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corroded-hellfire · 1 year

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Where the Heart Is - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Nancy invites you home to Hawkins for Thanksgiving break after you’ve become best friends at Emerson College. When you spend a “friends-giving” at Steve’s house with all of Nancy’s friends, you make a special connection with a certain metal head.

Note: Huge thanks to @gathered-moss and @munsonquinns for their help when I got stuck!

Warnings: language, mentions of not the best family life, mentions of sex, i think that’s it?

Words: 13.8K

[Part 2 | Where The Heart Is masterlist]

“I really appreciate this, Nancy. Your family really didn’t have to do this.”

“Will you stop?” Nancy huffs a laugh.

The airport is crowded. Grandparents flying across the country to see their children and grandchildren, lifelong best friends getting to see each other for the first time in years, and kids like you and Nancy, flying back from college for Thanksgiving break.

The Wheelers were kind enough to invite you to their home for the holiday. Karen had heard about you for months now, Nancy having told her all about the best friend she’s made away at Emerson. When she’d heard that you didn’t have family to spend the break with, she didn’t hesitate to invite you to Hawkins.

Nancy had bumped into you in the laundry room on the third floor of the dorm building you both lived in. You had bonded over how you both disliked your roommates as you separated your warm from your cold clothes. You’ve been close friends ever since. A long hall separated your room from Nancy’s, but you’d often use the other’s space to get away from your respective roommates. Nancy’s roommate was a total slob, while yours was just an all-around inconsiderate person to occupy the same space with.

“I can’t wait for you to meet Steve,” Nancy says as you take the escalator down to the baggage claim level.

“He’s seemed great every time I’ve talked to him,” you say.

“You mean when you’ve stolen the phone out of my hand so you guys can talk about me?” she asks with a smirk.

“Well, you wouldn’t give it to me willingly! But I like him. And I know from the pictures in your room how cute he is.”

Nancy adjusts the duffle bag on her shoulder as you both step off the escalator. You follow her in, what you assume, is the right direction since you’d never been to Indiana before, let alone the Indianapolis airport. A pretty blonde woman smiles in your direction and waves her hands.

“Oh, there’s my mom,” Nancy says. She closes the distance, and her mom pulls her into a tight hug.

“I’ve missed you!” her mother says. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re home. Mrs. Wheeler turns to you and gives you a warm smile. “Hi, dear! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Wheeler,” you say as you shake the hand she’s extended to you. “Thank you so much for letting me join your family for Thanksgiving.”

“Please, call me Karen,” she says. “And it’s no trouble at all. We’re glad to have you.”

Luckily, both yours and Nancy’s bags come out quickly on the baggage conveyor belt, and you’re able to get back to the car and on the road for the hour or so journey up to Hawkins. Nancy and her mom chat animatedly in the front seats, bringing you into the conversation every now and then. But you don’t mind just listening to them talk about people and places that you don’t know. Seeing a mother and a daughter get along as well as they do gives you a melancholy feeling. You’re glad Nancy has such a great relationship with her mom, but it makes your heart sink a little that you don’t have that.

“So, who all is going to your thankful friend thing?” Karen asks.

“Friends-giving, Mom,” Nancy says. “It’s all of us.”

“I’m supposed to know who that includes?” Karen says.

“Mike and that gang. Dustin, Will, Lucas, Max, El. Then, Eddie, Robin, and Jonathan,” Nancy says.

“Jonathan?” you can tell by the tone of voice that her mom is surprised that Nancy’s ex is going to an event at her current boyfriend’s house.

“Yeah, well, it would’ve been weird not to invite him,” Nancy says. “He’s back from college too, and Will and El are coming, so we weren’t going to leave their older brother out.”

“That was nice of you guys,” Karen says. Though the comment sounds sincere, you can tell Karen wasn’t sure if it was a good idea or not.

“It’s fine, Mom,” Nancy says, picking up on the same edge in her voice that you did.

“Okay, okay,” Karen acquiesces. “Now, Steve is having dinner with us tonight, right?”

“Yes. He and I gotta show the out-of-towner around town this afternoon,” she says, looking over her shoulder at you with a smirk. “Then he’s coming back for dinner.”

“Have you talked to Steve before?” Karen asks, looking at you in the rear-view mirror.

“I have,” you tell her. “He seems great.”

“He is,” Karen agrees as she pulls the car into the driveway of a pretty suburban two story.

You look out the window in awe at the size of the house compared to the small apartment back in New Hampshire that would be called your “home.” Following the Wheeler women out of the car, you pull your suitcase out of the trunk. There’s a high-pitched squeal that comes from behind you and you turn to see a small blonde girl running across the street and flinging herself into Nancy’s arms.

“Holly!” Nancy hugs her little sister so tightly she lifts her off the ground. The girl giggles and squeezes Nancy around the neck until she sets her down.

“I’m so happy you’re here!” Holly says. Nancy presses a kiss to the top of her head and tugs on one of her two pigtails.

“Me too,” she tells her. “This is my friend from school I was telling you about. Can you say hi?”

“It’s nice to meet you, Holly,” you tell her.

She smiles shyly at you and hides half of her face behind her big sister’s arm.

“Hi,” she says in her meek voice.

“You can go back over and play with Dana,” Nancy tells her. Holly nods before she runs back across the street.

Nancy grabs her suitcase and Karen leads the two of you into the house.

“Where’s Mike?”

“Oh, the boys are having some dragon dungeon thing today at Lucas’s,” Karen says.

“Of course they are,” Nancy says. “What a perfectly good waste of a day off school. Come on, my room is upstairs.”

You both lug your suitcases up to the second floor and into Nancy’s room. As you slip your backpack off your back, you take in the dainty atmosphere the bedroom gives off. The light furniture and collages that adorn the walls make the room feel cozy and safe, a place to escape the world at the end of the day. The Tom Cruise poster makes you chuckle and the lemon fresh scent in the space is calm and inviting.

“Just dump it anywhere,” Nancy says, gesturing to your suitcase.

She sets hers down near the foot of her bed and you lay yours in the corner of the room, careful to make sure it isn’t in the way. There are pictures tacked to the wall above your suitcase and your eyes search the photos, smiling at the fun it seems Nancy is having in them. Some show a young Nancy with missing teeth, standing next to other small girls, all draped in costume jewelry. There are some of Nancy older, with a redhead with thick glasses.

“That’s Barb,” Nancy says from behind you. There’s a catch in her voice, like she’s trying to compose herself. “She was my best friend. She, um, died when we were sophomores.”

“Oh, Nancy.” You turn to face her, your own face in a frown. “I’m so sorry.”

She gives you a sad smile and nods her head.

“That one is Robin right there,” she says, pointing to another picture of two girls in dark green graduation gowns. Their arms are slung around each other and Nancy’s smile is infectious in the shot. The other girl has short dirty blonde hair with blunt bangs, white teeth on full display as she grins at the camera. “You’ll meet her on Friday.”

“It’s really cool that you’ve got such a large group of friends to get together with,” you say. “I can probably think of two people total from high school that I’d visit if I went home.”

“Yeah,” Nancy says with a sigh. “There were a few really rough years here in Hawkins. We all went through a lot together, which I guess brings people together.”

“The earthquake, right?” you ask, turning from the pictures to look back at Nancy. “And before that, there was that fire?”

Nancy nods and walks back towards her bed. “Yep. A lot happened in this little town.”

“Where’s my beautiful girlfriend?”

At the sound of the voice in the hall, Nancy’s mood makes a one-eighty, and her face lights up in delight. A tall, athletic boy swoops in the door and pulls Nancy into his arms. She laughs as he picks her up and spins her around.

“God, I missed you,” he says. He sets her down and cups her face in his large hands, bending down to press his lips to her. She kisses him back for a few moments before she pulls back, remembering you’re in the room as well. Steve follows her gaze to you and smiles in greeting. His smile alone would’ve told you why all the girls at their high school fell for him.

“I’m really hoping you’re Steve,” you say.

“The one and only,” Nancy says.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to make out in front of you,” Steve says. “It’s nice to actually meet you in person.

“No, don’t mind me. I’m third wheeling here. Make out to your heart’s content.” Nancy rolls her eyes playfully at you. You step forward, unsure if you should shake Steve’s hand or if that’s too formal. “Nice to see you too, Steve. Nancy was right. You’re even better looking in person.”

Steve smirks as Nancy blushes. Steve saves you from not being sure how to greet him by wrapping an arm around your shoulders and squeezing you to his side.

“I knew I liked you,” he says.

“Why do I feel like introducing you two was a huge mistake?” Nancy says, her head dropping forward in a dramatic fashion.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until she meets the rest of the gang. You know how many stories we have to swap?” Steve asks her.

“Please no,” Nancy pleads.

“As someone who was invited into your house as a guest, I feel like it’s only polite to take your side,” you say, and Nancy gives you a cautiously optimistic look. “But, as a guest in Steve’s house on Friday, wouldn’t it be polite to then take his side?”

“I’m going back to Boston,” Nancy says as she stalks out of the room.

You and Steve laugh as you watch her leave. He removes his arm from around you and goes to follow her out the door but turns to you right before he crosses the threshold.

“Are there any guys I should be worried about up there?” He asks the question as if he’s kidding, but you can tell there’s a bit of true worry under his casual tone.

“Are you kidding?” you respond. “She talks about you to anyone who will listen. For hours on end.”

The smile that lights up Steve’s face is priceless, and you wish Nancy could have seen how full of love and admiration his expression was.

“We better follow her before she really does head back to Boston,” Steve says.

Nancy made it seem like your tour of Hawkins would be the most boring thing you’ve ever done. On the contrary, you found the small town quaint and quiet. It was a nice change from bustling Boston or your sketchy downtown living in your town in New Hampshire. The leaves were in crisp autumn colors, some trees shedding their coats for the impending winter. The streets were mostly empty, but every now and then there was someone bundled up in a coat and scarf walking down the sidewalk.

Steve drove you past places central to his and Nancy’s growing up there. The high school and middle school right across from it, the now-closed-for-the-season community pool, even a large white clinical looking building that made Steve and Nancy share a disconcerting knowing look. You couldn’t imagine what the gates and barbed wire fences were needed for in a town like this.

You’d already heard all about Mike from your month’s long friendship with Nancy, but from the way Steve talked about another younger boy, Dustin, you thought that he was Steve’s brother until Nancy told you otherwise. The adoring way they both spoke of him made you look forward to meeting him, though. Steve warned you that Robin could ramble on, but you assured him that you could keep up with the best of the ramblers. Eddie, who Steve begrudgingly called one of his best friends, came up in passing, as did a girl named Max. The way both Steve and Nancy talked about their friends filled you with a longing for something you never knew you wanted. You hadn’t been worried about meeting Nancy’s friends before, but now hearing how close they all were and what a tight knit group they formed, you were a little worried that you wouldn’t be accepted into their circle. You told Nancy as much that night as the two of you were getting ready for bed.

“Trust me, you really don’t have to worry,” Nancy assures you. “The hardest one to win over will probably be Max, but she’s really only about as half as mean as she pretends to be.”

“I’m not sure how comforting that is,” you say.

Nancy slides into the covers on one side of the bed, and you slip in on the other. She clicks the lamp off as you pull the covers up to your chin.

“I’ve never once seen you worried about what people will think of you,” Nancy says. “Not even Ben when you had that massive crush on him.”

“I didn’t have enough time to care what he thought of me before I found out he had a girlfriend,” you tell her.

“I still can’t believe he’s the only guy you’ve even been mildly interested in at school,” Nancy says. “How many others have asked you out? Six? Seven?”

“I didn’t give a shit about any of them,” you say with a laugh. “Most of them were assholes who just wanted to get laid. And the others - which were probably like two of them - I only saw as friends.”

“I mean, I’m not mad about it,” Nancy says. “This way I’m not the only one who isn’t going to the clubs on Fridays and Saturdays.”

“You could still go, you know. Just because you have a boyfriend doesn’t mean you can’t go out dancing with friends.”

“I know that,” Nancy answers. “But it would feel weird. All those guys are looking for are hookups, like you said. It’s like a meat market in there.”

“So, you see why I don’t go,” you say.

“But you don’t have a boyfriend,” she says.

“And I don’t want one who I’ll meet when he starts grinding on me from behind at some sleazy, disgusting club.”

“Fair enough,” Nancy says with a sigh.

You turn your head on your pillow so that you’re looking at your friend beside you.

“Do you really think I’m too mean to these guys?”

Nancy frowns at the timidity in your voice.

“You haven’t been mean to any of them. I’ve only ever seen you politely decline. Do I think you should give one of them a try every now and then? Yeah. You never know what you could be missing.”

“I know.” You sigh and turn your head back to stare up at the ceiling. “I just haven’t felt anything for any of them. I want to feel something when I look at a guy. Or think about him. But in my mind, the thought of going out with any of them seemed more boring than sitting through ten of Professor Carter’s lectures.”

Nancy chuckles at that.

“Well,” she says. “Damn Ben for having a girlfriend then.”

Now it’s your turn to laugh as you nod along in agreement.

“Damn him.”

It almost seemed impossible to you how conventional and simplistic Thanksgiving was at the Wheeler household. The way that Mike and Holly argued over the remote control, Holly wanting to watch the parade, and Mike - just being a typical annoying big brother, you think - wants to hog the remote to watch what he wants. How the baby of the family gets her way and sits in front of the television, watching the large balloons being escorted down the streets of New York City. That Ted Wheeler falls asleep in his chair before the parade ends and bangs and clinks come from the kitchen as Karen preps for the big dinner. This all only happened in movies, as far as you had been concerned.

Thanksgiving growing up consisted of loud drunk neighbors, the smell of burnt cooking exuding from the apartments around you, and possibly a home cooked dinner of spaghetti if your mom felt like it that year. Normal family traditions were something you never got to experience, and just getting to see them firsthand was enough to make you emotional. Of course, Nancy notices, but she would never say anything. She just tries to include you as much as she can with small, mundane tasks like helping Karen in the kitchen or setting the table with Mike.

Dinner itself was a whole new experience. A family all sitting down together, sharing a meal, and talking to one another while doing so. You could count on one hand the times your mom would talk to you as you both ate frozen dinner entrees that had been heated in the microwave. Karen apologizes more than once about her children bickering back and forth, but you enjoy it more than she could understand. It’s all so odd and appealing to you, this dynamic. A nice suburban house with the white picket fence and family dog barking at the children playing in the yard has always seemed like such a faraway thing that would elude you forever. But seeing it up close and personal, you realize how badly you want this.

After dinner is the first time you really get to spend with Mike, both of you sprawled out in the basement after too much turkey, eyes heavy with sleep from feeling so contented and full. Nancy insisted you had helped plenty and could go downstairs while she finished helping her mom clean up. Mike said he’d show you some of his D&D stuff, which Nancy groaned about and said not to bore you with. But you were honestly intrigued and tried to follow along as Mike explained how the game works. Neither of you could keep focus for long though, both wanting to crash on the comfortable furniture down there as the tryptophan from the turkey kicked in.

Mike tells you about life at Hawkins High, about his friends that you’re meeting tomorrow, and how they’re all considered nerds and geeks. You could relate on some level, as you’d been picked on for not having the best clothes or accessories as you didn’t have as much money as the other families of the students. Nancy comes down to join you and puts some Blondie on the stereo - to Mike’s annoyance - as the three of you let the food comas control your bodies for a while.

Homemade pumpkin and apple pies are served for dessert a few hours later, complete with a scoop of ice cream and a generous helping of whipped cream. The family then all gathered in the living room to watch It’s A Wonderful Life, a tradition Karen tells you that happens every year. She calls it the official end of Thanksgiving and beginning of the Christmas season. You’ve never seen the movie before now, and Nancy notices how happy and relaxed you are as you sit next to Holly on the couch and watch the classic black and white film. Her heart aches as she realizes how she’s taken these holidays for granted her whole life, not thinking about how fortunate she really is.

When you and Nancy get ready for bed that night, bellies full of delicious homemade food and hearts all warm and fuzzy from sharing the things you were thankful for at dinner, she takes a moment to give you a big hug, making sure you realize how thankful she is for you. If it makes you tear up slightly before she pulls away, she can easily pretend not to notice.

Friday afternoon is full of messes and giggles as you and Nancy prepare dishes to bring with you to Steve’s house that evening. Most everyone would be bringing leftovers from their family Thanksgivings the day before, but Nancy knew that once Mike got ahold of the food there wouldn’t be much leftover to bring.

The green bean casserole gets in and out of the oven without issue, but once Mike smells the pumpkin pie you made baking, Nancy has to physically push him out of the kitchen.

“You’re coming later,” Nancy reminds him. “You can eat it then.”

As the two of you get ready for the dinner, you find yourself fidgeting more than normal. The blue sweater you put on is soft and you find yourself rubbing the material through your fingers over and over. The dainty golden heart necklace you wear becomes something to fiddle with as you prepare your makeup. Nancy must notice your nerves, as she offers to do your hair for you.

“Relax,” she tells you as she gives your hair a finishing puff of hairspray. “We’re really all a weird bunch.”

“So, I’ll fit right in,” you say with a small, nervous smirk.

“You really will,” she assures you with a smile.

On the drive to Steve’s house, your nerves somehow dissipate. The ride through the small-town calms you. Seeing children all bundled up and playing with one another in their yards. Neighbors walking their dogs together through the colorful leaves adorning the sidewalks. It’s simple and peaceful, something you’d only ever seen in movies.

The house you pull up to looks larger than the entirety of your apartment building back home. Granted, it’s a small apartment building, but still. The trees surrounding the two-story home give it a sense of mysticism, yet the dark exterior keeps it modern.

There are already a few cars parked out front as Nancy pulls in behind one in the driveway. She kills the engine, and you follow her out of the car and up to the front door. You’ve met Steve, and like him, so there’s no anxiety about seeing him. But you know the other people in there are Nancy’s favorite people in the world, so it puts some unintended pressure on.

Nancy doesn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell, just opens the front door and casually strolls in. It tells a lot about the relationship the two have, and it makes you smile as you follow her over to a small coat closet near the door.

“Hey! Thought I heard your car pulling up.”

Steve smiles as he approaches the two of you. He helps Nancy out of her coat and takes yours as well, maneuvering them onto hangers in the closet. Nancy leans down to unlace her boots, and you bend down to unzip yours.

Voices can be heard coming from the other room, and it sounds like quite a few people are already there. Steve closes the closet door behind you as you struggle with your zipper. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a shadow enter the entryway as you manage to get the zippers down on both of your boots.

“Hey,” you hear Nancy greet the new person in the room.

You stand up straight, ready to kick the unzipped boots off your feet, when you look up and lock eyes with the man standing a few feet in front of you. His dark brown eyes stare right back at you, gazes locked on one another like you’ve both frozen in time. Behind you, Nancy and Steve look at each other from the corner of their eyes, both cracking a smile as you two just continue to stare.

The mysterious boy has a mass of curls that fall to his shoulders, almost as brown as his eyes. He’s wearing a long-sleeved black t-shirt with a denim vest layered over it, covered in colorful patches. He’s tall and slim, and light glints off the silver rings adorning most of his fingers. One side of his mouth tugs up in a smile, the only motion either of you makes.

“Um,” Steve says once he can’t take it anymore. He steps forward so he’s equidistant between you two. His eyes dart back and forth, not knowing which of you to address first. “Eddie, you remember me telling you about Nancy’s friend?”

Eddie. The name runs through your mind and forces a smile on your lips. It fits him. And suddenly it’s the best name you’ve ever heard.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, eyes still glued to you.

“And this is Eddie,” Nancy says as she comes up beside you. She places her hand on your arm and nods her head at the curly haired boy. “One of my friends from high school.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you manage to get out.

“Why don’t we go inside?” Nancy says, tugging on your arm gently. “We can all talk in there.” She notices you haven’t finished taking your shoes off yet and knocks her knee against yours to get your attention. Steve joins in her attempts to help break you and Eddie out of your trance and puts his hand on Eddie’s shoulder, giving him a light shove in the direction of the living room.

Reluctantly, your eyes break contact with his as you look down to step out of your shoes. Nancy nudges them over alongside hers before guiding you along behind Steve and Eddie.

The spell that had come over you is broken as loud and rambunctious younger teens shout at one another, some hanging off couches, some sprawled out on the floor, and some moving from place to place. You spot Mike on a couch, arm around who you assume is his girlfriend, as he went to spend time with her earlier in the day.

Your eyes search for Eddie, but you’re startled by a girl coming up to you and giving you a big, toothy grin.

“Hi! Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, it’s so nice to meet you!”

“Robin,” Nancy says with a laugh. “Don’t scare her.”

“Sorry,” Robin says with an apologetic wince.

“No, it’s okay,” you assure her. “Just a lot of new people.”

“Mike, we forgot the food in the car,” Nancy calls to her brother. “Can you go get it?”

“What? Why me?”

“Oh, come on,” another boy says as he hits Mike on the chest.

“Thank you, Will,” Nancy says pointedly.

“So that’s Will,” Robin tells you as the boy walks by. He gives you a kind smile and a wave before he ducks out of the room, Mike right behind him. “That’s El, Mike’s girlfriend. She’s sitting next to Jonathan. And the ones arguing over there are Dustin, Lucas, and Max.”

“Who is who?” you ask, looking at the three kids bickering with one another.

“Dustin’s in the hat,” Nancy says.

“Ginger is Max,” Robin adds.

“Tall one is Lucas,” Nancy finishes.

“Remember all that?” Robin asks.

“Maybe,” you say with a chuckle. “Guess we’ll find out.”

“How do you like Hawkins?” Robin asks.

“It’s cute,” you tell her. “Much different than Boston.”

“Oh yeah,” Nancy agrees.

“Here.” Mike stalks into the room and shoves the container holding the green bean casserole at his sister.

“Such a gentleman,” Robin says.

Nancy accepts the dish from him with an eye roll. Will walks in with the pumpkin pie and you take it from him with a thank you. Nancy leads you into the kitchen and balances the casserole in one hand while opening the oven with the other. She slides it in to heat it up, making room for it next to the other dishes inside.

“You can just put the pie in the fridge,” she tells you.

The refrigerator is fairly full, but you manage to find a place to fit the tin in. Nancy comes over and yanks a bottle out of a cabinet next to the fridge.

“Want a glass?” She holds up the wine bottle to show you as she grabs two glasses.

“Sure,” you say.

Nancy pops the cork out with ease and pours a serving for each of you. The red wine flows like life’s blood and you can practically taste the dry fruitiness already. She hands you a glass and you clink them together before taking a swig.

“Oh,” Nancy says as she lowers the glass from her mouth. “I forgot to ask Steve something. I’ll be right back, okay?”

She sets her glass down as you nod at her. Left alone, you lean back against the counter and take another sip of your wine. It’s a large, white kitchen, decorated in an array of plaid and checkered patterns. There are so many cabinets and shelves you can’t imagine what they all hold.

“Hey, Nance, where can I - oh.” Eddie stops short in the entryway when he sees you standing there alone. A smile lights up his face and you blush at the sight. “You are not Nancy.”

“I am not,” you concur.

He slips his hands into the pockets of his dark jeans and sidles up next to you. Arms crossing over his chest, he leans against the counter next to you.

“Welcome to the circus,” Eddie says, gesturing to the next room where you can still hear a cacophony of young voices going back and forth.

“It’s cool that you all keep in touch after high school,” you say. “I could tell you where maybe five people are that I went to school with. The rest? I couldn’t give a damn.”

“I feel that way about most of our school,” Eddie says. “These are the few good ones. Course, the kids are still in school. Robin’s going to Hawkins Community College and Steve and I are just working stiffs now.”

“What do you do?” you ask, taking another sip of your wine.

“Work at a garage downtown,” he tells you. “Nothing fancy, but it pays the bills.”

“I know all about that,” you say. “I work at a coffee shop. I come home smelling like hot chocolate every day.”

“There are worse things to smell like,” Eddie says with a smile. “Once I got gasoline on my shoes and I swear, I smelled like it for a week, no matter how much I showered.”

The image of Eddie in the shower invades your thoughts and you take another gulp of wine to hide the flush on your cheeks. The urge to drop your eyes down to his arms and chest is appealing, but you manage to restrain yourself.

“You keep drinking that quickly and your blush is only going to get worse.”

The way you choke on your wine makes you fear that some of it is going to shoot out of your nose. With your hand over your mouth and nose, you cough as some of the wine goes down the wrong way. Eddie reaches over to pat your back a few times, only adding to the heat on your face. You notice he’s smiling at you, but it’s not in a mocking or patronizing way. It’s as if he thinks you’re cute and the thought makes your head buzz more than the wine.

“You okay?” he asks.

“M’good,” you squeak out through a cough.

“Want some water?”

All you can do is nod in response. Eddie turns to grab a cup from a cabinet next to the sink and fills it up halfway. You take it without looking him in the eye and take a couple of swigs.

“Better?” he asks.

“Yeah,” you say, throat recovering from the burn. The accursed dirty mind you have makes you think there’s a way I’d like him to make my throat burn.

“Good,” he says.

He opens his mouth to speak again when Nancy comes back into the kitchen. Her eyes go from you, to Eddie, back to you again. She raises an eyebrow and you’re unsure if it’s because of your red face, Eddie’s smirk, or if she can feel the tension in the air.

“Everything okay?” she asks.

“Fine,” Eddie tells her at the same time that you say, “Yep.”

She doesn’t look convinced but doesn’t press any further.

“Eddie!”

A shorter boy with dark curly hair tucked under a blue and red baseball cap walks into the kitchen, head swiveling to find his friend.

“Right here,” Eddie says.

“There you are,” Dustin, if you recall correctly, says. “Will you come tell Lucas that he’s an idiot?”

“Um, hello,” Eddie says, nodding his head towards you. “Manners, dude.”

“Oh, shit,” Dustin says with a shake of his head. “I’m sorry. Hi, I’m Dustin.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say. “You’re the one who Steve’s adopted, right?”

Dustin’s laughter rings out in the kitchen.

“Sometimes it feels like the other way around, but yeah,” he says.

“Steve and Eddie share custody now,” Nancy says.

“Don’t make me his co-parent,” Eddie says, shaking his head.

Steve pops his head in the kitchen and rolls his eyes.

“Jesus, you guys.” He walks over and slings his arm over Nancy’s shoulders. “Leave me with them out there.”

“Isn’t Robin out there?” Nancy asks.

“She joined the argument, whatever it’s about!”

“Lucas is saying that in Star Wars-.”

“Nope,” Steve says, cutting Dustin off. “I don’t want to hear about your little nerd wars.”

“Come on,” Dustin whines. “You liked Return of the Jedi.”

“No, he liked Leia in the gold bikini,” Nancy corrects.

“The one with the teddy bear things?” Steve asks.

“Yeah, the Ewoks,” you say.

All heads turn to you and a grin grows on Dustin’s face.

“I didn’t know you liked Star Wars,” Nancy says.

“All we ever do is talk, how did this never come up?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Are you a nerd?” Eddie smirks at you and pokes your arm.

“A little,” you say with a shrug.

“Read The Hobbit?” Eddie asks.

“Alright, I’m leaving,” Steve says. He presses a kiss to Nancy’s head and turns to head out of the kitchen. The oven timer dings though, and Steve stops in his tracks.

“Dinner’s ready, Dad,” Dustin says.

“Shut up. Go tell the others to sit at the table.”

“Wait,” Nancy says, and everyone stares at her. “Um, I mean, Dustin and I will get the others. You guys help Steve get the food out.”

“Okay,” Dustin drawls, narrowing his eyes at Nancy.

She nudges Dustin out of the kitchen ahead of her as Steve yanks the oven door open, letting the heat and savory scents of the food waft out into the air. It’s a mishmash of dishes as Steve pulls them out one by one, setting them on the counters around him.

“Okay,” Steve says. He closes the oven and turns it off. Putting his hands on his hips, he spins around and looks at the different foods. “We’ve got vegetables, we’ve got turkey, potatoes, breads.”

“Cranberries?” Eddie asks.

Steve snaps his fingers and nods. “In the fridge.”

“I’ve got it,” you say.

Steve loads up Eddie’s arms with food before piling himself up. You scoop up the dishes that are left and follow the guys into the dining room. Nancy and Dustin had called everyone in to eat, and most of the seats are already taken. All that’s left are the seat at the head of the table, for Steve, and two seats situated between Nancy and Will. The way Nancy avoids your eyes as you set the food down on the table tells you that the two chairs left for you and Eddie aren't just a coincidence.

Eddie makes no secret of his happiness that you’re sitting near one another as he grins brightly and pulls out your chair for you. You slip into it and meet Nancy’s too-innocent eyes as Eddie sits down next to you. If Steve’s wise to the setup, he shows no hint of it while he cuts pieces of turkey to be sent around the table.

“Stuffing?” Eddie offers.

“Yes, please.”

He doles some out on your plate before serving himself, tongue peeking out of his lips the whole time. Bowls are handed across the table, plates passed back and forth from one friend to another, but eventually everyone is settled with their full plate in front of them.

The girl named Max sits across from you and she glances up at you between bites of turkey. You give her a smile that she tentatively returns.

“Well, damn,” Eddie says from next to you. “I knew Red for over a month before I got a smile out of her.”

Max scowls at him as she shoves a forkful of mashed potatoes in her mouth.

“I have a good sense about people,” she says once she’s swallowed her food. “I like her. I was never sure about you. Still not.”

“Hardy har,” Eddie answers but Max cracks a smile at him.

“Should we do that thing?” Robin asks the whole table. Everyone turns to her, most brows furrowed in confusion.

“Ah yes, Robin,” Steve says. “That thing.”

“You know,” Robin says. She gesticulates with her hands, crumbs of stuffing flying off her fork in the process. “Where we say what we’re thankful for.”

Mike and Lucas groan in tandem as Dustin drops his head into his hands.

“We’re not eighty years old, Robin,” Steve says.

“Oh, come on,” Robin says. She looks pleadingly at everyone, widening her eyes and jutting out her bottom lip.

“Why not?” El asks.

You notice everyone seems to have a harder time saying no to El than they do Robin, and Steve shrugs in reluctant agreement.

“I’ll start,” Robin says, unsurprisingly. “I’m thankful that Steve got promoted to manager at Family video.”

“Why are you thankful for that?” Mike asks.

“Because it means Keith doesn’t work there anymore,” Steve says. “And she won’t get in as much trouble if she clocks in late.”

“Still thankful,” Robin says with a shrug. She leans back in her seat and nods at Jonathan next to her.

“Oh, um,” Jonathan says, shifting in his chair. He looks uncomfortable with all the attention on him. “I’m, uh, I guess I’m thankful that we moved back to Hawkins.”

The game goes around the table until it gets to Eddie.

“Shit, there’s a lot I’m thankful for this year,” Eddie says with a chuckle. There are some murmurs of laughter in agreement around the table and you feel like an outsider for the first time tonight, not being in on some joke or knowledge. Eddie quickly takes notice of this and licks his lips. “I think I’ll go with two things, though. One, finally graduating.” Dustin and the other younger boys break into applause at this, which Eddie halts by waving a dismissive hand at them. “Two, I’m thankful Nancy brought this lovely lady over for dinner.”

Eddie turns to look at you, his smirk and statement making you blush yet again. You weren’t someone who blushed easily, and somehow this adorable metal head had managed to make it happen twice within a single hour.

“Well, you stole my answer,” you tell him with a shy smile.

“Yeah?” he asks, raising his eyebrows at you. He rests his arm along the back of your chair and leans just slightly into your space.

“Yeah,” you affirm.

You miss the way Max’s eyes go to Nancy, who is grinning at the pair of you, then move to Steve, who shrugs at the redhead and rolls his eyes as if saying what’re you gonna do?

“You’ll just have to give another one then,” Eddie says.

He watches you as you squint one eye closed and pucker your lips together as you think. With your gaze not solely locked on him, you don’t see the way his eyes dart down to your lips. But Nancy does.

“Can I just say I’m thankful for Nancy in general, then? Because I wouldn’t have been able to stand being at school without her. And she was kind enough to bring me home with her to meet her family and all of you.”

There’s a collective “aww” around the table as Nancy leans over and wraps an arm around you, leaning her head against yours.

“Well, I’m thankful you decided to do your laundry in the middle of the night just like I did. Or this might’ve never happened,” Nancy says. “And I’m thankful for being able to make long distance with Steve work so well.”

A smile lights up Steve’s face and you’re struck again with how cute these two are with one another.

“You’re the last one to go, Stevie,” Robin says. “Lay it on us.”

“Well, I’d be in complete trouble if I didn’t say Nancy, right?” he asks, throwing a wink and smirk her way. “I’m just kidding. Well, not about Nancy, about being in trouble for it. Because I am thankful for Nancy.”

“Anticlimactic,” Robin says with a sigh.

“Are we done?” Max asks. “Please?”

“Yeah, that only took up the whole dinner,” Mike adds.

“Oh, please,” Nancy calls down the table to her little brother. “Like you actually paid attention to what a single person said.”

Eddie leans into whisper in your ear. “I’d say we’re not always this crazy, but that’d be a lie.”

“Are you kidding? I would love to have a group of friends like this,” you tell him. “The crazier the better.”

“Oh, well then you’re definitely in the right spot,” he tells you.

Steve begins to gather empty plates from the table, and Eddie is right behind him, sliding yours on top of his as he stands up.

Nancy shoos you from the kitchen, saying that you aren’t allowed to help clean because you’re their special guest. So, you find your way back into Steve’s living room, where those who aren’t helping to clean are spread out around the room, either talking or listening to the music that Eddie’s turned on the radio.

“Queen, hmm?” you say as you walk over to stand near him.

“Yeah, I figured they’re a band everyone would be happy with,” he says as Killer Queen begins over the speakers. “Wouldn’t be my first choice, but they’re pretty good.”

“And who on earth could you possibly hold in higher regard than Queen?”

“Metallica, Black Sabbath, Iron Maiden,” Eddie starts, but you cut him off.

“So, basically any metal band?”

“Pretty much,” Eddie says, putting his hands on his hips. “Best type of music, if you ask me. But I do also like Queen.”

“Good,” you say. You plop down on the nearest empty couch and Eddie follows to sit right alongside you.

“I’m guessing Queen is your favorite?” he asks, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

“They are,” you tell him. “Freddie Mercury has one of the greatest voices of all time.”

“I can’t argue with that,” Eddie says. “Who else do you like?”

“A lot, actually. From Queen, to Beatles, to Elvis, to Madonna, to Black Sabbath, to showtunes.”

“Showtunes, huh?” Eddie asks with a smirk.

“I will take no disrespect of Stephen Sondheim,” you warn him.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. “Mostly because I have no idea who that is.”

You laugh and the sound brings a light to Eddie’s eyes. They crinkle in the corners as he looks at you and it’s enough to make your heart stutter in your chest.

Across the room, unbeknownst to you and Eddie off in your own little world, Nancy and Steve walk back into the living room.

“Damn, she and Munson are really hitting it off, aren’t they?” Steve asks, making Nancy giddy with happiness.

“Steve, you don’t get it,” she tells him.

“I know. I never thought I’d see a girl take such a shine to Munson so quickly.”

“No,” Nancy says with a shake of her head. She watches the two of you converse on the couch, him laughing at something you said, before she grabs Steve’s arm and pulls him to the side of the room.

“There have been like, at least twelve guys who have asked her on dates back at school,” Nancy tells him. “Out of those, she probably agreed to three. And from those three dates, I think she had a second date with one of them. That’s it.”

“I’m gonna need more context clues to get me where you want me to go,” Steve says, shrugging in confusion.

“I’ve never seen her actually be interested in a guy. Well, one, but he had a girlfriend, so it didn’t last long. She’s told me besides her one boyfriend in high school, she’s never clicked with or had real feelings for anyone before. But this!” She gestures to you and Eddie in your own little bubble on the couch. “It’s huge! You don’t know her like I do, but trust me, this is huge.”

“Okay,” Steve says, getting the hang of it. “And what about Eddie?”

“I’ve never actually seen him have a crush on someone before. Have you?”

Steve shakes his head and holds his arms out to the sides helplessly.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him talk to a girl that’s not in this room,” he says.

“I think he likes her,” Nancy says with a grin that could only be called devious.

“Hold on, Yente,” Steve says, startling Nancy.

“Was that really a Fiddler on the Roof reference?” she asks.

“I manage a video store. Pretty sure I’ve seen every video in there at least twice. So, yeah. But you’ve got to slow your roll on the matchmaking. She’s going back to Boston with you in two days.”

Nancy sighs and folds her arms over her chest.

“I know,” she admits sadly. “But they’re so cute.”

Steve rests his hands on Nancy’s shoulders and gives them a small massage.

“They are,” he agrees. “I don’t think Eddie would mind if you spent the rest of the semester talking him up to her, though.”

It feels like you’ve only been talking to Eddie for ten minutes, but when the whines from Mike and Max come that they’re hungry and want dessert, it shocks you to find out that it’s been hours since you’d all finished dinner.

Dessert goes much quicker than dinner, and with more efficiency. There was the pumpkin pie that you and Nancy had made, an apple pie that Will and El had baked, some cookies Max made, and cupcakes that Robin says she picked up on clearance on the drive over. Everyone wants to sample a bit of everything, but it’s hard since you’d all had a hardy meal just hours ago. Once you’re one vanilla cupcake and a slice of pumpkin pie deep, Eddie offers to split a piece of apple pie with you. He smothers it in whipped cream and hands you a second fork so the two of you can dig in together. You laugh when Eddie uses his pinky finger to put a dab of a glob of whipped cream on the tip of your nose. You go cross-eyed trying to look at it - which makes Eddie laugh - and try to stretch your tongue up as high as it would go to clean it off. You’re unable to do it though, so settle for wiping it off using your hand with a sigh.

Though you don’t have the room left, you swipe one of the last of Max’s cookies so you can have officially tried one of everything. After your first delicious bite though, you realize there’s no way you’ll be able to finish it. You slump back in your seat with a groan, the waistband on your pants threatening to suffocate you. Tilting your head to the side, you see Eddie in an almost identical position. He eyes the cookie in your hand and opens his mouth.

“Really?” you ask with a laugh.

He just nods, keeping his mouth open. You feed him the rest of your half-eaten cookie. He licks over his lips as he finishes it, then let’s out a groan to match your previous one.

No one feels the urge to talk or move from the table as you’ve all been re-stuffed. The music that’s still playing on the stereo in the living room drifts in over the silence of the dining room, and you smile to yourself as one of your favorite Billy Joel songs plays. It’s a comfortable atmosphere, the silence not awkward, just content as everyone basks in their food comas.

Dustin is the first one to break the silence, which seems to surprise no one.

“We’ve got to do the secret Santa,” he says.

“Shit, where’s the hat with the names in it?” Steve asks, slumped down in his chair.

“I think I saw it in the living room,” Will says. He forces his way out of his seat with a strained groan, and shuffles into the other room. He returns holding an upside-down Santa Claus hat that rustles when he shakes it.

“Oh, um am I..?” you trail off, looking at Nancy.

She nods. “I put your name in there. I figured you could always ship your gift and your gift can get shipped to you if you’re not here for Christmas.”

You haven’t even thought about what your plans would be for Christmas this year. It wasn’t usually a pleasant time of the year for you and college had distracted you from the fact that you’d have to be at home for the holiday. It sounded about as appealing as walking back to Boston from Hawkins, butt naked.

Will sits down with the hat and places it on the table in front of him.

“Should I start?” he asks.

“Might as well,” Dustin says. “Remember the rules. You can’t pick your own name. And you can’t pick a sibling because you’ll probably be forced to buy them something anyway. Oh! Also, no couples,” Dustin says, eyeing Steve and Nancy before Max and Lucas. “We all know you’ll be buying each other things too.”

“We got it, Henderson,” Steve says. He gestures to Will. “Let’s get it going.”

Will draws the first name and smiles to himself. He’s careful not to look at anyone around the table as he slips the small piece of paper in his pocket. He slides the hat over to El, who in turn draws hers. She frowns when she sees the name and replaces it to pick another one. The hat travels along the table, with Mike also having to select a second name, and ends up at Nancy. She selects her rolled up paper and holds it close to her chest so she can read it. She chuckles and holds the paper in her lap as she slides the hat over to you. You reach in and pull out the first scrap of paper your hand touches. Copying Nancy’s movements of holding the paper close, you take a look at who you’ve drawn. “Max” the paper reads. Nodding to yourself, you slide the hat down to Eddie, who has the final pull from the hat.

“Good thing I don’t have the sibling or girlfriend option here since I’m drawing the last one,” Eddie says as he sticks his hand inside. “As long as it’s not me, we’re good.” He peeks inside the little white paper before folding it up and putting it in his jacket pocket. “Not me. We’re good.”

Dessert is also an easier clean up, so Nancy lets you help this time around. It only takes a few minutes, then you’re strolling back into the living room, where your hand is quickly picked up by someone coming up alongside you.

“Hi,” Eddie says with a smile, as if it’s been a while since the two of you spoke.

“Hi yourself,” you respond as you adjust your hand in Eddie’s grip. His hand is strong and warm, and you can feel the gentle rub of calluses. He leads you over to a different part of the living room than where you were before. There’s a small nook towards the back of the room, where someone could sit and look out of a pale stained-glass window into the backyard. Today was so cold though, that the window was frosted over, giving a romantic feel to the small area.

Eddie sits down on the cushioned seat and pulls you down right along next to him. You’re sitting hip to hip, knee to knee and he still hasn’t let go of your hand. The colder air closer to the window is all the excuse you need to lean into Eddie’s side. He also takes the chill in the air as an excuse to wrap his arm around you, tucking you even further against him. You let your cheek rest against his shoulder, and it doesn’t take long until Eddie rests his head against your own. The silence is companionable as Eddie rubs his hand up and down your arm.

After a few minutes of sitting this way together, Eddie dips his head down to press his lips close enough to your ear that you can feel them brush your skin as he whispers to you.

“Can I tell you a secret?” he asks.

“Mmm,” you hum in confirmation, eyes staying closed. From his angle he can’t see the smile you’re fighting to keep off your face.

“You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

Moisture instantly gathers behind your closed eyes at his words. You blink a few times to expel them before you tilt your head up to look at him face to face.

“Is that so?” you whisper back.

“Cross my heart,” he replies.

This time the smile doesn’t stay off your face, no matter how hard you try.

“You’re an incorrigible flirt, Eddie Munson.”

“How can I not be? Usually, I’d have to take the time to psych myself up to flirt if I had just seen you around town. But no time for that when you’re leaving soon.”

He pouts adorably at the way his words cause a frown on your face.

“Nancy did tell you that you guys have to go back, right? Or was this really a kidnapping ploy all along?”

You giggle and it brightens Eddie’s whole face. It also gives him the courage to lean down and press his lips softly against yours. You gasp into the kiss, not expecting it, but quickly compose yourself enough to kiss him back. He pulls away just a little and it gives you the opportunity to sit up straighter, giving the two of you a better angle for your next kiss. He delves in and cradles the back of your head with his hand, the other snaking around your waist. One of your hands cups Eddie’s cheek as you kiss him and the other rests firmly on his chest.

Eddie’s tongue swipes across your top lip and you don’t hesitate in opening your mouth to him. His arm around your waist pulls you impossibly closer to him until you’re half on his lap, the kiss getting deeper by the moment. In many ways, it’s the best kiss you’ve ever had. Not only is Eddie a talented kisser, but you can feel the emotions behind the kiss as well. Eddie slides his hand from the back of your head to cup your jaw, tilting his head to kiss you at a slightly different angle. There’s longing there, it’s melancholy and addictive. He tastes like the pie you shared mixed with cigarettes and taste that could only be explained as Eddie.

Your fingers tighten on his shirt, bunching the black material into your hand. The hand that was on his jaw has snaked around to bury itself in the curls at the base of Eddie’s neck. He manages to maneuver both of you so he’s lounging back against the cushions of the seat, and you’re on top of him, chest pressed to chest, and legs tangling together as you let out a soft moan against Eddie’s mouth.

The sound only encourages him, his kisses becoming more impassioned and messier. Not that you mind. You’d be happy if he spit in your mouth, but you figured that wasn’t something he needed to know on day one.

Sense of time is all but gone and you’re only reminded that there are other people in the room - albeit on the other side of it, with you two not directly in view of them - until someone, by the sound of it, Robin, starts speaking at a volume way too high for indoors. She starts to babble on and on, voice raising with every statement she makes. Both you and Eddie find it amusing, as you pull away from one another’s mouths with small laughs commingling in your shared breath.

Eddie reaches up and tucks a piece of hair that’s hanging in your face behind your ear.

“In case you haven’t realized,” Eddie says softly, keeping you two in your own private moment. “I really like you.”

“Well,” you say, still trying to catch your breath. “In that case, I hope you’ve noticed that I really like you too.”

The grin on his face makes your labored breaths even quicker as his eyes gaze into yours. You rest your forehead against his and let your eyes fall closed.

“Can I see you again before you leave?” Eddie whispers.

Leaving now sounds like the worst possible thing you could endure. Boston is a great city, and you love almost every aspect of it. The food, the sports, the people, the weather. But it doesn’t have Eddie.

“Yes,” you answer him. “We leave Sunday afternoon. Steve is taking Nancy and I out for breakfast before he takes us to the airport. Would you maybe want to come?”

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

Loud clapping hands come up behind you and the quiet intimate moment you’ve been having with Eddie dissolves around you.

“Okay, lovebirds,” Robin says. “Time to get a room. Preferably the guest room at the Wheeler house.”

“We don’t have a guest room,” Nancy says. “She’s bunking with me.”

“Sorry, Eddie,” Robin says. “That means there’s no room for you on that bed.”

As everyone says goodbye for the night, you stand a little off to the side. Sure, you’d become one of the gang over the course of the evening, but that still couldn’t touch all the history and familiarity that the others had with one another. You get hugs from most everyone, including an unexpectedly tight one from Max. Will tells you repeatedly that it was so nice to meet you and you understand why Nancy was so excited to be with this group of people. They’re all kind, caring, and most obviously of all, they’re all so dedicated and loyal to one another.

Steve gives you a hug that’s just as tight as he’s given everyone else, and it could bring tears to your eyes how included you feel. You take a deep breath before you give you your final goodbye of the night. Eddie wraps you in his arms and presses a chaste kiss to your lips. His arms feel so secure around you and the warmth that you feel when you nuzzle your head into his neck is enough to make your heart burst.

“I’ll see you soon, yeah?” he asks.

“Soon,” you confirm.

He presses another kiss to your lips before reluctantly letting go.

Mike is crashing at Lucas’s tonight, so it’s just you and Nancy on the drive home. Nancy has barely shut the driver’s side door before she’s turning to you with the look of a cat that’s about to pounce.

“I have never seen you like that!” she gushes at you.

You shrug, glad for the dark night outside to hide your reddened face. She starts the car and pulls out of Steve’s driveway, but the conversation isn’t over.

“You guys were so cute,” Nancy says. “You like him?”

Looking out the passenger window at the dark trees that go past, you smile so Nancy can’t see it.

“I really like him,” you admit.

Nancy coos over your admission as she pulls out onto the main road in Hawkins.

“I could tell!” Nancy gloats. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

“You weren’t very subtle at all, forcing me to sit next to him at dinner,” you tell her.

“Are you complaining?” she asks.

“No,” you admit bashfully.

“I didn’t think so.”

“I asked him if he wanted to come with us to breakfast with Steve on Sunday. Is that okay?” you ask.

“Of course,” she assures you. “He’s a great guy, really.”

Nancy pulls her car into the driveway and you both enter the house quietly; Holly and her parents having already gone to bed. You gather your pajamas out of your suitcase and tell Nancy you’re going to take a shower when the shrill ringing of the phone on her nightstand makes both of you jump. She quickly grabs the receiver before the noise can wake anyone in the house up.

“Who the hell,” she mumbles to herself as she looks at the clock, reading almost one in the morning. “Hello?” she asks. There’s a pause and Nancy rolls her eyes as she listens. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

You giggle quietly to yourself as you watch her become exasperated. Clothes clutched to your chest, you gesture down the hall to let her know you’re headed to the bathroom. She nods at you as she listens to the person on the other line.

The hot shower invigorates your skin that had grown dry in the cold autumn air. A sigh of relief escapes your lips as you let the warm water run down your skin, relishing in the relaxation and calming aroma of the minty shampoo. As your fingers work through your hair, you recall the feeling of Eddie’s hair in your hands. The soft curls at the base of his neck you toyed with as you kissed. Thoughts begin to churn in your mind of Eddie joining you in the shower, but you don’t want to turn this into a cold shower, so you try not to let your mind wander down that path.

Using the towel to wring the excess water from your hair, you make your way back to Nancy’s room in your pajamas. The oversized t-shirt and plaid bottoms were so comfortable that you could hardly wait to curl up in bed. But when you walk into her room, Nancy hasn’t pulled the blankets down or even changed into her own pajamas. She’s changed into sweatpants and a sweatshirt, so comfy clothes, but not ones for sleep.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Guess who was on the phone?”

You’re about to admit that you have no clue, but with the way she raises an eyebrow at you, you think you get the idea.

“He didn’t,” you say with a laugh.

“Oh, he did. Wanted to know if he could come over,” she tells you.

“What?” you ask, just as there’s a knock on Nancy’s window. It startles you, but Nancy seems to have been expecting it.

“Your Romeo,” Nancy says, her head nodding to the window as she goes over to open it. She slides the glass up and Eddie stumbles in, landing clumsily as he trips over one of his own boots. Nancy shakes her head at him, and he spins around to face you, eyes instantly lighting up and an infectious smile curling his lips.

“What are you doing?” you ask as you walk over to him. You wrap your arms around his middle, the cold air sticking to his leather jacket making you shiver.

“Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair as he presses kisses to the top of your head. He quickly sheds the jacket, not wanting to make you cold, then retakes you in his arms, the warmth of his red flannel giving you the intended warm effect.

“You saw me an hour ago.” Your face is smooshed up against his chest, but he understands you anyway.

“I know. An hour,” he says. “And you’re leaving soon so I wanted to spend all the time with you I could.”

“He gave me the same speech,” Nancy says from behind him. “He’s lucky I’m a romantic and caved.”

You peek around Eddie to give her a grateful smile, which she returns with a wink.

“I’m going to take a shower,” she says. “But I will be back.” She gives a pointed look to Eddie as she heads out the door, closing it behind her.

You hop onto Nancy’s bed and open your arms for him, which he happily falls into. He climbs on the other side of you, kicking his boots off as he goes, and tucks you against his side.

“I like your pajamas,” he says. “They’re cute.”

Burying your face in his chest, you nuzzle your nose against his sternum.

“Didn’t expect company, so I dressed for warmth,” you say.

“Cold?” he asks, wrapping his arms tighter around you.

“Not really,” you say. “But keep holding me like that.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.”

You tilt your neck up, pressing soft kisses along his jaw. His hand rubs up and down your side and your body fills with a warmth that has nothing to do with the temperature.

“Can I ask you something?” you whisper against his skin.

“Anything,” he answers.

“What did you mean before?” Your fingers play with the hem of his flannel as you run the tip of your nose up to behind his ear. “At dinner. When you said there’s a lot for you to be thankful for this year.”

His body shifts underneath you and you pull back to look at him. He avoids your eyes as he adjusts his grip around your waist. You rub your hand over his chest, leaning down to press a kiss against his collarbone.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you say, sensing his mood change. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no,” he says, shaking his head. He lets out a sigh and presses his lips against your forehead. “It’s just a long, shitty story.”

“If you want to tell me, I’ll listen,” you assure him.

This makes him smile and he leans down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

“Okay,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m going to start off by saying I’m innocent though, okay? Just to preface this fucked up tale.”

You nod even though your brow scrunches up in concern. Not that you don’t believe him, but it hurts to hear that he was wrongly accused of something.

“There was this girl at school,” he starts. “Her name was Chrissy. She was a cheerleader, queen of the school. One day she asked to talk to me, which was weird in itself.”

The frown on your face is involuntary as you picture - what you can only assume is a pretty - cheerleader all over Eddie. He notices the look and runs his thumb over your pinched forehead as he lets out a soft laugh.

“Aw, are you jealous, baby? Don’t be. It was nothing like that. I mean, in complete honesty I did have a crush on her in middle school, but that was forever ago.” He presses a kiss to your now relaxed forehead before continuing on. “I used to sell drugs at school, and she wanted some pot. So, I told her when and where I’d meet her for the deal. When the time came, she was all jumpy and seemed paranoid. I tried to calm her, and it worked a bit, but she ended up asking if I had anything stronger. I didn’t with me, because I wasn’t stupid to be busted on school grounds with anything harder than weed. There was a basketball game that night and I had a hellfire meeting - you know, the D&D club I told you about after dinner. Anyway, so I told her I’d take her back to my place afterwards and I’d get her something then.” Eddie chuckles as he feels you tense up in his arms at his last statement. He presses soft and sweet kisses down the side of your face. “Can I just say that I love how you’ve only known me for a few hours and are already jealous at the thought of another girl alone with me?”

You huff playfully and hide your face in his neck. It only causes him to laugh again, and he moves his hand up and down your back reassuringly. He lets out a sigh though, as he goes on to continue his story.

“This is where it gets weird,” he says.

Nancy pushes open the door then and both of you look up as she enters. She gives you a small smile as she creeps back into the room, shutting the door again behind her.

“I’m just telling her about Chrissy,” Eddie explains.

“Oh?” Nancy asks, raising her eyebrows so high that they meet her wet bangs. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you talk about it.”

He shrugs and squeezes you in his arms.

“Just going over the important parts anyway,” he says, and a look is shared between them that escapes your notice.

Nancy nods and climbs up on the bed, resting back against her footboard and tucking her legs up underneath her. Eddie continues his story, Nancy interjecting in places that Eddie wasn’t present for, like their friends trying to find where Eddie was hiding. She talks about how she spoke with Eddie’s uncle and how after that moment she had no lingering thoughts whatsoever that Eddie could have murdered their classmate.

“Wait, I’m a little confused,” you say when they’ve finished their story. “So, you guys went to find who the real killer was, Eddie, you got hurt, and Nancy, you knocked the guy out of a window? But he escaped? Then how were you cleared?”

“Um, there wasn’t enough evidence,” Nancy says. She clears her throat before continuing. “They eventually caught the real killer, but we have a friend in the police station. El’s dad, actually. He was able to take a harder look and proved that Eddie couldn’t have done it.”

“So, I was cleared. And healed, thankfully. If Dustin hadn’t gotten my ass to the hospital so quickly, I wouldn’t have made it.”

You squeeze Eddie in your arms and rest your head on his shoulder.

“So, you meant that you were thankful you were okay and that you were cleared?” you ask, bringing it all back to your original question.

“Yeah,” he tells you. “And thankful I had these friends around me to help me out.”

“That’s so scary,” you say. Eddie and Nancy share a look above your head, knowing you don’t know the half of how scary it all actually was.

“But it’s over,” Eddie says as he lays his head on top of yours. Your fingers tighten in his shirt and Eddie feels like he could cry from the relief that rushes through him at the gesture. He hadn’t realized how terrified he was that you would think badly of him after the story, or even worse, think he truly was guilty. His body relaxes against yours and you press your lips to his shoulder, leaving him smiling against your hair.

You bring your hand up to your mouth to cover a yawn and Eddie looks at the clock on Nancy’s nightstand. “Shit, I guess I should let you guys get some sleep. The sun’ll be up any minute now.”

He slips out of your arms and off the bed. You follow behind him as he makes his way over to the window.

“Thanks for letting me come over, Nance.”

She nods her head at him as she slips under the covers. “Don’t make a habit of it,” she says with a playful smile.

He gives her a salute before looking back at you. He takes both of your hands in his and brings them up to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” he whispers.

“Yeah,” you agree as you raise up on your toes to press your lips against his.

Eddie kisses you softly, letting go of your hands so one can cup your cheek while the other pulls your body closer to his. Too soon, he pulls away and opens Nancy’s window. The frigid air blows in and you pick Eddie’s leather jacket up off the floor, handing it back to him. He slips it on and presses one last kiss to your lips before he ducks outside.

“Bye, beautiful,” he says.

“Bye.” You smile at him as he closes the window behind him and scoots down the slope of the Wheeler’s roof.

Saturday it was planned for the Wheeler family to take a trip a few towns over where there was a big holiday festival happening. The whole town was decked out in red and green, and the chill in the air added to the festive spirit. Mike was initially grumpy about being picked up from hanging out with his friends to spending time with his family, but he ended up happy he came after a video game that he desperately wanted was on sale at the local mall. You and Nancy shopped for some new clothes there as well, and you joined the family for lunch at a cute diner right in the mall’s parking lot. From there, you all visited the outdoor skating rink where you taught Holly how to skate, and she ended up being able to skate faster than either of her older siblings.

Once the sun went down, you grabbed some hot chocolates to go and headed back to Hawkins for a family movie night tucked up in the house. Holly fell asleep before the end of the second movie, her hand clutched in Nancy’s and her head on your shoulder. Mr. Wheeler carried her to bed and Mike broke out a box of gingerbread cookies that Karen had tried to hide from him in the back of the pantry.

It was a fun day, but Eddie had been on your mind for the entirety of it. You pictured modeling the clothes that you had bought for him, or him holding your hand as you skated around the rink. When you and Nancy headed up to bed, she joked that there would be no middle of the night visitors tonight, and you both fell asleep quickly.

Sunday morning you were brimming with excitement to see Eddie, but your heart melted at the tears Karen and Holly shed as they hugged Nancy goodbye. They’d see her in a few weeks for Christmas, but it just showed how much they loved her. Each member of the family hugged you goodbye, even Mike seeming heartfelt as he did so. You’d miss being around this domestic type of setting. The nuclear family wasn’t something you were terribly accustomed to, but you had enjoyed every moment of it.

The doorbell eventually rings, and Steve is ready and waiting there to help you and Nancy get your bags in the car. You notice a certain someone with a curly mop of hair in the passenger seat and a grin splits your face as Eddie climbs out of the car. He scoops you up in his arms and hugs you tightly before assisting Steve with the bags. The guys take you to a cute quaint restaurant on the way to the airport, and Eddie refuses to let go of your hand the moment you both step out of the car. You look through the menu with one hand, not moving your laced fingers from his grip. It proves hard to eat though, with only one hand, so you begrudgingly let go of each other.

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” Steve asks you as he swallows a bite of his blueberry pancakes.

“Probably nothing,” you say with a shrug. “I’ll probably end up driving back to New Hampshire to my mom’s place, but I don’t even know if she’ll be there. Hopefully I’ll get to see my niece, though. She’s my favorite person in the world.”

“How old is she?” Eddie asks.

“Almost eight,” you tell him. “Her and my sister live like an hour away from us.”

“I’m sure she’d love to see you,” Nancy says. She knows the shared love you and the little girl have for one another.

Eddie steals a piece of bacon off your plate and your jaw drops open.

“Excuse you,” you say. “I’m going to need a bite of waffle as repayment, thank you very much.”

Eddie happily obliges and holds up a piece of his waffle speared on his fork to your lips. You bite it off and hum appreciatively as you chew it.

“You two are disgustingly cute,” Steve says as he watches the pair of you. “It’s almost insane how you just met.”

It doesn’t seem like you had just met, though. The way you clicked with him so instantaneously was something you’ve never experienced before, and you know Eddie hasn’t either. You moved so naturally with one another it was as if you’d grown up together. Fate wasn’t something you particularly subscribed to, but it was hard to think of this thing with Eddie as anything else. How many things needed to line up just right so you would meet him?

Breakfast doesn’t last long enough, and you feel yourself dragging back to the car when it’s time for the final leg of the journey to the airport. Eddie sits in the backseat with you this time and you rest your backpack in his lap as you rummage through it, looking for a pen. Once you succeed, you pull out a scrap of paper and start scribbling on it.

“Here,” you say, handing it to him. He takes it from you, and you slide the backpack off his lap. “The top one is the number to my dorm room. I have a bitchy roommate, so I apologize in advance if she ever answers when you call. The number underneath it is for my apartment in New Hampshire. I won’t be there until Christmas break, but I wanted to give it to you now anyway.”

Eddie grins as he looks at the paper. He folds it carefully, like it’s a precious artifact and not a scrap from a homework assignment you had earlier in the semester.

“She hides from her roommate in my room, too,” Nancy adds with a smirk. “So, if she’s not in her room, get the number to mine from Steve. But not at one in the morning!”

Steve raises his eyebrows at the look Nancy gives Eddie over her shoulder.

“Wait, what?” he asks.

“You’re not the only one to scale my house anymore,” she tells him.

“You did what?” Steve looks at Eddie in the rear-view mirror with an incredulous expression.

Eddie shrugs innocently as he wraps his arm around your shoulders.

“I had full permission,” he tells Steve.

Steve parks his car along the curb at the airport and none of you are eager to get out. People bustle outside, lugging suitcases here and there, saying tearful goodbyes to loved ones, or rushing to catch a flight they’re running late for. You never thought you’d feel so sad returning to school. You had looked forward to escaping there from home for as long as you could remember that it seemed odd to have a place you’d rather be.

Nancy’s the first one to break the seal, pushing her door open, the rest of you following her lead. Eddie unloads your bags from the trunk and Nancy slings her duffle bag over her shoulder as you slip on your backpack. Steve hugs you goodbye first, and you thank him for the ride and for having you over the other night. He assures you it was his pleasure, and it doesn’t just seem like a polite response; it seems like he means it. Nancy hugs Eddie goodbye as well, before launching herself in her boyfriend’s arms.

“Shit, I’m going to miss you,” Eddie says. His arms slip around your waist, and he pulls you flush up against him.

“Me too,” you say, placing your hands on his chest.

“I don’t think I’ll give you much of a chance to miss me,” he says. “You’re going to get sick of me calling.”

“I can guarantee you that won’t happen,” you say with a smile.

“You underestimate me,” Eddie says, making you laugh. “Fuck, I love your laugh.”

You blush under his gaze, amazed at how he can make it happen so easily. He presses his lips firmly against yours and your arms wind their way around his neck. His hands snake up the back of your coat and it takes all your willpower not to say, “screw school” and get back in the car with him.

Reluctantly needing air, you both pull back and Eddie rests his forehead against your own.

“I’m really glad I met you,” you tell him quietly.

“So am I,” he says. “Have a safe flight, okay?”

You nod and press one last kiss to his lips. You try to memorize the way they feel against your own and how his callused hands feel over your shirt. The scent of cigarettes is not something you ever would have thought you’d enjoy, but now you never want to be without it surrounding you.

“Bye, beautiful.”

The pressure behind your eyes starts and you feel silly for getting so emotional over leaving someone you only met two days ago. No one has ever made you feel the way Eddie does though, so you allow yourself the grace to just feel what you’re feeling.

“Bye, handsome.”

Pulling out of his arms, you pick up your suitcase and head towards the building with Nancy. Both of you stop right as you're about to enter and give one last wave to the guys. Steve blows Nancy a kiss and Eddie winks at you as he waves in return.

With a deep breath, you hike your backpack up higher on your back and follow Nancy into the airport.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfic #WTHI

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moonsgemini · 6 months

Text

you’re on your own kid

summary: rafe cameron has loved his best friend through every season, but through the seasons of their senior year things start to get complicated.

warning: she/her, smoking, alcohol, angst, fluff, kissing, cheating ???, drugs, mutual pining, (let me know if I missed any)

wc: 4.7k

an: HIII! I’m really excited for these taylor swift fics bc her songs give me so many ideas. This took a while for me to finish & idk if I like the ending or honestly if I like it at all. I promise seeking arrangements is next on my list to post <3 Hope you guys enjoy !!!

rafe's version masterlist - masterlist

I wait patiently

he’s gonna notice me

it’s okay we’re the best of friends

summer

Of course when he walks in the party instantly feels like an actual party. It hadn’t been much of a party to her especially not with him around. These things got boring fast if he wasn’t by her side making her laugh and talking about anything and everything. Not having to worry about sleazy guys coming up to her or putting something in her drink because he always by her side. Always looking out.

Everybody loves him anyways. The way he carried himself charmed everyone, made them always want to have his attention. Sunglasses perched on his nose, even though it’s eleven at night, that big smile on his face. He’s bobbing his head to the music and greeting everyone, she can tell he’s in a good mood tonight. It puts her in a good mood, her fingers itching to greet him already.

When he finally reaches where she’s standing with a few of her friends he smiles even wider at her. Greeting everyone but always just looking at her. Moving to push his glasses up onto his head. She couldn’t help the smile that tuged at her lips as he side hugs her friends knowing that’s not what she’s going to get.

And she’s right, once he gets to her it’s all outstretched arms and gentle rocking as he hugs her tightly. She’s been away at her grandparents house in florida for the last week of summer. They had missed each other. Face times and text messages just didn’t feel like enough.

“You’re finally back,” He said once they pulled away.

She rolled her eyes playfully a teasing smile on her lips, “Were you counting down the days Cameron?”

He shrugged, “Maybe, I know you were.” That grin never leaving his lips.

“Now come on,” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders beginning to lead her to the kitchen of whoever’s house this was, “I need a drink and you need to tell me about Florida.”

“I already told you everything every day Rafe. Just sat out by the pool or on the beach,” She motioned towards her body, “got some new clothes.”

He raised his eyebrows eyeing her body, “Some very tiny clothes,” His eyes took in her mini skirt and tank top all the exposed skin doing something to him, “Any guys out there?” He didn’t look at her as he asked. Instead he grabbed a beer out of the fridge, cracking it open with his back to her.

She scoffed, “Florida boys? No thanks.”

He turned around smirking, “So just North Carolina boys for you?”

There was a look in his eyes that she couldn’t quite read. Every now and then he’d give it to her and her mind would spiral on what he could be thinking. She always hoped it was the same thing she was, “Mhmm only North Carolina boys.”

I hear it in your voice

You're smoking with your boys

I touch my phone as if it's your face

I didn't choose this town

I dream of getting out

There's just one who could make me stay

fall

Everything had felt boring lately. After the summer and after the start of senior year she felt like the parties in outer banks were a waste of time. It was always the same people doing the same things. Kids too young to know what’s good for them and too young to care about the consequences of their actions. Not a care in the world knowing mommy or daddy would get you out of whatever stupid decision you made.

She’d spent most of her high school career pretending to like parties and drinking. Even tried coke once but it made her feel like her brain was rotting so never again. When in reality she’d rather be home smoking on her balcony reading a good book or hanging out with her close friends around a bonfire. It was exhausting always having to put up a front that she was this social party girl.

It took her a long time to come to the realization that she didn’t have to be what people thought of her. On figure eight it felt like everyone knew your business and everyone thought they knew you. They start seeing you at parties talking to Rafe Cameron and all of a sudden you’re some party girl with a drug problem. Once people found out Rafe quit doing coke and dealing she just became the party girl. Kook prince and kook princess always stuck to each others sides, of course she was going go gain a reputation.

Once she realized that people are going to talk regardless what she did so she stopped caring. Started staying home more. Rafe kind of hated it. Because she wasn’t there anymore. But he made it work with their busy senior schedules. Always saying he can make time for his best friend. That’s what she was. His best friend.

best friend.

Even saying it in her head made her cringe. If only he knew that she wanted something more so badly. At first she didn’t even see him that way, he truly was a great friend. He listened to all her rants about music, school, books. Rafe paid attention, he was soft with her. She didn’t understand why people always said bad things about him because he never showed those sides to her.

She sighed thinking about him, sitting on her balcony. The thought of him was brought on by everyone’s instagram stories of the party currently happening. She had opted for one of those smoke on the balcony with a good show or book nights.

As she scrolled through her phone more it began to vibrate. Rafe’s contact popping up on the top of the screen. A warm feeling spread through her stomach, maybe it was just because of the weed. She pressed the green button and brought the phone up to her ear. Admiring the little picture of him first, it was one she took right before she had left for florida. He was holding up their friends dog with a big smile on his face.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy,” A raspy voice said on the other line. Immediately she knew he had been smoking as well, probably with all the guys outside. He could even still be passing the joint around. He could also be smoking a cigarette outside after he’s gotten a buzz, it was his favorite thing to do after a few beers.

She put the laptop that was resting on her to the side, bringing her knees up to her chest. Leaning her head to the side on her knees she smiled softly, “Hi Rafe, you rang?”

He can hear her smile. Rafe knows her like the back of his hand.

“I did, what are you up to?” He knows exactly what she’s doing tonight even though she didn’t even tell him.

The wide grin on her lips dulling slightly, “Uh just looking at some schools in california, also watching new girl.”

“Still wanna leave this place huh?”

She let out a breathy laugh picking at the thread on her bench, “You know me too well.”

“Of course I do. I’m coming over,” She could hear him walking on gravel.

“My parents are asleep Rafe,” It was almost one in the morning and her parents had some golf charity event early in the morning.

He laughed amused, “Okay? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s supposed to mean you have to climb up to my room on the second floor or stay at that party,” Her tone was stern not wanting him to get her in trouble but also praying he’ll come and not wake them.

“Hey I gotta convince you to stay close to me after high school so you brought this on yourself,” He was walking to her house. She didn’t live too far from where this party was and he didn’t want to drive after smoking and drinking. At his words her hand tightened around her phone closing her eyes for a second imagining he was there saying that to her but in a different context.

Rafe didn’t have to do anything to convince her. He was the only one who kept her here. It was why she was still mulling over the idea of leaving the outer banks.

“You better at least be bringing a joint for us,” She sighed feeling giddy about him coming over. He always made her feel like a school girl with a big crush on the cutest boy in school.

“Already had one with your name on it babe,” He always threw that word around like it meant nothing. It meant everything to her.

They bid their goodbyes as Rafe was a few houses away. Less than ten minutes later she heard rustling under her. Rafe was climbing the tree by her room. He stepped onto the ledge before getting hoping down.

“Rafe,” She shushed him harshly hoping her dad didn’t hear. His heavy feet landing with a thud.

He looked at her with a smirk, “oops.” He shrugged not really caring if he was loud. Grabbing her legs that were laid out on the bench and sat down placing them on top. One hand on her shin and the other right above her knee.

He leaned his head back looking at her. That contagious grin on his face his eyes hooded and a bit red from his night out, “So ms. I wanna run away. What’s this thing you’re trying to escape,”

She sighed leaning back, “Dunno. I guess everything. I want to start somewhere new, it’s hard when people think they know everything about you.”

He let out a short laugh, “Yeah tell me about it. Maybe we should escape together, I think you’re the only person who doesn’t see a douche bag when they look at me.”

Her heart burst. If they were in a cartoon there’d be hearts swirling around her head and violins playing.

She shook her head smiling, “No one sees you as a douche bag,” She smirked, “anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter because the family company will be mine after college and people will see that I’m more than just a pretty face with a bad attitude,” He smirked.

“You are a pretty face with a bad attitude,” She agreed before holding her hand out, “Also you have something for me no?”

He patted her legs, “How could I ever think you forgot.”

They smoked and talked all night. She put on a movie on her laptop but it was more of background noise. At almost four in the morning she started to drift off to sleep and soon she was asleep on Rafe’s lap. She just felt so comfortable and warm with his hand rubbing circles on her shoulder.

He carried her to her bed and tucked her in because he knew she got cold easily. He sat next to her on the bed and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. A small smile on his face, these were the nights he cherished with her. When the world felt so quiet that it seemed like they were the only people existing. No interruptions from their friends or their parents.

Just him and his girl.

I search the party of better bodies

Just to learn that you never cared

winter

She pushed through the crowd of people while scanning the room for the 6’2 man she was meeting. It was the first party she had come to since summer and she was only there because he had begged her to come. It was a christmas sweater party so she had on a red sweater with kittens playing with presents. She had gotten it with Rafe a week ago at a vintage store, it was the whole reason he even brought up this party. Telling her it’d be the perfect place to wear it to.

Spotting her friend Emma she went up to her, “Hey have you seen Rafe? he hasn’t been answering me.”

“I swear I saw him going to the bathroom like a few minutes ago,” She pointed towards the hallway.

“Thanks,” She waved and walked towards the hall.

It was much quieter in this part of the house. She’d never been here before so she didn’t know where the bathroom was. There was a door on her right and left and one straight ahead. She decided to check them all. She opened the door on the left and it was just a closet with towels. The door on her right was the bathroom. She was confused because wasn’t he supposed to be there.

She turned towards the last door and saw some light coming from under. She had a gut feeling this wasn’t going to be good. Slowly she walked towards the door and opened it just like ripping a band aid off and

ouch.

Rafe on top of Taylor Thompson. His hand under her sweater and his lips on her. Taylor’s hands in his hair. At the sound of the door opening Rafe turned around and the girl under him sat up to look.

“Shit,” He muttered feeling his heart sink.

She stood there in complete shock for a second before speaking, “Sorry to interrupt.” She slammed the door closed. Holding back her tears until she was in her car alone. Her feet knowing where to take her as her mind was elsewhere. Why would he do that? The last few months had felt different to her. It felt like there was a possibility of something more.

It felt like he literally ripped her heart out and shoved out down Taylor Thompson’s throat. That blonde bi-

“Y/n! Wait!” Rafe called as he chased after her.

She ignored him not really wanting to see him until she got her emotions in order. Now it was clear he wanted nothing to do with her and never cared about her, at least not in the say way. She didn’t want him to see her cry over him, it felt pathetic. They were outside now she had finally reached her car. Clicking the buttons to unlock it furiously.

“Stop!” Rafe said as he jogged to push her car door closed before she opened it all the way.

“What!” She yelled turning around to him. A look of anger in her eyes.

He took a step back seeing how upset she actually was, “I-It’s not what it looks like.”

She rolled her eyes, “I don’t care Rafe.” Crossing her arms defensively.

He furrowed his brows, “Then why are you leaving?”

“Because I can.”

“Y/n-“

“Rafe! I don’t want to third wheel all night so go fuck Taylor Thompson like you want, I don’t give a shit.” She seethed, tears pricking at her eyes.

He shook his head, “I don’t want to fuck her.”

“Then why were you kissing her?”

“I thought you didn’t care,” Now he was getting mad for some reason.

“Fuck you Rafe.”

He laughed bitterly, “Tell me why it bothered you so much.”

She scoffed confused, “What?”

“Why did me kissing her bother you?”

“Because it didn’t bother you. You just didn’t care,”

“About what?” He took a step closer. He was trying to get her to say it. To say that she cared because she liked him.

He knows he fucked up but after her reaction he realized that he had convinced himself she didn’t care when she did. Then he may have taken a few shots and gone into the guest room to breathe and call her. But then Taylor Thompson came in right when the tequila was kicking in and things got blurry. She was on him and he didn’t stop it and she tugged him on the bed and he just couldn’t move or stop. He also couldn’t stop thinking about y/n as it was all happening, wishing it was her.

“About me,” She sighed looking down voice so small.

“I care about you.”

She looked up at him with a frown. She sighed frustrated being able to hold her tears anymore as a few slipped down her cheeks, “No you don’t. If you did you wouldn’t have kissed her.”

She turned around quickly opening her car door and getting in. Rafe got what he wanted, to hear her say it. But maybe he fucked up so bad he can’t fix it. He steps back as her car starts and watches her drive away.

She can barely see between her tears as she drives home. She felt dumb. She felt like he was using her to make his ego bigger. Why did he have to ruin it? The one person who kept her tied to where she is had betrayed her the most. She knew he didn’t owe her any loyalty but she couldn’t help the way she felt.

I picked the petals, he loves me not

Something different bloomed

Writing in my room

spring

Three and a half months.

It’d been three and a half months of Rafe and her not talking.

After she left the party she promised herself she would never speak to him again. He hurt her and she couldn’t believe she’d let it happen. Feeling dumb for feeling the way she does towards him. How could she have let herself fall for him so much?

He had called and texted her relentlessly at first. Even tried to go up to her in school but she’d quickly turn and walk away from him. After a month of trying to get her to talk to him he gave up. He fucked it up more than he thought. Rafe gave her the space she wanted but he’d always be there in the background if she needs him.

Y/n couldn’t take it anymore. She couldn’t take him always looking at her with those eyes. Couldn’t take all the time she was spending alone. She thought she liked being alone and spending time alone but she also liked all the time she spent with him. He made her feel so care free and light. The anxiety that was constantly bubbling in her stomach would diminish around him because she didn’t have to pretend to be someone she’s not.

But enough was enough.

Ever since middle school she had kept a diary. A few stacks of books tucked away in the back of her closet hid her deepest feelings and every detail about her life. The current one she had been filling was almost full and the last quarter of the notebook was all Rafe. Well to be honest he was in all of them, and not in a weird way. He was just always there, they were always together.

But now that they didn’t spend time together her pages consisted of rants of her boring school days and writing different scenarios she had wished happened that night instead of what did. She had ranted about how he made her feel and how she felt seeing him on some other girl. A girl that wasn’t her. It should have been her.

After everything they had done together how could he not see her in the way she sees him? Maybe he did live up to his cold hearted reputation. Even though he had never done anything wrong before. She actually can’t remember the last time she saw him hook up with anyone. Not since the beginning of junior year and back then he was fully in his coke addiction. She remembers that night like it was yesterday.

They had become friends around that time the year before. Summer before sophomore year they met at midsummers when she caught him and his friends in the storage closet drinking from a bottle of vodka. Y/n told them she wouldn’t say anything if they let her have some. Rafe immediately liked her, she knew what she wanted and she got it.

Now it was a year later and he can feel her eyes on him as he kissed some rich touron. He was high out of his mind and he just wanted to make y/n jealous. But it didn’t work, the look he had caught from her as he trailed behind the redhead he just met was one more of disappointment. He felt his heart clench at the feeling. After that night he decided to get clean and stop the hard drugs because he hated that look.

She couldn’t take it anymore, keeping all of her feelings on sheets of paper. She needed to find him and yell at or just do something. He has confused her for years now and she was sick of it. Especially now that Rafe and her were closer than ever. All her pent of feelings seeped through as she sighed exasperatedly, putting her pen that had been furiously writing down. Slamming it on the desk as she harshly pushed herself up from her desk.

With anger she had stormed out of the house and driven to his. Her sneakers stomping on the ground as she marched towards him. Every one of their memories together flashing through her head.

She had spotted him on the dock and was b lining towards him. Rafe’s head turned as he heard her stomping towards him. His stomach flipped when his eyes landed on y/n, he had really missed seeing her around. Especially at his house. He propped his sunglasses up on his head and hopped back onto the dock. He had been getting the boat ready for a solo boat day to clear his head.

“Y/n?” He asked in disbelief.

“You!” She pointed at him and stopping once her finger was poking his chest, “Why are you the way you are!” Her finger jabbing into his chest with every word.

He watched as her chest rose and fell quickly. He had never really seen her mad before, something he always admired. But now seeing her with furrowed brows and steam practically coming out of her ears, he kind of liked it. Rafe knows he shouldn’t be thinking about how cute she looks and instead be getting on his knees begging for forgiveness.

He had really missed seeing her up close. Missed how dark her lashes were and how glossy her plump lips always were. He counted all her freckles to make sure she didn’t get any new ones while they were away from each other. Her hair was in a style he hadn’t seen on her before.

“Well hi to you too,” He smirked. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t help use the charm he knew she loved.

She placed her palms on his chest and shoved him, barely making him move. Y/n began ranting, “For the last fucking four years you have been my best friend and you’ve been so confusing! Everything was fine at first but-but then you were always there for me whenever. And you always fucking listened to me. And you’re so funny. I started to feel different and then I saw you at that fucking party,” She glared at him, the image of him on that girl making her nauseous, “And then you changed. You don’t hook up with anyone and you don’t leave my side at parties,” she laughed sarcastically, “You even fucking call me babe sometimes. So I though oh maybe he feels different too then again I saw you on some fucking girl. And you chase after me so Rafe what the fuck do you want from me? Has this all just been bullshit to you? Am I just some fucking girl you get to flirt with to get your weird little fix until you find someone you actually want to be with?”

He rolled his eyes almost offended, “You know you’re not just some girl.”

She scoffed with wide eyes, “That’s all you took away from that. What else am I supposed to think? You make me feel special for years and I just wait and wait. Then when I think things are finally happening you go and kiss some girl.”

“Y/n-“

“Who fucking knows what would have happened if I hadn’t walked in.”

“Can I-“

“I know you would have fucked her and then came home to me to talk about your problems like I’m some wife in the 50s.”

“You-“

“You kill me Rafe.”

“Stop!” He practically shouted as he placed his hands on her shoulders. She closed her mouth and stared at him intensely.

“I was afraid you didn’t feel the same so I kept my feelings down. I’ve liked you since the moment I met you. But I was fucked up then so I didn’t act like it until I saw how much I hurt you. I changed for you and-and then I just got scared. You are someone so beyond me, you are like the nicest smartest most beautiful person. Why the fuck would you want me?” He laughed like it was obvious, “And we’re such good friends it was terrifying to think about how if I fucked it up I wouldn’t have you at all. No one’s ever actually tried to get to know me the way you have. And then I did fuck it up again,” he sighed scratching the back of his neck, “I shouldn’t have let her kiss me that night. I should have found you and told you what I’ve been feeling since I met you. That I love you so much it actually hurts. And it’s hurt me knowing I made you upset.”

“Rafe,” She sighed as her eyes softened. This was not going at all how she expected things to go.

“I get I fucked it up, so if you still never want to see me again that’s fine. But please give me a chance,” He was actually contemplating getting on his knees to beg.

“You’re such a big dumby. You’ve always had a chance. You mean so much to me. Rafe the only reason I haven’t applied to out of state schools is because I want to be with you. Even if it was just as friends,” She sighed feeling like a weight had been lifter off of her shoulders. A part of her still wanted to punch him.

He took a step closer lifting his hand and softly brushing his fingers across her cheek as he cupped her face, “Will you please go out with me? Because I am so in love with you.”

She leaned up towards him. Their noses now brushing, “I love you,”

He smiled as he pulled her towards him, their lips meeting. The kiss felt like every taylor swift love song playing at once. All the yearning felt worth it in that moments. Their lips moved against each other languidly, like they’ve always been doing this. Rafe’s hands moved to her waist, gripping in all the right places.

Y/n’s hand ran through his hair tugging when his hands reached lower giving her butt a squeeze.Rafe melted at her soft sighs and quiet moans as he trailed kisses down to her neck. Kissing behind her ear. He kissed her cheek as he faced her again. Her hazy eyes and swollen lips made his blood flow to a certain lower part of his body.

“Rafe, this doesn’t mean I’m not still kinda mad at you. You have a lot of making up to do,” She smiled innocently at him.

“Baby I’ll give you whatever you want. In fact, let’s go shopping now for our date tonight,” He kissed her one more time before moving to hold her hand dragging her towards his car.

She laughed as she trailed behind him knowing that one shopping trip wasn’t going to make it better. He owed her big time.

“It also doesn’t mean we’re boyfriend and girlfriend because you haven’t asked me,” She smiled smugly at him as he opened the door to his truck for her.

“I guess I have my work cut out for me then,” He said leaning against the frame of door once she had sat down.

“you do.”

He leaned up and kissed her softly, “Anything for you baby.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fanfic #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron series #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe fanfiction

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libraryofloveletters · 2 years

Text

My Sunshine

Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Fem!Reader

Warnings: break ups, soft!Jake, alcohol and the consumption of, a few tears, drunk!birthdayboy!Bob and reader are besties, mentions of throwing up.

Word Count: 3.4k

Author’s Note: I said I was gonna be normal after I saw the movie and yet, here we are // not gonna lie, hangman >> rooster (I said what I said bye.)

----

“Love me a woman in yellow,” the man calls, leaning on the counter. You glance over your shoulder to see who it is, ignoring his comment. “C’mon sweetheart, you’ve got my attention, do something with it before I die over here.” He says, a hand over his chest to emphasize his impending death.

“If I look up arrogant in the dictionary, will I find a photo of you, Jake ?” You turn to face him, wiping down the spot next to him. He smiles at you.

Hangman’s favourite pastime was bugging you.

You’d been in San Diego since the end of April, your parents sending you down to spend the summer with your grandparents. Instead of relying on them for everything and to avoid spending the whole summer with grandfather and his war facts or your grandmother and her garden, you opted to find a job.

Penny was more than happy to have the help, especially during the evening rush. You worked most afternoons, the occasional weekend in between. That’s where you met Hangman, or Jake as you call him.

“If you're not gonna love on me, can a guy at least get a beer, sunshine ?” he calls, the new nickname catching your attention.

“Sunshine?” you repeat, head cocked to the side. Jake nods, gesturing to your yellow tank top.

“Sunshine.” he flashes you a smile.

You hum, internally smiling at the new nickname. Your heart fluttered at the thought of something with Jake, the way he looked at you was enough to make a woman swoon and yet, you brushed off all of his advances.

Then again, you felt guilty for even thinking about it. You had a boyfriend waiting for you at home, someone who you love dearly.

Plus everyone knows Jake has a reputation; he’s tall, tan and handsome. Not to mention the charm that oozed from that man, his looks alone are enough to make someone trip over themselves and land straight into his bed.

Jake watched as you leaned into the fridge under the counter to grab the beer and all you hear is him groan when you turn.

Phoenix now beside him, Jake rubbing his arm where you can only assume she smacked him. You glance between the two aviators, choosing to ignore what happened when your back was turned.

You hand the beer over to Jake, he tips the bottle in your direction between taking a sip.

Phoenix drummed her fingers on the counter, pulling your attention from Jake. “Can I get a beer, y/n?” “Yeah, of course.” You lean down to get another on, popping the top off against the counter.

Jake’s eyes widened at the sight. “Where’d a girl like you learn to do something like that?”

Your brows pull together as you hand the beer over to Phoenix, “a girl like.. what ? I work in a bar, Jake. You pick up things.” you laugh, taking the $5 bill she was handing you.

“Don't listen to him. He wants attention because he's feeling a little lonely without Rooster.” The woman squeezed his shoulders making him roll his eyes.

Phoenix walks off, back to the back corner where the rest of the guys were playing pool. You were re-stacking the glasses when Jake stood, “thanks for the beer, sunshine.”

“Anytime, Hangman.” you smile at him and he laughs, pointing a finger at you with a rather amused look on his face. He walked backwards about halfway back to the pool table before turning. You watched him, smiling to yourself when you start to feel your phone buzzing like crazy in your back pocket.

“Penny, I'm gonna take my break now.” You call to the older woman who shouts back an okay as you squeeze through the crowd and slip out the front door.

The neon lights from the sign reflect onto you and your feet sink into the sand as you take a few steps away from the noise of the bar. There’s a million notifications from mutual friends and as you go through them, one by one, the urge to throw up builds.

A photo of your boyfriend, his lips on another girl with his arms wrapped around her.

You felt sick.

You weren’t sure what to do. You stood outside of the bar in shock. You were disgusted.

The disgust turns onto anger as you scroll through the messages.

Buried between the notifications was text from your boyfriend- soon to be ex boyfriend.

I’m sorry.

You hit the message, click the little phone icon at the top. You hold it to your ear, listening to the line ring a few times and you think to yourself, why the hell am doing this.

Just as you go to hang up, he answers. “Y/n? Y/n.. please.. say something.”

“Is it true?” you whisper into the silence after a minute.

“Yeah. Y/n.. I’m so sor-” you end the call. You didn’t want an apology or an explanation.

You wanted to be alone.

The sand floods into your shoes with each stride, your feet not carrying you fast enough away from the bar. You were out of breath by the time you got to the waterfront, dropping to your knees on the sand as you took a deep breath.

Inside, Bob nudged Coyote. “What’s going on?” he pointed to you on the beach, Coyote looked out the window and shrugged.

“Who knows.” he turns his attention back to the pool game. Bob was still looking out the window, his eyes fixed on you.

Hangman tapped his leg with the cue stick. “What’re you looking at?”

Bob scoots to one side of the window sill, letting Jake peek out of the window. The blonde watched as you shifted to sit on the sand, your hand coming to your face. The breeze blew your hair all over the place and yet you didn’t fix it. It struck him as odd, you were always one to fix something when it was off, even if it was in the slightest of ways.

Hangman dropped the cue stick next to Bob, assuming he’d catch it, which he didn’t but the pilot was already out the door. He walks down the sandy pathway and finds you by the water.

He rests a hand on your shoulder, startling you. “Sorry.” He whispers into the silence.

You hated that word. Fed up of everyone apologizing.

Your words are quiet, so much so that he almost missed them. “Jake, leave me alone.”

He says nothing, instead the man sits next to you. The moon reflected off the water and onto your skin. You had tears on your face that you were trying to wipe away now that he was next to you but they kept falling.

Jake doesn’t say anything, he sits next to you and listens to the waves roll onto the sand. At some point, he shrugs off the button up he had on and draped it over your shoulders. You glance at the man, a white t-shirt clung to his body and in that moment, you can’t help but smile.

Jake smiles too; “there it is.”

“I’m sorry.” You’re the one apologizing now.

“What for ?” He asks you, shifting so he’s facing you.

Okay calm down, in and out. Just breathe, you’re fine.

“I think I just broke up with my boyfriend.” You manage to get out without tears.

Jake hums, his lips pressed together. “You uh- you had a boyfriend ?” Maybe this is the wrong time to ask that but he didn’t know.

“I did but I just found out he cheated on me.” You show the picture to Jake. His face went from confusion to anger to sympathy in 30 seconds.

Jake wasn’t sure what he could say to make you feel better. No words could fix the way you must have been feeling in that moment so instead, he just opens his arms, letting you fall against him and you did just that.

Jake was the last person you intended to pour your heart out too but he was there and you couldn’t help it.

You pull yourself away from him, “okay leave me alone now.” You breathe, wiping the tears from your face and Jake sits up straight.

“I won’t leave you alone, but I'll shut up. How about that?” he nudges you with his shoulder.

You give him a tight lipped smile before laying back on the sand. Jake looks back at you, “sunshine, you’ll get sand in your hair.” He tells you, furrowed brows on his stupidly handsome face.

“Shut up.” you mutter, staring at the stars above you.

Jake sighs, lifting his arms above his head before laying back, propping his head on his arms to avoid getting the sand in his hair. He looks over at you, admiring the way the San Diego sun had tanned your skin since you arrived and even in the moonlight, he can see the beauty in you.

You always had a smile on your face, a kind word to share and no matter how tired you were, you stood at the bar and listened to the same guy tell you his heart break story every night.

He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t thinking about walking into the Hard Deck after a hard day to see you with a smile on your face.

He could spend forever admiring you; you were the centre of his universe, the air that he breathed, the sun in the sky and didn’t have a single clue about it.

“Stop staring.” you glance at the blonde.

“Stop being beautiful.” he quips.

“Can’t, it's genetics.” you hum, earning you a laugh.

You shift, resting your head on Jake’s chest and you drape an arm around his torso. “If you tell a single soul about this, I'll tell them about the time you threw up outside because you couldn’t out drink Bob.” you look up at him, a finger pointed in his face.

Jake smiles, leaning forward to kiss your finger. “Lips are sealed, sunshine.”

----

A few weeks past and you’re still feeling pretty shitty about the breakup. You weren't expecting it and it sort of shook you. The window was opened and you could hear a knock on the door, your grandmother opening it and you hear her voice. You were upstairs getting ready for work and a few moments later, she stood at your bedroom door.

“Those are pretty,” you say, glancing at the sunflowers she rests on your night table.

“They’re for you.”

“For your garden? Grandma, thank you-” “no, no.” The older woman smiled at you. “From a gentleman; rather tall one actually.” She tweaked the flowers in the vase, straightening the arrangement.

“From who?” you ask her, heading to the window to look outside. The street was empty other than a few kids running around and riding their bikes.

“Didn’t leave a name.” She tells you, giving your shoulder a squeeze as she passes by.

There was a piece of paper sticking out of the vase, the words scribbled down on the blank page.

to my sunshine,

no one is worthy of those tears.

xo, Jake.

Did your heart skip a beat like a teenager when you read the note? Yeah it did but you couldn't help it. His words play in your head as you get ready.

My sunshine.

His sunshine.

A yellow sundress sitting in your closest was pulled off the hanger for the first time since your trip to San Diego. It had been sitting in there until you found the right time to wear it and tonight seemed perfect. You were only working half a shift because Penny was letting you off early to join in on the celebration they were having for Bob's birthday.

You got into work around 5:30 and most of the guys were already there setting up their usual corner by the pool table with a banner and a few streamers.

“Y/n!” Rooster shouts for you as you walk in, “is the banner straight ?” he asks you, he’s holding one side and Coyote is holding the other. Everyone was there except for Phoenix, Bob and Jake.

“Yup! You’re good.” you smile at him, making your way to put your stuff away and clock in.

The hours went by and it's a little past 8 when Phoenix comes in with Bob, everyone yelling surprise, starling the poor man half to death. Bob’s grinning ear to ear, thanking everyone but your heart sinks a little when you don’t see Jake.

Rooster was the first one at the bar, eyeing you in your yellow dress. “You look pretty,” the man smiles at you - his father’s charm, Penny’s words ring in your head.

“Thank you, Rooster.” You hum, “another round ?” you ask him and he nods. While you were grabbing the beers, you turned to face Rooster for a moment.

“Where's your other half ?”

“He’s on his way.” Rooster tells you and your brows pull together. “I didn’t give you a name, Rooster.” you tease him, his face red as he rolls his eyes.

“We both know that Hangman is the only one you notice anyways.” The pilot says and it’s your turn to blush. Rooster thanks you for the beers and heads back over.

An excruciating four hours go by and you're finally off shift but while you're behind the counter, you'd be lying if you said you didn't look up every time the bell chimed and someone walked in.

You were sitting on the window sill with Bob, watching some of the pilots play pool. “Having a good birthday?” you ask the guy, smiling to yourself as he swayed side to side to the music playing.

“The best,” he grins at you, you smile back at him. “I’m glad, you deserve it.” You lean and press a kiss to his cheek, Bob smiles but his cheeks are flushed redder than they were seconds ago.

“SHOTS!!” Fanboy shouts, coming over with a tray, passing out the gold-ish liquid in the tiny glasses to everyone. “Shots require a toast, captain” Fanboy tells everyone, looking in the direction of their captain.

Maverick gets up, the glass raised in the air. “Bob, you are an asset to this team,” he nods at the birthday boy who you’ve got your arms wrapped around. “We’re truly lucky to have you and we wish you nothing but happiness and whatever your heart desires for this year.”

“And to get laid!” Fanboy shouts over the music, making everyone laugh and Bob’s red in the face again.

“To Bob, Happy birthday!” Maverick raised the glass once more, everyone copying the captain, a chorus of happy birthday Bob! following before everyone downs their shot.

Fanboy makes it his job to get everyone as drunk as possible; handing out shots after shots.

Bob was well on his way to be knocked out until tomorrow morning so you helped him sit on the stool and you too had a little stumble in your step but nowhere as bad as the birthday boy.

“I’ll get you some water honey, stay here.”

“Is the room spinning y/n? It feels like it’s spinning.” Bob’s hand is on your arm, holding you to stabilize himself.

“Bob?” You pat his cheek, “Bob, look at me.” The man blinks a few times. “Yeah?” He grins goofily at you.

“Try not to fall over,” you give his hand a squeeze before you navigate yourself through the crowd to the bar to get Bob some water.

You find Fanboy getting another round of shots, you nudge him. “No more for Bob, he looks like he’s gonna pass out.” You tell him, you both glance back at the birthday boy, sharing a laugh before he nods.

The glass of water was full to the brim, you stop in the middle of the crowd to take a small sip of it so it doesn't spill when you bump into someone; a wall of a man from the feel of things. Half of the water spills onto the floor and you look at the person who was in front of you; Jake.

“Where have you been all night?” you look up at the man, there’s an amused look on his face. “Out.” he says plainly.

You can't help but roll your eyes, pushing past him. “It’s Bob’s birthday and you didn’t think to show up ?” Jake is following behind you, his hand on your arm to stop you but you keep walking, making your way back to Bob.

“Here, honey.” you hand him the glass, helping him take small sips from the glass.

Jake watches how gentle you are with the pilot, wiping away the water that misses his mouth and pushing his hair from his face. His heart swells at the idea of it being him you were taking care of instead of Bob. Jake’s shifted to stand behind you now, leaning on the ledge of the wall and you're leaning on his legs with Bob leaning on you; it really was a sight to see.

Bob was dozing in and out of sleep at this point, someone needed to take this poor boy home.

It’s like Maverick read your mind, coming over and offering to take Bob off your hands like he was a baby. He and Payback are heading back to the dorms and they’d take him with them. You let them, making sure to tell them to have someone stay with him and put him to sleep on his side in case he needs to throw up.

Jake took it as his chance to talk to you without you walking away. The pilot wraps an arm around your torso, pulling you between his legs now.

“You look beautiful.” The blonde whispers to you, eyeing the yellow dress on your figure; fitting your body like it was sewn onto you.

“Rooster thought so too.” The words slipped past your lips before you could stop yourself. You look back at Jake, panic across your face and he can’t help but laugh.

Jake hums, leaning forward so his lips are by your ear. “You think I'm jealous of Rooster ? I know he can’t make you feel the way I do.”

He was right. Rooster and you were just friends but so were you and Jake and yet, Jake made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. He gave you butterflies like you were 15 again. No matter how crowded the bar was, you were always looking at him. Your heart skips a beat when he flashes a smile or throws a wink your way, hoping that your hand touches his when you had him a beer.

Jake had your heart and he knew it; he knew it from the moment he saw the smile on your face for the first time.

“Do you know why I call you sunshine?” He whispers to you, arms wrapped around you as you two swayed to the beat of At Last by Etta James.

“Because you ‘love a woman in yellow’?” you quote him from the other night, making him smile.

“When I leave for a mission and when I return, I’m thinking of you. You're the first person I want to tell when something happens, the last person I think of before I go to sleep and the first person on my mind when I wake up. Y/n, you’re the centre of my world and you don't have a single clue,” he laughs, his grip on you loosening when you turn to face him.

You look at the man, your hands cupping his face. Jake smiles at you, admiring your beauty; even under the dull lighting of the bar, he could see the happiness on your face.

Jake pulls you a little closer, his lips barely brushing against yours. “You are sunshine; my sunshine.”

“No one else?” you hum, a smile playing on your lips.

Jake closes the gap between the two of you, “all mine.”

-----

this one's for @halsteadssneakylink and @hurricanejjareau <3333

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin fic #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman fanfiction #hangman fic #top gun: maverick #top gun maverick #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction

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heyidkyay · 5 months

Text

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part One

Matty Healy x reader

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Warnings: This is gonna deal with a lot of controversial shit surrounding Matty and his past I'm ngl, so if you're not into that then I'd suggest not reading this! But if you are, then hi!! I hope you enjoy?

Authors Note: I'm back...:)) Back with a series too, or it will be if this first part goes down well! Lmao so pls don't hate it! Butttt in all honestly, I do have to quickly thank @procrastinatinglikeapro for all the kind words she gave me on the snippets I annoyed her with recently and for forcing me to actually believe in this fic because I very much was on the fence about posting again. So thank youuuu, it means a whole lot<3 Also, the skeleton of this was taken from a very old fic of mine which I started during the height of covid that I've just been thinking about trying to better for a long while now, so... enjoy?

And I guess let me know if this is something anyone would want to read more of? Yeeeeah, I really don't know what else to write here now, it's been a while, so! Hi, help, bye:)

Masterlist

“Yeah, yeah! I’m really into their sound at the minute! Honestly fell in love with their recent performance at the VMA’s- didn’t overdo it and kept true to themselves. Definitely did a great job there, so well done with that one if you’re listening in, lads!”

I was grinning from ear to ear as I spoke into the microphone before me, which was to be expected whenever I was at work. Strange, yeah I know, but only to any typical person with the usual nine to five, because I truly did love my job. It was tough work, strenuous at times, contrary to what most might believe, but it was pretty much everything I’d ever dreamt of.

See, I’d grown up on the outskirts of this tiny village in the Isles, where everybody knew everything about everybody. Secrets were never well kept- you could just ask our local priest about that one, who had often used to regale most of the confessions he’d heard in the only pub around for miles whenever he was pissed beyond being able to sit on his barstool. And it was also incredibly tight-knit, as in, all the kids who went to school together, then grew up and married one another, settling down and taking over the jobs that their parents or grandparents soon retired from. Hardly anyone moved away, if ever.

In reality though, it was actually just a place I’d always felt like a stranger in. Where I’d struggled to fit in and make friends, to form bonds outside of the one I shared with my mum.

I’d had a tough go of it back in school actually. ‘Mouse’ was what they’d seemingly dubbed me back then, a nickname which had travelled the masses all too quickly seeing as there had only been about sixteen kids in both my year and the one above.

It had mostly been due to me just having been an extremely timid child, hiding behind my mum’s flowing skirts whenever we went into town and much preferring that of my own company. But that fact hadn’t gotten any easier for me once I’d been forced out of school for a few years after an accident that had flipped my entire life on its head. Resulting in me being further isolated from the rest of the world and my fuck-face of a father running for the hills.

Still. Shit happened, I supposed, and I’d been forced to grow up.

Too quickly, in truth.

So whilst everyone else had been out living, I’d been holed up in our little dove cottage miles away from them all, with only books and music to keep me company. Music which had been a true constant in my life and just about the only thing that had gotten me by.

As well as my mum, who’d forever be my rock. And back when we’d both been growing up, she had always had the tele on full blast throughout the day, cycling through the freeview channels that played the recent top 50 and old school classics.

It was one of my favourite things to look back on now, if she was ever in the mood, or when the power would finally flicker and go out completely, she’d spin this old phonograph her own father had gifted her in the days before she’d left home. The two of us would dance around the living room whilst she’d clean on Saturday mornings and then hum to it as we settled in for a long storm, her working on her trusty crossword whilst I would read or draw. It would croon out old French records she had bought long before she’d moved to the UK, and before she’d ever even met my dad.

And I would just lose myself in it all.

It wasn’t just the basic premise of music that I had enjoyed though, it was everything else that also came along with it. The opinions, the reviews, the personal stories and thoughts, the way it made a person feel.

So, for years I would just sit down at the kitchen table and write for hours on end about the sound, the rhythms I’d felt and heard, the lyrics that had had me bellowing out or playing on a never-ending loop in my head. And then, as a teen, Twitter had come along and had been just another way for me to express it all.

That was what had led to all this actually. The radio.

At first, I’d never paid much mind to all of the people who had started to discover the small page I’d created, the users that had enjoyed reading my inner thoughts. But then I had and it had been an insane concept to comprehend, but was also what had, ultimately, pushed me into continuing with it.

From there, opinions on genres of music and their style throughout different decades turned into thoughts on up and coming artists, then actors and other A-list celebrities. So, I’d ended up spending an awful lot of time online, simply just tweeting about it all, on subjects followers had wanted to hear about and answering questions on whether I loved a certain album or new EP.

The account had grown rapidly after and by the time I’d had the balls to tell my mum I’d wanted to leave home and make a start for myself, in London of all places, it had gained well over fifteen thousand followers.

I went to uni down there and met people. People who didn’t shy away from me or shine a light on my odd quirks. I met my best mate there, too. And Finn was unlike any other. The platonic love of my life, or so I’d dubbed. He was eccentric, witty, and didn’t care about what anyone else thought of him. Forced me to feel that way too, slowly but surely. And it had only taken a few weeks before he'd grown rather suspicious of my constant need to always have my phone near.

He had, pretty early on, decided that I must’ve had some secret boyfriend back at home that I’d yet to tell him about and had annoyed me about it at every twist and turn, basically backed me into a metaphorical corner. So to say I’d relented fairly quickly wouldn’t be a lie, and I’d told him all about the account soon enough.

Finn had actually been the one to suggest that I take it somewhere bigger, make it into something people could tune into and not just read about. I had actually taken that consideration on board way back then, but had only acted on it when shit had hit the fan a year or so later. But we'll get to that.

So with it all, I’d made an actual radio show out of my thoughtless Twitter account, allowing people to listen in and actually get to know the person behind the name.

That was essentially how ‘Mouse On A Mic' had come to life.

Yup, I’d kept the fucking nickname! I couldn’t not in truth, it was familiar, reminded me of the person I once was, and who I am now. But the only difference was, I’d given it a new story. I’d claimed it.

The show's audience grew fairly quickly during that first year, I was new on the scene and seemingly refreshing. I had a no-bullshit kind of attitude that my listeners admired. I called celebs out on their crap and went to new extremes to conjure up inventive ways to get followers involved.

Ultimately doing things that other radio presenters were afraid to do at the time. Which was fair enough, in hindsight, they had actual endorsers and brands that were backing them up and funding their streams. Me, on the other hand, had no-one to answer to for my mistakes or any backlash the show received. It was just me, sat alone in my bedroom, speaking into a mic.

Only now, it was me sitting in a quaint little studio in East, not too far from my flat and walking distance from any and every coffee chain London had to offer.

Anyway, back to the current show! I adjusted my headset over my ear as I wheeled closer to the table, aware of the many monitors and cables I was constantly trying to avoid and glanced upwards, locking eyes with my co-producer, Adi.

The girl shot me a hurried gesture, a circular wave of her hand that had me chuckling to myself even as I waved her off, knowing I’d already gotten off track one too many times this recording.

"Alright! It seems as though we've got to move on with the next segment of the show now! Unfortunately, Ads here has informed me that I can't just sit around all day and talk about Inhaler forever. A right shame that, don’t you think?”

I huffed theatrically, whilst Adi merely shook her head at me in return, dark ringlets brushing the length of her shoulders as she mouthed the word 'prick' through the thick sheet of plexiglass that separated us.

Ignoring that loving endearment in favour of continuing on with the commentary, I hoped I hadn’t steered too far off track, there was still a lot scheduled for today's show that I had yet to go over.

“So moving on!” I sighed into the mic and rubbed my palms together, “It seems like quite a few of you lot, on Twitter especially, have made it loudly known that you want to hear my thoughts on Manchester’s very own Matthew Healy. God, is there yet another scandal under his belt I don’t yet know about, where’s he finding the time?”

I shook my head briefly and rolled forward in my seat. The wheels squeaked beneath my weight and I made a silent prayer that the mics hadn’t picked up the sound.

What a fucking topic, I thought quietly to myself and sent Adi a semi-amused smile before I peered down at the recent headline she had handed over to me earlier that morning.

It was the same old thing. Expected really at this point.

“Healy’s at it again! Whatever will we do?” I gasped, dramatising the whole thing as I stared down at the images of the haughty singer that were plastered across the printout I held in front of me.

There were four of them, a quick succession that had all seemingly come from a clip at a recent concert. Bit blurry but the title gave away to what was happening.

A laugh bubbled up out of me as soon as I read the headline. “Oh god, it appears Matty Healy is- just wait for it!- back at it again, only this time it seems he’s gone and traded off a drumstick for…” I paused to drum quite the anticipating beat against the tabletop, and as stoic as I could, I then added, “A joint!” And a smug grin made its way up onto my lips when I heard Adi’s faint cackle echo from just outside the booth.

“Honestly, I swear that everything this man does makes the rags! Reckon I saw an article about how he took his tea one time. And like, do me a favour, yeah? A man of the people though, in’t he? He’s got to be! I mean, just look at this headline. Fucking who the hell writes this shit?”

Tossers, I supposed. But even so.

“It’s madness.” I muttered, clucking my tongue, “But anyway, I’m guessing that most people claim him to be the epitome of a realtime rockstar, and sure, he might just be. 'Sex, drugs, rock & roll', all that shit. But how much longer is it going to last until everything goes tits up, hey?

“I mean, Healy can pretty much do whatever he wants at this point, he’s got half the world either falling at his feet or complaining about him- has done since he was what, a kid? Following his parents among the shadows of their fame before he stepped out and made an actual name for himself. It is insane to see how much he’s changed though!”

And it was. He and his band had risen to fame so evidently, their music was everywhere, they sold out shows constantly, and had the privilege to fly across the globe doing whatever they pleased. But they’d also practically grown up in the limelight, Matty especially. So it was hard not to notice the resounding changes.

“But, if I am being truthful. And when am I not? I thought that most of the shit that went around about him at first was a load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that. Or just him being an idiot, a lad who’s had to grow up with all these cameras on him all the time and had to basically learn what he can and can’t say in front of them. Slipping up from time to time, like most do. But, now? I’m honestly not too sure… It’s just a bit sad. In’t it? There was so much potential there.”

I shrugged, a hearty sigh falling with my shoulders.

“I actually used to quite like his stuff a couple years ago, he’s got a way with words, with just music overall really. Reckon if he’d gotten his shit together he could’ve been ranked higher up on the list of rockstars. Could’ve changed or paved a way for newer musicians. But not so much anymore. His songs lack the passion they once had, they’re not what they used to be. He works hard, I’ll give him that. But, I can’t help but wonder if it’s just his band pulling his dead weight along with them now.”

I took a slow breath, then gazed down at the small amount of sticky notes I had pinned to the monitor beside me: the next segment. I’d have to wrap this one up quickly.

“Maybe that’s a bit harsh.” I said, “But honestly, I just hope he takes an actual break sooner rather than later. The band looks spent and he just seems like he could do with some time away from all the cameras and prying eyes. Just so he can sort himself out good and proper, you know? Then again, that’s just my opinion among a sea of many.”

Truthfully? I really did think that Matty had talent, and he seemed like a sound enough guy- or at least he had done, a couple of years back, before all the controversy and whatever else. Now though, the guy just seemed so caught up in it all, in the fame, the tabloids, the drama. Unaware of just how far he’d fallen.

Me, I’d seen it one too many times before, with many of the greats even, and as painful as it was to watch, what more could I do, or say? I'm a nobody in comparison.

I blew out a short breath.

“Fuck, that got all serious didn’t it?” I tried to laugh off and only felt a little more at ease when I glanced up and caught Adi’s sincere smile, “Anyway, onto our next segment, reading a couple of your lots tweets! Let's see what everyone's saying about our amazing Adi today, hey? What was it last week, Ads- those yellow trousers you were wearing?”

“Oi, will you two stop mucking about, please? We’ve got to get going!” I scolded without any real heat, shaking my head as I held back chuckles, always amused by the infamous pair.

I’d not long left the studio, having walked with Adi to the nearby train station before heading over to Finn’s, and was currently packing away the belongings that had been messily upended from the Spiderman backpack I was often seen carrying about.

My gaze wandered over to the other side of the room once I’d teethed together the bag’s plastic zipper, over to where my son, Teddy, was currently in the midst of being whirled around by his godfather, tawny coloured curls flying in every-which direction as his cheeky grin grew even more prominent.

I felt the corners of my mouth tug upwards as I watched my best mate laugh at whatever the toddler had just said, tickling the boy’s sides too. If I was feeling incredibly sappy, I’d tell Finn then just how thankful I was to have him around, because he truly was incredible.

From the moment I’d found out that I was pregnant, Finn had been there for me. He loved my son almost as though Teddy was his own, he adored the kid like no other and had placed him on a pedestal above everyone else since the day he was born.

Finn was always free to take teddy whenever I had the show to fret about too, or if I was ever in dire need of another helping hand. He was fiercely protective of the two of us and I knew in the very depths of my heart that there would never be a hair harmed on my son’s head as long as he was around.

I was pulled from my thoughts just as the toddler in question came bounding over, giggling uncontrollably as Finn chased after him, his arms stretched out wide and crouched down to mimic the small boy's height. I couldn't help but notice the matching grins they both wore.

“Help!” Teddy squealed as he flung himself into my awaiting arms, allowing me to wrap him up and settle him safely on my hip, using my frame as a shield to block him from Finn’s view.

"You can't hide from me Teds, I’ll always find you!" Finn taunted playfully, laughing merrily as he wiggled his fingers at Teddy, who was only just peeking out at him from over my shoulder.

Teddy squirmed in my grasp, giggling and screaming senselessly as he tried to dodge Finn’s oncoming hands that had since managed to softly graze his sides. I could only roll his eyes in fond exasperation, the pair never failing to brighten my day, and I couldn't help but feel ever so grateful for whatever being had brought Finn into both mine and Teddy’s lives.

You see, Finn was the closest thing I’d ever had to a brother, let alone a best friend. He’d been the family I’d never known I’d needed, a home away from home. And I knew that I could always count on him for just about anything and he had proved that the day I’d turned up on his doorstep in the pissing rain one Tuesday night, utterly terrified after having just found out that I was pregnant.

“Alright, you lot!” I began, batting away one of Finn’s oncoming hands as he made to grab at Teddy's tiny ankle. “We've got to get home in time for your bath and tea, and I think Finn here has to pick up Liv from work.”

I was directing my voice towards the toddler in my arms but also sent a knowing look Finn’s way, one which caused the man’s eyes to widen in immediate realisation. ‘Liv’ was actually Olivia, Finn’s newest fling, only she had managed to last quite a while longer than the rest, a new record for him really.

“Shit, yeah.” Finn muttered before he hurried over to his desk in the far corner. I could only chuckle quietly, Teddy joining in too when he noticed, and watch on as he hastily started to grab at an array of items, shoving them into his jean pockets. Phone. Wallet. Keys.

When he was finished, Finn spun back around towards us and shot an accusing brow our way, not too pleased about having been the source of our amassment. Teddy and I couldn't help ourselves then and laughed a little harder at his impervious expression.

With that done and over with, I pressed my nose against the side of Teddy's head and smiled contently into his curls whilst Finn merely rolled his eyes at us, chuckling before he made a start for the door. I followed just behind, Teddy's backpack slung low over my shoulder and a happy little boy nestled in my arms.

***

People lover @/user1 Imagine being a mediocre radio host and thinking you know the ins and outs of the music industry.. #CancelMouse 102 @/user2 Don't mind me, reckon I just found my new favourite radio show:) Ugh! @/user3 Mouse sounded proper excited today but switched up so quick when that 75 bloke came up:// Soloveme @/user4 Hate to see people supporting toxic behaviour, sit down. Milk @/user5 Don’t hate me, I'll forever be a matty girlie!! But @Mouseonamic I kinda agree?? Paris @/user6 Do you think he’s seen it yet? > Too_shy @/user7 Probably, it’s trending rn >> Drummepls @/user8 Hope he’s okay and doesn’t take it as a personal attack..

He should’ve known really.

He should’ve fucking known.

Even in his drunken state he should have known not to look at what they were fucking saying about him. Slumped on the floor of his hotel room, propped up against the bathroom door, too exhausted to think about moving, let alone try.

He’d only heard a snippet, caught the last of it in the cab ride back from the club the band had found themselves in. But he had heard it, and he’d listened.

"He's got the whole world falling at his feet." He fucking wished. "Changed." Too right. "A load of crap- publicity of sorts, if you get where I'm going with that- but now I'm not too sure." Laughable, man. "It's just a bit sad." The story of his fucking life. "Potential." When’s he never not disappointing someone? "Lacks passion." Passion lies in living, mate, and he hasn't felt alive in a very long time.

"Not what it used to be." Who he used to be.

He lit another cigarette from a crumpled pack he’d pulled from his back pocket. Watched on as a curl of smoke unfurled in the air. He only wished he’d brought something upstairs with him, or grabbed one of the little bottles from the minibar before deciding he’d needed a piss. But if he closed his eyes hard enough he could imagine it all going dark, the world fading around him.

Though, even then he still couldn’t quite muffle the loud, pitying laugh that escaped him as he continued to scroll through the mass of tweets that never faltered. They were like a freight train, unable to stop.

Matty wiped his nose on his sleeve.

Never had he ever felt so fucking lost. Desperate for everything to just pause for a second. To stop and leave him alone for a bit. The world to let him wallow in the dark, dank pit he's hollowed out for himself.

But what a fucking life, hey.

Carelessly, he thumbed across the dimming screen, his intoxicated mind too focused on the task at hand to remember why exactly it was he was even sitting there on the cold bathroom floor. Something to do with Hann, he supposed, or George. Perhaps another heated encounter? Probably.

The sound of his phone's keyboard echoed off the surrounding walls and Matty breathed out a self-depreciating chuckle when he clicked send on the tweet he’d curated, not caring enough for the consequences. Hardly even thinking, in truth. He was far too gone to care anymore, already knew firsthand what the consequences would be tomorrow. But at that moment, he just wanted honesty. To tell the truth, for once. To let them all know that he knew he was a shit excuse for a person.

What more could the world possibly say anyway?

Everyone around him was the same. He was simply just a puppet on a string. They’d make him sing and dance until the day he finally wrapped those wired strings tightly around his neck, and then all they'd be able to do is sit back and watch the show. And he'd enjoy every unabating second of it.

Matty @/trumanblack 10s ago Radio shows are sick man, gotta love them! And I sort of am sad haha. And I do lie, we all lie, I spose. But just listen to the radio, kids!

He laughed silently after, amused with himself, and tossed the phone off somewhere off to the side so he wouldn’t have to look at it again.

Bullshit. It was all just fucking bullshit.

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mrsevans90 · 2 months

Text

Puppy Love

Captain Syverson x OFC Emma Miller Part 15

Summary: Austin Syverson has returned to Texas after retiring from the military and starts his own contracting business. Syverson is used to being alone and thinks he prefers it that way. While at work he stumbles upon an injured and abused puppy. When he meets the new veterinarian in town, Emma Miller, he is immediately smitten with her. It turns out Emma has some baggage of her own. Will they be able to make it work? Or is it just a case of fleeting puppy love?

Pairing: Henry Cavill as Captain Austin Syverson x OFC Emma Miller

Warnings: FLUFF, arm cast injury, Nana sassiness, crude language, innuendos, and Walt!

MINORS DNI! Must be 18+

I do not authorize any copying/pasting, stealing of my work, or using my words as your own.

This story is not beta’d. All mistakes are my own.

A/N: I am an imperfect person who makes mistakes. All that I ask is to please be kind and if you enjoy it then please comment and REPOST! I appreciate any love, comments, and reposts more than you could know. Thank you for reading!

Part 14

I lay in bed holding Emma for as long as she sleeps, refusing to leave her side for more than a quick restroom break. Emma is wrapped around my body as it helps her to relax and I’m more than happy to have her curled against me. Emma begins to rouse around ten am and I know she needed every bit of that additional sleep for both her exhausted body and brain to recuperate.

“Hi.” Emma whispers while sleepily rubbing her eyes with her left hand as she sees me watching her.

“Mornin’ Sugar. You sleep okay?”

She nods but doesn’t say anything.

“How’s the arm?” I ask and she looks down sheepishly.

“Hurts. I need some more Tylenol and maybe ice.” She admits.

“Let’s get some in ya then. After breakfast, I’m taking you to the urgent care and I don’t want to hear a word about it.” I tell her using my “captain voice” that she once told me she thinks is dominant and sexy.

“Okay.” She agrees knowing I’m not going to back down from getting her proper care.

She takes care of her needs in the bathroom before we brush our teeth and she sits on the bed. I walk over and pick her up where I wrap her legs around me before I start heading down the stairs.

“Austin. My legs aren’t hurt. I can walk.”

“I know, but I want to hold you.”

“You’re going to reinjure your leg carrying me around like this.” She says as she buries her head in my neck and goosebumps raise on my arms and neck from her mouth so close to my sweet spot.

“I’m a bit tougher than you think, darlin’.”

“Oh, I think you’re plenty tough.” She whispers against my neck and I feel the blood rushing to my dick. Not now, Syverson.

I set her on the counter next to the coffee maker and start brewing us some coffee that I’ve been thinking about for the past 3 hours. I’m used to waking up much earlier than this and am usually finished with my second cup by this point.

“Biscuits, sausage and eggs sound good?” I ask and she nods. I pull the frozen peas from the freezer and place them across her bandaged arm.

“Not a word about my canned biscuits.” I tease her and she holds up her wrapped arm.

“Not really in a position to tease since my homemade ones would be a lot more difficult to make today.” I was about to apologize again for her getting injured but am surprised when she kicks my rear with her foot from where she’s sitting and winks at me. I love when she’s playful like this, especially after what happened yesterday.

“When are we getting the dogs back home?” Emma asks.

“Whenever you’d like, Sugar. I can call PawPaw and arrange something after we go to the doctor.”

“Okay, I guess I need to call my parents and let them know what happened yesterday.” She says sullenly. “I’m here for you babe. Whatever you need.” I tell her and she goes to get her phone and make the call while I make breakfast. I decide to call my grandparents while cooking and inform them that we obviously won’t be at lunch today. Nana tells me she’s still cooking everything and will package it up for us to take home when we get the dogs. I thank them both for dropping everything to help yesterday and of course they tell us that it was no problem. I ensure Nana that Emma is okay and I’ll keep them updated on what the doctor says about her arm. Nana is going all mother hen and asking to come clean her house or what she can do to help us and as sweet as it is, I just want to give Emma time to process without pressure.

Once breakfast is finished, I set the table and go in search of Emma. I find her on the back porch still on the phone with her parents who were obviously upset.

“May I?” I gesture to the phone after Emma looks mentally exhausted and she nods.

“James? Diana? Hi, it’s Austin. I just wanted to reassure you that I’m taking care of our girl and taking all of the necessary steps to ensure he doesn’t get out of jail. My cousin, Walt, is a detective and has filed several charges against him and feels confident that between witness testimonies as well as parking lot footage from the store, he will receive significant jail time.”

“We are so grateful that you were there, Austin.” Diana says.

“So am I, I’d like to apologize for not getting there sooner. I have replayed the assault in my head time and time again and wish it had gone so differently.”

“Emma says that you almost killed him before taking care of her, so there’s no need to apologize.” James exclaims.

“I’ll be honest, if I had not been told to stop, I probably would have. I was so enraged that he ever laid a hand on her that I just couldn’t think of anything else. We will go to the doctor here in just a bit to check on her arm, and I promise to keep you guys informed.” I assure them.

After the phone call, I help Emma up and inside.

“Thank you.” Emma kisses me on the cheek.

“Not a problem, Darlin’. Eat up.” I gesture toward the food as I refill her coffee mug.

“Thanks for breakfast as well, but I meant talking to my parents. My dad almost lost his mind. I was running out of steam trying to reassure them and stop them from coming here.”

“I can’t say I wouldn’t be the same way if it was our daughter in your position. Heaven forbid.”

Emma smiles sweetly. “Our daughter?”

I smirk at her and nod. “You like the sound of that or somethin’?”

“I do.” Those two words coming out of her mouth make me bite back a smile. God, I hope she’ll be saying them to me sooner rather than later.

“Me too, Sugar. You have no idea how much.” I reply before getting lost in the idea of a beautiful little blue-eyed baby girl that looks like her momma.

We eat our breakfast and get dressed before heading to the local urgent care. I know they have an x-ray machine and after the typical hour wait they take her back and examine her injury. It’s determined that she does have a hairline fracture but it shouldn’t need any additional care outside of a cast. She’s referred to an orthopedist next week for a more permanent cast and Emma is not pleased that she’ll have one for the next few weeks, already thinking of ways to convince the doctor that a temporary cast will be much more realistic considering her job. I call Nana on the way back from the doctor and let her know we’re going to head that way to pick up the dogs. I think some snuggles with Mills and Aika will help lift Emma’s spirits. We make our way to the farm and park and I help Emma out of the truck before the front door comes flying open and Nana comes flurrying out.

“Oh, thank God you’re okay!” Nana scuttles down the stairs and I turn thinking she’s going to give me a hug but she blows right past me and wraps Emma up in a tight hug. I can’t help but chuckle at Emma’s face who was clearly not expecting that either.

“I’m okay, Nana. Thanks to Austin of course.” She says and smirks at me.

“I’ve been so worried but Austin begged me to let you rest otherwise I would have been up at your house cooking and cleaning or whatever you needed.”

“Thank you, Nana. I appreciate it. Austin has been taking great care of me though. He’s been amazing.”

“Good. I should hope so.”

“Hi Nana. Nice to see you too.” I joke as she’s been ignoring my presence.

“Hi son.” She answered. Even though I’m their grandson, PawPaw always called me that when I was growing up and working with him on the farm and it kind of just became their nickname for me. I guess because he only had a daughter and my dad never stuck around, he considered me like a son that he could pass all of his knowledge too. Mark never really cared much for working at the farm and believe me, there were times when I hated it as well, but I found the tranquility in being able to mentally detach and build something or fix something tangible as well as working with the animals. Mark was more of the philosophical type who filled his time with school studies or high school girlfriends. I relished being outside and my PawPaw never missed a single football game growing up. Maybe that’s why I stayed so close with my grandparents even after the military sent me away for so many years.

I’m brought back to reality from my thoughts when the screen porch door creaks open with PawPaw sending the pups out to us. I immediately catch the ball of fluff running straight towards us to keep him from jumping on Emma. Mills’s tail is wagging so hard he almost falls over from his excitement. Aika is a bit slower but still just as happy to see us and receive all of the attention and scratches.

“Hi PawPaw.” I greet him as he makes his way down the stairs.

“Hi son. I held the hounds off as long as I could but they heard you and were just pitiful not being able to get to ya.”

“How much has Nana spoiled them while they were here?” I ask.

“I didn’t!” I hear Nana interrupt her conversation with Emma to defend herself.

“The woman boiled them chicken for supper. Seasoned it and everything. Damn dogs had a feast fit for humans last night. Not to mention she gave them a treat for simply ‘looking cute’ or not barking at the chickens.” PawPaw mutters with a shake of his head and I can’t help but laugh.

“That sounds about right. I’m betting they don’t even want to come back home.” I chuckle as we all head up the stairs into the house.

“Well she’s back on her soapbox about how she needs a dog now so maybe just let them visit overnight and I can keep holding her off. I’ve got too many animals to feed and tend to without adding more.”

“I’ll bring ‘em over for her to spoil rotten sometime in the next week or so.” I tell him and PawPaw just winks at me.

“Now, clue us in on everything that happened please. Your PawPaw never asks questions and I’ve got about a million of ‘em.”

I look at Emma and she nods giving me silent permission to tell them what happened.

“Emma has an ex who treated her badly while she was in Alabama and she got a restraining order against him. After she moved here, he tracked her down somehow and I called Walt who helped us arrest him for breaking the restraining order. We set her up with security cameras and an alarm system at her home which gave us both peace of mind when she wasn’t with me. He apparently has been following her and was able to somehow find that we were at the store where he attempted to kidnap her in the parking lot. I got to him and knocked him unconscious, and Walt was able to file several charges against him. He fractured Emma’s wrist in the scuffle and she’s supposed to go next week for a temporary cast which she’s not too thrilled about. That’s about it.”

“Oh, heavens. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been, sweetheart.” Nana coos at Emma who nods somewhat embarrassed. “I was. I’m so glad Austin was there and he’s been absolutely amazing. I just worry about him getting in trouble over it.”

“I told ya, Sugar, if he presses charges I’ve got witnesses and video footage to prove it was warranted. I wish I had done worse, honestly.”

“Ya should’ve just smashed his head in.” Nana mutters.

“Nana, what would the church think?” I playfully scoff and we all bust out laughing except PawPaw who just cracks a smile.

“I don’t answer to the church, I answer to the good Lord above and I think he might be okay with that since you were protecting your woman.” She says sassily and I can’t help but shake my head at her.

“You’re something else, Nana.”

Before we can take the dogs home, Nana practically forces us to eat cookies that she’s made.

She packages them up along with the food that she made at lunch and sends us home with about eight different containers of food, one of which is labeled for the dogs. I load it all in the truck before putting the dogs in the backseat and going back to say goodbye to my grandparents and help Emma in.

I smile as Emma hugs PawPaw tightly and thanks him for helping us the other day.

“Y’all are family, and we’ll always be there if you need us. That goes for either one of ya.” He says and Emma looks flabbergasted to have PawPaw include her in a statement so loving. Those were rare from PawPaw.

“Thank you. We would do anything for y’all too and I’m so grateful to have y’all in my corner.” She smiles shyly at him before Nana scoops her into another hug with promises about lunch next Sunday.

I hug PawPaw tightly and then Nana telling them both that we love them before helping Emma into the truck and heading out. Emma is silent looking out of the window as we make our way down the long drive and when I finally get her attention I see a tear running down her cheek.

“Sugar, what’s wrong? You hurtin’?” I ask thinking either her period or her arm are bothering her.

“No, I’m just grateful. Your grandparents accepted me without any questions even with the drama that follows me. I’ve never had that with anyone other than my parents. Colin’s family tolerated me at best, but they didn’t like that I wasn’t wealthy like them. I wasn’t raised in prestigious private schools and country clubs. I always felt out of place or looked down upon. Your grandparents have met me a few times and seem to fully accept me as part of your family and it’s just the most loving feeling.”

“Aw, babygirl, they do love you. I have no doubt that both of those two old folks would drop everything they were doing if you needed them. You’re part of this family.” I entangle our fingers together as I hold her hand.

“It’s just overwhelming to be accepted so quickly, just as myself.” She says.

“Well, you are. I haven’t brought a woman home in years, not since I was in my early twenties. My grandparents are a great judge of character. Nana is very outspoken both good and bad and with PawPaw, I can just tell by his demeanor when he’s pleased or disappointed in me. I knew he liked you after that first lunch when he hugged you. He’s never felt necessary to conform to southern social niceties, which means he did that because he genuinely wanted too. I think they are honestly so grateful that you put up with my stubborn ass that they are hoping to convince you to stick around.” I joke and Emma smirks.

“You’re more than a handful. I’d say a mouth and two handfuls to be exact.” She crudely insinuates and I almost choke on my own saliva which causes her to giggle.

“Sugar, you surprise me at every turn. You’re this sweet innocent thing one minute and then your joking about taking my dick in your mouth the next. You’re the whole damn package.”

“I could say the same about you.” She sweetly giggles.

“I love you.”

“I love you more, baby.”

The following week has arrived and Emma has somehow convinced the orthopedist to use the hard cast for the next three weeks before moving to a temporary, removable brace. Her charm apparently knows no bounds. She isn’t thrilled about wearing the cast, claiming she feels like she’s back in high school after she broke her ankle from a cheer accident, but I can’t help but smile when she comes in with a blue cast on her forearm.

“Want me to sign it? I promise I won’t draw pornographic stick figures where anyone can see them.” I joke and she rolls her eyes with a gentle shove against me.

“Not a chance. I’m already mortified that I have to wear it for the next three weeks. I don’t need any additional attention being put on it.”

“I think you look cute.” I kiss her forehead.

“You won’t think that when you’re having to help me put a bag on it just to shower tonight.”

“I promise, I will.”

While Emma is at work, I make an appointment in the next town over. Walt had asked if I wanted to get a beer sometime this week, but instead, I asked him to meet me for lunch. We met up at a fast food restaurant, called Milo’s, where we grabbed some food.

“What are we doing in Bouldin Creek for lunch?” Walt asks as he takes a bite out of his burger.

“There’s a jewelry shop here I need to go to and I figured you wouldn’t mind.”

“Plan on getting yourself some new earrings?” He jokes.

“Plan on picking up an engagement ring I’ve been looking at online.”

“Atta boy.” Walt says as he pops a fry into his mouth.

“Hopefully it’s the right one.” I say as I overthink what’s about to be a very large purchase, and I’ve never talked to Emma about her jewelry preferences.

“I’m sure it will be. When are you planning to pop the question?”

“I haven’t gotten that far. Still stuck on the how to ask the question.” I mumble. I’ve always been a very confident person, but I really don’t want to fuck this up.

“Well, when I asked Angie, I took her out do dinner. I don’t think I’d do that again. If she turned me down that would have sucked in front of everyone. But, we’re divorced so don’t take my advice.”

“Noted.” I smirk and he punches my arm across the table.

“Don’t be a dick. I was young and in love. You’re just old and in love.”

“I’m two years younger than you, asshole.”

“Yeah, and I’m old which makes you old too. Can you even get down on one knee?”

I flip him off and he chuckles.

“Yes, I can. I was thinkin’ about maybe just taking her on a picnic or something. Watching the sunset maybe? I don’t even know what I should say but I want to make it romantic for her.”

“Let’s go get the ring and we can brainstorm.”

“Thanks man. Any new updates with Colin?” I ask as we head towards my truck.

“He’s still sitting in jail waiting on the court date in two weeks to determine if he receives bail. We’re obviously making a case for him being a flight risk and asking for him to remain in jail, but I can’t predict what the judge will do. He’s got some outlandish claims which of course haven’t been backed up with evidence.”

“And what are those claims?”

Walt sighs knowing I’m going to get even more pissed off. “He claimed that Emma called him asking him to meet her there and rescue her from you. It’s obvious bullshit and he has no proof that there was ever a call. He’s just trying to save his ass.”

“Rescue her from me?”

“I told you it was bullshit, man.”

“Jesus. The guy is even more of a pussy than I had imagined. Can’t take accountability for anything it seems. I plan on being there in court, but Emma hasn’t decided what she wants to do yet. I think it’ll be too hard on her to be there but if she wants to go I’m not going to stop her.”

“Well, maybe its best if you both stay away. I’ll be there and can let you know what happens. I think you’ll both just get angry and that’s not what either of you need right now. Why don’t you take her on a trip or something?”

“I’ll think about it. A trip might be a nice distraction from things.”

“Maybe take her somewhere and propose. The mountains, beach, tropical vacation? You’ve traveled more than me so I’m sure you have a better idea.”

“If by traveling, you mean in a damn cargo plane out to the desert, then sure. I have no desire to vacation in Afghanistan.” I joke and Walt rolls his eyes.

We head into the jewelry store and with mine and Walt’s careful opinion, I select the ring that I plan to propose to Emma with. We’ve only been together for a handful of months, but when you know you know, right? I don’t want to waste any more time just on the conventional approach. I have never felt like this with anyone before and I feel like my once in a lifetime, soulmate connection actually came to true. I want her to be mine, officially, if she’ll have me.

That evening, Emma is home when I get back and I quickly and discreetly hide the ring with my ammunition on the top shelf of the closet knowing that she would never look there and she’s not tall enough to reach it without a stool. She hasn’t stayed at her house since the kidnapping attempt, claiming she just wants to be here with me. I decide to broach the subject over dinner.

“You still serious about wanting to move in here with me?” I ask and without hesitation Emma nods.

“Not because you’re scared of being alone, though right?” “No baby, I’ll admit you’ve helped keep the nightmares away but this just feels like home. It has from the moment I first came here and you being here is the main reason. Though if you want me too, I can go back to mine.”

“Not a chance in hell, Sugar. I want you here constantly with me. That’s why I was hoping we could discuss officially moving ya in and how to make that happen?”

She smiles and I grin back at her.

“I’d love too. What about the furniture?”

“Well, the guest rooms upstairs are empty and you have the eye for interior design. You can replace anything I’ve got in here if you’d like, except for a few sentimental things of my mama’s. Just tell me what you want to do and we’ll make it happen.”

“I don’t have a lot of stuff anyway. Should we list my house?”

“Let’s get it empty first so we’re not in a rush and then we can list it if you want too.”

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to live here with you.”

“I can’t believe I talked you into it, roomie. Let’s start this weekend. I don’t want to await any longer.” I smirk at her and she giggles.

“I also wanted to talk to you about maybe taking a vacation?”

“Where’d you have in mind?” She asks as she picks up her wine glass.

“Honestly, anywhere. I haven’t been on a true honest to God vacation in almost a decade and I’d like to take you somewhere and have some time with just us if you’re up for it.”

“I’d love too!”

“Maybe the beach? We could drive down and spend a week out in the sun.”

“That sounds perfect. I haven’t been to the beach in at least two years.” She says.

“Well, buy yourself some cute little bikinis and I’ll plan the whole thing, alright Sugar?”

“Oh, I’ll buy some bikinis, don’t you worry.” She sasses and I’m already itching to book this vacation and get us away from all obligations and responsibilities. If I plan it right, maybe I can use this as my opportunity to make a romantic proposal.

Emma, the beach, and a bed is all I need. I’m about to be one happy man.

Part 16

Taglist: @shellyshellshell, @henryownsme, @caramariehurst, @beck07990, @mollymal, @kingliam2019, @syversonswife, @identity2212, @starfirewildheart, @hannah9921, @wa-ni, @kneelforloki, @cutedoxie, @enchantedbytomandhenry, @foxyjwls007, @geralts-yenn, @courtlynwriter, @corrie1013, @squeezyvalkyrie, @summersong69, @livisss, @mayloma, @uunotheangel, @warriormirkwood, @sofiebstar

#henry cavill characters #captain syverson #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson fic #captain syverson smut #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson fluff

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laurenairay · 18 days

Text

Summer days pass me by - T. Jost

“I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new. Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?”

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?”

Summary: Mollie Thomas has been friends with Tyson Jost since they were children – but this summer by the lake could change everything.

Warnings: childhood friends to lovers, some bad language, a little angst

Word Count: 9.5k

A/N: I love Tyson Jost so much – this is a super indulgent fic that I started back in August 2020, and it’s been one hell of a journey writing it, including a complete rewrite about 2/3 through. This OC was actually the first one I ever attempted on hockeyblr, although I’ve since written a fair few in stories I've since posted over the years, and she holds a special place in my heart.

This Tyson blurb I wrote in July 2022 is what inspired me to rewrite this story (and thank you @bqstqnbruin for all the encouragement to finish it!).

If there was one thing about summer that Mollie Thomas loved the most, it was being by the lake. As soon as the weather was good enough, she would head up there with friends to relax, have barbecues and mess around on the water. Being by the lake simply was the epitome of summer, sunshine and friendship – she’d grown up doing it, her parents trusting her to go alone since the age of 15, and now 10 years later (despite some friends moving away), she still loved nothing more than watching the days roll on by from the lakeshore.

Utter bliss.

Mollie had been teaching history at the local Kelowna high school ever since graduating from the local college three years ago, and when the weather started getting consistently sunny, she even went up to the lake some evenings after work, depending on who was around. But now that the end of the school year was approaching, she would no longer be restricted to the occasional evening after work, and she honestly couldn’t wait.

Why? Because soon one of her best friends would be coming back to Kelowna for the summer. Tyson Jost.

Mollie had known Tyson ever since he’d moved to Kelowna to live with his grandparents when he was 13, his family's house being down the road from Mollie’s family. Her older brother John had been on the same hockey team as Tyson, so he’d always been around – but with John being a couple of years older than them, Tyson and Mollie had become fast friends.

Sure, things had become harder when Tyson had gotten more serious with ice hockey. When Mollie’s brother John had quit playing, choosing to focus on school instead, Mollie had been worried that they wouldn’t want to hang out any more – but that wasn’t the case. Hockey or no hockey, Tyson had always been there for her, and she knew she could count on him for anything.

He was the guy that encouraged her to get out of her comfort zone. He was the guy that turned to her for help asking out his first girlfriend Sarah Cooper. He was the guy that punched her first boyfriend for kissing Jenny Prince behind her back. He was the guy that made her laugh down the phone when college had been stressful. He was the only guy that she would wear another team’s colours for whenever he played against the Canucks. He was the guy that called her with a broken heart when the Avs had traded him. He was the guy that she looked forward to seeing most every summer, and she couldn’t wait to see him this year.

She missed him – who could blame her?

It was a Sunday afternoon, just about to head into the last week of the school year, and Mollie was soaking up the sun by the lake with some of her best friends; Bryony, Louis, Michael, Chase and Allison. There had been other people hanging out with them in the morning, including Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle, but the remaining six were the tightest group. So tight, that they’d all chipped in to rent a cottage together this summer, Allison’s uncle owning a couple in the area and offering them first dibs. Naturally, they’d all sprung at the chance of having a summer home base, even if not all of them were there all the time, so Mollie had that to look forward to starting next weekend, the moment that the school year ended. Bryony, Louis and Michael were also teachers, although across various different schools to Mollie, so at least she wouldn’t be the only one up at the cottage during the weekdays.

“Anyone for a refill?”

Mollie turned her head to the camping chair next to her, watching Bryony stand up and wiggle her empty can in the air. Mollie nodded, smiling at her friend, and a few others nodded too. As soon as Bryony walked away, Allison plunked down in the vacated seat, turning to Mollie with a grin.

Allison was probably Mollie’s closest girlfriend in Kelowna – also living on the same street as Mollie’s family – and while the two of them couldn’t have looked more different (Allison a curvaceous insta-airbushed blonde compared to Mollie’s chestnut hair and tomboy runner’s body), Allison had encouraged Mollie to be as confident and friendly as her, and Mollie was forever grateful. Sure, Allison was an incorrigible flirt and flitted between jobs, and sure Mollie had her moments where her anxiety got the better of her – but Allison was as close a friend to her as Tyson was, and Mollie loved that.

Even when Allison’s grin spelled troublemaker, like it did right now as Allison got comfy in Bryony’s vacated chair.

“So you know how my Uncle’s got me helping out with administration for his holiday home rentals this summer, in exchange for us getting our cottage for a lower price?” Allison prompted.

Mollie raised an eyebrow at the glee in her friend’s voice. Whatever it was, clearly she was excited about it – and considering that the cottage had been a good deal, clearly this was good gossip.

“Yeah, I remember…why?” Mollie mused.

“Well, a couple of cottages on this side of the lake have been rented…one of them by someone you know very well…”

Mollie knew her friend meant well, but this cryptic stuff was not helping.

“Out with it, Ally,” Mollie said bluntly.

“Tyson rented the cottage closest to ours for two months,” Allison grinned.

What?

Holy shit.

“He’s going to be here all summer?” Mollie asked, excited.

“Yep! As far as I’ve heard, Tyson’s got some buddies coming up to stay with him at various points, and probably his sister too. I don’t know when or for how long, but there’s definitely enough rooms for all of them in that cabin to be there together so it’s going to be so much fun!” Allison told her, “Now that I think about it, I probably wasn’t meant to tell you. Tyson was probably keeping it as a surprise. Oops.”

Mollie just giggled, too happy to care that Tyson hadn’t said anything to her about his plans. It had been too long since she’d seen her childhood friend – summers just weren’t enough time with him – and knowing that he was going to be around for two solid months just made her heart soar. This was everything.

“Oh man, this is going to be the best summer,” Mollie sighed happily.

“Maybe this summer you and Tyson will finally admit how much you love each other.”

Mollie rolled her eyes, shaking her head. For some reason, Allison (and the rest of their other friends) had it in their heads that her friendship with Tyson was more than platonic. Sometimes it got really annoying because honestly nothing had ever happened between them (not even a hint of an almost) but she tried not to let it bug her. She knew where she stood with Tyson – yeah, he was incredibly handsome, with a good heart and a wonderful smile, but she wouldn’t trade their friendship for anything. Ever.

“We’re just friends, Ally-cat,” Mollie sing-songed, rolling her eyes.

“We’ll see,” Allison sing-songed back.

Honestly. Troublemaker.

Mollie ignored her friend’s laughter as she pulled out her phone, opening up her text thread with Tyson.

From: Mollie

A little birdy tells me you’ve rented a cabin by the lake for the summer…

Mollie barely had to wait a couple of minutes before her phone buzzed with a reply.

From: Tyson

I swear Ally can’t keep her mouth shut.

I was trying to surprise you!

Mollie giggled to herself, ignoring Allison’s wriggling eyebrows.

From: Mollie

Trust me, I’m surprised.

School finishes next week – I can’t wait to see you!

It really had been too long.

“Tell your future husband we miss him!” Allison crowed.

“Oh you’re texting Tyson? Say hi from me!” Chase grinned from across the chair circle.

Mollie stuck her tongue out at him as Allison cackled next to her. Her friends were such dicks sometimes.

From: Mollie

The gang say hi and that they all miss you

“Done, happy?” Mollie said dryly.

“Extremely,” Allison grinned, looking like the cat that ate the canary.

“I don’t know why I like you at all,” Mollie said bluntly, although her smile gave away her lie.

Allison just wriggled her eyebrows again, earning laughter from the whole group and another eye roll from Mollie.

From: Tyson

Hi back from me!

I miss them too

I miss you the most

Mollie’s eyes widened slightly, a light flush warming her cheeks. What? Why was she reacting like this? Tyson said that all the time. Kind of. No, stop it. Mollie swallowed heavily, keeping her eyes down to avoid a reaction from their friends.

From: Mollie

I miss you too

With that, Mollie shoved her phone back into her pocket, just in time for Bryony to arrive with a fresh round of beers, which Mollie was more than grateful for. What was that all about?

“I am so ready for a drink.”

“Make it two,” Mollie mused, grinning at Allison’s words.

“Make it three,” Chase laughed, “I can’t wait to cool off in the lake, it’s too damn hot today.”

That was an understatement. The temperature was sweltering and even just thinking about jumping into the cold water was almost too much to bear. Mollie been waiting all week for this Friday evening – while the four of them who were teachers had been up at the lake during the week every day since their schools finished for the summer a week ago, Allison and Chase had weekday 9-5s, so Mollie had volunteered to drive back into town to bring them out for the weekend, finally bringing their big friendship group together in their rented cabin for the summer. Of course Mollie had visited her family (with her brother John and his wife Michelle reminding her they wouldn’t be up at the lake until next week) to fill the time while she waited for Allison and Chase to be ready, as well as stocking up on supplies, but now Mollie was more than ready to kick back and relax.

After she’d been in the water, of course.

Thankfully Mollie had put a bikini on underneath her clothes, just a simple little red thing, before picking up her friends today, so as soon as she’d parked outside their cabin, brought the cooler of drinks and snacks into the kitchen, and dumped her duffel bag by the stairs, she stripped off her clothes as she walked towards the tempting water. Bryony wolf-whistled as Mollie walked past the three who were already there, and Mollie just flipped them all off with a grin, kicking off her shoes quickly before taking off in a run down the dock and diving into the water.

Bliss.

Allison and Chase, both having stripped down to their swimsuits too, wasted no time in joining Mollie in the water, and all Mollie could do was smile as she resurfaced. This was summer. All of them together in glorious weather at the most beautiful place in Kelowna. What more could she ever want?

“LOOK WHAT THE CAT DRAGGED IN!”

Mollie turned her head at Michael’s hollering, grinning at the sight of the familiar figure walked over from the neighbouring cabin. Tyson. Mollie eagerly hauled herself back up onto the dock, slipping back into her shoes and picking up a towel from the stack at the beginning of the dock to dry herself off with as she walked back to the cabins, waving hello as she got closer.

“There you are.”

Mollie just grinned and threw her arms around Tyson’s neck, him just laughing as he picked her up, swinging her round in a circle, not seeming to care that she was getting him wet.

“You’d think you were happy to see me or something,” Tyson teased, setting her back on her feet.

“Oh hush, you know I am,” Mollie sighed happily, running the towel over her wet hair, “Are you happy to be back here?”

“You know it,” he nodded, smiling sweetly at her, “even more so knowing that I’m nowhere near Buffalo and that you’re here.”

Well Mollie would never say no to a bit of Tyson charm.

“Flattery gets you everywhere, Mr Jost,” she mused, trying to calm her racing heart.

It wasn’t fair that nothing about him had changed at all and yet somehow his pretty curls and pretty face were even more handsome since she’d last seen him. So unfair.

“HEY LOVEBIRDS!”

A shout from Bryony broke Mollie out of her thoughts, and she saw Tyson blush fiercely as they both looked at the group by the chairs to see them all smirking at the two of them. And to think it was usually Allison who was the troublemaker. Mollie just flipped them all double birds, earning laughter.

“We’d better go before people start talking eh?” she laughed, trying to hide her blush.

“Let them talk,” Tyson grinned, but starting walking over to the ring of chairs anyway.

It wasn’t fair that her stomach filled with butterflies at the simple sight of his smile.

As Louis handed Mollie a cold white claw, Tyson already having one in hand, she took the empty seat at Tyson’s side. By the time that Allison and Chase hauled themselves out the water to join the group, they were all well on their way to catching up.

They talked about Bryony and Louis still being together, their relationship going on 5 years strong. They talked about Allison losing another job, her uncle having taken pity on her and letting her do his administration for the summer cabins he owned. They talked about the school year, how parents and kids were a stressful nightmare most days now. They talked about Tyson’s season, sort of, Tyson just saying that he was happy to be back up from the AHL. They talked about Tyson’s sister Kacey, how she was kicking ass and taking names. They talked about Chase’s hard-earned promotion at work, finally getting the recognition he deserved. They talked about all the plans they had for the next two months here at the lake and the more they talked and drank and laughed, Mollie just sank back in her chair, taking everything in, soaking everything up.

This really was heaven.

Tyson noticed her relax back in her chair and just smiled at her, earning a genuine smile back. Yeah this was going to be a summer to remember, she could feel it.

Another couple of days passed at the lake cabin, Chase and Allison heading back into town while Tyson stayed at his place, and Mollie couldn’t be happier. Happy enough to make breakfast pancakes and bacon for Bryony, Louis and Michael after she showered following her early run around the lake, leaving it all in the oven for them with a note while she cleared up. Breakfast she could handle – it was the little things. She knew her friends would appreciate it anyway.

As she was taking out the trash though, she spotted Tyson doing exactly the same from his cabin, and waved enthusiastically at him, grinning as he laughed. He was clearly still adjusting to waking up early, same as she was – he still looked a little bleary eyed as they walked towards the end of their driveways.

“Good morning Tys!” she said cheerfully.

“Morning!” he mused.

She jogged over to him, Tyson catching her in a hug as she reached his side, making her laugh and squeeze him back tightly. Mornings like this were exactly what she had missed while he was away. As she pulled away though, her phone buzzed with a series of texts, and she pulled out her phone only to frown at the sender. Her ex. Ew. He really wasn’t getting the hint.

“Who’s making your face do that?”

Mollie cursed under her breath and tucked her phone away with.

“It’s no-one,” she said simply, willing him to let it go.

“No-one doesn’t make you grimace like that,” Tyson pointed out, “And it doesn’t make you hide it from me. So who is it?”

She really couldn’t pretend around him, could she? And it wasn’t like he hadn’t heard about her terrible ex boyfriends before.

“It’s my ex. Justin. It’s been six months since I caught him texting other girls with all the things he wanted to do to them, and while I don’t know if he physically cheated, I still kicked him to the curb the moment I found out. Every now and again he blows up my phone, even though I never answer him,” Mollie explained, “His mom even knows and yells at him for bugging me. He’ll get bored soon enough.”

Yeah, this latest ex wasn’t exactly one of her finest choices.

The deep frown that shifted onto Tyson’ face was an interesting reaction though.

“If he doesn’t leave you alone, tell me. I still know enough people in this town, and I can hunt him down and punch him if he doesn’t back off.”

A rush of heat went through her veins at his words, a flush spreading across her cheeks.

There was a flashback in her mind to when they were 15, when Tyson found out that her first boyfriend Todd kissed Jenny Prince behind her back, and sucker-punched him at school in her honour. It was a beautiful memory. And to know that he’d still defend her like that?

“You always were my knight in shining armour,” Mollie teased.

But Tyson just shrugged. “You know I’ve got your back no matter what. That’s what best friends are for.”

Such a sweetheart.

Something about his tone though, how seriously he’d taken her words, made Mollie keep her eye on Tyson throughout the day, and by the time that late afternoon rolled around when their barbecue was in full swing, she finally cornered him again. There was just something in his eyes that looked…tense. It wasn’t the Tyson she knew and it worried her that even in the most relaxing place in Kelowna, he still looked so stressed.

“Hey, Tys, fresh beer?”

Tyson smiled his thanks, taking it with a nod. There was no one else standing too closely so she didn’t feel bad for confronting him like this, not at all.

“So are you going to tell me what’s going on with you?” she said softly.

Tyson’s eyes widened a little, before he huffed out a laugh.

“There’s no point hiding anything with you, is there?”

Just like her with him. But Mollie winced. “If there’s something you don’t actually want to talk about, then I’m not going to push. That’s the last thing I want.”

Tyson just nodded, taking a sip of his beer, as if to steel himself. Clearly this was more than passing worry. What was going on?

“Every summer I’ve ever had has been the same. Arrive back to Kelowna, get sympathy and pitying smiles for how shitty the season was, hanging about by the lake, train, start hockey again. I’m tired of it,” Tyson groaned.

“Tired of it?” she asked, confused, trying to understand what he meant.

Surely he didn’t mean he was tired of hockey? She knew how much the sport meant to him.

“I’m tired, Mollie. I feel like I’m stuck, doing the same thing over and over with the same nothing at the end. I need to do something new or I feel like I’m going to go crazy,” Tyson sighed.

Okay, okay that she could manage.

“It must be so frustrating, pouring your whole heart into the sport you love, and not getting the reward you deserve. And the fact that you still feel like this in the off season? That’s not good, Tys,” Mollie murmured, “What can I do to help?”

He sent her a sad smile.

“I’m not sure, really. If I don’t know what I can do, I don’t know what anyone else can do,” he said softly, “But being here with you right now, talking with you like this, I appreciate it. I don’t exactly trust many people with my full thoughts like this.”

That both saddened her and made her heart soar. The fact that he didn’t really have anyone else he could really talk to was devastating…but the fact that he trusted her enough? That was everything.

“Then we can talk and vent and rant and scream as much as you need. And we’ll build your happiness back up, just like you deserve. I’m here for you, Tyson,” she said firmly.

“Yeah?”

That smile would be the end of her, she just knew it.

“Yeah, I mean it,” she nodded, helpless to do anything but smile back.

“Wanna help me make this the best summer ever?” he grinned.

“You do know that sounds like the start of a coming of age film, right?” Mollie teased.

Tyson nudged her with his shoulder, earning a nudge back.

“Is that a yes?” he asked, hope filling his voice.

“Obviously,” she grinned.

How could she say no to him?

But as she looked into his eyes, there was something in his gaze that made her breath hitch in her chest, her grin sliding from her face. Tyson seemed to be caught in the moment too as his own face drifted into neutral, his eyes locked on hers in return. She didn’t realise how close they had shifted until her fingers brushed against his arm, Tyson’s eyes darting down to where they were touching before he looked back up at her. Her heart was pounding, ears full of a rushing sound, her thoughts filled with nothing but the dazed look on Tyson’s face.

It was when his gaze flicked down to her lips that she jolted out of her reverie, just in time for a couple of shrieks and splashes came from the end of the dock.

Fuck. Fuck.

What was that? What the hell was that?

“Mollie…” Tyson murmured, fingers brushing against hers finally.

“I’m going to get some more food,” she said quickly, stepping backwards.

It took all her strength to turn away from the confused hurt expression on Tyson’s face, and walk over to join Bryony and Louis at the barbecue, plastering a smile on her face as her head whirled, desperately trying not to panic. Tyson had almost kissed her. She had almost kissed Tyson. Tyson wanted to kiss her. She wanted to kiss Tyson. Did she want to kiss Tyson?

Of course she wanted to.

But since when did she give into fleeting desires around him? And since when did he ever look at her like that? No, she couldn’t deal with this. She wouldn’t, not tonight. Maybe not ever. What the hell, Tyson?

Tyson and Mollie didn’t talk about the moment they shared at all. The first two weeks of their two month summer, almost a full week since that fateful night, passed quickly and the longer they went not mentioning it, Mollie found herself burying the topic completely. From Wednesday morning to Friday midday, Mollie, Tyson, Bryony, Louis and Chase all quickly fell into a routine that she knew would carry on for the rest of the summer. Mollie did her usual run along the lake front each morning, with Bryony and Tyson joining her for a yoga session today, the Friday morning. She spent each day cycling through swimming, sunbathing, and reading, all of the group taking it in turns to cook dinner while sorting out their own lunches. She kayaked with Chase and Tyson for a couple of hours before lunch on Thursday, the three of them paddling in a comfortable silence most the way, taking pictures to make their friends jealous of the beautiful views.

And now Bryony and Louis were back from their grocery run for the barbecue tonight, to celebrate Mollie’s brother John and his wife Michelle coming up for the weekend, as well as Tyson’s friends Mat and Dante arriving ahead of their own week’s stay. They’d all met Mat and Dante before, the two of them joining Tyson for a few summer’s now (and Dante joining on his own the year before that started) so Mollie was well prepared for the chaos those two always seemed to bring. At least in comparison to the peace and calm that Tyson’s friend JT brought when he visited (which he would be doing for two weeks after Dante and Mat left).

It was going to be an interesting stretch of time, that was for sure.

After Tyson had gotten his friends settled in, they immediately joined Mollie’s group to chill on the clearing by the dock, relaxing for a few hours before they needed to start prepping for the barbecue tonight. Chase and Allison wouldn’t be joining them until later, and neither would John and Michelle, but that didn’t mean that they couldn’t have fun before then.

“We’ve got snacks and fresh fruit and cold beers, help yourselves,” Michael grinned, waving towards the coolers on the back decking of their cabin.

Mat, Dante, and Tyson saluted, making them all laugh, Tyson carrying over their own crate of beers to add to the coolers too. Mollie just stayed silent, offering Tyson a small smile, to which he sent a hesitant one back. Great. He was still going to be awkward around his friends too. With a quiet sigh, quiet enough that no-one else heard it, she laid back down on her deckchair, eager to let the sun wash away the underlying tension she was desperate to ignore.

Maybe with his friends here, Tyson would get over the awkwardness and they could return to normal. At least, she hoped they could. She didn’t know what she would do if they didn’t.

“So, Mollie looks good, huh?”

“Don’t even think about it Barzy,” Tyson scowled.

Dante and Mat looked at each other only briefly before bursting into laughter.

“We know she’s yours, Josty. Chill,” Dante snickered.

“She’s not mine,” Tyson shot back, narrowing his eyes.

His friends just laughed harder.

“Yeah okay, and you totally weren’t distracted when she was sunbathing in that tiny pink bikini this afternoon, right,” Mat teased.

“I swear, I will throw you in the lake.”

The weekend was…odd, to say the least. Mollie didn’t spend nearly as much time with Tyson as she normally did, mostly because he looked like he didn’t know what to say to her and she didn’t have a clue what to say to him. She got away with it though, having her brother and sister-in-law up at the cabin, and Tyson having his friends to distract him. She had to get over this weirdness. She needed to.

On the Sunday evening, when her brother John and Michelle drove back into town, she followed them back, staying at her apartment for a night ahead of a family dinner their mom had insisted on for the Monday night. It wasn’t a hardship to take a little break from the cabin, using the time to pamper herself with a long bath and a face mask, giving herself the time to refresh. And Monday she spent giving her apartment a giant deep clean, driving all thoughts from her mind until she only had enough time to shower and change before heading over to her parents house.

“Mollie! Baby! Are you eating enough?”

Mollie just rolled her eyes fondly at her mom’s greeting.

“Nice to see you too mom. I brought wine,” she mused, stepping into her childhood home.

“Ooh, I do love a good cabernet, thank you darling. John and Michelle are already here – they’re with your dad in the den,” her mom said cheerfully, “I’m just finishing up in here!”

“I’ll help you, mom. It’s been a while.”

Mollie’s mom just beamed at her, kissing her cheek before wandering back into the kitchen. She followed with a smile on her face, heart bursting with the love that only a mom could cause, her mom especially. Mollie put on the apron that her mom passed her, the two of them chopping vegetables for the salad in a comfortable silence, Mollie just enjoying her mom dancing along to the radio while they worked. True to her word, they didn’t take long to finish preparing everything, and in no time at all, her mom was calling everyone to the table for dinner.

Incredible chicken pot pie, with creamy mash, a variety of greens, and homemade gravy, with a fruit cobbler for dessert. This was exactly what she needed.

What she didn’t need was her brother opening his mouth the moment that they finished eating.

“So mom, has Mollie told you about Tyson yet?”

What the hell?

“No? Is everything okay?” her mom asked, voice full of concern as she turned to look at Mollie.

She kicked her brother under the table but he just smiled sweetly at her. Her older brother was such a child.

“He’s fine mom. A little stressed after the season, but fine,” Mollie said, as calmly as she could.

“I was talking about all the flirting actually,” John said innocently.

“Shut up, John! There hasn’t been any flirting!” she hissed.

He was a dead man. Michelle could move on happily.

“Flirting?” her dad frowned.

“Flirting?!” her mom cried happily.

For fuck’s sake. She needed to nip this in the bud before her mom pulled out her scrapbooks.

“There is no flirting. John is delusional, maybe a touch of heat stroke. You really check that out for him, Michelle,” Mollie said firmly, her sister-in-law just sending her a pitying smile, “Tyson and I don’t flirt with each other.”

“It’s been different this year and you know it,” John shot back.

Michelle elbowed him, but other than a grunt he didn’t react at all, his smirk staying put.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. He’s one of my best friends and you know it,” Mollie scowled.

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” John sing-songed.

“Oh you assho-”

“That’s enough,” their mom interrupted, gaze firm. Mollie snapped her mouth shut, John doing the same. “Johnathan Neil Thomas, cut it out. If Mollie says they’re still just friends, then that’s that.”

Mollie smiled triumphantly, earning an eye roll from her brother.

“And Mollie Eliza Thomas, if there ever is a change between you and Tyson then you know you can be open with us.”

Ugh.

“Mom!” Mollie hissed.

John just threw his head back and cackled, not even flinching at the elbow from his wife this time. How was he 27 years old?

“Alright, alright, I’m stopping,” their mom grinned, “and so is John.”

Seriously. It was bad enough that her head was messed up from whatever the hell had happened at the lake the other day, whatever the hell had been happening since Tyson came back this summer, but she didn’t need her family adding to it too.

“Cheer up buttercup. Whatever happens, happens,” her dad shrugged, smiling.

Mollie didn’t know if that made things better or worse. Sure, John could be doing the opposite, getting defensive and shutting down a ‘potential’ relationship between her and Tyson (not that there was anything) but this wasn’t helping.

“I’m disowning you all,” Mollie grumbled, “not you Michelle. As always, you’re an angel.”

Her brother’s wife just beamed. “If John doesn’t want to sleep on the sofa tonight, he’ll stop.”

What an angel she was indeed.

Her dad tactfully changed the topic to his upcoming fly fishing trip, finally giving Mollie some peace, but she was lost in her head from there on out, Michelle just filling up her wine glass in solidarity. By the time John and Michelle went home, Mollie had drunk a couple of glasses too many to safely drive home, so she crashed in her childhood bedroom, her mom thrilled that she got to fuss over her for another day.

Her dad promised to make her a hearty breakfast.

While she got ready for bed, doing her usual skincare routine after she changed, Mollie finally let herself embrace her thoughts. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, John’s teasing had gotten under her skin.

It’s been different this year and you know it.

Because it had been different this year. This summer had been full of all of this tension that hadn’t been there before that she didn’t know what to do with. This was her and Tyson. If she couldn’t figure out what it all meant to her, then where did that leave them?

Oh.

Oh no.

John was right. He’d been right all along. It was different this year. Everything with Tyson had felt different this year, the flirty teasing, the innocent touches, the way her heart had skipped at his smile. But why? What had changed?

And what could she do about it?

Tyson had never said anything to her about being more than friends in all of their years of knowing each other, not even as a joke in passing. There’d never been a moment like that almost moment before the barbecue the other day. There’d never been anything that had flared Mollie’s feelings into a tailspin like this, but now? Now she didn’t know what to think.

Breathe. Take a moment.

Mollie inhaled shakily, running her trembling hands through her chestnut hair. It was like a dam had burst, her emotions rushing over like a tidal wave, her heart racing and her breathing getting ragged. This had changed everything. How could she not think about Tyson differently now that the floodgates had opened? How could she ignore that he was her everything now that she’d admitted it to herself? What the hell was she supposed to do now?

“Mollie? Is everything alright?”

Mollie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of her mom’s voice through the door, clearly having seen her light was still on. Damn it. Damn it damn it damn it.

“Yeah mom, just doing some yoga!” Mollie called back, hoping that the lie wasn’t too obvious, that her voice wasn’t too shaky.

“Alright sweetheart, get some rest! I’ll see you in the morning,”

Mollie just squeezed her eyes shut tightly, balling her fists at her sides as she curled up under her duvet. This wasn’t fair. All these years she’d maintained an amazing friendship with Tyson, a constant steadiness that she cherished, but now…could it really stay the same? Could she stay the same, knowing her feelings were actually real, when he didn’t feel the same? Could she pretend to be normal?

Could they even stay friends?

At the lake, unbeknown to Mollie, Tyson was going through his own emotional turmoil, sitting with Dante and Mat in the living area of his cabin.

“What’s going on with you and Mollie?”

“It feels different this year,” was all Tyson could offer to Dante’s question.

“Different…how?” Dante frowned.

Tyson sighed, running a hand over his face, missing the look that his friends exchanged.

“Tys, seriously. You and Mollie have always been so close, and yeah we tease you about it…but has something happened?” Mat said softly.

“I don’t know. There have been some moments. Like, emotionally-charged moments. That first weekend when we first saw each other again, she was wearing this tiny red bikini and she just looked so carefree and beautiful and so goddamn hot that it completely blew past all my defences. I couldn’t help but flirting and she flirted back. Talking to her felt like my heart was clenching and there was something in her eyes that said it wasn’t just me. And the other day at the barbecue, I just…I don’t know. We almost kissed and then she basically ran away,” Tyson said miserably.

Mat laughed softly, making Tyson whine in protest.

“This isn’t funny!”

“Oh it’s kinda funny. Why is it that everyone can see the connection between you two other than you?” Mat mused.

“We’re just friends. That’s all she wants, clearly,” Tyson sighed.

“That’s all she wants? Are you saying that you want more?” Dante asked, grinning.

Tyson just whined again at his friend’s excitement, dropping his head to rest in his hands. He couldn’t deny it, not any more. Not now that things felt so different, so…new. How could he?

“So you’re admitting that you like her. Finally. Are you sure that friendship is all Mollie wants? Have you even said anything?” Mat asked, raising his eyebrows.

“Why would I say anything?!” Tyson yelped, lifting his head up again.

Was Mat crazy?

Both Mat and Dante rolled their eyes. “You literally said that it wasn’t just you that had that emotionally charged moment,” Mat pointed out.

“I know but…”

“If there’s another moment like that, why don’t you just take a chance?” Dante interrupted, before Tyson could spiral into a panic, “if things are stressing you out this much, then maybe she’s feeling the same.”

Tyson bit his bottom lip, contemplating his friend’s words. Could he really do that?

Mat sighed, seeing Tyson’s hesitation. “Look, bud, you never know until you try. The friendship that you and Mollie have is so solid – even if things don’t happen between you two, nothing will change that.”

“I guess you’re right. She wouldn’t be weird about it, even if it is just me with feelings,” Tyson murmured.

Mat frowned, opening his mouth to argue, but Dante just elbowed him in the ribs, making him grunt.

“I don’t think it is just you, but yeah, you really should act on this, before you get too in your head about things. I know it’s scary and I know that you’ve got to take a risk, but I honestly think it’s going to pay off. It’s Mollie, Tys. How can things not?” Dante said warmly.

Mat nodded enthusiastically, making Tyson laugh softly.

“You really think I could take a chance?”

“Absolutely. You’re Tyson fucking Jost – you’ve got this!” Dante grinned.

Tyson smiled weakly, trying to put on a brave face. He wasn’t convinced, not with how much was on the line. Mollie was too important for him to lose. But maybe, just maybe, he could gain even more?

The week went on with Mollie no closer to an answer to what her next steps should be. At least Tyson was a little more relaxed around her, offering her genuine smiles rather than the awkward ones he’d been giving her since their almost moment. On Mat and Dante’s penultimate day, Allison arranged for a four jet skis to be sent up to the lake as a surprise, and they all took turns in racing each other on them, no-one getting too drunk to make sure they stayed safe.

After a few races on the jet ski, Mollie took a break, letting Louis take over to race Bryony, Mat and Dante, while Michael cheered them on and took photos. She could see her phone lighting up with jealous messages from Allison and Chase – FOMO was a bitch – so she could already predict that Allison would be extending their rental until after the full weekend had passed so she could have a go herself.

Mollie headed back out of the cabin with a book, a bottle of water, and some sunscreen, ready to relax for a little while now that she’d pulled some shorts back on, only to see Tyson already sitting where she had been planning to sit. Maybe it was fate. Maybe this was the time they needed, apart from the others. Maybe this was a sign.

Then again, Tyson had been fairly quiet today so far, letting Mat and Dante take the reins in conversation.

“Hey Tys. Mind if I join you?”

He jolted, looking up at her like she’d surprised him, making her frown slightly.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Sure.”

Okay, not quite the reaction she’d been expecting. Even for him, this was weird. Still, she sat down in the chair next to him, reapplying her sunscreen before opening up her book. But the way that Tyson was sitting silently next to her, just staring out at the lake, was unsettling.

“Is everything okay?” she murmured, putting her bookmark in her book.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

His answer was so short, almost distant, unlike any way he’d ever spoken to her, and it hurt a little to hear that tone in his voice. Maybe she was just missing something, but him brushing her off like that on top of all of her emotional turmoil lately was just enough to make tears spring to her eyes.

It was all she could do to swallow heavily to keep her composure, and she stood up, dropping her book on her chair.

“Where are you going?” Tyson frowned.

“I don’t know. Just need to clear my head, I guess,” Mollie shrugged, attempting to keep her voice light.

“Can I come with you?” Tyson blurted.

That would be the opposite of helpful right now. But when he looked at her so hopefully, how could she say no? Maybe he’d actually open up, and his attitude was all a big misunderstanding? She could only hope. She couldn’t take him pulling away from her, if that’s what this was.

No, she had to have hope.

With a quick glance over her shoulder to check that their friends were all occupied, Mollie started to walk in the opposite direction down the lake front, knowing that Tyson would be following her. She wandered, a little aimlessly, trying to clear her head as she’d said to him, but nothing helped knowing that it was his footsteps following her.

Eventually she slowed to a stop at a little cove, ducking into it to get out of the harsh light of the sun, and Tyson stopped next to her, offering her a small smile. She had to return it – this was the place they’d dubbed ‘their spot’ after all. Back in Tyson’s first summer, she’d found him here after a difficult training session, full of frustration and homesickness, and it had been one of the things that bonded them so quickly. She’d never told anyone about this place, that it was hers and Tyson’s. Mollie hadn’t intended to come here, but clearly her subconscious had other plans.

Tyson took a step towards her, slipping slightly on a rock, and Mollie’s hands darted out to stead him, Tyson clinging to her forearms as he regained his balance. It was only when she laughed and looked back up at him that she realised they were standing so close that she could count his eyelashes, and she froze.

No, no she couldn’t do this. She needed less drama, less intensity, less…

“Mollie,” Tyson murmured, voice breathy.

“Tys, I…I can’t,” she choked.

Her head was swirling as she jerked out of his grip, trying not to slip herself as she stepped past him, but Tyson grabbed her hand to stop her leaving.

“Mollie, please don’t go! Just listen to me!” Tyson begged.

The desperation in his voice made her stop in her tracks. She closed her eyes, keeping her back to him as she tried to control her racing heartbeat, jumping slightly as his hand move to touch her shoulder. Against her better judgement, with a gentle squeeze of his hand, she turned back around to face him, biting her lip at the devastation in his face.

“Tys,” she whispered, a little helplessly.

He’d never looked at her like that before, like she had the power to destroy him completely. She wasn’t sure if she liked it.

“Mollie, sweetheart…”

Sweetheart. He trailed off at her whimper, running a shaky hand through his unruly curls before he looked into her eyes with such determination that butterflies erupted in her stomach.

“You’ve got to know how much I like you, Mollie. Seriously. You’re one of the only people I keep in touch with from home, one of the only true friends I can count on, and you know how much our friendship means to me. But you’ve got to know how our friendship has evolved. It’s…more now, right? You feel it too?”

Mollie’s breath caught in her throat. He…what?

How much I like you.

How much our friendship means to me.

Our friendship has evolved.

You feel it too?

“Please. Say something,” Tyson begged.

How could she deny him that? After everything she started admitting to herself? She closed her eyes, swallowing heavily, only opening them when her heart cracked open a little. If he could be honest, as much of a dream as it felt, then so could she.

“I do feel it, Tys. I just…I didn’t let myself hope that you felt the same,” she whispered.

There it was. She’d finally said the words out loud. Tyson let out a wounded noise, low and sad, but Mollie didn’t say anything. What else could she say without losing all composure?

“I’ve liked you for so long, Molls. I just never let myself act on it because I didn’t think you felt the same. But now…”

Tyson trailed off again into nothing, letting out a whoosh of breath. The hope and wonder in his voice sent a thrill through Mollie’s body, her heart beating a little bit faster. Tyson liked her. He really liked her! And she’d told him how she felt about him too? She’d never thought this moment would actually happen. Definitely not since her emotional realisation a few evenings ago. But now that it was? It felt mindblowing. Was this really happening?

But there was still that niggle of doubt she couldn’t deny. So Mollie gathered her thoughts while Tyson stayed silent, hoping they wouldn’t bite her in the ass.

“I can’t do this if it’s just for the summer,” Mollie blurted, “I can’t be only a fling for you, Tyson. I wouldn’t be able to cope with that. Not with you.”

Tyson quickly shook his head, reaching out to clasp both of her hands in his, making her gasp softly at the warmth in his grip.

“You could never be a fling. This is the real deal between us, Mollie. I know it is. You know it is,” Tyson said firmly.

Mollie just nodded, choking out a laugh, unable to stop the tears welling up in her eyes as she smiled at him, earning a hopeful smile back. He was right. Deep down, no matter how her insecurities whispered, she knew that their friendship meant a solid foundation. It wasn’t a temporary wavering summer-fun. It was…everything.

“So what are you saying?” Mollie murmured, trying to blink away the tears.

Was this really happening?

“Will you be my girl?” Tyson asked, his voice full of hope.

Mollie choked a laugh, her voice thick with the tears that wouldn’t leave. “Yeah, Tys. I’ll be your girl,”

Tyson let out a whoop, throwing his head back, making Mollie laugh again. What a ridiculous guy. She liked him so much. He rested his forehead against hers, one hand rising to cup her cheek, making her inhale sharply as his eyes went more serious.

“Can I kiss you now? Finally?”

Mollie tilted her head up to press her lips to his in answer.

Being with Tyson was easy, easier than Mollie could’ve ever imagined. Somehow that transition from friends to boyfriend and girlfriend was seamless, with not even a little awkwardness like she’d feared there would’ve been. She attributed that to Tyson mainly though – he was such a driving force of happiness, and now that she’d allowed herself to feel all those thoughts she’d subconsciously pushed down before, it was like everything had clicked into place. It was almost like it was fate.

Fate that she was seizing with both hands and never letting go.

The moment that they’d returned to the cabins from the cove, Dante had taken one look at them and demanded Mat to ‘pay up’. Bryony had immediately pulled out her phone, typing away furiously, until she groaned and admitted that Allison had won their pool. Tyson had just laughed when he realised that everyone had been betting on the two of them, Mollie hiding her face in his chest with a groan. Somehow she wasn’t surprised – it was their friends after all – but that didn’t make her feel any better in the moment.

Nor did John’s smug texts – Michelle’s happy ones soothed that a little. She wasn’t surprised either when Tyson came to her after the weekend and admitted that John had given him a shovel talk in private, one that he refused to share the details of (so she knew it had to be violent), but when she’d texted John to berate him, all her brother said was that he approved and that Tyson was a good guy.

That much she knew already, thank you very much.

The rest of their summer raced by. After Mat and Dante left, JT stayed for two weeks, just as thrilled for them as Tyson’s other friends had been (especially since he won the bet he had with Alex Kerfoot about them). After JT left, Kacey and Tyson’s mom came up to stay for a week, and their genuine heartfelt welcome to the family talks left Mollie more emotional than ever, Tyson just smiling with watery eyes (that he later denied).

And obviously her parents were thrilled, Tyson being dragged down to a couple of family dinner over the remaining six weeks of summer, in between his intense workouts, getting him ready for the upcoming season.

But those six weeks flew by faster than Mollie anticipated, the end of summer drawing closer, and Tyson only had few weeks before he needed to get back to Buffalo for training camp. His time at his cabin had come to an end, as had Mollie’s, so he’d come to stay at her apartment with her while he figured out what he wanted to for his remaining time.

The more time Mollie could spend with him, the better, so she wasn’t going to complain. Especially if it meant waking up in Tyson's arms in the mornings. Even if it meant Tyson watching her with adoring expressions as she shuffled through old lesson plans to see which she could spruce up ahead of the upcoming school year.

A few days into them living in her apartment together though, Tyson made breakfast for them both and sat down opposite her with a serious expression on his face, making her a little nervous. They ate mostly in silence, the radio playing in the background, and it wasn’t until he’d put their plates in the sink that Tyson was ready to talk.

“Everything’s been so good between us, right?” he blurted.

The nervous expression on his face made her heart twinge, and not in a fun way.

“It has for me?” she offered, wincing.

“It has for me too, I promise,” he said quickly, taking the edge off her anxiety, “I just…I’ve been thinking a lot. About our future. Where we could end up. Where I want our relationship to end up.”

She tried valiantly to ignore how her heart started beating a little faster.

“What have you been thinking?” she prompted, hoping her voice didn’t sound too shaky.

“I don’t know where I’m going to end up with hockey in the future. The Avs didn’t want me, it didn’t work out with the Wild, and who knows where I’ll be after this coming year with the Sabres after all the up and down this past season. I don’t know where I’ll be playing or what city I’ll be in, but…will you come with me?”

Mollie’s jaw dropped slightly, her breath catching in her throat. He wanted her to go with him? To leave Kelowna? Tyson saw her shock and immediately reached across the island counter to take both of her hands in his, desperate to ground her as he knew she needed.

“I know this is fast, or at least it would be by normal relationship standards, but with how long we’ve known each other and with how right this feels…I just can’t bear the thought of another 9 months without you. Especially not in Buffalo,” Tyson said, his eyes wide and honest.

Go with Tyson? Uproot everything she’d ever known, move away from all her friends, her job, her life?

“Tyson, I…”

She trailed off, biting her lip, unsure of how to continue as her thoughts swirled. But as soon as she did, she noticed how Tyson’s shoulders slumped slightly, his grip on her hands going limp.

“No, you’re right. It’s too soon, isn’t it? I couldn’t ask you to give up your whole life, just like that, that's not fair on you,” Tyson sighed, finally dropping her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat at the defeat in his eyes. That, more than anything else, she hated. How he second guessed himself? His lack of self confidence? That devastation, it just wasn’t right. So Mollie shook her head, taking his hands back in hers.

“Tys, I need a moment to process, yeah?”

He nodded, a glimmer of hope entering his eyes again, making her smile slightly. Mollie huffed out a breath, running her thumbs over his knuckles, as she tried to process his words. Moving with Tyson – moving in with Tyson fully – would change everything. It would be the biggest step she’d ever taken with a relationship, but with Tyson it would be…

“Tell me what’s going through your mind,” Tyson begged, interrupting her flow.

“You just can’t stand the silence huh,” she teased, unable to resist.

“You know I can’t,” he laughed.

But the laugh was strained, making her sigh. Time to be honest.

“I guess…the main thing going through my mind is that this is such a big step,” she admitted.

“Yeah it is. But it’s also exciting? And I wouldn’t have asked you if I wasn’t sure it would work,” Tyson said honestly.

She couldn’t help but blush slightly. The fact that he was so certain about their relationship was refreshing. And she knew that Tyson always put his whole heart into everything, which was exciting - no-one else had ever had this conviction.

“What about my job? My friends? My family? And a visa? I’ve never even left BC, you know I haven’t,” Mollie prompted, going through all her doubts.

Tyson tilted his head back slightly, averting his eyes as he chewed his lip, clearly deep in thought. She couldn’t help but smile – he really was putting so much effort into this.

“I know you love teaching, even though the school you’re at right now has terrible parents…but I know you’d also smash any teaching job in any place, so I think that part is solvable? Family and friends though…that’s the big sacrifice. And I know, because it sucks leaving mine at the end of every summer. It’s sucked leaving you at the end of every summer, even though we were only ever just friends before. I don’t want to leave you again, but I understand if only seeing everyone else a few times a year outside of summer is a deal breaker,” Tyson sighed, “The visa thing I can work out with my agent, so that shouldn’t be an issue. And I know that you haven’t ever left BC – but there’s so much of the world I want to show you, even if that starts with Buffalo.”

Mollie huffed out a breath at his words, knowing he was speaking from the heart. But what should she do? Tyson watched the frustration play out across her face and smiled sadly, squeezing her hands in comfort.

“Hey, whatever you decide, just know that it won’t change how much I love you, yeah?” he said softly.

He loves her? Of all the times to drop that declaration, so simple and sweet. How could her heart not sing at that?

“My god, Tys, I love you too. So much. And you’re right, it would suck to watch you leave again because everything is so different this year. I finally have you and to lose you?”

Mollie frowned, shaking her head as she cut herself off. How could she let him go?

Tyson saw the change in her expression, a wide smile spreading across his lips. “So…?” he asked hopefully.

She laughed at his prompting, and squeezed his hands back.

“Yeah, Tyson, I’m willing to try this, to try us,” Mollie nodded, smiling, “I’ll move with you, to Buffalo, and then wherever you go after that.”

Tyson whooped and stood up from his chair, making her laugh again as he ran around to her side of the island, which quickly turned into a squeal as he threw his arms around her and picked her up to spin her in a circle. The joy in his face was just pure happiness, and Mollie knew right then that she’d made the right decision.

“I can’t wait to see what the future holds for us,” Tyson grinned, resting his forehead against hers.

There was so much to think about, with moving, with getting a visa, with her job, with her apartment in Kelowna. But a future with Tyson? That was all Mollie wanted - and she couldn’t wait to see what the future held for them either.

#my writing #tyson jost fic #summer days pass me by #tyson jost imagine #tyson jost fanfic #tyson jost x oc #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey fic #hockey imagine

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agendabymooner · 5 months

Text

dadventures with the schuminis: rock it, minnie! || ms47 scenario (1)

dad!mick schumacher (x ofc) centric

EXTENSION TO THE LITTLE SCHUMINIS

Summary: A series in which Mick Schumacher tackles the challenges and moments of being a father to his little carbon copies with his father Michael Schumacher (alongside his in-law Sebastian Vettel, who continues to deny that he was a grandfather while accepting his role as the Schumacher kids’ Opa).

Scenario summary: With Minna’s first birthday coming up, Mick struggles to find the perfect gift that she’ll learn to cherish forever. Thankfully, Michael still knows how to make Gina’s old rocking horse and Sebastian knew how to operate the electric sander. AND Michael and Sebastian are insufferable as in-laws.

Content warning: dad!Mick Schumacher, grandpa!Michael Schumacher and Sebastian Vettel being competitive as grandparents, Seb denying he’s a grandpa, terms of endearment, fluff, mentions of pregnancy, Mick making a dirty joke, brief German translations, mentions of grandma!OFC (Bel Vettel) spoiling Minna

a - n masterlist

o - z masterlist

if you’d like to get on one of my taglists, check this post out!

Mick Schumacher knew that his off days were numbered. He hated that he had to count his days and immediately head back to the road and race.

But he did what he had to do for the sake of giving his daughter a better future— whether it had something to do with their financial situation (they were rich as hell) or her desire to follow Mick’s footsteps to become a racer (Mick was praying to god she didn’t want to be a racer), he persisted on staying and racing for the season for the sake of his family.

Regardless of his limited days off, he did what he could do and participated in the event planning for his firstborn's first birthday celebration. His wife, Barbie, insisted that she and Gina were handling it well, but he wanted to do something special alongside them.

And so Barbie and Gina assigned him to find his daughter a special gift for the celebration. “Something that would mean to her in the long run,” his sister said.

His face paled a little when she said that. It was so cryptic and vague. It was just vague.

He thought about the theme of the party at first. Minna Elisa’s first birthday party was running with the farm theme.

When it was first suggested by Gina, Mick almost snorted to ridicule the thought. “We already grew up around them,” he said, “I don’t think Minna would appreciate that. Why can’t it be just horses?”

Then Barbie and Mick’s mother Corinna agreed to Gina’s idea. After all, Minnie was already showing a great interest in animals! Specifically horses.

Horses.

RIGHT! Mick almost yelled and stood up, looking for his old photo albums. He skimmed through the pages and wondered what his and Gina’s rooms looked like before in Texas. The Schumacher siblings loved their home in Texas— especially their rooms. Mick’s room was converted to be Kimi and Stefan Vettel’s guest rooms but they remained with the same theme of western style and horses.

Then, just as he browsed through his pictures with Gina in her bedroom, his eyes immediately zeroed in on the pink and blue wooden rocking horse that his baby self sat on while Gina stood next to the boy.

He knew what he wanted to get his little girl now.

And so the first thing he did was phone his parents. He called Corinna’s phone, but it was Michael who had answered the call.

“Mick?”

“Oh, hey Dad, is mom there?” Mick nearly facepalmed. This was literally Corinna’s phone he had called.

“Am I that boring to you, Mickie?” Michael scoffed, making Mick roll his eyes. “I can hear your eyes rolling from here. Seriously, is there anything I can help with? Your mom is out at the back right now.”

“Yes, actually,” Mick cleared his throat and stared at the picture of him and Gina as he continued, “I saw this photo of me and Gina in the ranch— her room actually. Gina had this wooden rocking horse and I’m wondering if we still have it there. I’m hoping to ask Gina if I can get it and restore it as a gift for Minnie’s birthday?”

“Oh. That pink and blue one?”

“Yup, that one.”

“Gina broke it when she was five and we had it thrown out,” Michael almost sighed at the memory.

Mick winced when he learned the news. “Why- ugh Gina.”

“We told her that she can’t ride it anymore but she was persistent,” Michael chuckled. “Why would you restore it when you can just buy one?”

“Because it would mean a lot more if Minna got the same one her Aunt Gina has,” Mick murmured. “She’ll see it in the pictures and be like ‘Wow this was my Auntie G’s!”

“Huh,” Michael let out a hum. “That’s… that’s very thoughtful, Mick. But sadly we don’t have it in Texas, anymore.”

Mick let out a sigh of defeat. He could just always get Minna a new one, but it would mean a lot if his daughter got something from their childhood that she would enjoy as well.

Michael had a different thought, however.

The 7-time world champion had spoken up again after hearing absolutely nothing from his son, “It was something that I made from scratch, Mick.”

Mick’s eyes quirked at the sound of this as he asked, “You made it?”

“Ralf and I did,” Michael replied, referring to Mick’s uncle as Michael continued, “I still remember what it looks like and if you’d like, we can make it. Though I doubt that you’d have time to—“

“NO, NO, NO!” Mick panicked, wincing at the volume of his voice as he looked back at the entryway of the living room. Barbie would kill him if his tone woke the baby up. Then he began speaking as quietly as possible, “I’m not busy on my next off— surely it won’t take us long to make it right?”

“You have to rest for the—“

“—Dad, I’m begging you right now please help me,” Mick pleaded desperately. “I have a doubleheader after my next off and I wouldn’t have time in the future like Dad please.”

Michael immediately interrupted Mick, “Mick for the love of god, stop freaking out—“

“—Sorry,” Mick muttered. “Didn’t mean to freak out. ‘S just… I haven’t done anything for Minnie’s birthday and this is her first birthday. My first kid’s first birthday. I’m already missing out on most of her life and I can’t even do anything for her first birthday? What kind of a father would I be?”

Michael understood. He understood fully what Mick felt and he wouldn’t deny that. He was a father as well, and he rarely saw Gina and Mick during the season— he had often labelled himself as a shitty father for it. It was only fair that Michael understood how Mick felt now that he, too, was a father.

But instead of expressing his empathy outright, Michael only sighed and spoke, “Lassen Sie uns morgen mit klaren Köpfen beginnen.” Let’s start with clear minds tomorrow.

“Was meinst du, Dad?” What do you mean, Dad? Mick asked.

“We’ll plan out what to do in two weeks then start,” Michael told his son through the phone and instructed, “It’ll take us a while to figure it out so I need you to clear your brain and sleep it off. Don’t get too stressed, Mickie. ‘s not good for you— Minnie’s a baby but she can feel stress when it’s nearby.”

“Okay,” Mick cleared his throat, now determined to stay sane for a little while. “I’ll do that.”

“Don’t get too antsy about not being able to do anything,” Michael reassured him. “Everyone around you already knows you’re doing more than you think.”

“Alright,” Mick murmured softly, “th- thanks dad. Say hi to mom for me, yeah?”

“You guys~” Barbie had walked into the deck of their home, her face offering her husband Mick and father-in-law Michael a puzzled look.

“You two have been here for hours,” Barbie told them as if she was worried. She had been hearing some strange noise at the deck earlier today alongside the murmuring. Knowing Mick and Michael, she assumed that they were just relaxing at the back.

Yet here she was, looking at them with a baffled look as she watched Mick’s hand pull away from the half-cut lumber and electric saw.

“No we’re not,” Michael quipped, “we’ve been here for two.”

“Hours,” Barbie emphasized. “Minna just—“

“Da! Da!” Corinna had followed suit and walked out with eleven-month-old Minna in her arms, grinning as the baby continued to babble happily.

“Yeah, what Minna said,” Barbie murmured, stepping back as she said, “she just woke up from her nap.”

“Aw, is that right, meine kleine Minnie?” My little Minnie. Michael cooed, arms extending to reach for his granddaughter as he carried Minna in his arms. He grinned heavily as he began to move around with the little girl. “Did you have a good nap, liebe?”

“Pip!” Minna shrieked, only knowing that word alongside ‘Ma’ and ‘Da.’ “Pip!”

“Is that a yes or a no?” Michael hummed before pressing a kiss on the little one’s chubby cheek. “I assume it’s a yes.”

“Oh definitely a yes,” Barbie chuckled, “I know what Mick looks like waking up from a nap— she's definitely a Schumacher who had a good nap.”

Mick groaned playfully, earning a giggle from Barbie.

“By the way,” Barbie brought up, “Seb is coming over with Kimi and Stefan.”

“Oh great, look, Dad, Seb’s helping us,” Mick looked at Michael.

“What’re you two doing anyways?” Corinna asked, her eyes looking at the scattered tools and piled-up lumber. Barbie found herself looking as well, curious eyes now trained at the cans of paint as she looked back at the father-son duo.

“Stuff,” Mick shrugged nonchalantly.

“Wow aren’t you specific,” Corinna muttered.

“It’s for Minnie’s birthday,” Michael waved off the two women, “don’t worry about it. It’ll be done by the end of the day.”

“Minnie’s birthday is in four weeks,” Mick continued, “I wanted to make something for her so… yeah.”

“You don’t even know how to make something wood-related, Mick,” Barbie replied with a raised brow.

Mick then murmured, “I’ll show you something wood-related— ow, Mom!” Corinna smacked Mick on the back of his head and glared at him, gesturing back to Minna.

Michael snorted aloud, making Minna laugh at the sound.

“That’s your child in front of you, Mick,” Barbie warned with a cheeky grin. “Careful with your words now, yeah?”

Mick only rolled his eyes. It wasn’t as if Minna could understand that easily.

“Besides,” Barbie continued, “shouldn’t you be talking to Seb about… lumber stuff? He’s made an impressive apiary before.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Michael scoffed and waved off the offer, “I’ve made this before. It’s nothing I can’t do. Sebastian’s never done this— he wouldn’t be that good without any instruction.”

Corinna and Barbie traded looks. If there was something that the Schumachers and Vettels knew, it was that Sebastian was good at a lot of things— so the fact that Michael was underestimating his woodworking skills? That definitely wouldn’t sit right with Seb especially if he’s heard of it.

Sebastian Vettel wasn’t usually like this, but when Corinna brought up Michael’s comments about his skills the 4-time world champion couldn’t help but lean against the deck railing with a smirk. In his hand was a bottle of beer, watching the Schumacher men struggle with sanding the wood surfaces that they’ve cut. Or rather, they didn’t know how to operate the electric sander.

Mick groaned, “Seb— some help please?” He turned to look at the driver, who kept leaning against the railing with a cheeky smile.

“I would but Michael said I can’t be good without ins—“

“Oh come on, have a laugh, Seb,” Michael looked at Sebastian in annoyance, making the man finally cave in and laugh. “Just come help— this is your granddaughter’s gift too—“

“No, don’t call Minnie that,” Sebastian interrupted Michael and shook his head. “Don’t call her my granddaughter.”

“Is she not?” Mick raised a brow. He was merely teasing. After all, Sebastian proudly called himself Barbie’s (foster) father — therefore he was a proud Opa to the little Minna Schumacher.

Seb just refused to be called a grandfather. He wasn’t that old yet. Fernando Alonso was literally older than him! He sometimes denied that he was a grandfather— but he wouldn’t ever deny Minnie the right to call him Opa.

“Step away,” Sebastian said, now handling the sander as he started it. “You should’ve called me earlier today— I would’ve gone and done all of this.”

“Dad said he could do it, that's why I thought we didn’t need some help,” Mick reasoned.

Sebastian gave his mentor Michael a look and said, “Minna’s not just your granddaughter, Michael. Learn to share responsibilities. I have to spoil her too.”

Michael rolled his eyes, “Just sand the whole thing so we can paint it.”

Minna Schumacher’s first birthday party was anything but simple. The little one had charmed people with her signature Schumacher grin and had giggled at almost anything.

But it wasn’t just her adorable and charming being that turned the environment of the party up a notch. Her little heart-studded cowboy boots gathered the attention of most guests as she slowly walked and stomped around the venue, smiling up at whoever she came across as her mother Barbie assisted her.

“Oh my, is that my Minnie baby?” Barbie grinned at her mother Bel Vettel as the little one excitedly stomped her feet down. Minna immediately sped up her steps and leaned forward to be reached by Bel.

The older woman, despite not looking the part, took Minna in her arms and hoisted the baby up with a light grunt. Bel grinned and squealed at Minna, “You are such a big girl now, Minnie! Whatever will Oma do about it?!”

“Oma,” Minna babbled repeatedly before putting her little hands over Bel’s cheeks. The baby continued to babble as Bel nodded along.

Bel then looked over at her daughter and smiled, “And you? I’ve heard you’re feeling sick lately.”

Barbie rolled her eyes playfully, “It’s hard to keep things a secret in this family, huh?”

Bel chuckled, “You know that we’re only worried. Are you okay though, Barbie? Corinna said—“

“Nina!” Bel and Barbie chuckled at Minna’s excited expression.

Bel then continued, “She said that you’re feeling ill— or at least Mick’s been telling her.”

“Mm, yeah,” Barbie hummed, reaching to fix Minna’s pigtails as she continued, “I’ve been throwing up and all that… I think I know—“

“—I knew it,” Bel squealed, bouncing Minna in joy as she cooed at the baby, “Minna’s gonna be a big sis huh? Are you?”

Barbie chuckled happily, “I have a hunch. Let’s just not tell Mick or the others yet, if that’s okay. I don’t want them to get their hopes up.”

“Yeah, of course,” Bel grinned, pressing kisses on Minna’s face. “I’ve got more babies to spoil— and I thought Stefan and Kimi’s gonna be the only kids I’ll be able to spoil!”

“I still can’t believe you got her a bag,” Barbie rolled her eyes, making Bel giggle as Barbie continued, “She won’t be able to use that for a while, Bel. She's only a year old.”

“Yeah, but she’s my Minnie baby,” Bel pouted dramatically. “You know I wouldn’t pass up the chance to spoil my little Minnie, no, Bebe?” Bel grinned at the toddler as Minna replied with a laugh.

“Bel,” Barbie sighed, “you got her a Hermes.”

“Only the best from Oma Bel,” the older woman grinned, making Barbie sigh again.

Barbie then said, “Only the best for Minna— I feel like I’ve heard everyone say that.”

“Of course,” Bel quipped, “everyone wants to be Minna’s favourite. But it seems like her Da and Pippa will win that title sometime soon.”

They both looked over where the wooden rocking horse was. It was majestic— the handiwork that Mick and Michael made for the little girl.

It was similar to the one that Mick showed Barbie. But instead of the pastel blue and pink, the rocking horse was painted with the colours of Michael Schumacher’s racing suit back when he won his first world championship— the Benetton blue and yellow accentuated in the wooden horse while his driver number was painted on the sides of the horse.

Barbie chuckled softly, “Don’t say that out loud— Seb might hear. You know that he wants to be Minna’s favourite grandpa no matter how much he refuses to get called one.”

On the other side of the room, the birthday girl’s dad Mick, and her grandfathers Michael and Sebastian (who still called himself ‘Opa’ rather than ‘Grandpa’) stood as they looked over where the wooden horse was.

“I’m surprised that it turned out well,” Mick mumbled. Sebastian and Michael hummed in agreement. “Minnie wouldn’t stop going to it since she found it.”

“Well that’s good,” Michael joked, “otherwise I wasted hours of my time for nothing.”

“This was an eye-opener for me, you know?” Mick told the two, making the older men shoot him a puzzled look as he continued with a grin, “Who would’ve thought that it’ll take being Minnie’s grandpa for you to fight over the little things?”

Sebastian scoffed and Michael rolled his eyes.

Sebastian then grinned, “Had I known that Michael was going to be this insufferable as an in-law, I simply wouldn’t have let you date Barbie—“

Michael’s eyes widened and he looked at Sebastian with a baffled look, making Sebastian and Mick laugh aloud.

“Oh you two,” Michael muttered. “It’s no wonder why I’m Minna’s favourite.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep lying to yourself, Michael.”

“Yeah, whatever, Dad.”

♡ moony’s reminder 🅶 (general): @hiraethrhapsody @avaleineandafryingpan @topguncultleader

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one fic #formula one fanfiction #formula one fluff #f1 fluff #mick schumacher fanfic #mick schumacher imagine #mick schumacher fanfiction #mick schumacher #michael schumacher #ms47 #f1 fanfiction #formula one dad

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bowiebond · 2 years

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Byergrove shippers usually have Joyce become Billy’s mother figure.

Mungrove shippers usually have Wayne become his father figure.

Steve bringing a him a bunch of children to adore.

Argyle would give him a bunch of auntie/uncles and grandparents who try and stuff him with food every time he comes by.

So I would like to propose Stoner Polycule where Billy has a whole family unit plus siblings (Will, Max, El) and four amazing boyfriends who have to share him with

1. Wayne because “no the boy’s going fishing with me, Eddie, since you refuse to”

2. Joyce because “Billy is going shopping with me, Johnathan, he can’t go on a date right now, go with one of the others”

3. The kids because “Billy said he’d help us paint our D&D figures, you can’t take him!”

“Yeah, he’s helping me with homework too, I’m gonna fail English and not like you can help, Steve”

4. Aunties/Uncle and grandparents because “oh he’s much too thin, Argyle, don’t you feed him??? Poor thing, come with abuelita, I have something tasty for you, chico sol.”

And Bonus they also have to deal with Billy’s and their own friends stealing him too:

5. Gareth: “What? No, Billy can’t come to the phone, he’s tearing up my drum set…No, Eddie, you skipped out on practice to go suck face with Jonathan Byers, we’re keeping him.”

Jeff: “Dude he knows guitar too, where did you find this guy?!”

Frank: “If he can sing too, you’re getting replaced, face sucker.”

6. Chrissy: “wait what??? Noooo, Steveeee, you can’t take Billy out Saturday, he promised to do my hair for my date with Heather!”

7. Heather: “Yeah, no, Fridays is girls night…I don’t care if he’s a guy, he’s one of the girls, Jonathan! Why are you ever speaking to me? Ew.”

8. Patrick: “Ooooh…Yeah no. That won’t work. Billy and I do our fortnightly junkyard smashing Tuesday…Yeah, no, you can’t come. You have to wait till we’re done if you wanna take him to the movies. Wait, who even are you…? Argyle? Uh, okay.”

9. Robin: “You always hang out with Billy! I wanna hang out with Billy too! He taught me how to make my girlfriend happy scream, Steve, he’s a magician.”

10. Nancy: “No. We’re busy. Take it up with department, Jonathan.”

Max: “Yeah, Jonathan.”

Jonathan: “Why do you hate me??”

Max: “You know what you did, brother snatcher.”

Jonathan: “There are fOUR OF US???? Why do you dislike me specifically????”

Max: “Well, Steve’s not here, so I can only really bully you.”

Nancy: “She’s right, you’re a Steve replacement.”

Jonathan: “Well Steve and I are gonna kiss your brother with tongue.”

Max: “Gross!”

Jonathan: “Then I’m going to kiss your ex with that same tongue!”

Nancy: “Jonathan, oh my god, don’t be gross.”

The boys love each other but they would like to have ONE DAY WITH THEIR BLOND BOYFRIEND THANKS

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pluviophile-imagines · 2 years

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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.

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.

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babyblue711 · 9 months

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Redemption

Will (Salad Days) x Reader - Part 3 Part 1, Part 2 Summary: After a devastating loss, it's your turn to help Will navigate his grief during a difficult time. Your bond continues to grow as you lean on each other for support. Words: 6.3K

Warnings: NSFW, smut, language, sexual content (18+), mention of death, loss, grief, depression A/N: Here's Part 3! I will never be able to thank you all enough for the love and support this fic has received. I have one more chapter planned after this! Thank you again to my incredible beta readers @megatardisbaby and @arcielee. *There's an additional note at the end of this chapter. Dividers by @firefly-graphic

You jolt awake and blink into your dark bedroom, at first uncertain to what has awoken you. All is calm, the room around you remains shrouded in darkness, the faint light of dawn only just filtering through the curtains of the window. Half asleep, your brain feels like mush, barely functioning but you register that your phone is buzzing. You fumble to answer the call, recognizing Will's name flashing on the screen; concern spears through your chest as he’s never called you at this hour before.

“Will,” you mumble into the phone, “What’s wrong?”

“Y/N!” his voice panicky and instantly your heart jumps into your throat and your eyes snap open, awake and alert. “Y/N,” he says again, his voice trembling in distress. “I can’t get her to wake up…Nan won’t wake!”

The wheels start to turn in your head as you leap out of bed. “Will, call an ambulance, I’m on my way!” You’ve never thrown on clothes faster in your whole life as you rush to Will’s place and arrive just in time to see him climb into the ambulance as they pull away. You follow them to A&E, dread curdling in the pit of your stomach.

At the hospital, you clutch at Will’s hand, offering him what reassurance you can as you wait together in a private room, the anxiety and fear so palpable you can almost taste it in the air. Time stands still until the doctor finally emerges and delivers the devastating news: Nan has passed away peacefully in her sleep and there wasn’t anything more they could do for her.

Your worst fears confirmed, you turn in time to see Will crumple beside you as the last of his strength gives out, his face in his hands, shoulders shaking with sobs. The wail that comes from him is almost inhuman and you immediately wrap him into an embrace. You don’t remember the doctor leaving the room as you hold onto him, rocking him, trying to console him with words of comfort that you know mean little and less in the moment. You cannot stop the tears that flow freely down your face as well, sharing in his grief and pain. There isn’t anything you can do to stop the tide of grief that washes over you both, dragging you down below the surface, back to the bottom of the ocean.

Will sobs into his hands, deep wracking breaths that shudder his whole body. Nan was more than just a grandmother to him: she was a source of love and stability, a figure he cherished with all his heart. With her passing, a chapter of his life comes to an end, leaving behind an ache that words cannot fully heal. You still had your mum and dad, but what did Will have? Your love for him could never replace the solid foundation of the love of a parent or grandparent.

You shush and coo into his ear while rubbing his back, as you know how he feels in this moment, the way heartsickness causes your skin to crawl and you want to escape the pain but there’s nowhere to go, trapped inside your own head.

Nan’s words, spoken almost six months before, seem to reverberate in your head as you hold him and cry in that cold, desolate room.

“Now you be sure to always take care of my boy as I know he will take care of you,” you can still hear her voice as surely as if she spoke the words right next to you.

I will Nan, you say to yourself, not sure exactly who you are speaking to at this point, I always will.

Head bowed, you breath deep and slow.

Time blurs; grief has a way of warping reality.

As you sit in the pew, you can hear the priest’s voice as he drones on during the service, but the words simply pass over you, incomprehensible. You’ve tried to be strong for Will, but the truth was that Nan’s passing had affected you too, not only with her loss, but the empathetic pain in your chest as you witnessed his anguish and misery.

The crowd of well-wishers buzzes around you with their hushed murmurs, a blend of familiar faces and strangers offering their condolences and heartfelt hugs. You react automatically, expressing gratitude for their attendance and support, but your heart weighs heavy.

Beside you, Will sits like a solemn statue, dressed in all black. Even in the midst of grief, you can't help but admire how handsome he looks in his fitted suit, but you wish with all your heart that his attire was meant for a joyous occasion, not one so sorrowful.

It is evident that Will is navigating the funeral on autopilot, his emotions tightly restrained, his expression made even more severe by the sharp angles of his face. You feel a stabbing pain in your heart, knowing that he is carrying the immense burden of bidding farewell to the woman who had been like a second mother to him.

At the gravesite, you watch him place a single, white lily on her casket as he kneels, whispering a few words as he says his goodbye, a sense of finality settles over the gathering. Your black dress flutters in the cold breeze causing you to shiver slightly as he returns to your side, his hand seeking yours, and you squeeze it tightly, hoping to transfer some of your strength with your grip.

The ceremony comes to a close and the mourners slowly disperse, leaving behind a sense of emptiness and longing. As you both walk away from the gravesite, hand in hand, you know that this is just the beginning of a long and challenging road towards healing for Will.

Since her passing, Will had stayed with you at your mum and dad’s house as he couldn’t face going back home without Nan there to greet him. You were thankful for your parent’s support and the fact that they loved Will like a son. They had been instrumental at getting you both through the last few days and the funeral planning process, and you couldn’t have been more appreciative of their unwavering love and care.

Will was struggling. Once his tears had dried, an eerie calm had settled over him, a numbness that you couldn’t seem to penetrate. Having been intimately acquainted with profound loss yourself, you recognized this stage of grief. You saw it in the haunted, faraway look in his eyes. You saw it with every shallow breath he took. You saw it in the way he barely functioned. He slept a lot but was never rested, he picked at his plate of food, but was never truly hungry.

Your mum and dad made it clear he was welcomed at your home for however long he needed to stay, but he chose to return to his own home the day after the funeral, a week after her passing. Anxiety and apprehension gripped your heart when you thought about him staying there by himself, but you wanted to give him the space he needed to grieve as well.

When the first weekend arrived after the funeral, you couldn't bear the thought of him facing it alone so you asked if you could stay with him for a couple of days, and to your relief, he agreed without hesitation. After work on Friday, you hastily packed a bag, determined to be a source of comfort during his time of need.

Upon arrival, you notice that the house is much the same as before, but it was clear Will didn’t have the heart to maintain small things like dishes or laundry. Determined to provide some semblance of normalcy and care, you brought dinner with you – fish and chips, a small gesture to ensure he had a decent meal that evening, even if it was just a simple one. The warmth of your presence and the aroma of the food filled the small kitchen as Will laid silverware on the table for the meal.

You divide his portion onto a paper plate and set it down in front of him. Silently, but companionably, you eat quietly for a little while, until you can’t stand it anymore and you have to break the silence.

“How have you been feeling, Will?” you are hesitant to ask because of course you know the answer, but you want to reassure him that he has an open channel of communication, to confide in you, no matter how much time has passed.

He stares down at his food, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments before answering. He takes a deep breath. “Well...some days I wake up and feel ok, but then other’s I can barely get out of bed in the morning,” his voice is low, morose as he picks at his food. “I just miss her is all….” he trails off quietly. “She was the reason to get up in the morning…it was my job to look after her…” he adds.

Even though you had expected this response, your heart still clenches at his words and you wish with all your might that you could take away his pain.

“I know, Will, I know…you did such a good job caring for her…” you reassure him because you know in the back of his mind he harbors some guilt that he had been home when she passed but couldn’t have done more to prevent it.

You continue, “And…it’s perfectly normal to feel ok sometimes too…don’t feel guilty about that. You know that Nan would have wanted you to be happy,” you reach out and grab his hand that’s resting on the table, giving it a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s a process, as you know…you won’t feel better overnight.”

“Yeah, I ‘suppose..” he says, “I just don’t want to end up like before…when I lost Mum and Dad.”

He looks at you with anxious eyes. You were both so young when his parents passed; despite the years that had gone by, you knew he still felt their loss every day. It was a tumultuous period in his life that had led him down a dark path, getting into serious trouble, his rebellious teenage spirit perhaps searching for a sense of invincibility that you both knew now didn’t exist now that you were older.

“You won’t, Will, you aren’t 16 years old anymore. You've grown, you've learned…you've become so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. You have a better foundation to cope now than when you did before...” you trail off, trying to comfort him. “And you’ll always have me.”

Your eyes meet across the table and you inexplicably feel a spark zing through you as you share a moment of understanding. He sighs. “Yeah, that’s true,” he squeezes your hand back and glances at you again, eyes still anxious, sad. “I know I haven’t said it much, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me these last few weeks.”

You melt; you didn’t need his thanks, you knew that he appreciated you, but it warmed your heart anyway. “You don’t have to thank me, Will,” you say softly as you bring his hand up to your lips and kiss the back of it, desperate to let him know how much he means to you, that you didn’t need him to worry about you at this moment. He gives you a small smile at the gesture. “Now, please eat because you look like you need a good meal.”

With renewed vigor, he manages to finish his plate and you feel glad that you managed to have a real and genuine conversation about his feelings. But as evening progresses, he becomes more and more sullen and withdrawn again. You ask if he’d like to shower with you before bed, a rare treat that you didn’t get to enjoy with each other very often. He nods and follows you to the bathroom.

Naturally, your mum calls to check on you at the most inopportune time just as you were about to get undressed. You tell Will that you just want to reassure her that you are both fine, and you’ll join him in the shower in a second.

After a quick conversation with your mum, you undress, hearing the spray of the shower and head into the bathroom, where you are met with a devastatingly sad sight. You can see Will through the glass door of the shower, standing there, head facing the shower, bowed against the spray of water, unmoving; he looks like he’s trying to drown. Although he was always naturally on the thin side, you see his ribs move clearly under his skin as he breathes shallowly, you wonder idly how much weight he’s lost in such a short amount of time. Your heart catches in your throat as you observe his deteriorated state.

“Will?” you ask tentatively, “Are you alright?”

No response. No acknowledgement. You might as well not even have spoken. You step into the shower behind him, and he doesn’t even seem to notice.

You don’t know what else to do. You wrap your arms around him from behind and press your cheek into his warm back, the water cascading down upon you too. You hold him like that, unmoving, feeling his ribs move beneath your arms with the rise and fall of his breath.

Finally, he seems to come out of his revere and turns to look down at you. He reaches for the shampoo.

“Here, let me,” you say, gently, taking the shampoo bottle from him.

His eyes flicker and you see him nod, almost imperceptibly.

Pouring the shampoo into your palm, he bends down in order to help you reach as you gently massage his scalp with your fingertips. He starts breathing more evenly, his shallow breaths dissipating, and you notice his eyes close at your touch. He sighs deeply, his hands slide down to grip your hips.

After rinsing the shampoo, you work the conditioner through his hair and, while that’s soaking, you wet the washcloth you had brought in with you and start by gently wiping his face. This seems to get his attention and he makes eye contact with you, amusement dancing in his eyes. You wonder idly if he ever washes his face; he’s always had nice skin. Men, you silently curse to yourself. Irresistibly, you lean up and give him a chaste kiss on the lips.

After his face, you wash the rest of his body, scrubbing diligently as if trying to scrub his pain away; he seems to enjoy his back being washed the most as he leans into your hand as you scrub. Helping him bathe is an intimate act, but in this moment, it is not driven by desire or passion, only an expression of care, a way to offer solace, hoping that the simple act of washing away the physical exhaustion will somehow alleviate the emotional burden he bears.

He finally seems to come alive again as he rinses the conditioner out of his hair and you take the opportunity to wash yourself.

“My turn,” he says, reaching for the shampoo. Now his fingers are in your hair and you can’t even begin to describe how good it feels. He works the shampoo all the way down to the ends of your hair, then brings his long fingers up to massage your neck and shoulders. You lean back against him, enjoying his touch as hot water pours over you. After your hair is rinsed, he turns you around, pulling you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his forehead against yours. Your eyes close and you breathe simultaneously with him, steady and deep once again.

“Thank you,” he whispers, barely audible over the sound of the pounding water. You open your eyes and look up into his beautiful big blues. Rather than respond, you stand on tiptoe and give him another light kiss on the lips. He returns it, but it’s without heat, just a kiss of tender affection full of gratitude.

You and Will haven’t been intimate since the passing of his grandmother, but you knew first hand the way overwhelming grief and depression takes a toll on your sex drive. You didn’t want to rush him, but you did secretly hope that this moment might have turned into something more until he shuts the water off and steps out, grabbing you each a fluffy towel to dry off. You aren’t upset but you can’t deny that your body misses him and his touch. By the time you get done combing and drying your hair and doing your skincare routine, he has long since departed the bathroom.

You open the door and see him already laying in bed, his back facing you, dressed only in a t-shirt and boxers.

You join him in bed, sliding down in the covers next to him, facing him. He doesn’t say anything except to look upon your face, and you are both content to stare at each other, not speaking. You don’t need to. Your presence is a comfort to each other enough without needing words.

You start tracing patterns on Will’s arm, admiring the moles that dot his skin, connecting them with your fingertip like creating a new constellation. As you soothe him with your touch, he begins talking quietly, sharing stories from his childhood, reminiscing about Nan. He chuckles fondly.

“Remember the first night you stayed here…the morning after?” he asks, an amused grin lifting the corners of his lips.

You want to die, re-living the memory.

“Of course,” you snort, “how could I forget?” and you smile despite your previous embarrassment. The scene floods your memory again…

Upon entering the kitchen the next morning, you find Will serving Nan tea, a plate of buttered toast already on the table. She doesn’t seem surprised to see you there, as you sit down at the table next to her, you look down self consciously, realizing that you have put on Will’s clothes.

“Oh, Y/N!” she says happily, “I thought I heard your voice last night,” she smiles sweetly, giving you a knowing look.

Will blanches, almost spilling his Nan’s tea as he sets it down in front of her. He quickly returns to the tea kettle and busies himself with your cup of tea, pretending he hasn’t heard. Your heart jumps into your throat, mortified that she must have heard your unbridled cries of pleasure in the middle of the night and now you want to die of shame right then and there.

You panic slightly, not knowing what to say and decide to follow Will’s lead and pretend you didn’t hear what she just said.

“Uh, yeah Will and I got in late last night, Nan, we’re sorry to have woken you,” you mumble, not meeting her gaze as Will sets your tea in front of you.

“Oh that’s alright, love, it sounded like you had a good time,” she smiles smugly as she sips her tea and raises her eyebrows at her grandson. You know for a fact she is torturing you both on purpose. Will takes his seat and says nothing, wilting under her gaze a little as he sips his tea, his face beat red.

Your eyes meet his briefly and you immediately look away, the guilt between you two is palpable, and you’re not sure if you want to cry or laugh at that moment.…

You and Will snicker at the memory shared.

“Nothin’ ever got by Nan,” Will chuckles nostalgically, remembering the look of horror on your face and the amused look on Nan’s.

“Yeah, good ol’ Nan,” you sigh in contentment, still chortling lightly.

You talk for a long time that night, reconnecting with each other again as the memories seem to weave new threads into your relationship, bonding you, strengthening your ties to one another. For the first time in a while, you see a glimmer of the old Will, before his grief had weighed so heavily upon his heart. He falls asleep before you, and you can’t help but to watch his face as he relaxes into slumber, his pain fading away, smoothing his features. You hope that he has an untroubled, peaceful sleep as you curl next to him and sigh, breathing in his scent as your eyelids get heavy and you drift off too.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. As a part of Nan’s estate, she left Will everything she owned. He now had her house, her car, and her inheritance, though he would have traded it all in an instant to have her back, to hear her voice one more time, to feel her reassuring presence.

Will had good days and bad days. He was…different after her passing. Although there were moments of normalcy and he welcomed you to stay with him at his house as often as you could, you felt Will’s cool mask return, hard and unbothered, but you knew it was just a facade to shield his vulnerable heart. You tried not to take his coolness personally; you knew everyone processed grief differently. He had, also, been instrumental in helping you heal during a very difficult time in your life, and now you hoped to do the same for him in return; you knew patience was key.

You respected his coping mechanisms, but, after a while, your heart missed him and the void left by his emotional withdrawal weighed on you, creating a bittersweet ache in your chest. You missed bantering together, his teasing smile, the feeling of being connected to his deepest thoughts and feelings, and, oh, how you yearned to be physically intimate again too.

You missed his touch, the weight on his body on top of yours, the wholeness you could only feel when he was inside you. You never wanted to seem callous or inconsiderate but the lack of intimacy was starting to wear on you; up until that point, you and Will had had a healthy sex life. You had a vibrator but hated the thought of using it, because he always did it better. But you would never rush him in his healing process given that you knew exactly how he felt. In the depths of your own depression, you swore you would never love nor have sex ever again. So you were patient and you knew he would come back to you, given enough time that he needed to heal from his immense loss.

And you were right; it started with a few extra kisses here and there, hand holding while walking down the street, a tight embrace from behind while you were doing dishes in the evening. Each gesture, though seemingly small, was a sign of the gradual return of the Will you had come to know and love.

He spoke more freely now, sharing the happenings of his day and thoughts, occasionally telling a joke or two, and you felt your emotional connection becoming whole again as he shared what was on his heart. You smiled to yourself at his progress, knowing that, although time eases the pain, it never truly leaves us. You were glad to see him come out of the dark tunnel on his own and reach for the sunlight on the other side.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, the house is relatively dark and quiet, spring storms have rolled in consistently throughout the day. Bored and without much to do, you decide to lay down for a nap but the continuous roll of thunder has kept you up thus far. The window is cracked open and the curtains sway in a gentle breeze, the soft whoosh of the rain and distant rumble of thunder is like a lullaby, but you still couldn’t find sleep.

You hear the door creak open and Will slides down into the bed next to you, he hooks an arm around your hips and pulls you back against his body. His hand slides over your bare leg and he realizes that you only have a t-shirt and underwear on under the covers.

“What are you doing?” he whispers into your ear.

You giggle at the sensation, shoulders coming up to protect your ear from his ticklish breath.

“I’m trying to sleep…” you say. “Wanna join me for a nap?”

“Yeah, I suppose so,” he says. “Or…maybe there’s something else we can do to help you sleep,” he whispers suggestively.

He starts trailing his fingertips up and down your leg, over your hip, under your shirt, across your ribs. You stretch and mewl like a cat against his body, relishing in his touch. It had been so long since you had been intimate, your body literally thrums from his attention as his warm hands caress your soft skin.

He’s content to stroke you for a little while, tension building, when he speaks again.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so…absent, recently,” he says softly into your ear, you hear what sounds like guilt in his tone.

You roll over on your back to look at him as he props himself up on his elbow, big puppy dog eyes staring into yours. Your eyebrows knit together.

“Will, you never have to apologize. I know how you’ve been feeling,” you say, as you gently cup his cheek.

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “I just didn’t want you to think that I didn’t want you anymore,” he says sincerely and you appreciate his openness, showing you his heart.

“I know that...probably better than anyone. It’s okay, Will. You know I will always be here for you…however you need me. I’m here,” you say quietly, reassuring him.

He takes your hand that's caressing his face and kisses your palm.

“I know,” he whispers.

He leans down and captures your lips with his own and you instantly melt into him, sighing softly into his mouth. You turn towards him, pressing yourself against his chest as you grab the back of his hair, feeling desperate to have him. He responds, arms encircling you to hold you closer as his tongue gently pushes into your mouth. You grant him access willingly, enjoying the familiarity of the taste of his tongue as it slides over yours. You feel the slick forming between your thighs almost immediately.

You suck on his bottom lip as you feel his hand slide down your side before he takes hold of a chunk of your ass and squeezes, kneading lightly. You can’t contain yourself anymore, so needy for him as you hook a leg over his hip and grind into his pelvis. You feel him smirk under your lips.

“Missed me much?” he whispers, amusement in his voice.

“I think you missed me too,” you whisper back seductively, as you slide a hand in between your bodies and stroke his length through his sweatpants; he’s already hard and wanting.

His hand moves from your ass to lightly press on the outside of your underwear that's covering your slit, already feeling how wet and ready you were for him. You turn your hips so he can reach more easily and spread your legs, completely aware how desperate you look in this moment but you were far beyond the point of caring. You moan pitifully at his touch.

Your kissing intensifies as he slides your panties to the side and runs his fingers through your wet folds, groaning deep in his throat when he feels how wet you are for him.

You’re already panting as his fingers skate over your opening and start circling your bud, pleasure coiling deep within; you tug on the back of his hair, needing more.

Thunder rumbles, closer and louder now, the sound of the rain picks up. You smirk to yourself idly, wondering if the thunder has any chance at drowning out your cries of pleasure for what you know Will is about to do to you next.

Will breaks the kiss. “Roll back over,” he says as he hooks his fingers into your panties, intending to slide them down. You reach down and help him take them all the way off, realizing he wants you on your side next to him.

“Take your clothes off too,” you say impatiently, eager to feel his skin against yours again. You pull your t-shirt off over your head, your hair spilling down your back, your nipples pebbling from the cool air, and slide your naked body back down under the covers and face away from him. You feel the bed sink down from his weight as he maneuvers behind you, the heat of his body practically scorching the skin on your back as he pulls you flush against him. His lips are on your neck, his hand sliding up and down your hip and ribs again. He caresses your breast and you give a low moan, turning your head to capture your lips again with his, bringing a hand up to hold the back of his head.

Foreplay be damned, you couldn’t wait to have him inside of you as you press your butt into his groin, grinding against his hard thick cock while spreading your legs again, opening yourself up to him.

He grunts into your kiss and reaches down your body again to play with your pearl. You rock your hips gently into his hand, needing more friction.

Normally content to take his time with you, Will seems to have lost his sense of self control too once he sees your body responding to him, already so wet and willing. After a few more tantalizing moments, he grabs his cock and leans back to line himself up with your entrance and you arch your ass back towards him so he can reach your opening more easily.

He takes a moment to rub the head through your silken folds, accumulating your slick on his cock. It almost drives you mad with desire and you moan desperately, begging for more. You feel his thick length tease your entrance as he pushes the head in. The stretch is different from this angle and, although you are wet, you gasp a little at the unexpected twinge of pain as he buries himself inside your tight, wet heat. He rocks gently into you, sliding in slowly, deliciously; you breathe deeply and bite your lip to keep from crying out again as you adjust to the feeling of his cock filling you up.

At last, when he is fully sheathed inside of you, he grabs your upper body and pulls you back against him, stilling for a moment as you adapt to his size. One hand slides down to play with your pearl again, the other arm slides under your pillow, cradling your neck and head. Although facing away from him, there is something so erotic about being spread open with him holding you from behind as your bodies meld together as one. At last, you finally feel complete again.

He trails kisses from your ear, down your neck, to your shoulder. After a moment, you start to squirm and mewl, and, slowly, languidly, he starts to move his hips. Your eyes roll in your head as the first couple strokes against your g-spot almost has you coming undone. A loud moan escapes your lips as you savor the sensation of his thick cock dragging along your soft velvet walls, pleasure already coiling low in your belly. You’re lost in this moment of feeling him between your legs, splitting you open, where only he belongs, his body connected to yours in a place that was made for him.

You roll your hips back into his, matching his speed, your breathing picking up. Oh, how you’ve missed him, missed the heat of his body, the smell of his skin, the strength of his arms holding you close, the feeling of his teeth grazing your neck, all combined to the way you missed how he consumes you.

He sets a steady pace and you realize you are on the precipice of your orgasm and you try to hold back, your breaths coming in quick pants with the motion of his hips against yours.

“C’mon, babygirl, don’t hold back…I know you wanna cum,” Will growls low into your ear as he feels your pussy clenching around his cock. He picks up the pace just for emphasis, his cock thrusting harshly against your walls, knowing you won’t be able to stifle your orgasm with the increased friction as he also rubs your pearl furiously.

Through your half closed eyelids, you see lightning flash outside, momentarily illuminating the dark room, just as you feel lightning coursing through your body as your release crashes over you. You cry aloud as the thunder claps, intense pleasure surges through you as Will continues to rock his hips into you, sustaining your pleasure through your peak, grunting in your ear. At last, when you stop shaking from the aftermath of your climax, he chuckles gently behind you as he pulls out, clearly amused with just how quickly you came.

Normally, if condoms aren’t handy, Will always pulls out and paints your body with his release, but you don’t feel anything warm on your skin. Your brain is mush from your intense orgasm and you ask him stupidly, “Did you finish?”

“No, not yet anyway,” he says mischievously; Will has never not finished.

“Hmm, well let me help you with that,” you purr sensually as you roll over to him and climb on top, mainly sitting your weight on his upper thighs. Seeing him spread out, naked, before you, your breath catches in your throat for an instant, appreciating his beauty. The skin of his abdomen is unblemished aside from a dusting of freckles and moles; you watch the rise and fall of his chest as you admire the silver cross pendant that nestles in his chest hair. You run your hands over his toned chest and abs, savoring the feel of his powerful muscles beneath your hands.

You lean down and kiss him briefly on the lips before moving down his body, nipping, licking, and grazing with your teeth all the way down. You kiss every mole you come across as you head south towards his thick cock that glistens with your slick, stopping to leave a love bite on his hip bone before you settle between his legs. You grasp his thick cock, head weeping, and immediately take him as far as you can into your mouth and moan, savoring the taste of yourself on your tongue.

You flatten your tongue as you lick him clean, slurping and sucking, using your hand to pump what can’t fit into your mouth. You make eye contact with him and watch his face as you suck his cock hungrily. His lips are pressed together as he breathes in deeply through his long nose, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

You take a deep breath as you slide your mouth up and down, swirling your tongue around the tip as he reaches for your hair, entangling his fingers into it. He starts thrusting along with you, matching the rhythm of your mouth. Normally, he matches your pace, but you notice him thrusting a little harder and deeper than before. You breathe through your nose and try to relax your throat as he bucks his hips, sliding himself in and out of your mouth. You feel the tip of his head hit the back of your throat and tears start to form in the corner of your eyes as he fucks your mouth and throat. You’re sure you look positively wrecked in this moment.

Your fingers dig into his thighs as he continues his steady rhythm and you hum low in your throat and watch as the vibration makes his breath hitch.

“Fuck,” Will grunts, panting and you can tell that he’s close. After a few more strokes, his cock starts to pulse in your mouth, his spend hitting the back of your throat, causing you to choke a little as you work him through it until he stills, growling deep in his throat. He pulls his cock from your mouth, his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down slightly.

“I want to watch you swallow,” he says and you do as you're told. His eyes are dark with lust, watching as your throat bobs before flicking back to meet with your gaze; his look is something akin to pride and you feel yourself flush, preening under his heady expression.

You crawl back up his body and kiss him again, thinking that if you taste yourself on him then he can taste himself from you. You savor the intimate moment as your lips meet and he sucks on your tongue before he pulls you down next to him under the covers and holds you close; you melt back into the heat of his body.

Thunder rumbles, rain still steadily beating on the pavement outside and a cool breeze blows through the room. Pressed against Will’s hot body, the chill doesn't phase you, actually a welcomed relief on your hot and sweaty skin. Snuggling, you hold each other and listen to the patter of the rain.

“Will?” you ask quietly after a bit.

“Hmm?” he murmurs, a gentle acknowledgement that he is listening.

“I think we should go away for a weekend. Travel somewhere. Just to have a little bit of fun,” you say. You had been wanting to bring this up but the timing just never felt right. You thought a weekend trip would be good for Will, good for you both, a change of scenery and some time away together could be exactly what you both need. You have yet to take a trip together as a couple.

He pauses for a moment before responding.

“Yeah, alrigh’, let’s go then,” he says as he places a tender kiss on your cheek.

>>>Part 4

A/N: For those that have made it this far, I just want to thank you all again for reading. I realize that I write about topics that can be extremely painful and triggering for some, perhaps even hard to read at times. For those that have ever struggled, know that I see you and that I know how hard some of those dark days can be, some months can be, some years can be. It does get better, in time. 💙

Tags: @peonamay @quinnquinn317 @multyfangirl @aemondsscar @pandemonium105 @cyeco13 @chainsawsangel @sylas-the-grim @boundlessfantasy @bellaisasleep

#ewan mitchell #will salad days #will salad days fanfic #salad days #smut

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kiwiana-writes · 4 months

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WIP Wednesday

Thanks @firenati0n for the tag!! Absolutely love to see people publish their first fic and then throw themselves into author tag games 😍 😍 😍

Circling back to the Anastasia AU this week because why the fuck not. It's a long one! Hope y'all don't mind...

“I’ve just had the most fascinating conversation with the Secretary of Homeland Security, sugar.” The words are pleasant enough, but underneath them is the dangerous grit that launched her into the Presidency in the first place. “He seems to be under the impression that the First Son—my son—drove across the Mexican border this morning.” Alex shrinks down in his seat as though he can escape the glare he can’t even see. “The thing is—” “You know what the most interesting part of the conversation was?” Alex’s jaw snaps shut as she barrels over him. “It wasn’t pretending like I had any idea what he was talking about. Somehow, it wasn’t even the fact that you’re travelling with a boyfriend I’ve never heard about.” “It’s—” “So help me god, Alexander, stop talking.” She sucks in a sharp breath, and Alex knows her fingers are twitching, looking for a cigarette. “The most interesting part was that you’re apparently going to see your grandparents. Now, I know they’re not my in-laws anymore, but I talk to your dad enough that I’m pretty sure I’d know if they’d left San Diego.” Alex chews the inside of his lip and says nothing. “Alex.” Her breath tunnels down the phone, and the way it shakes has guilt clawing up his throat. “What are you doing? As if I don’t have enough going on, with June—” She stutters to a stop, and Alex knows she’s at least halfway there already, the pieces all slotting into place. She might not know the how, yet, but he’s pretty sure she’s figured out the why.

Forever feeling feral for whatever y'all are up to, so tagging @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blairwaldcrf @cha-melodius @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @dumbpeachjuice @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @myheartalivewrites @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @smc-27 @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

#wip wednesday #kiwiana-writes #wip: years of dreams just can't be wrong #my approach to writing this is so scattered it's actually ridiculous #so fingers crossed it all comes together lmao

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pricesbeltbuckle · 3 months

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omg i cant get the thought of price having a teenager niece that lives with him when hes home.

like the kid lives with her grandparents most of the time because of prices deployments. maybe she has messed with wrong coping mechanisms like weed and alcohol. but when john noticed he helped her get back on track and compleat school well and lessen the common dumb shit she dose.

SOMEONE GIVE THIS MAN KIDS!!!!!

Kids - John Price

Warnings: None, fluff, Drugs/Alcohol, Abusive household mentions?

So anon you're so right. JOHN PRICE IS A GOOD FATHER!!!

Price had gotten home from a deployment and wanted to unwind and relax but when he walked in and saw his niece and mother sitting on the couch, he audibly sighed and rolled his eyes.

“Can’t you just look after her for a month or two? You know how your sister struggles with drugs..” He sighed and looked at her and frowned. “Alright, fine. Tell Savanah I’m never doing this again though, whenever rehab lets her call.” His mother gave him a hug and nodded as she said goodbye to her granddaughter. Price put down his bag in the hallway and then gave his niece a tour.

“Alright so this will be your room, bland I know but I’m thinkin an Ikea trip and a couple of other stores?” “YES! You’re the best Uncle John.” She smiled as she placed her bag down and jumped onto the bed relaxing and pulling her phone out to call her friends. Price smiled only a little as he shut the door on his way out.

Now it had been months since he got home so he definitely had some food shopping to do, and he realized he had no idea about what his own niece likes. He walked up the stairs to her room and knocked on the door.

“COME IN!” He walked in and saw her on her phone still, but this time on the phone with a couple of her friends. “Hey kid, I’m going to the foodstore. Here's my number to text me what snacks, lunch, breakfast, dinner I need to stock up.” “Okay!” He nodded and walked out and got his shoes and keys.

He ended up coming back home with bags on bags of food, he sighed when he saw the long ass list he had to buy for her, but he had no problem as long as she was happy. He then placed bags down on the counter and started to unpack everything.

His niece came downstairs and sat at the kitchen island and watched him unpack things while scrolling on her phone, he broke the silence. “So, what grade are you in now?” “9th I just turned 15.” “Jesus, you are getting old. The last time I saw you, you were like 4.” “It’s been that long?” “Yeah kiddo time goes fast doesn’t it?” He spoke softly as he started packing things into the pantry and fridge.

“Uncle John you know you’re gonna have me longer than 2 months right..” John rolled his eyes and chuckled, “I assumed I was, you got school still or summer break?” “Break is just ending so I go back on Monday.” He nodded, and he asked for the address so he could see how far of a walk it was or if he needed to drive her. He ended up letting her decide to walk there when it was warm or hot out and if it was cold he’d drive her.

Now it has been a couple of months since she’s moved in, around 5. She decorated her room and Price got her a new phone and TV just because it made her happy. At this point he considered that kid his own. So when she came home drunk, he wasn’t too shocked, just a little worried.

“I’m gonna throw up-” “You’re over the toilet seat so go ahead I’ll hold your hair, I’m right here.” She then proceeded to throw up her guts into that toilet. And when she was done he carried her to bed and tucked her in, laying a towel on the floor and a bowl next to her just in case.

“You’re not mad right?” “No, we've all been teenagers once. But we are talking when you sober up.” She nodded and dozed off to sleep as Price got a phone call, it was her mother and he answered. “Oh hey John…” “Hello to you too. I’ve got your kid in case you care.” He scoffed at his phone and went out back to smoke while on the phone as his niece rested. “Well that’s actually what I’m calling about, you see…I’m as you can tell an extremely unfit mother. And uhm, you seem like a fit parent, so I’m taking it to court, I’m giving up my custody rights to you.” John nearly died, he wasn’t ready for this responsibility he’d have to quit his job unless someone watched her-. “What? Savannah you can’t just do that she’s your child plus I have a JOB. Who the hell would watch her?” “Our mother and father offered. Plus we have another sister who said she’s willing to.”

John shook his head and sighed. “You’re awful Savannah, I would’ve fought you in court anyways this whole situation is fucked she’s 15. Do you even know anything about her life besides her name?” “I’ll miss my Autumn forever.” “You’re not even her mother to her, let me know the court dates I’ll be there. Bye.” John then hung up the phone and put out his cigarette and then he saw Autumn sitting on the couch waiting for him.

“How long have you been sitting there?” “Long enough to know you’re going to court, what’d you do?” John sighed and checked to see if she was a little more sober now and it seemed like she was so he dumped it all on her as best as he could. She did cry but she was so grateful that John would be her legal guardian, he’s been more of a parent then her actual parents.

Now it’s been around 8 months, John got custody and her mother was back in rehab. John was being deployed in a month so he was preparing the house for his mother to come stay at. “Do you haveee to go?” “Depends, you want a PS5 right?” “Yes..” “Then I’ll be back in 3 months.” She giggled at his joke and she went to go grab a snack, as she heard a knock on the door and opened it she noticed 3 very tall men.

“Hey uhm-I don’t think-UNCLE JOHN!!” All the three men looked at her confusion as John ran to the door to greet them. “Ah sorry, this is my niece Autumn, but I’d call her my daughter.” Autumn held out her hand shyly as she looked at all three of them as they all walked in and sat on the couch, she sat at the kitchen Island as John kept cleaning she got to know them.

“So you’re all in the military? But only Simon covers his face?” Simon smiled and responded “Right.” “So you’re an oddball?” “BE NICE.” She heard John yell. “I AM DAD-” John smiled to himself and noticed how she called him dad, he’s never felt so proud of himself before.

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hoodharlow · 11 months

Text

In Tune With You

AN: idk, I was rereading Jack and Miriam and got in the mood to write some 2021!Jack and Miriam hanging out in Louisville

Requested? Kinda, I sent @nattinatalia and @heavyhitterheaux some tiktoks and one of them had Jack and Miriam vibes lol

Warnings: Jack being a terrible flirt and sm*t

Word Count: 4.7k words

“Mom, you’re joking.” Jack laughed.

“Am I laughing?” Maggie said sternly.

“No.” he mumbled.

“Then obviously, I’m not joking. Miriam is a guest, and you will be respectful of that and sleep in your own bed.”

Miriam and Daisy were flying in from Atlanta and staying over for the Fourth of July weekend with Jack and his family. Jack invited her over since she wasn't visiting her family; Joseph was in Sydney filming, Miriam’s parents and grandparents were in Mexico for vacation and Katalina was in Europe for Men's Fashion Month. She didn't agree at first because she didn't want to take up space but Jack reassured her that it was okay for her to visit. He even facetimed Maggie to get her stamp of approval. So she agreed since she essentially had a week off from filming and didn't want to spend those few days alone in her brother's house.

Jack flew in from Vegas the night before and spent the whole morning helping his mom deep clean their house. He prepared his room for her, but his mom had other plans and fixed up the guest room, much to his dismay. He also bought some of her favorite foods and ordered Daisy's expensive dog food.

"Wasn't Miriam landing at eleven?" Clay asked.

"Yeah why?" Jack said.

"It's 11:07." His brother nodded at the digital clock on the stove.

"Fuck!"

Jack grabbed his keys and ran out of the house. He pulled out his house and saw a few messages from Miriam, letting him know she landed. He called her and propped up his phone so he could talk to her through the speaker.

"Hey." She answered after three rings.

"I'm so sorry. I was helping my mom set up your room and lost track of time. I'm ten minutes away." He said, changing lanes to get on the freeway.

"It's okay, I'm in one of the gift shops looking for some bowls for Daisy. I forgot to pack her bowls." She said.

"I'll call you again when I'm pulling up." He said.

"Okay, bye."

"Bye."

He hung up and sighed. Thankfully there wasn't that much traffic and he was able to arrive at the airport at the time he told her. He pulled up his hoodie and put on his Prada sunglasses. He got out and called her. He spotted her by one of the bushes outside near the loading lane. Daisy was the first to notice him. She tugged Miriam, almost knocking her down.

"Oh my god, Daisy, chill." Miriam mumbled.

Jack bent down and hugged Daisy. He scratched behind her ears how she liked then stood up. He pulled in Miriam for a hug. They stared at each other for a few seconds, but then pulled away. Jack looked behind her and only saw two small carry-ons and Daisy's crate on the baggage cart. She had on her backpack and her bag.

"That's all you have?" He asked, taking the cart so she wouldn't have to.

"Yeah, I mostly packed shorts and my undergarments. I planned on stealing some of your clothes too." Miriam shrugged, texting her parents to let them know she landed.

"What are you taking to the lakehouse?" He carefully placed her things in the trunk. He went to return the cart in one of the return sections.

"What do you mean?" She crossed her arms.

"Every year me and a few of my close friends rent out a lake house and spend the Fourth of July there." He said, holding the door open for her.

"And you're telling me this now?" Miriam frowned.

"I figured you'd over pack like you always do."

"I pack accordingly and when I 'overpack' it's so I have options for events and places I have to be at." She clarified. "You told me we were chilling at your parents' house and that's what I packed for. Not once did you mention the lake house or that we're staying with your friends."

"Let's go home and figure something out there." Jack mumbled.

Miriam suddenly felt overwhelmed. She didn't mind the lakehouse or that she was meeting Jack's friends. What annoyed her was that he never mentioned that those were their plans. She hated feeling unprepared for things.

They arrived at Jack's house. Miriam collected herself and plastered on a smile. Clay opened the door for her and hugged her, before helping Jack with her luggage. She went to great Jack's parents with Daisy. Their family dog came out and tentatively sniffed Daisy. The two dogs instantly became friends and chased each other in the front yard.

"Lunch is ready if you're hungry." Maggie told Miriam.

"Is it okay if I freshen up first?" She asked her.

"Of course, let me show you your room."

Miriam and Daisy followed her upstairs to a room next to a bathroom.

"Here's your room. The bathroom is the room over. Jack's room is across the hall and Clay's is next to his. Mine and Brian's room is downstairs. If you need anything don't hesitate and let me know. Okay?"

"Everything's good. Thank you." Miriam smiled.

"I'll leave you to it then." Maggie excused herself.

Miriam was about to close the door when Jack appeared in the doorway with her luggage.

"Can I come in?" He asked her.

"Yeah." She nodded.

He placed her carry-ons on the foot of the bed and sat on the edge of the bed. He wiped sweat off his hands. "I'm sorry for not telling you about the group hangout. It's a tradition with the gang and I wanted to include you because you mean a lot to me. You have every right to be upset with me and–"

"I'm not upset with you…well I was, but not anymore." Miriam cut him off. "I was mostly upset because I packed ugly clothes. Like I'm gonna look like Adam Sandler and Gustavo from Big Time Rush had a love child."

"That I can fix. I have a friend who works at a clothing store. If you want we can stop by after lunch." He said.

"I was gonna ask if there was Target but that works too. Thank you." She hugged his head. Since Jack was sitting, he hugged her thighs.

"It's the least I can do…I am sorry." He rested his head on her tummy.

"You should be. I, Miriam Dominguez-Miller, can't be out here looking like shit."

Miriam wasn't joking when she said she was going to look like Gustavo and Adam Sandler. After lunch she showered and changed into a cropped white beater and oversized green shorts . Thankfully they were enroute to the shop Jack's friend worked at.

Jack pulled to a parking spot and jogged over to Miriam's side to open her door.

They walked toward the store. Miriam was amazed at how people didn't give Jack a second glance. In LA and Atlanta someone always did a double take when he walked by them. Some had the decency to keep going about their day but others stopped and asked for pictures. She knew one of his pet peeves was people shoving their cameras in his face, so seeing him be normal was nice for a change.

Just as Jack stepped in front of her to open the door, a girl with braids locked the door and flipped the sign from open to closed.

"Diana, open the door." He tugged at the door handle. "I'm going to leave a bad yelp review and your mom is gonna get pissed."

"You're not fun." She said, unlocking the door. She smiled brightly at Miriam. "Hi, you must be the infamous Miriam. You know he never stops talking about you."

Miriam turned to Jack and gently nudged him with her shoulder. "You talk about me?"

Jack felt his cheeks warm up. He scratched the back of his neck and laughed it off. “We should hurry because my mom asked me to pick up dinner later.”

“Don’t rush me. It takes me a long time to look this good.” Miriam sassed him.

“If you say so, Adam Sandler.”

It took her a second to remember she looked like shit, but before she could react Jack was already on the other end of the store sitting on a bench with his friend. She went to one of the racks and began looking through the clothes. Before she knew it three hours had gone by and went through the store. She was only going to get a few swimsuits and some tops, but then she started making outfits in her head with every other item she saw. Her number one rule in shopping was if she could make three outfits for three distinct events then she would buy it. Jack met up with her while she waited in line to pay.

‘Bidi Bidi Bom Bom’ by Selena Quintanilla began to play through the speakers. Instantly Miriam bega singing to herself, but a few other people around heard her. When the song ended a few people clapped, making her feel shy.

“Did you know you could sing like her?” Jack asked her.

“I’ve been told I can imitate her, but I won’t say it myself because I don’t want her die hard fans to come for my ass.” she said. When she did the Elle Song Association video, a few viewers pointed it out but others were quick to shut it down.

“If they make a biopic of her you should audition,” he commented.

“They already made one.” She said,

“They did? When?” he asked incredulously.

“Are you kidding? JLo plays Selena. It’s what put her on the map.”

“Wow, I feel out of the loop.”

“We can watch it later. It’s on HBOMAX, but prepare to cry.”

“I don’t cry in movies, Miriam.”

Jack sat up abruptly, pointing at the tv. “She didn’t catch the rose.” A few seconds later the news reporter in the movie said that Selena was shot. “She was shot!?”

“Jack be quiet.” Maggie sniffled.

The whole house was quiet as the movie continued. Maggie, Clay, and Miriam were full on sobbing by the end.

"The ending always gets me." Maggie said, wiping her tears. "She was gone too soon."

"She was." Miriam agreed. She looked over to Jack, noticing him wipe his tears. "Are you crying?"

"Psh, no." He said, clearing his throat. "I ate some of your spicy twisty chips and the spice got to me."

"I haven't opened the bag." She said, shaking the bag to show it wasn't opened.

"I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried." Clay said, kissing ass.

"We're going to bed." Brian announced.

"Don't stay up too late. If you want to avoid traffic tomorrow, y'all are gonna have to leave early." Maggie said.

"Goodnight." Miriam bid them.

"Night darlin'." Jack's mom said.

"I think I'm going to bed too." Clay yawned.

"Goodnight Clay." Miriam said.

"If they're going to bed, maybe we should watch Spider-Man in my room?" Jack suggested.

"Wait, which one are y'all watching?" His younger brother asked, ignoring Jack's gestures to get out of room.

"The animated one with Miles Morales." Miriam answered.

"Can I join you? I haven't seen it in ages." Clay said, wedging himself in between Jack and Miriam, earning a glare from his older brother.

"Yeah, but I'm gonna take Daisy out real quick, don't start it without me." She said before whistling to Daisy to follow her out to the back yard.

Jack smacked Clay.

"What the fuck, dude." Clay shoved him back.

"Go to bed!" He whisper-yelled.

"No! I want to watch Spider-Man." He whispered back.

"I was this close to having Miriam join me in my room."

"Oh I'm telling my mom you were gonna undermine her." Clay got up.

"How much for you to keep your mouth shut and go to bed?" Jack asked, pulling up venmo.

"Let me watch Spider-Man."

"Yeah, no."

"MO-"

Jack clapped his hand over Clay's mouth. "Fine but you're sitting over there."

Clay rolled his eyes and sat on the other couch. Miriam and Daisy came back inside but they went upstairs. Minutes later Miriam came back alone dressed in a cropped white beater and silk pajama pants.

"Sorry, Daisy is very particular about her sleep." She said, cuddling up on Jack.

"Don't worry about it." He said, rubbing her arm.

The movie played. Within the first ten minutes Clay curled up on the couch and fell asleep. His light snores filled the living room. Jack glared at him. He knew Clay wasn't going to make it through the movie and that he cockblocked him on purpose.

"Should we wake him and send him to his room?" Miriam said.

"That's what he gets for wanting to stay up later than he's used to." He said.

Jack and Miriam were at the part where Gwen had to get her head shaved because Miles got his hand stuck on it when Jack shifted in his seat and placed his arm over Miriam's shoulder. His hand dangerously close to her breast. A few seconds passed and Jack moved his arm to the back of the couch, much to Miriam's dismay.

"I'm gonna get some water." She said, getting up.

She tripped over her slippers but Jack caught her by the hips before she fell over. She held onto his shoulders. Without thinking twice he pulled her to his lap. He grabbed the back of her neck, bringing her into a kiss. Miriam deepened the kiss and grabbed his free hand, slipping it under her top. Jack squeezed her breast, tugging her nipples how she liked. He groaned in her mouth as she slowly rocked her hips against the tent in his shorts.

Clay snorted in sleep, startling awake. Jack and Miriam pulled away from each other. "What did I miss?" He asked groggily.

"Not much, uh, I'm gonna go to bed." Miriam said, evidently flustered. She pushed her hair back and gave Jack a small smile.

Jack gave the same smile back. He didn't tear his eyes from her ass jiggle as she jogged upstairs. A throw pillow hit him in the face. He was ready to fight his younger brother.

Clay simply shook his head and reminded him that, "Mom said keep it in your pants."

***

Jack was going to murder whoever brought the karaoke machine. Nobody wanted to use it the first days the group was there, but something shifted and they all wanted to perform. Everyone took a turn. Miriam was the last to go, but she was three songs in. And it didn't help that the girls were encouraging her and asking for encores. Though that comforted Jack because his girl friends were very closed off and didn't make any additions to their group. To see them welcome Miriam with open arms meant a lot to him.

"Miriam put the karaoke mic down." Jack said through his teeth, getting on the makeshift stage, which was just the small platform in front of the fireplace, to get Miriam down.

Obviously she didn't listen. She continued her rendition of Glamorous by the iconic Fergie. "So if you ain't got no money, take yo' broke ass home. G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S, yeah, G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S. We're flying first class up–"

Miriam didn't calculate how much room she needed and slipped. Luckily Jack had been hovering and caught her. He couldn't risk her getting more injuries. The first day she slipped on the dock and bruised her knee.

"Mic." He said, holding his hand out. Miriam rolled her eyes and passed it to him. He set it down on the binder with the catalog of songs.

"Boo!" Aleena yelled, throwing popcorn at Jack.

Mallory, Diana, and Priscilla followed suit and threw popcorn at him. They chanted Miriam's name, but Jack just glared at them to stop.

"I'm tired." Miriam mumbled, nuzzling her head in his chest.

"I bet you are. Did you even have breakfast?" He asked.

Miriam woke up late and didn't eat with the group but she swore she was going to eat something. Though now that Jack thought about it, she didn't pinky promise him. She just nodded and double fisted two mimosas.

"I had some of the mimosas Mallory and Priscilla made." She said resting her chin on his chest to look up at him.

"So the only thing in your stomach is champagne and three drops of juice.” he sighed. It was well past noon and she should eat something.

"No silly, I also had some palomas." she giggled.

Jack rolled his eyes at her comment. He steered her to the kitchen and sat her on one of the chairs. He didn’t trust her sitting high up on a stool. He grabbed a bag of the frozen yakisoba and popped it in the microwave. After three minutes, the noodles were ready. He poured the contents on a bowl and cut a lime in half. He placed the food in front of Miriam and sat next to her.

Miriam wiggled her fingers toward the bottle of sriracha that was out of her reach. Jack handed it to her and squeezed the generous amount onto her noodles. She began eating, quietly singing ‘Heavy Hitter’ to herself. Once she was done eating, Jack washed her dishes and grabbed a water bottle from the fridge.

They finally made their way upstairs to their room. Miriam went into the bathroom and brushed her teeth. She untied her Doc Martens and settled in the large bed. She huffed. The room was really hot and she could only sleep if the room was as cold as Antarctica. Luckily there was a ceiling fan. She tried to stand up, but she lost her balance. Fortunately for her, Jack was there and caught her.

"Bro, what the hell are you doing?" He said, setting her down on the bed.

"I'm hot." She whined.

Whenever Miriam has a few drinks in her system. She either got whiny and cried when things didn't go her way. Or she'd get horny and want to dry hump Jack. The latter usually ended with her getting whiny and crying because didn't get her way. Jack didn't want to deal with either version of her so he catered to her every need.

"That's easy to fix." He reached for the pull switch on the ceiling fan and pulled it twice. "Is that good?"

Miriam nodded. She grabbed the blanket bought at Target the other day and covered herself. Jack set a timer on her phone and put it to charge. He was about to exit the room when Miriam sat up.

"Wait, where are you going?" She asked.

"I'm gonna leave you to rest." He said.

"Can you stay with me? But really stay, not stay until I fall asleep." She pleaded quietly.

"Fine." He gave in.

He kicked off his shoes and got under the blanket with her. Miriam wedged leg in between Jack's legs and hugged his stomach. She rested her head on his chest. Jack began to play with her hair until they dozed off. Not even five minutes Miriam woke up annoyed.

"Miriam, I fucking swear if you're sneaking out…" Jack grumbled.

She didn't answer. She sat up and undid her bikini top. It was digging into her sides and annoying her. The whole time they'd been at the lake house Miriam only wore bikini tops, except when she went to bed, she wore one of Jack's t-shirts. While she was at it, she took off the denim short shorts she wore, only staying in her bikini bottoms. She settled back in the same position she was in.

Jack rubbed her back, but pulled himself away when he felt her bare skin against his fingertips.

"Bro why are you naked?" He asked in a panicked tone.

"I'm not naked, I still have my bottoms." Miriam clarified.

"Let me get you a shirt." Jack said.

"No, I wanna sleep like this." She pouted. "Come back to sleep."

"I'm not sleeping with you when you're topless." He argued.

"It's not like you haven't seen my chichis before."

"That's besides the point. Miriam, you're drunk."

She teared up. "Why won't you sleep with me? I just wanna sleep."

"Will you put on a shirt?" He asked her in a stern tone.

"Yeah." She sniffled, wiping her tears.

Jack grabbed one of his shirts and tossed it to her. She put it on and moved so Jack could settle back where he was. Miriam laid back on him. She reached for his hand and intertwined it with hers before finally dozing off.

Later in the evening Jack and Miriam rejoined the group in their dock. They had several chairs and blankets set up so they could watch the fireworks. They brought out a few coolers filled with drinks and snacks. They also had some of the leftover pizza from dinner. It was now nighttime.

Miriam pulled out her phone to check the time. She bought some medicine for Daisy to take so the fireworks wouldn’t scare her. But she had to time it so the pill could take effect when the fireworks went off. She saw the time and it was the window she had to give Daisy the medicine. She got up from the blankets and dusted herself off. Daisy was in one of the lawn chairs cuddled up with Jack.

“Hey I have to take her so she can take her m-e-d-i-c-i-n-e.” she told Jack.

“I’ll go with you.” he said, getting up effortlessly with Daisy still in his arms.

Miriam grabbed a slice of pizza from the table and followed Jack back to the house. She rushed to their room and grabbed Daisy’s medicine. She also bought her a snood to cover Daisy’s ears for extra precaution. She reached the kitchen and took out a pill while Jack distracted Daisy with her rope toy. Miriam tucked the pill in the pizza crust. She tossed it to Daisy who caught it without thinking. Before she realized that ingested medicine, Miriam tossed her a few pieces of pizza.

“Did you give her the medicine?” Jack asked.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay for a bit and make sure it does take effect.” she said, rubbing Daisy’s belly.

“I’ll stay with y’all.”

“No, go back with your friends. We’ll be fine.” she reassured him.

“I’ll stay that way so you won’t walk over alone.”

“Bro–”

“I’m staying and that’s final.”

Miriam rolled her eyes and picked up Daisy, but Jack took her from her arms and carried her upstairs with her trailing behind them. Jack set Daisy down on her bed. She reached for her octopus stuffed animal that Jack gave her after their first meeting and cuddled with it.

Jack didn’t plan for it to get too cold in the evening. He wore a button up short sleeve with matching shorts. He decided to change into a tracksuit. But he was struggling with the buttons on his shirt.

“What are you doing?” Miriam asked, getting up from the floor.

“These fucking buttons.” he mumbled, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Aver.” she stood in between his legs.

She unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it off his shoulders. Letting her body take the reins, she straddled Jack’s lap. She cupped his face and pulled him in for a deep kiss. One of Jack’s hands held onto the back of her head whilst the other wrapped around her waist.

“We can’t have sex.” was the first thing that came out of Jack’s mouth.

“Oh.” Miriam got out of his lap embarrassed. “I’m so sorry. I assumed and–”

“I meant here. We can’t have sex here.” he explained. “I don’t want our first time to be quickie before we head out to see the fireworks with your dog snoring next to us.”

“But can we still get frisky? Because I swear if you don’t play with my nipples or my pu–”

“You’re so demanding you know that?” He cut her off, helping Miriam out of her dress, leaving her in her green plaid bikini, and dropped to his knees.

“Wait, can you take a picture of me?” she asked. “I forgot to get a picture of me in this one.”

“Fine,” he said enthusiastically.

Miriam grabbed her phone from the night stand and handed it to him. She leaned against the small vanity. Jack took a few pictures of her then handed her her phone back. She looked through them. They weren’t the best quality, but she still appreciated the effort.

“Okay, I’m ready,” she said, jumping onto the bed.

Jack didn’t waste any time. He was on her like his life depended on her. Without pulling away from their kiss, he undid the straps of her bikini, tossing it on the ground. He pulled away from her lips and kissed down to her chest. He tweaked one of her nipples while he nipped and sucked her other breast. Satisfied with the love bites on her chest, he captured her lips once more.

After another heated make out session, Jack finally kissed his way down to Miriam’s thighs. He laid on his, pressing one of her legs down to keep her in place. He rubbed her clit, making her a whimpering mess.

“Jack, I fucking–fuck!” she moaned out as Jack dove in between her thighs.

He wiggled his tongue at her entrance. He moaned out at her taste as continued to eat her out. Minutes passed when he finally slid his middle and ring finger in her. She gasped at his touch. Her hands tangled in his hair pulling it for relief.

“Fuck!” She moaned out. He sped up his fingers then he slipped them out of her and rubbed her clit, quickly bringing her to her climax. She repeated his name over and over as she came.

After Jack cleaned up her release, he kissed up her stomach and gave her a peck on the lips before laying next to her. Miriam rolled to her side and lazily made out with Jack. While still making out with him, she undid his shorts and slipped her hand inside his boxers. She pulled out his cock. She slipped her hands in between her thighs and rubbed her hand on some of her arousal to use as some sort of lube while she jacked Jack off.

He was putty in her hand. Whining and grunting her mouth while she slowly continued to stroke his length. She ran her thumb over his tip then squeezed it as some of his pre-cum leaked onto her hand.

“Want me to finish you off in my mouth?” Miriam asked softly.

“Yes, please.” Jack groaned.

“Miralo, todo polite and shit.” she giggled as she situated herself in between his legs.

She spit on his length and slowly jerked him off with both hands. Then Miriam slipped him as far as she could take him. He let out an incoherent sound until she reached the back of her throat. She did it a few more times, egging him on. She pulled away, with a trail of saliva spilling from the corner of her mouth, and kissed down his length. Jack reached for one of her hands and placed on his knee, lovingly squeezing her hand. Miriam slowly bobbed her head up and down his length, getting her mouth used to him. She took him a little deeper each time.

One of his hands gripped the back of her head, keeping her in place as he thrusted into her mouth. Miriam let out soft moans. Her hands gripped his legs, nails digging into his thighs. She continued to stroke him as he came, taking all of his release.

Jack sat up and brushed her curls away from her face. He pulled her in for a kiss as a firework went off, startling them both.

“That’s our cue to go back.” Jack sighed.

“Or we can stay…” Miriam smiled innocently.

“Bro, I’m not fucking you.” he said, kissing her temple.

“You’re no fun.” she pouted.

“I promise you. It’ll be worth it. When I finally have you all to myself, I’m gonna take my time with you and make you mine.”

Miriam frowned. “Jack, you can’t tell me that and expect me not to get horny.”

•••

Jack via Instagram Stories on July 4th

@'mdm: indie day weekend

@'jackharlow: you're welcome for the last picture

-> @'mdm: it's blurry but tyyyy amiguchis 😌

-> @'jharlowfan: not amiguchis, he's hella friendzoned 😭

@'zendaya: 💚💚💚

@'cozane: 🎆

@'yungskylar: fucking G

@'die_ana: gorjussss

@'aleeeena: 💍

@'jackfan: why are Jack Harlow's friends commenting on her post 🧐

-> @'mdmxjh: she met them? maybe I'm reaching but the fireworks picture looks like one Jack posted on his ig story on the 4th of July and she posted that drink that's known in Kentucky? Maybe she was there too?

->@'mutual: well he commented that he took the last picture 😳

->@'mackshipper: the dress in the 4th slide looks like the one from a video one of Jack's friends posted from the lakehouse

->@'jackfan: what video?

->@'jhupdates: out of respect of Jack's friends and their privacy, I won't post it, but there's a video from a few days ago and Jack is hugging a girl wearing a dress like the one Miriam posted

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Taglist: @cherryxcreme @heavyhitterheaux @carma-fanficaddict @youngharleezy @youngharleezyxo @babyharleezy @that-90s-girllll @alinaharlow @harlowcomehome @nattinatalia @webinurcloset @gassyandsassy1 @jackharloww @awhore4moree @noescapricho-essentimiento @a-moment-captured @neon-lights-and-glitter @purecinnamonextract @cherry4everrr

#jack and miriam #jack harlow #jack harlow smut #jack harlow insta au #jack harlow instagram au

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