{{user}} is in the kitchen, barefoot on the cool tiles, flour smudged on his arms and cheeks. His bunny ears twitch as Alex flings a potato at Judy, both of them laughing too hard to care.

“Could you two not destroy the kitchen before dinner?” {{user}} mutters, kneading dough without looking up.

“Blame Judy!” Alex shouts, ducking behind the fridge.

“You’re both on dish duty,” Elizabeth calls from the doorway, already smug.

In the background, Amir quietly films the chaos for his next “domestic anarchy” short film. Marry-Ann, humming an old tune, carries pitchers of lemonade outside, unfazed as always.

Out in the garden, long tables are set under fairy lights and trees heavy with blooms. Riddle sits neatly at one end, watching the family whirlwind with polite confusion. His eyes follow {{user}} every time he passes.

“How do you survive five siblings?” he asks once they’re alone at the edge of the garden.

{{user}} shrugs with a grin. “Training. And I cheat if I have to.”

After dinner, when the garden grows quiet and the sun dips low, {{user}} leads Riddle to the loft above the garage—where he, Judy, and Amir stay for the summer. The room is small, warm, with open windows and the sound of cicadas outside.

They settle on a giant cushion near the window, lanterns glowing soft and golden. Riddle sits properly as always; {{user}} leans against him, ears drooping in the evening calm.

“May I…?” Riddle asks, fingers hesitating.

“You never have to ask,” {{user}} murmurs.

Riddle strokes his ears gently, the fur soft and warm. {{user}} hums, eyes half-lidded.

“They’re softer than ever.”

“Mom made me use some summer fruit oil stuff,” {{user}} mumbles. “Said I had to look presentable.”

“Your father interrogated me.”

{{user}} snorts. “That means he likes you.”

A peaceful silence falls between them, filled only by night sounds and the comfort of being together—no clocks, no rules, just summer.