk.

The bowl beside his head is empty and you look over at his sleeping form, noticing that his eyes seem to be much more swollen and there is evidence of tears on his face. He's really worked himself into the ground this time. You grab the bowl and retreat back to the kitchen, quickly washing it and heading to your bedroom.

You're cuddled up in bed on your phone when you hear your bedroom door creak open and soft footsteps approach the bed. You turn over when your boyfriend doesn't lay down and the sight in front of you is beyond pitiful.

Chan has the throw blanket around his shoulders and his eyes are swollen and full of tears, threatening to overflow. His bottom lip is jutting out and quivering and you can't help but act on instinct. You roll over and pull the blanket back, opening your arms.

"Oh, Chris. Come here," your voice is soft and you catch sight of one tear falling when he crawls into bed and wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck. You feel his tears wetting your skin but you just rub comforting circles on his back and quietly try to calm your boyfriend down.

His tears slowly come to a halt and your hand makes its way into his hair, fingertips rubbing his scalp. He lets out a sigh and you know that you don't have to say anything yet, he’s thinking of what to say so you don’t have to.

"I'm so sorry, baby. I don't know why I said the things I said. I hate that I always take my stress out on you because you don't deserve it. I'm going to try to be better," he promises quietly into your neck and you pull back to get a good look at him. His eyes are bloodshot and swollen and he has tears smeared all over his face.

"Channie, it's okay I-"

"No. It's not okay. I can't keep treating you like shit and expect you to still love me," his words are harsh but you understand where he is coming from. He's taking accountability for his own actions. You reach up and brush away the wet marks on his face gently with your thumbs before leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

"I could never stop loving you," you whisper against his lips and he presses his lips to yours in another kiss.

"I'll work on it. I swear I will," the urgency in his voice makes a smile cross your face and you nod, pulling your boyfriend to you again and he immediately nestles back into your neck.

"Let's sleep, baby. I love you," you whisper against the top of his head, planting another kiss in his hair. It only takes a few minutes before you hear his breathing get deeper and you know that he is finally fast asleep.

Lee Know:

You hear a gentle knock on the bathroom door and you let out a sound of annoyance. You knew he had a key to the bedroom but there isn't a key for the bathroom so you locked yourself in here.

"Go away, Minho. I said go yell at someone who wants to hear it," you grumble and place the bandaid over your cut. After about five minutes, you were finally able to get the bleeding to stop. Which means it only took Minho five minutes to come to his senses, find the bedroom key, and break in.

"Y/n..." his tone is pitiful and you hear him slide down the other side of the bathroom door. You take a step towards the door and decide it would be best to not open it right now. You're still too upset and seeing his perfect face right now would probably just piss you off more.

Instead you slide down on the cabinet beside the door and bring your knees to your chest, letting your head rest against the door. When your head meets the wood, there's a gently tap and Minho lets out a small sigh on the other side.

"I know you're listening, baby. Can you open the door so I can look at your cut please? There was a lot of blood and I just want to make sure you don't need stitches," he reasons in a gentle tone and you worry your teeth with your bottom lip.

His primary love language is acts of service. This is him apologizing in his own backwards, Minho kind of way.

You sigh but reach up, turning the lock. You hear your boyfriend scramble to his feet before the door swings open. You look up at him and he steps over one of your legs, standing between them and then drops to his knees, making your legs rest on either one of his thighs.

"May I?" He asks quietly, almost like if he speaks too loud, it might shatter the thick air between you two. He grabs your wrist and flips your hand over. He peels the bandaid up and you let out a hiss as the air hits it.

"I just put that on," you grumble out and he shakes his head, ultimately ignoring your complaint as he takes in the cut on your hand.

"It doesn't look like you need stitches," he pauses and you use this opportunity to sneak in your own snide comment.

"I could've told you that," your voice is dripping with sarcasm. His eyes dart to yours for a moment but he chooses not to respond to this statement either.

"You should at least bandage this properly," he finishes and reaches up next to the sink, grabbing the first aid kit. He sits back and crosses his legs. Minho grabs the back of your knees and drags you closer to him, so your knees are now hooked over his thighs.

He pulls out the gauze and bandages and starts to clean your hand and wrap it much better than you had done.

"This is all my fault," he suddenly mutters after he finishes bandaging you up. He presses a quick kiss to the place where your cut is and looks up at you.

"It isn't all your fault. Just mostly," you shrug and he lets out a half hearted laugh, cutting the tension in the room. You pull your hand from his and wrap both of your arms around his neck.

You pull yourself up to fully sit on his lap and straddle his hips more comfortably. His hands find purchase on your hips and you feel his thumbs rubbing soothing circles through your sweatpants.

"I don't know why I'm such a dick," he breathes out and locks eyes with you before continuing, "I can't figure out why someone as perfect as you would want to be with someone like me," he confesses and your heart drops. Why would he ever feel that way? If anything, you feel like its the other way around!

"I'm not perfect, Minho. And I'm with you because you're funny," you lean down and kiss his forehead gently, "Talented," another kiss to his left eye, "Handsome," a kiss to his right eye, "Smart," his nose, "Kind," you seal this one with a kiss to his lips before pulling away to look at him again.

"You are kind, Minho. Your flip from kind to annoyed just gets triggered a bit easier than everyone else's. I don't walk on eggshells around you and I never have which is why you think you're so mean to me. I just press your buttons is all," you try to reassure him and a small smile makes its way to his lips.

"I love you. You know that?" He asks wrapping his arms around you to bring you chest to chest with him.

"Mhm. I love you most," you confirm and wrap your arms around his neck as well, tightening the hug.

Changbin:

Your boyfriend isn't one to back down from a fight so seeing you walk away makes his blood boil. He follows you, hot on your heels.

"Can I just have some fucking space, Changbin. Please." It's technically a question but your demanding tone was more than enough to make it clear that you aren't asking.

"No. Talk to me," he answers anyways, ignoring the fact it wasn't really a question. You throw your hands in the air and turn around, making Changbin slam right into you. You stand your ground and don't even stumble a step.

"You want me to talk? Fine. I'll talk. What do you want me to say?" you prompt, crossing your arms over your chest. He stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening but immediately closing again.

"If you can't tell me what you want to hear, I can't say it," you instigate him and he scoffs, rolling his eyes.

"I don't want you to say anything besides how you are feeling right mow, y/n," he grumbles out, obviously annoyed with your antics.

"Are you actually going to listen to me or are you going to brush it off like you always do?"

"I never brush things you say off," he defends but you roll your eyes in return. You sit down on the couch and lay your legs across it, throwing a blanket over you. Your boyfriend stands in the entranceway of the living room, observing and waiting for you to speak to him.

"Well?" he prompts you but you ignore him, instead reaching for the remote and flipping on the T.V.

"Bun, are you seriously not going to talk to me?" He is trying to persuade you again and you make the mistake of glancing over at him, his sickeningly sweet pout covering his face. He looks precious and you can't help the guilt you feel creeping into your chest.

"Don't start try to be all cute now," You murmur out, opting to turn your attention to the T.V instead. Although, you really weren't focusing on anything on the screen.

"Just talk to me. I hate fighting," he grabs your legs and lifts them, placing them onto his lap. You sigh but press pause on the T.V. anyways.

"You hate fighting but you cause every fight. Why is that?" You instigate, putting the remote down and trying to ignore the soothing circles your boyfriend is rubbing on your calves.

"But I don't. You just-"

"Choose your next words very wisely, Changbin," you warn before he can even begin to say anything too out of pocket. He closes his mouth and his eyebrows drop into a furrow, obviously trying to choose his words wisely. You close your eyes and let your head fall back to rest on the arm rest of the couch.

Silence falls between the two of you for a few minutes and you finally pry your eyes open to look at Changbin. He is staring straight ahead and you can tell he is deep in thought. He isn't looking at anything in particular but that crease is still sitting between his brows. You tap his stomach gently with your foot to get his attention.

"Just say it," you breathe out and he looks over at you which makes you notice the overall solemn look covering his face. His normal pout seems to be extra pouty and his shoulders are slouched. He looks defeated.

"Do you actually think I'm arrogant?" He asks quietly and you want to lie and tell him no, you want to do anything to get that look off his stupid face but you can't stop your mouth from telling the truth.

"I do. I think you are arrogant and you never want to be wrong. I think that you put yourself first in this relationship instead of us being treated as equals," you confess and he breaks eye contact, staring down at his hand on your shin instead.

"But," you continue, drawing his attention to you once more, "I do love you. I don't want you to ever think that I don't," you conclude and he nods, agreeing with you.

"Do you want to break up with me?" he suddenly asks and a lump forms in your throat. You have never thought about whether or not this attribute of Changbin's would cause the end of your relationship. It has definitely taken its toll on you mentally and your relationship.

"Can I be honest with you?" You ask and he immediately nods, silently begging for your answer to be no.

"I honestly don't know," you breathe out, his glassy eyes meet yours, he's surprised to see that there are no tears in your eyes. You actually seem surprisingly calm and very level headed.

"Have you thought about this before?" His voice crack gives way to how he is actually feelings and you swallow, shaking your head, "Then how are you so calm?" He asks, tears starting to fall from his eyes.

"I'm not sure. I just have a lot on my mind I think. I never want to leave you. I mean, God, you're the love of my life but it just seems like you have... growing up to do," you speak quietly, trying your best not to break his already fragile state anymore.

"Please don't leave me," He's suddenly begging you, grip tightening around your ankle. His big pleading puppy dog eyes are boring into yours and you sit up. You reach forward and place a hand on his cheek, using your thumb to gently wipe a few tears.

"Let's just see how this all pans out, yeah?" You ask him and lean forward, pressing your forehead to his, before leaning back to your original position and pulling your legs off his lap.

"For tonight, I think you should go home," You continue and stand, walking towards your front door. Changbin stares at you for a moment before gathering his phone, wallet, and keys into his pocket and following you. You open the door and he steps out, turning to face you.

"Good night, Binnie. I love you," you speak out but before he can open his mouth to reply, you close the door and turn the deadbolt.

Hyunjin:

You hear the gentle knocks on your door but opt against actually answering. He has your code so if he actually wants to talk to you, he can get in. You don't have to guess who it is. Your boyfriend does this anytime you have any sort of disagreement. Suddenly, he's at your door step and begging for forgiveness.

"Go away, Hwang Hyunjin," you yell from your spot on the couch when he knocks again. Instead of listening to you, you hear the code get punched in and he enters anyways.

"What part of 'go' and 'away' do you not understand? And if you were going to come in anyways, what's the point of knocking?" You complain. Your boyfriend kicks off his shoes and leans against the door frame to the living room.

"I don't want to walk in if you aren't home. And I definitely(italics) am not listening to what you have to say if you're using my full name. There is a list of names my girlfriend is allowed to call me and I can guarantee 'Hwang Hyunjin' is not(italics) on the list," he raises his eyebrows at you and crosses his arms.

"Well since you broke in, what do you want?" you prompt him to go ahead and say what he needs to because you really aren't in the mood for his bullshit today.

"I just came to apologize," he pushes himself off the doorframe and approaches you but you scoff and stand from the couch, keeping the distance between the two of you.

"If you were ever truly sorry, we wouldn't go through this so much, you know? If you meant your apologies then this," you point back and forth between the two of you, "Wouldn't be so hard," you deadpan and he takes another step which you mirror by taking a step backwards.

"We're hard? Like you and me? This is hard to you?" He asks quietly, chewing the inside of his cheek. You open your mouth but snap it closed again when you realize just how harsh this is coming out.

"Just say it, y/n. Just tell me the truth. I'm a big boy, I can handle it," his voice is barely louder than a whisper. You run your hands through your hair and let out a groan, turning away from him.

"Why do I always have to come out as the bad guy? Yes, Hyunjin, this is hard. I knew it would be hard coming into this with you. I can deal with paparazzi. I can deal with crazy fans. I can deal with strict management. I can't deal with this image that you for some reason feel like you need to maintain. Do you not see the strain it is putting on this relationship?" You rant. You want to stop the words from leaving your mouth but they're tumbling from your tongue before your brain can stop them.

"I just want to be..." he starts but trails off quickly when he realizes what he was going to say.

"Perfect(italics)." You finish for him and his eyes drop to the floor between the two of you. You're right. He has been putting more strain on looking good for everyone else, that he isn't even noticing the unhappiness of his own girlfriend.

"I don't even know what to say right now. I don't think anything I can say will satisfy you," he makes this confession much more solemnly than his last. You let out a sigh and wait for his eyes to meet yours again.

"I love you and I always will but I think we need some time apart. How does that sound?" You offer and hear him suck in a sharp breath at the suggestion. You also don't really want to take a 'break' but you feel like you really have some things to think about.

"That sounds terrible," he deadpans and your lip finds its way between between your teeth before he takes a breath and continues, "But if that will make you happy, I'm willing to do anything for you," he nods at you and you nod in reply.

He turns away from you and slips his shoes that he just removed back on before opening the door and closing it gently behind him.

Han:

A few hours later, it is way past your usual bedtime and you find yourself obsessing over the video of your boyfriend. He hasn't come to try to work things out with you and you find yourself anxiously bouncing your leg at the bar.

"What am I doing?" you speak out to yourself again before standing and making your way to the bedroom. When you enter, you hear the water running in the shower and crawl into your bed, hoping to be asleep before Jisung is out.

Just as your eyes are getting to heavy to stay open, you hear the shower water turn off and Jisung moving around the bathroom, getting ready for bed. Although you are mad at him, the familiar sounds of his nighttime routine lull you right to sleep.

When you awake the next morning, you don't feel Jisung around you at all. You reach for your phone and are quite surprised to see 99+ notifications on pretty much every single one of your social medias. You unlock your phone and click on one of the apps, immediately going to Jisungns profile. This has to be something to do with him.

You click on his story and click through a few before you see the reason for your sudden increase in popularity. Jisung had posted you sleeping peacefully on his story with the caption, 'the only one for me'. You can't stop the smile that covers your face and hop out of bed to find your boyfriend.

You are pleased to find a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a hand written note in the middle when you enter your kitchen.

'I won't be here when you see this, but I want to make everything up to you when I get back from the studio. I love you my heart'

An even bigger smile covers your face when you read the note and you hold it up to your heart while you lean down to smell the flowers. He knows you well and he knows how to make you happy. Happy enough to almost forget about your feelings from last night.

Almost.

You walk back to your room and grab your phone, opening your boyfriend's contact.

'flowers won't fix it jisung'

You send it before you have time to over think what to say. You toss your phone down and get everything ready to take a quick shower. Hopefully, it'll help you gather your thoughts and get your mind right before he gets home.

You hear your phone vibrate and are surprised to see Jisung's name. Whenever he is at the studio or practicing, he rarely replies. This is expected since he is busy and working on his career. You can't expect him to be at your every beck and call.

'Good morning. I'm on my way home now' your eyebrows drop to a furrow at the message. It was still early in the morning and he couldn't have left too long before you woke up.

'?? you just left'

'I was just busying my mind until you woke up. I'll get us coffee' you lock your phone and head to the bathroom again. This gives you much less thinking time than you would like.

Around the same time you are pulling a hoodie over your head to protect you from the chill in the air, you hear your front door opening. You can tell from the footsteps that it's Jisung and walk out to see him sat at the dining room table on his phone and sipping a coffee.

His eyes shoot up to meet yours when he notices you're there and he pushes your coffee towards the other side of the table. You sit across from him and pull the coffee towards you, taking a sip. It was perfect, exactly how you like it and your chest tightens. He really does seem to try to be a good boyfriend. So why is it so hard to keep his attention on just you?

"Y/n? Did you hear me?" Jisung's voice snaps you out of your thoughts and and you blink at him a few times, bringing yourself back to reality.

"I said I'm sorry," he repeats himself, picking at the label on his coffee cup before continuing, "I'm sorry for being such a shit boyfriend. I'm sorry for always making you second guess my loyalty. I was thinking last night after you said what you said and I think I finally realize where you are coming from. I don't mean for you to be a secret," he tries to explain himself but in all honesty, it isn't pulling at you.

"Say something?" he pleads suddenly and you break eye contact, looking down at the cup again.

"I'm tired," you breathe out, looking back up at him again. He purses his lips in confusion before asking for clarification.

"Didn't you just wake up?"

"I don't mean physically. I mean... mentally. Emotionally. I'm exhausted," you confess and Jisung's grip on his cup tightens.

"What do you mean? Are you breaking up with me? Baby, please," he's suddenly begging and reaches across the table to take your hand in his but you retreat, staying just out of his reach.

"You hurt me. It hurts seeing the one that I love have their eyes on somebody else. You get that don't you?" you ask quietly. The tense silence falls between the two of you and Jisung's eyes grow wide.

"You love me?" he whispers it out. If there were any other noises in the house, you wouldn't have been able to hear the question. You sigh but nod anyways.

"I do. But, I love myself too. I deserve better than what you are giving me right now. You get that, don't you?" you ask and feel the first tears spring to your eyes. You let your eyes focus in the ceiling to try to prevent the tears from falling.

"I'm so sorry," Jisung's voice cracks and you look at him to see tears flowing freely down his face, "I love you too. I love you so much that it hurts," he confesses. You stand from the table and nod down at the crying boy in front of you.

"Then let me go," you speak quietly and a small broken sob rips through your ex boyfriend's chest.

Felix:

You stir when you wake up, happy to be off today and happy to feel your boyfriend’s arms wrapped around you. As soon as you move even an inch, Felix’s arms tighten around you and you immediately relax into his touch. You move slightly and realize that he has on different clothes than he did last night.

“How long have you been up?” you ask, voice still hoarse with sleep. He presses a kiss to the back of your head and pulls you impossibly closer to his body.

“Only an hour or so. I had something to take care of,” his deep voice carries no traces of sleep at all. He has been up for a while.

“Oh?” You question, turning in his arms and facing him finally. He looks like an angel. Maybe it’s because you just woke up and are feeling extra nice but he really looks so pretty.

“Mhm. I got on the phone with IT and got your computer fixed. Go look,” a small prideful small covers his face and you sit up quickly in the bed.

“No way! Really?” you squeal and jump out of the bed, going straight to your desk and opening the laptop. A huge smile covers your face when you realize that he is telling the truth. Your computer is finally working how it should be.

“As happy as I am that you did this, I’m kind of sad,” you turn and face Felix and his smile drops at your words.

“Why’s that, princess?”

“Because now I actually have to work on my project,” you giggle and his smile immediately reappears. He stands from the bed and walks over to you, standing between your legs. You wrap your arms around his hips and rest your chin on his stomach to look up at him. He busies on of his hands with smoothing your bed head and the other rubs soothing circles on your shoulder.

“Thank you. You’re the best, Lixie,” you place a kiss to his stomach before turning your head and pressing your cheek to his stomach instead, making the hug a bit deeper. Before Felix can reply with something far too humble and far too cute, you speak again.

“I’m sorry for how I acted last night. I know you’re just being helpful but I hate feeling stupid,” you confess and his fingers scratch at your scalp.

“It is never my intent to make you feel that way. You are probably the smartest person I know,” he responds quietly and you turn your head to look up at him again.

“What did I do to deserve you?” you speak up and he moves his hands to cup your face instead.

“I like to think I’m the lucky one,” he smiles down at you before leaning down and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

Seungmin-

Your tears are streaming down your face with the water and you’re forcing back sobs. You are too occupied to hear the bathroom door open, your boyfriend taking his own clothes off, even the shower curtain being pulled back.

You don’t even realize that Seungmin is in the room with you until you feel his hands wrap around your middle and his bare chest presses to your bare back. He places a soft kiss to your shoulder and that’s all it takes for the dam to break and the sobs start sneaking past your lips.

“Did I make you cry?” His voice is quiet, guilty and you nod your head, then shake it, then nod again, before shaking it once more. Seungmin fights back the chuckle that threatens to leave his throat at your uncertainty.

“Why don’t you like me?” The words leave your mouth and a deafening silence would be filling the room if it weren’t for the running water.

“I love you, y/n. Don’t think-”

“I know you love me, Seungmin. Why don’t you like(italics) me?” your breathing returns to normal and Seungmin wraps his arms fully around your middle. Hugging you tightly from behind.

“I like you more than anyone in the world,” he speaks into your damp hair and you chew down on your lip, trying your best to calm your emotions.

“You have a funny way of showing it,” you speak out and let your head fall back into his shoulder, allowing him access to press a gentle kiss to your neck.

“I hate that I hurt you so much. I just don’t know how to express myself well when it comes to you. I try to be straightforward but it just comes across as…” he trails off and you can’t help finishing the sentence for him.

“Cruel(italics),” you breathe out and his thumbs rub either side of your ribs for a moment before he finally nods against your neck in agreement. You sigh and let your hand make its way behind you and gently thread into your boyfriend’s hair, scratching his scalp gently.

“I’ll wash your hair,” you offer and he immediately loosens his grip and switches places with you. Seungmin loves when you wash his hair and he never denies you when you offer. He looks into your eyes for a moment and leans down, placing a gentle kiss to your lips before dropping to his knees in front of you.

You tilt his head back into the stream of water and start lathering it up with shampoo Seungmin’s eyes never leave your face and a small smile makes its way to your face, accompanied by a light blush.

“Close your eyes,” you demand but he shakes his head, his hands running up and down the back of your thighs.

“I can’t. You’re so pretty,” now it’s Seungmin’s turn to blush and you shake your head at him.

“I’m sure I’m all puffy and splotchy from crying earlier,” he tease him but his mouth drops into a small pout at the statement. He seems genuinely upset that he made you cry like that.

“Have I ever made you cry before?” he suddenly asks and your eyes dart to his eyes quickly before focusing back on his hair. You hum in response and hud grip your thighs tightens, making you stop and look into his eyes again. If you ever kicked a puppy, you can imagine it would show a very similar expression.

“Time to rinse,” you gulp and tilt Seungmin’s head towards the stream again and rinse the shampoo out. You expect him to rise but he remains on his knees in front of you and presses a kiss to your hip.

“I love you. I like you. I can’t imagine myself with anyone else,” he suddenly confesses and you smile down at him before dropping to your knees to be face to face with him.

“It’s going to take much more than you making me cry a few times for me to leave you alone, Kin Seungmin,” you lean forward and press a kiss to his lips.

I.N:

When you walk into the mall to buy a new perfume, you don’t expect to run into anyone you know, especially your ex boyfriend. Especially not your ex boyfriend who you are just as in love with now as you were two months ago.

“Innie?” Your voice comes out before you can think on whether or not it is a better idea to pretend you don’t see him. He tenses and you notice his shoulders seem a bit more broad than you remember and you can see some muscles peaking through the back of his black t-shirt.

He turns and your eyes lock for a moment. Although you can’t see the bottom half of his face through the mask, you know his mouth is open by the shock in his eyes. You approach him and he freezes again, obviously unsure of where this is going.

“It’s good to see you. How are you?” You decide to break the ice and Jeongin blink for what seems like the first time since you locked eyes.

“I’ve been better. How are you, y/n? You look good as always. Just got off work?” He asks finally, putting down the hoodie in his hands. You nod in response and glance down at his shirt again.

“I did. Was just going to get more perfume and a bite to eat,” you pause and chew on your lip for a second before continuing, “Wanna join?” your voice is quiet, cautious. If he rejects you, it seems like it would hurt less if you don’t fully ask him out loud. This was stupid. You should’ve known better than to-

“I would love to. Same place as always?” Jeongin’s voice interrupts your thoughts and you smile at him, nodding.

“Same place as always,” you parrot him and he quickly falls into step with you, both of you completely abandoning the original goal of why you’re both at the mall.

You both enter the restaurant and get sat quickly. The entire place was practically empty which makes it easy for Jeongin to remove his mask and not have to worry about being photographed. He reaches up to remove his mask and your eyes drop to his bicep. He definitely is getting bigger.

“Have you been working out?” you ask and cross your hands in front of you on the table. A bashful smile covers his face and he scratches his head, focusing down on the menu instead.

“Yeah a little bit,” he mumbles out and you smile. He’s just as sweet and just as humble as always. You two drop into small talk for the most part until your food arrives at the table.

“You know,” Jeongin starts before scooping up a bite of food, “The night we broke up, I was going to ask if you wanted to come here to eat with me. I was going to let us finally be photographed together,” he concludes and you freeze at his statement.

“Are we going to do this right now? You want to talk about this?” you ask quietly and set your fork down on the table.

“I want to say no but seeing you like this just makes me miss you so much,” he confesses, sitting his own fork down as well.

“Where were you, Innie?” you deadpan and he breaks eye contact, glancing down at your plate then meeting your eyes again.

“I just didn’t want you to see me like that. I wasn’t anywhere but home, physically(italics). But in my head, I wasn’t me. I was somebody that I didn’t even recognize. I was hurting and I didn’t want to hurt you so I pushed you away,” he concludes and chews the inside of his cheek.

“You hurt me more by pretending I didn’t exist,” you whisper across the table and he runs a hand through his hair. He nods in agreement and you nod back, pushing your plate away from you slightly so you can lean on the table again.

“I’m sorry. I still love you and I always will, y/n. You know that right?” He reaches across the table and places his hand on top of yours, rubbing gentle circles with his thumb. You flip your hand over and he quickly intertwines your fingers.

“I still love you and I always will, Innie. We should hang out again soon,” you offer and he nods, eagerly.

“Already wanting to hang out with me again and we just started this hang out,” he teases and you laugh, kicking him gently under the table.

“Hush. We have much more to talk to about, mister,” you reply and pull your hand from his, picking your utensils back up. “For now, I’m going to dig in. I haven’t been able to force myself to come here since we broke up and it smells too good,” you confess and he nods.

“Me too,”

#skz #skz changbin #skz fanfic #skz felix #skz fluff #skz hyunjin #skz imagines #skz jeongin #skz minho #skz scenarios #skz angst #stray kids angst #skz smut #stray kids one shot #stray kids han #stray kids bang chan #stray kids smut #stray kids imagines #stray kids minho #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids #skz x reader #skz stay #skz thoughts #skz yongbok #skz jisung #skz lee felix #skz ot8 #stray kids blurbs #ihave-atummyache

[beanghostprincess]

Rayleigh and Buggy reunion, but Rayleigh is being over the top judgemental about everything, like idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV show but Rayleigh shows up and acts exactly like Rebecca's mom does. Overcritical of his life choices and dismissive of what he perceives as excuses coming from Buggy, because he knows Buggy's true potential and is annoyed with Buggy not living up to it. He gives Crocodile a once over and goes "is that what you found to replace Shanks with" and moves on and Crocodile doesn't even have a moment to compute the way he was just insulted because Rayleigh has moved on to criticising Mihawk's cooking instead. Worst part is, this all comes from a genuine place of love and care, Rayleigh is legitimately worried sick about his baby clown son of 39 years, but he cannot express that worry without being extremely invasive about everything. Buggy isn't even responding, he just shoots ppl apologetic looks and rolls his eyes when Rayleigh isn't looking because of course he does this obviously Buggy is never good enough for him and Shanks had always been the favourite (you ask Shanks or any other Roger pirate and they will tell you that Buggy is Rayleigh's baby boy and absolute favourite with utmost confidence, too bad the emotional constipation runs in the crew). Dinner is awkward as fuck, because Rayleigh makes attempts at being easygoing but his motherhenning nature irt Buggy shines through, his conviction that Buggy would be happier with Shanks by his side is making him be overcritical of everyone in that dinner and he keeps discussing the good old days and subtly hinting at Buggy that there is still time for him to go back to Shanks....and Buggy looks close to frustrated tears (and everyone agrees, Crocodile has snapped 5 cigars in half with his teeth and Mihawk is 5 seconds away from banging his head on the table).

Just overbearing father Rayleigh being stifling and trying to overcompensate for his shit parenting choices during Buggy's childhood and Buggy having his daddy issues expanded upon (and Crocodile and Mihawk gaining insight to Buggy's entire deal)

"Idk if u are familiar with crazy ex girlfriend the TV sho-" My therapist literally told me to stop watching it so much because it was affecting my mental health. So. Yes. I know the show. It's one of my favorite shows EVER. Rebecca is just like me fr my beloved. All of them my beloveds. The songs my beloveds. Don't make me go into CEG x OP because I won't finish. And as you can see, I did not listen to my therapist.

Even though I've always seen Rayleigh as the one who understands Buggy the most (Roger and him love Shanks and Buggy equally but it is quite obvious they put more pressure on Shanks to be more like Roger and that only made things worse by making Buggy's inferiority complex exist) and the one who stands up more for him and comforts him when needed, it is true that he might be more judgemental and he'd be worried for Buggy. Like. Think about it. Roger died and the kids (their kids) ended up alone and going their own separate ways. For Rayleigh, finding out Shanks and Buggy aren't together is just?? So weird?? Because they've always been together. Birds of a feather (if somebody mentions the song 'Two Birds' I am punching them because I can't handle that song today please). And it's just... Well, surprising. 'But as long as they're okay' but they're obviously not okay!!! And it's not that Rayleigh is judging Buggy. In fact, I think he would do the same with Shanks. The second Rayleigh sees Shanks he's already saying he drinks too much (even for a pirate) and that he's been acting recklessly and "What the fuck are you doing without Buggy? Is this because of Buggy?" / "I do not drink because of him. It's- It's not about him. He left-" / "HE LEFT AND YOU DIDN'T DO ANYTHING?????" / "I hate it when you get like this" / "Like what?" / "Like you want to still do something about my life. I'm an adult, thank you very much-" / "No, you're not if you keep acting this way". And I personally think Rayleigh would just be worried for the both of them and also feel extremely guilty because he wasn't there to fix things when they fought, the way he always did. "The second I left you alone you two start a fight that lasts two decades?" and he would say this to both of them and they would hate it.

But yeah, going back to Buggy I think he'd be worried because. Well. Have you seen Crocodile and Mihawk? I mean. They're kind of on good terms with Buggy now (more or... More or less. Kind of. They're not equals but they're some sort of weird thing and they respect and care for each other. More or less. It's- It's complicated. Don't ask) but they're still them. And Rayleigh can't help but see the situation and be like "I'm proud you made a name of yourself, kid, but you don't have to do this if you don't want to" (meaning: You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted) and Buggy takes it as an "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be safer with him" instead of the real "You could go back to Shanks any time you wanted because you'd be happier with him and this war of pride and hearts you have going on is dumb". And he understands Buggy needs to be away from Shanks to grow, but it's just so, so sad to see them like this when they used to love each other so damn much.

Also, I think Buggy would be going through the worst moment of his life and Crocodile and Mihawk would be so done for different reasons. First, they don't give a fuck about all of this drama. And second, they are starting to see Buggy more like a person and understand why he is the way he is, and the things Rayleigh is saying are bothering them a lot. They've been trying to make the clown move on from his past so he's useful for once (because when he believes in himself he's actually not a burden and more interesting) and now this guy (that they respect because it's Silvers Fucking Rayleigh) comes and tries to change things around here? Nope. Not happening.

So basically, what you're trying to tell me is that Rayleigh regrets raising the boys that way and now he's overcompensating and it's overwhelming for everyone, right? I- I love it. Great plot. 10/10. In character. Perfect. It makes me go insane. I love their daddy issues.

(Also, can we talk about how "This Was a Shit Show" and "What'll it be" are extremely Buggy songs??? Because- Because now I want to-)

#i absolutely loved this i have no words to explain how much i love this #one piece #buggy the clown #silvers rayleigh #red haired shanks #cross guild #shuggy #< target audience #i mean it's obvious i was taking it as romantic for them

[lueurjun]

guitarist boyfriend! jay

popstar!reader x guitarist boyfriend jay! in which you’re supplied with a new guitarist who just so happens to end up falling hopelessly in love with you. a/n—if this is bad, don’t blame me. it was a spur of the moment spark of motivation.

gather around and hold hands because this is everything to me

YOU GUYS are everything to me

that micheal scott meme where he’s holding jim and pam’s hands… that’s what it looks like. me holding you guys by the hands because i just love u both so much. i am apart of this relationship. i am the captain of this ship. the leader of- okay you get it

guitarist jay and his global popstar partner?? stop before i cry

okay ! let’s get started with how you guys came to be

it all started because your guitarist decided to seize an opportunity to permanently work for another pop star

traitor. i’ll set them on fire. ( for legal reasons that’s a joke ).

and you’re all for new opportunities and such but they happened to leave smack bang in the middle of your world tour

three hours before your concert

someone hand me a lighter rn-

so not only are you set to perform in front of a sold out stadium, in a country you’re not too familiar with, but you’re left with no guitarist either

cue the emotional meltdown backstage with all your stylists and staff around trying to calm you down

imagine you’re filming a documentary and they put in the scene where you’re sat on the floor just sobbing whilst people rush around you- the way i’d sue my own team

anyways lucky for you, yang jungwon is on your team — and he has a friend who has exceptional talent on the guitar, who also happens to be in the area

how convenient, it’s almost like this was written in the stars

jay arrives but he doesn’t even get to say hi to you before he’s carted off by your manager to be coached for the performance

so you really only saw the back of his head through teary eyes

but according to your stylist, he’s one hell of a babe

stylist is me btw lemme wipe away your tears. come here, pretty

you take their word for it and just try to mentally prepare for the concert ahead after the shock of being blindsided

it’s not until 5 minutes before you go on that you officially get to meet jay

and suddenly the concept of workplace crushes makes sense to you because bro looks like he’s just stepped out of a vogue magazine

models should be thankful he picked the idol industry

he looks super nervous as he shakes your hand, he’s all jittery and it makes your heart swell

of course, he’s polite as ever as he compliments your work and all that you do and expresses how much of an honour it is to play for you

he’s laying it on thick but i would too if i was in your presence tbh- you’re everything embedded in gold

there’s not much time for conversation before the pair of you are being ushered into position, but you catch the wink he gives you before he stalks away with the rest of the band

and you certainly don’t miss the knowing grin you receive from your drummer, sunoo

suddenly, you’re taking deep breaths to ease your pounding heart which is going crazy

not because of the thousands that are about to watch you perform live, but because of the small interaction you just shared with jay

oh you are so cooked- but personally, if i was jay, i’d never wash my hand again after shaking yours

anyways the performance goes smoothly, and jay excels just as jungwon said he would

you were surprised at how easy it was for him to get into the swing of things

and your fans seemed to love the new addition given ‘y/n’s guitarist’ trends on twitter afterwards

needless to say, concert one with jay is a great success so much so that he secures a permanent spot as your brand new guitarist

yesss bros getting a major bag and YOU? he’s living the dream fr

as the shows progress, you and jay seem to gravitate closer both on stage and off

if you’re not hanging out constantly, then you’re sharing winks and subtle glances across the stage whilst you’re performing

and as expected: a ship begins to set sail

your fans are begging for it to happen. your friends are begging for it to happen.

i’m begging for it to happen

and finally, it does.

jay bites the bullet and asks you out on a date

what’s the worst that can happen? you say no, oh wow-

we’re on a floating rock lovelies. shoot your shot 🫨

luckily for jay, you didn’t say no. in fact, you were more than delighted to say yes

onto the relationship because this is so long, i always do this

right off the bat he is OBSESSED with you

but would he swim across the ocean to get to you? i would. i would, y/n.

heart eyes constantly

so much so that fans literally have 30 min compilations on youtube of him just staring at you as though you were an aurora dancing across the sky

blowing kisses at him as you’re performing

alexa play that should be me

your discography is so shamelessly dedicated to him

everyone eats it up

iconic paparazzi photos

jay having you sat on his lap to teach you the guitar and him leaving gentle kisses against the nape of your neck

sighhhhh genuinely why do i do this to myself? someone take over because i am DEPRESSED

if you’re already able to play guitar, i can see the pair of you doing a little duet where you just stare at each other all 😍😍 whilst playing at each other

wearing one of his picks on a necklace

him having your name written on his guitar

also you get special treatment and your band members make sure you know it

“i moved his guitar out of the way so it didn’t get trampled on and he grabbed sunoo’s drum stick and threatened to shove it down my throat but you touch it and all of a sudden roses grow from his eyes? disgusting.”

sunghoon has had enough

yapping about him during interviews with the brightest smile on your face

this would be me as a celeb- i would not be able to keep my life private i’m a certified yapper

if you want to go for the more private approach

subtle exchanges on stage

it would be like private but not secret

cuddles backstage !!!

being seen wearing each others tour jackets when leaving the venue

crawling into his bunk on the tour bus late at night after everyone has fallen asleep but also being the last to wake up so everyone knows you’re in there anyway

him shielding your face from all the flashes of the camera

protective jay is everything to me.

he’ll definitely be your plus one to any event

and the two of you absolutely steal the show every single time

he also supplies your fandom with memes of you and they thank him for it

i better stop here because i’m getting too carried away shsjsjsk and i’m pretty sure i strayed off the prompt 😭

overall, you and jay? dream couple ☁️🤍

#enhypen #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen drabbles #enhypen headcanons #jay park headcannons #jay park fluff #jay fluff #jay park imagine #jay scenarios #enhypen jay #jay headcanons #park jeongseong x reader #park jeongseong #jay park scenarios #kpop headcanons #kpop x reader #kpop fluff #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop scenarios

[obxone]

Distraction (Part 2)

Edited-ish. ~1.3k words

(Part 1)

Rafe pushes the glass tumbler between his palms, his head down, watching the brown liquor slosh around in the glass. He looks content, alone, but content with his evening. You watch him for a moment before crossing the floor and sliding into the booth. His head lifts, blue eyes raking over you while you are busy dropping your clutch on the bench seat and adjusting your hair to spill over your shoulder. Once you settle, you meet his gaze.

“This is a no pogue zone,” he mutters, lifting the glass to his lips and taking a sip. “You should go.”

You frown at him. “Cute, but I’m a kook. My parents are both kooks.”

“Your parents are kooks, but you are not.” He leans forward, his tone and facial features shifting to display his anger with you. “Or did you forget how you tricked me? How you played me?”

You shrug. “I didn’t trick you. I distracted you.”

It is true, you never tricked him. You never told him you were his or made him believe it. He had come onto you, and it had worked. You had distracted him.

He smirks before glancing at the bartender and lifting his glass to ask for another before he downs the liquor. You do not miss the way she tracks him for a moment before her brown eyes flicker to you, giving you a thorough once over. Great, you think as you turn back to Rafe. She is one of his bedroom buddies.

“To help those pogues. I should’ve known.”

“They are my friends.” You offer with a shrug. “It’s not like any kooks are banging on my door to make friends with me.”

His lips press into a thin line. “Then you should go. No one wants you here.”

“Fine, I’ll go,” you murmur before extending your hand to touch his. Half of you expect him to jerk out of your reach, but the other half knows he will let you touch him, even if for only a moment. “But I came to say I’m sorry that you feel betrayed. Sarah asked for my help, and after everything, I couldn’t say no. She’s my best friend, Rafe.”

He chuckles before knocking your hand away. “Everyone is always on Sarah’s side.”

You roll your eyes. “Get over yourself, Rafe. This sibling rivalry is stupid, and we both know it. You got what you wanted. You got to be king of the island. You have the keys to the castle and everything you could want.”

“Not everything.”

You frown at him. “It’s never enough, is it?”

He smirks, dragging his finger around the rim of the tumbler, watching the light refract off the design etched into the sides of the tumbler.

“I should have known not to waste my time.” You stand, grabbing your clutch before heading away from him and back towards the entrance of the country club. Before you can make it more than twenty feet down the hall, Rafe’s hand encloses your upper arm, and he hauls you into the Director’s office. Before you can utter a single protest, he shuts the door and flips the lock trapping you. His chest heaving, face tinged a little red as he stares at you.

“Why’d you have to do it, huh?” He asks, lifting his arms. “I was fucking fine! I had everything!”

You take a step back from him and bump into the desk. Pressing your hand to the top of the desk, you steady yourself while you stare in surprise. You open your mouth to ask him what he is going on about, but he prevents you from getting the chance as he continues.

“I had everything I wanted that I knew I could have!” He points to his chest. “Me! I did that!”

“Okay,” you whisper.

“And then you had to show up in that dress!” He scrubs his hand through his hair in frustration. “And now I can’t get you out of my fucking head!”

“What?”

“For someone who was the valedictorian of the Kook academy, you sure can be dense,” he mutters, and your eyebrows rise at his comment. “I want you, Baby. I told you two days ago, remember?”

“I thought you meant sex,” you supply, arms crossing over your waist. “That is all you’ve ever wanted from girls. Pure sex.”

“I didn’t with you.”

You frown, focusing on the family photos littering the bookshelf to Rafe’s left. The director is friends with your mother and is probably around the country club somewhere. She would tell your mother in a heartbeat that you snuck off with Rafe Cameron. Kildare’s rumor mill could be brutal.

“Do I need to remind you of everything you’ve done?”

He turns away for a moment before turning back to stare at you. “You think I’m the bad guy, don’t you?”

“Aren’t you?”

He scoffs before he runs his hand down his face. “That’s right. I forgot; Sarah has convinced you all that I’m bad Rafe Cameron.”

It is sad to see him realize that he will never wash away his sins. He can be king of the island and take over his family’s business, but he will always have the accusations and judgment of everyone on the island. Even with Ward confessing, the pogues and you know the truth, and you suspect others do as well. Especially Shoop.

“Rafe…”

“No,” he lifts his hands. “I get it. I’m the bad guy.”

“You killed Peterkin and tried to kill your sister. You’ve hurt so many people…” You try to remind him gently. “You nearly cost John B his future. You’ve fought my friends until they were bloody. You strangled Kiara. You came after m-”

“I get it, all right!” He yells, and you flinch. His fist collides with the wall, and you gasp. The hole is not massive, but it would need a patch. He turns back to you, his chest heaving once more, forgetting the damage once again caused by his fury. “I fucked up, all right! I know that! I do! I know that. I’ve tried to fix things. And… A-and I’m working on myself!” He gestures to the space around him, and you know he means being on Kildare again. “I’m getting my shit together, okay? I just need a chance to fix it!”

You exhale, looking away from the tears collecting in his eyes. But he does not give you a moment to gather yourself from his outburst. He closes the distance in a short breath. You tip your head back to look at him as he crowds into your space.

“I never wanted just sex. Not with you.”

“I understand.”

“That’s it?” He asks, his finger hooking under your chin while the other grips your thigh, holding you there. “That’s all you got?”

“What do you expect?” You ask, hand wrapping around his wrist. “That I fall to my knees and beg you to make me queen of the kingdom? That I forgive you for everything you’ve done these past few months.”

He laughs, and it sends a shiver down your spine. His lips brush yours briefly. “You’re the only one worthy of being the queen.”

“Rafe…”

“Take time, think about it,” he says. “I don’t want anyone else, Baby.” His lips press to yours for a deeper kiss, and you let him. You kiss him back, your body betraying you as your hands reach for him pulling him closer.

After you are nearly breathless, he steps back, smirking before tapping your chin with his knuckle. “Find me when you are ready to be crowned.”

And then he is gone. The office door closes with a muffled click, and you exhale slowly, looking down at your sneakers. How in the hell did a simple distraction become an offer for the kook kingdom?

(Part 3)

#outer banks #obx #rafe cameron #outer banks rafe cameron #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you

[dustofthedailylife]

Roommates au.

Al Haitam who wakes up in the middle of the night to find Kaveh and yn baking cookies.

Yn is spared because his big fat crush, kaveh gets lectured.

Ohhh my gosh imagine... (this also got longer than I thought but I could stop myself from brainrotting soooo enjoy <3). And as a preface to this drabble: Flustered Alhaitham is my favorite genre fr.

"Cookies"

Alhaitham x Reader // Kaveh x Reader (Roommate AU) // Fluff Previous roommates brainrot [here] but reading it is not necessary. -> Masterlist || -> Taglist

Alhaitham is woken up by some banging and drilling sounds coming from the kitchen. Naturally, his mind wanders to Kaveh first thing. Because who else would be insane enough to cause such a ruckus at 3 am in the morning?

At first, Alhaitham pulls his pillow over his head in order to try and muffle the annoying sounds. He definitely doesn't want to sleep with his noise-canceling headphones again since he is unable to sleep on the side with them.

Eventually, he finds it too uncomfortable to press his pillow to his head and decides to get up to give Kaveh the scolding of a lifetime.

He practically tramples to the kitchen, not even putting in the effort to put a shirt on before, because of how furious he is and how much he wants the noise to stop.

"Kaveh! Have you ever considered that some people are trying to get an adequate amount of undisturbed sleep?" Alhaitham starts shouting as he walks along the hallway and turns right to enter the kitchen with balled fists and eyebrows furrowed in anger.

"You're unbelievable. What are you even-" he continues his tirade before being interrupted by someone running into him and effectively shutting him up immediately. And it was none other than you. With flour on your cheek and those innocent-looking eyes, he could fall for again and again.

"Cookies. We're baking cookies... Oh, I'm sorry, did we wake you up?" you ask innocently. Alhaitham doesn't want to say it but seeing you makes his anger dissolve into thin air. You could wake him anytime and he'd be content. Kaveh on the other hand...?

"Yes, but it's okay," he reassures you before addressing Kaveh directly. "And you; stop enabling everyone in this goddamn house to join in on your stupid ideas! Do you understand? It's 3 a.m., go to bed, for Archon's sake!"

"Wha- it wasn't even my idea!" Kaveh exclaims exasperated.

"It was actually my idea." You admit with a shrug and an awkward smile, patting Alhaitham's bare shoulder a couple of times, effectively frying his synapses. Because it wasn't until now that he realizes he is standing in front of you with his upper body entirely exposed the entire time.

Alhaitham can feel a blush beginning to bloom on his cheeks before he quickly turns around to stomp back to his room, the feeling of the touch of your hand still lingering on his exposed skin.

The last thing Alhaitham hears, before closing his door behind him once more with a loudly beating heart and a flushed face, is Kaveh's snicker and a "Quite fascinating behavior there, Acting Grand Sage."

Do not repost, copy, translate or edit - © dustofthedailylife || reblogs, comments, and asks about Genshin or my fics are always greatly appreciated and motivate me! Maple dividers are mine - do not copy.

#genshin impact #astronetwrk #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #alhaitham x reader #kaveh x reader #genshin drabbles #genshin scenarios #genshin headcanons #genshin imagines #genshin fluff #🍁 dust reqs #🍁 dust blurbs #🍁 dust brainrot

[kenlvry]

main four reacting to you coming home drunk and calling them pretty

reader calling the main 4 pretty while drunk

an, OKAY BOSS 🫡🫡

kenny

it is almost 2 am and you are still not home, he is so ready to put on his mysterion costume on and search the whole town for you. hearing a car pull up he jerks from the couch and look at the window, it was you barefoot holding your heels waving goodbye to your friends. he waits infront of the front door excited to greet you, the keys rattling to unlock the door followed with "shit whcih one is it" kenny sighs and open the door. "KENNYYYY" you hug him and kenny can tell that you have been partying hard, you reek of alcohol. "im not one to get mad at you for drinking but you need to control your parting habit, youre always dizzy in the morning and regret it" he lectures closing the door you still hugging him "boo buzzkil" he gives you the 😐 r u fr look and you laugh. "hmmm have i ever tell you how pretty you are, so pretty" you cup his face and observe it he blushes harddddddd. you have only called him handsome or sexy or hot so far never have anyone called him pretty, "oh yeah? im very pretty huh?" he smirks taking this chance to do smthn with you iykyk "i might be drunk but im still sober enough to know what you wanna do" with that you let go and walk to your bedroom with a smiling teasing kenny in suit. " 'm so pretty right?" the morning was hell and he wouldn't shut up about it "ugh kenny that's the third time this morning fuck yourself" you groan as you walk away from kenny with the hangover medicine with you "thats not how you talk to your pretty boyfriend" he laughs.

stan

you had texted him earlier that night saying your gonna be late "im goung tobe kate" "what" "latw" "okay". he sleeps before you come home knowing you didn't want him waiting on you and that your friends was there to take care of you. he was about to sleep but the door knob twisting and the keys desperately being pushed into the keyhole was too loud to not hear from the bedroom. he groans and gets out of bed heading towards the door. "hello stan 😊😊😊 thankyou 🥰🥰" you walk past him and wow tyou smell like alcohol, even he wasn't this bad. following you to the bedroom you lay down throwing your shoes and bag on the floor "geez y/n atleast take a shower first" he puts his hands on his waist. you lay on your side and tap the empty spot beside you signalling him to join you, despite the smell he lays down and looks at you. you stroke his hair staring at him "you're so pretty stan, maybe even prettier than me" his eyes widen at that like me??? pretty??? really??. he quickly realises you are very drunk and you probably don't mean it "okay y/n, get some sleep" he lightly push you by the shoulders to lay you down properly "no nooo im being honest, your face is so pretty, your hair black hair and your eyes fuck i could get lost in your eyes, especially your lip-" you sleep before you could say anything more and he just layed there with a blushed face. he gets up and walk over your vanity grabbing makeup remover and a cotton pad, sitting beside you removing your makeup. he stops to think what you said earlier and is so embarrassed, bro is kicking his feet squealing and covering his face rolling around. it gave him sm confident and remembers that compliment to this day.

kyle

it was around 12 pm that night, kyle was jus chilling watching movies in the living room and eating popcorn. you told him you'd be home a little late and to not wait for you, so he took this chance to enjoy some time for himself. suddenly the door knob shake violently and bangs from the door can be heard, he was so scared who the hell was it he thought, burglar? murderer? thief?. he slowly approach the door looking through to the keyhole expecting a fucking clown or smthn with a knife but it was you. he sighs and opened the door "you had me scared to death! and i thought you were coming home at 2??" your stance was pretty obvious you had gotten too drunk "my friends said i drank too much and i need to go home 😊" , well it isn't the first time, "cmon wanna watch a movie tgt?" "kyle i smell like im stans dad i need to take a shower" "but i miss you ☹️" "then shower with me pretty boy" he makes a slightly disgusted face while laughing lightly but stop when he remembered your words "pretty?" "mhm!" you nod your head repeatly and make you way upstairs, his cheeks were a tint of pink smiling at the compliment, you stop midway and look back at him. he wasn't wearing his hat and he rarely takes them off that was what made him so pretty, his pretty curls. you walk back to him getting reallllyyyyy close staring at him, his cheeks turning a a darker shade of pink avoiding eyecontact "uhh" "you look so pretty, should take your hat off more often" you kiss his cheek and continue your way upstairs. he just stares at the stairs holding his cheek "pretty?" he mumbled and walk his way to the couch sitting on the couch "pretty .." he loves it sm when you call him pretty and you know it so you call him pretty more often.

cartman

2 am. you aren't home yet and cartman is worried for his life, i mean he is pacing around the living room wondering why you aren't home. then he heard the door open and immediately jump on the couch turning on the tv, "oh hey, ur late not, that i was waiting for you" he says glancing at you, by how you were wobbling around it was kinda obvious you were drunk. you look at him smiling and walking over to him with wide arms "CARTMANNN HELLOOOO" you hug him and he loves it smsmsmsmsm but ofc he hides it "ew what do you want" you hop on the couch right beside him laying your head on him, he doesn't push you off despite the disgusted face you made. "mm your so mean ☹️" you make pouty lips at him, you cup his face pulling it close to you "your are so pretty you know that? i love you so much" then you hug him so tight he swears he can't breath. boy just sat there with a 😯 face on. since you were drunk you weren't gonna remember this so he decides to play along "i think yr prettier though" "NO. YOU ARE 🤨" you argued "its definitely you" "YOU CLEAFLY ARE PRETTIER IN OUR RELATIONSHIP 😒😒" "WELL I SAY OTHERWISE" you two literally argue like kids on who is prettier. you both agree that you both are equally pretty. the next morning you remember vividly what happened "sooo im pretty huh?" "i never said that" "you said that last night" "no stop being delusional thats gay".

#south park #south park x y/n #south park x you #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick x reader #south park x reader #kyle broflovski #kyle broflovski x reader #south park stan #stan marsh x reader #stan marsh #eric cartman x reader #eric cartman

[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.

#mybigbangacademia #bnha x reader #bnha imagines #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugo imagine #bakugo x reader #bakugo x you #bakugo x y/n #mha imagines #mha x reader #mha x you #mha x y/n #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki imagine #bakugo katsuki x you #bakugo katsuki x y/n #dynamight x reader #dynamight imagines #dynamight x you #dynamight x y/n #mine.🌧 #char.🌧 bakugou #fic.🌧 sleeping in the garden

[barcaluvv]

S E E Y O U A G A I N marc guiu x reader(I teared up fr)

You sat on the bench, pressed against the edge of the wall, next to all your friends, you only payed attention to him. The only one who attracted you was Marc, you have been in a relationship for a couple of months and it seemed like a perfect relationship and the tension between you two was growing on each look he gave, he was sitting on the other side of the classroom sprawled out, man spreading. Looking at you with full details, you blushed as he pointed on his cheeks, he definitely knew what he was doing with that hand. Recently, he noticed that you started making new guy friend's thinking he's okay with it, actually it being the totally opposite. His insides growled, the red colour on his face rotted for awhile, his fist getting strength, everytime he sees Hector with you. He knew, he knew that he liked you, that's why he's been trying to distract or disturb everytime you two get closer to eachother by pulling him away. One day, after school, behind the grafity walls, he saw everything he needed to just open the door of his anger issues. "Fucking Hector" said marc from miles away, he jumped over the old gate without any hesitation. He walked quickly towards you, banging on his head. Without going any further he started attacking Hector. "WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" Letting it out on your hand. "Bro relax it's noth-" before finishing it sentence, Marc pushed his shoulders, making him fall to the ground. You started to calm him, by calling him back from it. "Babe!! Don't" you said. He looked at you through the lens, he let out a little tear down his face. "What you calling me babe for? To cheat on me?A GAVE freaking everything just for you to be happy and you out there cheating on me with no one else but my best friend, he said while being on his knees, desperately trying to hold back from breaking down. "Was i worth it?" He stands up, leaving Hector on the floor, full of his bruises. After some while you called the ambulance. Three days later, Hector was still in the hospital, you still decided to go to school. The situation calmed down for a while. When you headed from the school yard, it was night all out, since you were second shift. From a distance you noticed a silhouette, a little later you found out that it was Marc, he was looking at you, with a plum under his eye, his hair was scattered, and his white tight shirt still had traces of tears, he was leaning on a parked motorcycle, he had a bag full seeds, he ate them, and in the meantime you noticed how swollen he was, his eyes were still full of tears. You lowered your head, but something pulled you to continue with eye contact. A little later, he got on the motorcycle before saying the same thing, he put on his helmet without breaking his gaze with you. That night you couldn't sleep, he was all over your mind. The next morning, you visited hector, on the way home you noticed something in your email box, that was infront of your house. A little later, you found out that Marc had sent a bouquet of your favorite roses, the bill for your first date, even the bracelet you gave him, and a letter. After reading the letter, your eyes watered, you broke down right on the door step, your voice became apparent,shaky and pitched, you knew even without any voices heard. "I think you know now, why I did all of that, I love you sincerely, YOUR DEAREST Marc".

#fc barcelona #barca #gavi x yn #pablo gavi #marc guiu fanfic #gavi x reader #bellingham x reader #marc guiu x reader