#I was told today by my grandpa that not only does he think I’m becoming like my mom(who is severely abusive and an addict) but also that my

[teardropsonsmyguitar]

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[delicrieux]

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 10: BIG DICK IS BACK IN TOWN

y/n is back in brooklyn for the holidays. thinking that a stream will make her feel less homesick for cali, she starts working on her famously titled hentai.free.srv. what was supposed to be a relaxing stream turns into a special delivery about two hours in.

─── corpse husband x reader ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: 2.2k ─── ❥ req: Here's one... You know those apps for delivery like Domino's or whatnot... What if reader is streaming Among Us with Corpse, and reader mentions they're hungry and Corpse offers to order them food, and readers like no no it's fine... Then there's delivery at the door (Corpse ordered beforehand) 

author’s note: fucky format is also back in town baby!!! also if you find any mistakes - no u didnt <3 thank u everyone for enjoying this story sm i literally cant believe how feral yall going strawberry cow was a nuclear explosion im still recovering tbh. got an ask a while ago and decided to incorporate it into myso. happy holidays everyone! myso will continue on monday!

ultimate masterlist.  ҉  myso masterlist   ҉   previous.  ҉   next.

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Indeed, being soft on any social media platform was the biggest disgrace and needed to be eliminated post haste. Moreover, it was a slippery slope - once you start flooding your timeline with cute imagery and heart emojis, what will stop you from posting inspirational Facebook quotes? Disgusting. If Rae were here, she would chide you (not you thinking about her as if she’s dead or something). For once in your life, you feel like you deserve it. 

Alas, you hope this little chaos you’ve caused is enough to throw everyone off. The stans, especially. You know the hashtags, you’ve seen ARMY scourging for info online with the same fervor and ruthlessness 1 Direction fans hacked airport security cameras just to spy on the boys. If you had any dirty secrets online, they are out to the public now - thankfully, besides the Harry Styles stan account (with edits and all), you have nothing. Though, now that you think about it, exposed nudes would have been better than your Punk!Harry edit receiving almost a million views. God, your life’s a fucking mess.

Your fans aren’t the only ones out for info - you, too, are trying to decipher Rae’s message. Code: Barbecue Sauce. The two of you had come up with it roughly two years ago, around the same time when you promised that if you didn’t find significant others by the time you’re 40, you’ll just marry each other. It was one of the many rules found in your friendship codex. Barbecue Sauce signifies information - an exchange of information. And depending on how it ends or begins (”So I’m sitting there” alludes to Rae, “On my titties” alludes to you), secret data on that person is given away, usually free of charge. 

But why? And to whom did Rae give away what? You had pestered her mercilessly and even sent some voice messages where you were crying. You were only crying because of a video of a grandpa smiling you saw on TikTok, but you are a snake, and so you put those tears to good use. If streaming doesn’t work out, you’ll just become an actress. Hollywood would love you. Your PR firm sure as fuck wouldn’t, though.

Rae was having none of it. She said you’ll figure it out eventually. Told you to channel your superior puzzle skills. You were quick to remind her that you can barely count to ten without having an aneurysm. Oddly serious, she admitted that she worries for you sometimes. Why only sometimes?! you demanded. She merely sighed. uttering under her breath something that sounded closely to “Boke.”

You leave her for barely a week and she’s already neck deep in the gay volleyball anime, hoodie and cardboard cutout and everything. Your life is falling apart.

But Brooklyn is nice. It had snowed when you stepped off of the plane. Thousands of snowflakes sprinkling into your hair, dotting your cheeks and nose. You missed this sight back in Cali. You missed your parents, too. 

Home cooked meals, old sweaters, your old room and about 40GB worth of old high school pictures on your computer. You went through them all one night. Some were stomach churning, cringe inducing nightmares. You were especially fond of those. Texted some of your friends that were still in Brooklyn, met up, decided to bake. Bad idea, Rae was the resident chef back in Cali. Besides laughing till your stomach hurt, and almost burning down your kitchen, nothing all that significant happened. Somewhere down the line, at about 3 am, half-way through a cheesy rom-com you had the overwhelming urge to text Corpse.

That’s where the problems really started. God, you missed California, missed being in the same timezone with a guy you hadn’t even met yet, how embarrassing is that?! You missed skating around and taking pictures of the beach in the setting sun, sending it to him, silently wishing he was with you to admire the view. 

You really want to call him. And to hang out with him. But for some reason, the thought of that springs up immediate anxiety and you shy away from asking. Him sending you cute good morning texts doesn’t help, either. Maybe it’s better he doesn’t know that you’re a blushing, stuttering mess each time you read “baby”. 

Late evening. Your stream is already set up, people are slowly trickling in and you greet them with a grin and a soft “Hello! Hi hi!”. You did your best to make your room a perfectly chaotic backdrop - led lights, an embarrassing amount of anime merch and plushies. You always try to balance out your weeb side by dressing hot as fuck for your streams - today’s inspiration just so happens to be egirls. Mostly because you watched one too many egirl make-up tutorials on TikTok, and also because you’ve been listening to Corpse’s song all day.

Yeah, no, who are you kidding, you dressed up this way because you were hoping Corpse was watching your stream. You didn’t forget your cat headphones, either. You know he likes them. You want to make him suffer. Perhaps then, finally, he will ask you out, so you wouldn’t have to.

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“I feel like,” You start when you put away your phone, staring idly at the chat, “I feel like I need a new name for you guys. Calling you guys after two years of streaming is just... weird, no? I also don’t respect men so I don’t want to call you guys. Like, so many creator’s have, like, a name for their fans. Uhm, Cody Ko has the chodesters, Kurtis Conner has, uh, folks? Kurtis Town? Citizens! Markiplier has mommy issues--” You can’t help snorting, “So, I’ve been, like, thinking - I know, shocking! - so I was thinking I’m gonna name you cockroaches. Because you’re grimy little shits impossible to kill. And also then I can use the legendary Minaj meme ROACHES!”

Your stream enthusiastically echoes ROACHES, making the chat swim. Yes, if anyone would enjoy such a name, it would be your audience. You’re as equally proud as you are disturbed.

“Well, anyway.” Leaning back into your chair, you throw your arms out with a bright grin, “Big dick is back in town, baby! If you noticed the backdrops different, it’s cuz I’m in Brooklyn now. Don’t ask me when I will return to Always Sunny, I don’t plan that far ahead.”

While Minecraft boots up, you decide to answer a few questions.

r u dating sykkuno?

You want to smack your head into the keyboard, but as it is, you can’t exactly afford a new one, so you refrain, “No, Sykkuno and I are not dating, we are just good friends. Uhm, I’m not sure how much I’ll have to repeat this, but, we really aren’t, so if the roaches could chill - Oh my God, that sounds so stupid, I love it - uh, yeah, if the roaches could chill that’d be great.”

the roaches lmao sounds like we’re a sports team

“Oh shit, yeah it does, uh-- maybe I can make like, jerseys or something. That’d be cool, I think.”

how disappointed are your parents with the way your life turned out?

“My parents are actually not disappointed at all!” You say with a cute little smile, “Uhm, they’re both really proud, actually. They’re glad I found something I love doing and made a job outta it. Dad finds my Youtube videos endearing. Yes, they watch pretty much all of my videos, unless I explicitly tell them not to. And yeah, with all the fucks and thirsting for anime characters. Uhm, it was very embarrassing at first, but I mean, after a while, shame just...doesn’t exist anymore, I guess? Funny thing about my parents, actually, when they watch my videos-” You eye catches a comment, “Oh! No, they only watch my Youtube videos. They don’t know how to use Twitter, thank God. Uhm, anyway-- when they hear a name they don’t know, like, I dunno, Dabi, or something, they google--” You’re grinning by now, eyes crinkling, giggling softly, “--who that is, and buy me like, merch and stuff. It’s really cute. 

can i be adopted by ur parents plz

will you and corpse ever collab?!

You were about to answer, though the man of the hour himself decides to do it for you.

Corpse_Husband: yes.

Okay, not to say your heart skipped a beat, but it totally did. With a pleased smile, you nod, like one of those bobble head toys sold at the dollar store. The motion is oddly reminiscent of Sykkuno’s own nod. Perhaps you had picked it up from him. The chat seems to notice.

pack it up, sykkuno

More questions pile about this mysterious collab you and Corpse are planning. Yeah, you’d like to hear more about it, too, since he single highhandedly decided one was happening right now. Corpse remains silent. Fine, keep your secrets. 

“Okay, guys, oh, I mean, roaches, Oh my God--” You’re covering your mouth, giggling, “-calling all roaches, calling all roaches, calm down. Everyone grab a snack and a blanket I’m turning up the music volume so we can all chill. Entering chill zone. Entering chill zone. Roaches, prepare.”

we are prepared

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An hour or so passes and you grow hungry. It shows with the amount of cakes you had baked in your server. Currently, you find yourself throwing eggs at the wall of one of the renovated houses, your face scrunched in concentration and slight frustration. 24 of the 50 eggs have been wasted. “What’s a girl gotta do to get some chicks around here?” you had uttered under your breath, until, finally, a screech - the egg finally spawns a mob. Your mouth falls open, “Aww, look!” You approach it, so small, walking in zigzags beside you, “It’s a baby chicken! Die, bitch.” The baby chicken is no more as you swing your bedazzled (you have mods) diamond sword. You’re cackling by the time the dust settles.

y/n is a child murderer

“Roaches,” You address your fan-base, spurring another fit of laughter - you can’t get over the name, “I think I’m like, forgetting that eating in Minecraft won’t actually make less hungry in real life.”

take a break and go eat queen <3

“Fuck no, we starve and die like men. Now I actually really need another chicken.”

Another twenty minutes trickle by and you’re trying to lure back a panda from the jungle when there’s a knock on your bedroom’s door. Whipping your head to the side, you slide down your headphones. At the same time, your mom pokes her head through the ajar door, “MOM!” You scream, “Get OUT of my room I’m playing Minecraft!” But your yell has no actual bite to it, as you don’t manage to hide your smile. Your mom laughs, doing some sort of sign language and motioning for you to follow her with her head. That or it’s some sort of performative dance. 

“I’m live right now,” You tell her, pointing at your screen. She knows this already, though, “do you want to say hi?” 

The roaches spam the chat with friendly hellos. You mom, quite impatient now, waves you over. 

“Sorry, roaches, mom needs something. Be back in a bit!”

Stopping the stream, you rush out of your seat and pleased she slinks into the hallway. “What’s this about?”

“Your pizza came.”

“My what now?” You echo, confused.

“Domino’s. You ordered pizza?”

“What? No? I was busy with the stream, I never--”

Thankfully, you had managed to grab your phone from your room before you exited. You almost choke on spit once you read the messages.

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You decide that it’ll be impossible to stream after experiencing what you had just experienced. You tweet out a quick apology to the roaches (God, that fucking name) and say that you had a breakdown but you’re okay. That is as a close to the truth as you managed to muster. It’s a sad sight, chewing and crying; your mom winced when she saw your state - disheveled hair and rundown eyeliner and everything. “D’aww,” She had muttered, caressing the top of your head, “don’t cry my little raccoon.”

If anyone was ever to ask you where did your chaotic nature come from, you’d answer with my mom. To make yourself feel better, you took a selfie - duck face and peace sign and the horrible 2000′s angle. Sent it to Rae. 

looking hot, her message read. 

thanks, was all you replied with.

You couldn’t just leave things as they were. Once you calmed down, you wanted to text Corpse, but how would you follow up the ungodly caps lock and screeching? Impossible. An idea sprung to mind, one that was brave. Taking the first step.

Instead of sending a text, you sent a voice memo.

“Thank you for the pizza, it was delicious.”

You voice still sounded a bit raspy. His reply was instant. Your heart skipped a beat. He sent a voice memo back.

“Glad you liked it, baby.”

He was going to be the death of you.

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tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @slashersdream - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai - @truly-dionysus - @multi-fandom-central707

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

[letarasstuff]

One kind of intern

(A/N): This was requested by @greenslifestuff :) It took me a week or two because I had to interact with my friends in order to get the inspiration I needed 😅 Summary: The team gets to work with a gen z teenager. Let’s see how that goes.

Warnings: Swearing and gen z humour

Wordcount: 2k

✨Masterlist✨

___________________________________

“Team, this is (Y/N) (L/N). She will be interning for the upcoming three months alongside this team. (Y/N), these are Agents Emily Prentiss, Jennifer Jareau, David Rossi, Derek Morgan and Doctor Spencer Reid and our Technical Analyst Penelope Garcia”, Hotch introduces a teenage girl to his team like this happens every day.

“Wait Hotch, we don’t get interns. What is she going to do, no offense, but getting us coffee or what?” Morgan eyes her suspiciously. She looks like any teenager grabbed from the street. A band t-shirt, a torn pair of jeans and a cup from starbucks in her hands. Nothing you would expect to even enter a federal building.

“No offence taken, Agent Morgan. I know having an ugly pickly bitch working with professionals seems weird. It’s just I have summer break and I thought it would be a good thing on my resumé if I already interned in the FBI, because I just graduated and I wanted to go to the academy this fall. But if you wanna do a vibe check with me first, that’s fine by me. Whatever floats your boat.”

The room falls silent. Then out of all sudden everyone turns to Garcia, who puts her arms up in defense. “I don’t even know half the things she said, ask her yourself.”

That’s how the BAU gets their first contact with Gen Z culture and let me tell you it is a wild ride, so buckle up your seats, drink your tea up because we aren’t going to make any stops.

“(Y/N), I need you to come with me. We are going to the M.E. getting the latest reports from our last case”, Morgan tells her while passing her desk. In the blink of an eye the teenager is ready, putting her denim jacket with various pins and bits of patches on.

“Derek, can we get starbucks on the way back? The pumpkin spiced latte is back on their menu and I am on withdrawal. Pleaaaaaasseeee”, she looks at him with a pouty face. Morgan smiles. “Ok, under one condition: We both get one, take awesome pictures and send them to the group chat and then we act like we didn’t get them anything, but we actually buy them their usual.” He got the hang of it pretty fast. “Deal, Sis.”

While they are in the car on their way to the M.E. the agent groans. “Ugh, road work ahead.” “Uh yeah, I sure hope it does!” Morgan eyes her from the side. His whole demeanor says ‘old and confused’.

“What was that, kid?” But (Y/N) begins to laugh. “Don’t you know vines? Short dumb and funny clips people made?” It’s safe to say that this afternoon he learns to speak in vines, getting on Rossi’s nerves because nothing makes sense anymore.

“Ok, I heard you wanted to become a profiler. So I thought I would show you some old cases and then you try to figure out the profile. I’ll present them to you like I do to the team, alright?” JJ and (Y/N) sit in her office, safe from curious eyes. “As right as the law, Ma’am.” 

“Good, this is a case from several years ago. It happened here in D.C. Three men were murdered execution style in the middle of the night in an alleyway. They were all from different backgrounds. The only connection between them was that they were evicted for some form of sexual harassment or assault. The UnSub also had a signature: A shot into their groin while the men were alive.”

Unfaced by the presented facts (Y/N) pops a piece of gum into her mouth. “It do be like that.”

“What?” “I mean, it’s obviously a woman. She experienced any harassment or assault herself. She also has excess to the files, I assume she works as a paralegal, since most of them are women. Female serial killers are extremely rare, but they are better organized. The only thing left to say is good for her getting revenge.” The blonde looks at the teenager with wide eyes.

“I-I guess but you know you can’t say anything like that to Hotch, do you?” She asks concerned. “JJ, I’m dead inside, not dumb. I know this.” But the agent shrugs. “Good. Though I really want to see his face.” “Mood.”

Penelope Garcia is the closest one to relate to Gen Z culture, since a great part of her time is spent on the internet. She happily learns about all the phrases and their meanings as well as the newest trends and hypes.

“Purp is sus, I tell you”, is heard from the lair into the hallway. Spencer and Derek look at each other with concern on their faces. “Do you think they are alright or do we have to-” “IT’S A SELF REPORT I SWEAR PENNY! YOU WORK WITH PROFILERS IN GANDALF’S NAME!” Spencer’s question is answered by that.

“Baby girl, crazy girl, are you doing good? Do you need help or something?” The older one asks warily. But it’s drowned in another screaming match. “I TOLD YOU PURP WAS THE IMPOSTER BUT YOU HAVE TO TELL THEM I VENTED WHEN I DIDN’T! I WANT ALL TIKTOKS I SENT YOU BACK!” “YOU DON’T DARE TO REVOKE MY TIKTOK PRIVILEGES!” “WATCH ME GARCIA!”

“Whoa girls, what about taking a break?” Morgan tries to diffuse the situation. “Yes, I think JJ got new pictures of Henry and Emily brought cookies this morning”, Spencer adds.

The girls, who mere seconds ago were ready to jump each other's throats, look at the other one. “You get the cookies and I go to JJ, deal?” (Y/N) asks. “Deal!” Without sparing the boys another glance they run out of the lair. Their devices are still lit up. A red figure shines into their faces. ‘AMONG US’ is written underneath it. “I think we get too old for this stuff, don’t we Reid?”

Spencer always thought he was young. Of course, his mind is older, but physically he is not that old. But the intern proves him wrong. And boy is he wrong.

“Spencer, is there anything interesting to know today?” (Y/N) takes a seat on his desk, distracting the genius from his paperwork. It is a common occurrence for her to go to him to ask for a fun fact.

“Do you wanna learn something about sloths?” His knowledge (or the writer’s) on this subject is astonishingly big.

“Spill the tea, sis.” “Did you kn- What? But I don’t have tea to spill. And I don’t wanna spill anything, I-” Reid rambles in confusion.

“It’s just a saying, Spencer. There is no deeper meaning to it then ‘Tell me everything about it’. You know, it’s mostly used for gossiping, but I don’t really like to gossip. That’s why I use it in a different context. You got it?” (Y/N) explains it to him in a soft manner, knowing her generation can be complex.

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you for telling me. I really like the phrase. It has a nice ring. What about you spill the tea about all the phrases you know and I tell you some things from my knowledge?” “I think you got yourself a teacher, genius. But now tell me about the sloths, I love them.”

A few days later Rossi catches her doing some weird moves. “Are you having a seizure or what is your problem, youngster?” Even though he tries not to show it, David took a great liking to (Y/N), thinking of her like a granddaughter. Still, most of her actions confuse the hell out of him.

“I’m practising a dance for tiktok. My friends and I worked on a choreo we wanted to film later. Come here, I can show you.” And that’s what she does in the conference room. The teenager walks him through every move of the choreo, explaining the meaning to it and how it correlates with the song.

“And then you move your arm like that. Exactly like that! You did a great job, David! Are you sure you don’t want to come with me later? We can make you your own account and name it ‘Grandpa-on-tiktok’. You can promote your books over there and it’s a way to float with the trend!”

Seeing her this excited Rossi can’t do anything but agree to the idea. Also, he secretly liked doing the dance thing. It made him feel young again.

“(Y/N), you said you graduated this summer. But your file said you are 16?” Emily asks her one boring day filled with paperwork and countless cups of coffee. “It is what it is”, she mindlessly answers, too focused on filling out the work in front of her.

“I mean yes but how?”

“Emily, smart people exist. I know, coming from me hits different, but here we are.” Finally (Y/N) puts her pen away looking at the raven haired woman.

“What are you talking about? I can’t really follow you.” The more the intern says the more confused gets Emily.

She sighs. “I don’t want to leave you on read here. I kind of am smart somehow. Apparently I was smart enough to skip a grade or two. But it’s no biggie. Many peeps do this, so I don’t sweat it.”

“Even though I feel like you are selling yourself short here, I know you are an incredibly intelligent person. Someday you will be an awesome profiler and any team will be lucky to have you. I really hope we will be the lucky team. But I’m still not sure if this is what I should say in this context.”

“Emily, you are goals. This fam is squad goals. I really hope to be a part of this someday”, (Y/N) admits. “I’m sure Hotch will do his best to get you on the team, you became a great part of it. I can’t imagine a future without you.”

Sadly Prentiss has to get used to a time without the team’s beloved intern. On her last day (Y/N) knocks at Hotch’s door.

“Hey, I wanted to say thank you. The time with you and all the others was amazing and I learned so many useful things for not only the academy but also for my daily life. I really had a glow-up here”, she says after coming in.

Hotch motions towards the chairs in front of his desk. “Take a seat, (Y/N). I got something for you. See it as a compensation for not getting paid for your internship. You really did great work and a better job than some agents, who are doing theirs for many years already but don’t know half the stuff you do. You are a valuable member to the team.”

“Wait, you speak in presence tense. I leave you all this afternoon, you know that, do you?” But the Unit Chief only gestures to a white envelope on his desk. Quickly the teenager takes it and reads it.

“Are you serious Hotchner? Because I will cry you a river if you joke”, she threatens him.

“I’m dead serious, (Y/N). Even though half of your talks are difficult to understand, the other half is twice as useful and important. Additionally to that, you are like a fresh breath of air that the team needed. That’s why a place here will be available for you as soon as you graduate from the academy. I trust you that you will pass with flying colors, I had to promise that to Strauss.”

“Of course, Hotch. I swear on my Animal Crossing Island that I will do my best and more. Thank you so much”, she leaps into his arms.

The others watch the interaction from the bullpen, pretending to not get teary eyed. Their favorite Gen Z Kid will come back to them after all.

Taglist:

Spencer Reid

@calm-and-doctor

[intothegenshinworld]

If you are ever sick; know that your comfort characters will care for you <3

Amber x Sick! reader (comfort)

Synopsis: Amber comes to visit you while you’re sick. She brings some soup for both of you to enjoy while she tells you a few stories from her childhood. (SCENARIO + EXTRA HC)

Note: @myxxei0 I hope you’re feeling better already, I reallly like Amber but somehow her personality is hard to write down for me? Tell me how I did! Hopefully this isn't bad 😂😭

There is a knock on your door followed by an enthusiastic voice you know too well. ‘(y/n)? I heard you got a cold- so I brought some soup.’ Amber opens the door with her elbows and once inside carefully pushes it back with her foot all while holding 2 bowls of soup.

‘Thank you. I really appreciate you coming over. For a moment I thought boredom was going to kill me.’ Amber laughs at your joke and points out your book. ‘Not an adventure story?’ You shake your head putting the book on your night stand. ‘It’s some history of Mondstadt but I already read the exciting parts.’

Amber lifts her head, her headband moving with her. ‘I can bring my favorite book with me next time?’ She hands you one of the bowls which you take gratefully. She had brought two, one for you and one for Amber herself. During the last few days of you being sick, Amber came to visit every day with a different homemade soup. The company made you feel special, and it was something to look forward to while you were still yet to recover.

Earlier today Jean came to visit you as well. Instead of soup she had brought you some herbal tea made by Lisa and a book from her office. With everyone coming over there was now a chair permanently stuck besides your bed for visitors.

As Amber sits down, she reaches in her pocket. ‘Klee told me to give this to you. She heard from Jean that you needed to rest and decided to give a drawing since she couldn’t visit. It seems like she really misses you.’

You smile. Klee usually ran around the headquarters so its fairly common of you to spend time with her. For now you put the drawing away, not wanting to accidentally spill the soup on it. ‘Now I feel even more bored sitting in here all day, needing to get ‘rest’.’ You dramatically sigh and bring the spoon with soup to your mouth. You can’t imagine the fun you’re missing out on…

‘Hm… what about a story? I got sick many times when I was younger. I was always outside and often got sick from playing in the rain. Grandpa used to tell me stories as he kept me company.’ Amber smiles and puts down her spoon. ‘I think I always wanted to see the whole world for myself, even back when I was younger.’

For a moment you wonder to yourself. ‘How was your childhood?’ You ask. Amber seems to disappear off in her mind for a moment. ‘I once chased a magical bird for three whole days, though I can’t remember the name anymore,-‘ You stop eating. ‘3 days?’ She nods.

‘It was a really cunning bird and I’m glad I didn’t give up because Jean let me pluck a feather plume from it as reward!’ She looks at you with pride in her eyes. ‘Together with the book I’ll bring the plume tomorrow as well.’

At least you won’t be bored with Amber by your side.

SOME HC:

Not only does Amber bring soup every day, she spends hours keeping you occupied In bed, telling you stories from her past and whishes for her future.

Once you get better the habit of coming over sticks. She will come around lunch time to talk with you about her day and ask what you’ve been up to.

She has some crazy stories, so you’ll never be bored.

If you happen to fall asleep because of exhaustion from the cold she would bring the dishes with her and clean up. Makes sure your blanket is wrapped around you and if you’re comfy.

During your sick period she will become a messenger, giving you the get better letters and gifts.

Honestly 10/10

Def brings you lots of comfort in lesser times

She doesn’t only light up her arrows but your heart as well.

(Visual representation of Amber bringing you SOUP)

[creepypastalover97]

Ok, time for another creepypasta au headcannon

Today’s headcannon is going to be about Circe’s #1 BF

Will grossman

Just to clarify. I know in canon will has not killed a single person in his life. He just gets lucky, like all his kills are just freak accidents.

Now on with the headcannon .

. Will is a honest to god himbo. I’m not going to beat around the bush here: Will Grossman is a fucking idiot. He doesn’t have book or street smarts, He had to be told, at age 25 mind you, that Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny aren’t real. This is how bad it is:

“ guess who has was also born on December 25, like I was?!” -Circe

“ Jesus?” - will grossman

“ no you idiot, I’m talking about laughing jack”- Circe

“ LAUGHING JACK IS JESUS!!!!!!” - will grossman

. He does not understand sarcasm

. Cannot spell for shit and has the worst handwriting you’ve ever seen in your life

. Circe and Laughing Jack are literally Will’s only friends. Every single other resident of the Under Realm hates him. Nina the Killer gets more respect than him. The only time anyone besides LJ or Circe hangs out with him is if they want something from him or they want to screw with him.

. Will desperately wants people to like and respect him. He’s super lonely and desperate for the approval of others. He wants to be an infamous serial killer because he thinks people will finally give him respect.

. He has autism

. He likes to act like he’s a big shot and supper confident. But is actually HORRENDOUSLY insecure

(( especially around other big killers it makes him feel small and worthless))

. BIG HORROR MOVIE FAN! (( his favorite has to be “ House Of 1000 Corpses” and “ SAW “ )) he also likes videogames, watching/criticizing the serial killers from the documentaries he watches, plays with Chuper and hang out with his best friends LJ and Circe.

. He's expressive and easy to read, he does try to tone down his emotions when he gets sad or angry since getting overly emotional isn't good, but neither is bottling it all up.

. His mask isn’t the same one as Isaac’s, it’s just a replica. But Will wants everyone to believe it’s the same mask because “this creepy mask’s been in my family for generations” sounds cooler than “i paid someone 1500 $ to make a creepy mask for me”.

. He knows LJ came in a box, that he used to be colorful, that he was made for someone and that he's claustrophobic because he spent a long time trapped in his box, but he doesn't know all the details to know how far back LJ's connection to his family is.

. Will and LJ have been friends since Will arrived in the UnderRealm . LJ knew right away who Will's Grandpa was, and at first held a deep grudge. That was, until he realized how clueless Will actually was. LJ now protects Will with an iron grip. Which, props to LJ for becoming a mom, I guess. William however can barely survive on his own. It's a good thing Pasta's still need to eat or else William wouldn't even have a job.

. That's right, Will goes to The institution by day, and works KFC ( Kentucky fried children) at night. ^^ tired boi he is.

. Alchoholism runs in the family, he goes out drinking with LJ at times, but hasn't reached the point where he feels he needs to drink.

. He's a dog person, which is why he has Chuper. He's fully aware Chuper isn't a dog and just looks dog-like, will still baby him like any regular human would baby their dog.

. he has a folder filled to the brim with pictures of his favorite serial killers and their victims body’s.

. his favorite food consists of Fast food and junk food

. no way shape or form was Will ever abused, neglected, mistreated or bullied growing up! He lived an incredibly average life- his parents raised him in a middle class suburban neighborhood, they never argued or fought. ( Will and Circe actually bonded over the fact of their backgrounds were similar, well besides Circe always was a killer) Thus what he ended up doing in the future came to everyone as a complete shock and horror. Motives? He doesn’t have one- quite frankly he doesn’t believe in them- he just woke up one day and decided he wanted to be a serial killer.

. He listens to nothing but shitty nu-metal and pop punk songs from the 2000′s. Will unironically thinks “How Could This Happen To Me” by Simple Plan is one of the greatest songs in the entire history of music.

. To kill he prefers heavy blunt instruments, like sledgehammers or metal baseball bats, maybe even a cast iron frying pan in a pinch.

. He’s pretty messy about the killing honestly, so he always needs to add in time to clean and double check that he hasn’t lost any of his own blood. To make things easier he always wears a hairnet under his snapback.

. Absolutely BLASTS eastly 2000’s pop punk music through his headphones while disposing of the body and might even bust some moves.

. Enjoys gambling but has shit luck and no strategy for card games.

. Similar to this he is absolutely terrible with money, he always spends way too much and borrows other peoples money and then doesn’t return it.

. Basically lives off sports drinks, he likes light blue and red the best.

. He can’t keep a plant alive for longer than a few weeks, he always forgets to water them, and on the off chance he does remember he overwaters by a mile.

. Has a few scars on his hands from learning how to twirl a butterfly knife. He’s actually pretty good at it now though.

. His favourite colour is forest green. Closely followed by pastel pink. Definitely has both pink and traditional green camo pants.

. He drives really fast and changes lanes aggressively. He’s one of those people who laughs while passing a semi-truck WAY too close.

. Winks at people all the time, even like old men. It’s a little weird some times.

. Has both ears pierced once, one nipple, his tongue, and his frenum (dick) pierced.

. Will sometimes is just absolutely baby brained/lh, he will sometimes just wanna touch things he shouldn't

. is British and Celtic.( he was so stoked when he found out Circe was part British. He would have never guessed due to her looks and lack of a British accent.)

. He tries to impress his crushes by attempting skateboard tricks he can’t actually do. It has never worked for him, but he has absolutely not learned his lesson. And probably never will.

. Is a collage drop out. ( he felt normal school was never his thing. So he made a few pipe booms and set them off at his college campus, taking the life of 107 people.)

. Is the great, great grandson of the London ripper ( aka issac grossman) you bet he was over the moon when he found out his great great grandfather was a serial killer.

. Forgetful af. If he forgets something about you dont take it personally. Hes just a very forgetful person.

. He feels that Lj and Circe are the only ones he can trust.

. Actually does take showers.

. He wears eyeshadow and paints his nails

. A strawberry blonde with light blue eyes.

. Roommate with LJ, they're pretty much bros

. currently questioning his sexuality, he struggles with it a lot.

“so the man who tried to kill you! What did he look like?”- Laughing Jack

“He was so hot- it was crazy“ - will grossman

Frankie has tried to kill Will on several occasions

. Will is a massive fanboy of Jeff and begs him for an autograph every time he sees him.

. He doesn't exactly hate Frankie, but he's not too fond of him either, he's an asshole. He'd still help him out if the guy needed any help, he's not heartless (tbh, Frankie would do the same for Will n LJ but won't admit it shhhhh).

. hes insecure on how well he does co paired to others in the institution. Like he thinks hes not good enough to be there or something. ( good thing Circe there for him during school hours to cheer him up. Since they are also a student there)

. Pretty damn good at fighting. Despite being pretty thin and not particularly strong, he’s very fast and agile. However, if he gets too close to an opponent and they manage to overpower him then he is fucked.

. Kind of naïve to how the underrealm works (Jack’s fault, not his), and as a result can be overly optimistic. Less about the creatures there, more about the people.

. Reserved. He mainly keeps to himself and tries to keep his head down. Whilst he’s pretty naïve about the underrealm, he does know that being a human there is risky.

. Bit of a pushover, he’s not really a fan of starting fights, mainly because he can’t be arsed, so he just kind of puts up with people.

. Will and Circe actually connect very well, and are BF’s despite their age difference

Will Grossman: 25

Circe r. Ackerman: 16

. Circe considers Will as a friend. Both of them often feel like outcasts amongst the others and as a result they kinda understand each other. Circe studied psychology in high school so she has a more advanced understanding of autism, which Will has, than the average person and as a result she much more accepting and compassionate towards Will's hyperfixations, sensory issues, self-stimulatory behaviour, etc. Will on the other hand is a very patient person and doesn't judge Circe for being overly blood-thirsty and having severe mood swings, which a lot of the pastas are cautious of. They like to jam out to music from the 2000’s and get fast food together.

. He sometimes misses his old life, as boring as it was, he misses his parents too and it's still a somewhat sensitive topic for him since he didn't get to say goodbye to them.

Overall will grossman is no doubt a dork. But he’s lj’s and Circe’s dork. So he’s in good hands/claws

P.s none of this is canon. So don’t take seriously if you don’t want to. so don’t hate, if you do. Take it somewhere else. Thank you. Bye 👋🏻

P.s.s. Go check out Circe’s origin story on archive of our own. It’s called rabbits are not what they seem.

[generallybarzy]

If You'll Have Me Forever.

an: this is the little fic i decided to write based on a dream i had. I wrote it all in one day while I was at my grandparent's house with no internet or computer, so i wrote it all in my notebook and then typed it up on here haha.

warnings: unedited, mentions of past emotional trauma and unhealthy families

word count: 1.7k

You always loved spending time with Mat's family. Whenever there was a break in the season, you two quickly found yourselves on a plane out to Vancouver, holding hands in the airplane and in the car on the way to his parent's house.

It had been like this since your first summer with them. Mat had invited you home with him for part of the offseason, and although you'd only been dating almost a year and were still nervous to meet his family, you couldn't say no. His family had welcomed you warmly, in fact, warm may not even be good enough to describe it. His parents smiled as soon as they saw you- saw you holding their son's hand, saw him smile proudly as he finally introduced you to them as his girlfriend.

Then, they hugged you.

You hadn't come from a loving family, not one where you openly told each other "I love you" or "I'm proud of you", and certainly not one that hugged and had family game nights. After much discussion with Mat and with your therapist, you came to the conclusion that your family had been borderline emotionally neglectful, and you saw how your childhood had scarred you. Mat's family was so openly affectionate and loving towards you right off the bat that it overwhelmed you, to the point of you going upstairs and refusing to come down until Mat had a talk with you. He was understanding, gently told them to be a little more reserved, and helped to slowly ease you into their love. And that just made you love him even more.

Now, it was your first holiday season with them. After spending a good chunk of last summer in Vancouver, you were certainly excited to spend a few days of your winter here with them rather than in your empty little apartment. You and Mat had flown out the night before, and arrived early in the morning, grateful that the team had managed a few extra days off this season- just enough days to make a trip worth it. The whole day had been spent talking and laughing and just catching up with his family about the past year- how things were going with your studies, with your job, how Mat’s season was going, and how your relationship was going. Later in the evening, after a long round of some board game they’d pulled from the closet, the jet lag and overwhelming, unfamiliar feeling of familial love caught up to you. So, in the middle of preparing some snacks to munch on during the next round of the game, you faked a phone call and quickly excused yourself to the snowy back patio, slipping into your coat and snow boots on the way and disappearing out the door.

Mat had been keeping a close eye on you all night.

He knew how you got about affection, you were even still a little shy receiving love from him, and the last thing he wanted to do was let him or his family overwhelm you again. He had gone to talk with his dad for five minutes- about a topic that had him immediately searching for you to go hide away and get some much needed alone time- and when he came back to the living room, you weren’t where he left you with his mom and sister.

“Where’s (Y/N)?”

“Oh,” his mom looked up from preparing the food. “She stepped out back to take a phone call.”

“Yeah?” Mat snuck over to the backdoor, squinting out into the snow and spotting your figure, no phone in sight. He slipped on a pair of shoes and grabbed his jacket from next to the door. “I think the jetlag might be stting in. I’ll be right back.”

He stepped out onto the back patio, the snow crunching beneath his fluffy slippers. You didn’t even turn when you heard the door close behind him, and that’s how he knew something was wrong.

“Baby… what are you doing out in the cold?” He came up next to you, curling an arm over your shoulders. “Were they too much? Should I tell them to back off a bit?” Finally, you turned to face him. Your eyes were wet and red, but you had a soft little smile on your face. “Aw, baby.”

“I love them so much, Mat.”

“C’mere.” He pulled you against his chest, rubbing his hands up and down your cold arms. You curled your arms around his waist, snuggling in under his winter jacket. “Babe, you should be wearing something heavier out here. I don’t want you getting sick.” Still, you stayed where you were, tucked into his jacket with him and hiding away from the snow and the world. “I’m glad you love my family so much. I hope you can tell they love you too. And if they’re too much, I’ll tell them, okay?”

“I know.”

“Just let me know. I know how you get uncomfortable when you receive this much love, but I hope you know you deserve it, okay? You’re absolutely amazing.” At his words, you lifted your face from the comfort of his chest, eyes red and face hot, streaked with tears. Snowflakes melted on impact, and Mat’s thumb brushed away the wetness. “Please don’t cry, baby.”

“I’m just… so overwhelmed. In the best way possible, I promise.”

“That’s good.”

“And I’m getting sleepy.”

“Jetlag finally catching up to you?” You nodded, burrowing back into the warmth of his jacket. He smiled, squeezing you against him. “Let’s go to bed, yeah, sweetheart?”

“Nooooo, I just wanna stay like this.”

“Okay, okay.” He smiled and lifted his hands in mock surrender. “We’ll stay out here for a little, but we gotta go in when you get cold.” Mat knew the reason you didn’t want to go back inside yet. One, because you didn’t want to cry in front of his family, but also because after spending the whole day with them, you were starved of sweet, gentle moments like this, alone with Mat. He knew you loved his family, but God, how you loved him. You’d been holding back all your hugs and kisses today, keeping low on the PDA in front of his family, and you’d gotten needy. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to his parents, saying the two of you were gonna be done for the night and wanted a little alone time, and he knew they’d understand and head to bed. The snow was picking up now, so Mat put his phone back in his pocket and pulled you with him against the wall of the house, your arms tucked under his fuzzy coat and holding tight around his waist, watching the snow fall and enjoying the comforting silence of the world.

“Do you know how much people love you?”

“Mat…” You smiled and hid your face shyly.

“No, do you know? Everyone who meets you falls a little bit in love with you. Everyone. You just have this… this loveable nature to you/ You’re the sweetest, kindest, most amazing person I know.” You didn’t respond, but Mat saw the smile on your face and felt the way your arms squeezed around his torso. “Remember how earlier, I was talking to my dad? You know what he was saying? He said ‘the way you look at (Y/N), that’s how I looked at your mom’. And how he still does.” That got your attention, and you lifted your face to look at him, at the pretty, genuine love in his dark eyes. “Hey, there’s that pretty face!” Your hands slid further up his back, and you perched up on your tiptoes, reaching up for a soft kiss that Mat gladly met you halfway for. “I’m serious when I say I love you, okay?”

“I know.”

“I get that you didn’t have the best relationship with your family, and they weren’t the healthiest, especially when it came to showing these types of emotions, but I’m gonna make sure you get used to it. Cause you’re gonna be in my life for a long, long time.”

“Forever?”

“If you’ll have me forever.”

Everything went silent, save for the soft falling of snow, at that whispered promise. The tears filled your eyes again, just so, so happy that you had someone like Mat in your life, and that he was so understanding and patient with you.

“If you’ll have me forever, my family would be more than happy to call you one of us. You could spend all your birthdays, holidays, and celebrations here, and they’d love you. I’d love you. I do. You’d never feel unloved again, if you’ll have me forever.”

“Mat are... Are you proposing?”

He shook his head quickly. “No. Not yet, not officially. Just take this as a… warning.”

You laughed a little bit. “A warning, Mat?”

“No, ugh… um, how about a promise. Yeah, a promise. A promise that if you’ll have me forever, I’ll do nothing but show you how damn loveable you are. I know I can’t erase the years of pain… God, or the trauma that your family put you through, but I promise you I’m gonna try my hardest. You deserve so much better than what they’d given to you, and I’ll give that to you.” Mat saw the tears in your eyes and swooped down to kiss your cheeks repeatedly. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to make you cry, baby.” He could say so, so much more, but he wanted to take care of you first. “Enough of my sappy rambling, yeah? My toes are freezing. Can we go in?” He saw you glance down at his feet and immediately started giggling.

“Nice slippers, grandpa.”

“They’re cozy.” He grinned, happy to see you smiling again. He had grabbed his dad’s shoes to come out, knowing you found his silly dad-fashion funny. “Now, let’s get to bed, sleepyhead.” He pulled you back into the warm, quiet house and led the way up to his bedroom, happy to finally have some time to just cuddle up under the blankets along with you. But as you fell asleep, tucked safely in his arms with a content, peaceful smile, he could fall asleep along with you. Instead, he lay there, watching you for hours, his thoughts filled with his dad’s words from earlier and quietly, secretly, he was writing long lines of phrases he wanted to say to you, phrases that would one day become part of his proposal.

I promise I’ll keep you safe, I promise I’ll keep you smiling and loved... if you’ll have me forever.

[lovelyiida2]

SUMMARY: Todoroki isn’t known to his class for being the most “social” among others. How does he prove them wrong? Obviously create an online fake relationship with a girl from another class!

SERIES

NOTE: THANK YOU ALL FOR 100+ FOLLOWERS AH! I’M MAKING SURE THIS CHAPTER IS EXTRA LONG FOR YOU GUYS.

WARNINGS: grandpa Todoroki, major fluff, slight angst, possible spelling errors, cringey asl on your part ig

WORDS: 2.06k

—

The next day you saw each other, things we’re definitely tense. Barely speaking to each other besides a morning time greeting.

You wanted to comment on his appearance, eyes puffy and dark. You can tell he cried himself to sleep, his usual stoic and composed appearance was now disheveled before your eyes.

You didn’t want to feel guilty but you had no other choice but to feel this way…

Lunch time came around and you sat alone in the frequently visited empty classroom. Taking out your phone you begin to text Todoroki.

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry for barging into your house like that uninvited.

You didn’t deserve the pain that came with my irresponsibility.

I know this might harm our friendship, but I am willing to start over. What do ya say?

Todoroki on the other hand, felt bad for a number of other reasons. He yelled at you to get out of his house, leaving yourself all alone in an area you don’t even know.

Thank heavens nothing happened to you while alone for so long, he’s surprised to even had seen you today thinking you’d get lost seeing where he lived.

Hearing his phone buzz, he picks it up to only have seen you’ve sent him some messages. He frowns at your texts, his guilt seeping into his stomach even more.

Don’t say what your saying, I’m the ass for lashing out on you.

Technically, you were able to come into my house, I just forgot what day my father is at home or at work.

I also didn’t walk you home, I deserve all the guilt your feeling…

Receiving from the other end, you sigh in relief at his answer. You didn’t want to say anything about what happened, but you couldn’t help yourself.

Does your dad, y’know—hit you often like that?

Seen

Great, you overstepped his boundaries. And now he left you on read, just great.

Two or three minutes later, he texts you again.

Not like he used to—it’s a lot to explain…

You question his answer, but decided to not probe any longer; What happened yesterday was not okay.

Should you contact protective services? You scoff stay your own thoughts.

This is the son of the second ranked hero for fucks sake.

As if you could get a pro-hero of that high status in jail. You never thought he was going through those type of conditions at home, and he was speaking to you like it was so regular…

It made you sick to your stomach.

Looking at your phone again, Todoroki had texted you.

I’m coming to see you.

Gulping you shuffle in your seat in nervousness, how the hell were the both of you going to talk to each other with the tension as think as ice?

Moments later, the door slides open to see Todoroki at the entrance. Looking his way you eyes don’t meet his direction. Opening your mouth to say something it closes as nothing come out.

“Hey,” he says, “hi” you said back.

Finding the same rolling chair he rolls it in front of you seat and sits across from you.

Looking up at his you see the present frown on his face, biting your lips you speak out.

“Todoroki I–“

“Don’t apologize for something you can’t control, remember? You told me that and now I’m telling it to you, I’m okay”

“But you’re not! I’m not just gonna sit here and pretend your father didn’t slap the shit out of you in front of my eyes!” You say.

“I know what you saw wasn’t a pretty sight, but I know how to handle it–“

“Did he give you that scar too?” You’ve grown so frustrated at the situation you didn’t realize what came from your mouth.

Todoroki becomes taken aback, a thin line presses onto his lips. Standing from his chair he looks at you with an empathetic look, “I want you to meet someone after school.”

With his final words said, he walks out the abandoned classroom. Leaving you alone and in even more unresolved guilt.

Once the school day was over, he told you to meet him by the entrance gate so that the both of you could walk to your destination.

As the both of you begin to walk to your destination, you start to spark up a conversation.

“Have you posted since I made you post?” You mentioned to him. He shook his head no, you smirk at his response. You reach your hand out to take his phone.

Typing in his password he quickly takes his phone back, “when did you know my password?”

“You’re a hero in training and you’re asking me why your guard is off?” The both of you chuckle at your response.

“And after all, I am your girlfriend” you say sarcastically.

Taking his phone back you open Instagram to make another post. You grab his arm and intertwined his hands with yours and took a photo.

Blushing at your sudden movements he looks away, “w-why did you do that?” He stutters.

“For our second couple post, silly” you chuckle. Posting it to Instagram you hand his phone back to him to see the post.

“Mines❤️”

Looking away in embarrassment, he blushes at the caption. Soon then, comments began to roll in from his friends.

Things like “omg so cute!!” or “very nice man,” or usually just some hearts, he blushes harder. Putting his phone in his pocket he looks back at you.

Deep down within himself he knew what the two of you were doing was fake, but what if all this was real?

To the long conversations, walking you to his house to spend time with him, to the hand holding, what if this could last even longer?

He didn’t realize that he began to smirk at the thought of the both of you actually being together.

“What’re you gushing about?” You ask, a smug smirk cascades over your lips.

“N-nothing, it’s just I’m happy right now” you smile at his stuttering.

“Well, I’m happy that you’re happy” you softly nudge into his side giggling.

Walking side by side Todoroki’s smile drops looking ahead at his destination.

“We’re here”

Looking ahead you stomach drops, the mental hospital?

“We’re meeting someone from the mental hospital?” You worrily ask, “you’ll see soon.”

Walking into the hospital the both of you walk the front desk, a woman in her mid to late thirties sees the both of you, especially Todoroki, and nods letting the both of you past.

He must be a regular you thought to yourself.

When walking past you seen the rest of the front desks ladies snicker the both of you, frowning you the away and move closer into Todoroki.

After moving up a couple levels you step into the white hallways and step in front of a hospital room door, you read the patient handle.

轟とどろき冷れい, Todoroki Rei

Opening the door, your heart drops.

“Shoto”

“Mom”

The person you’re meeting is his mom!

This is way different from meeting his sister, brother, and father. This is his fucking mom we’re talking about, she pushed him out of her, she is the creator–

“And who might you be?” Even looking at her face you can tell she seemed tired but pulled through with a smile.

Snapping out of your slight mid-life crisis you bow. “Hi, I’m Y/N L/N, nice to meet you! I’m Todoroki’s–”

“She’s my girlfriend mom, I wanted you to meet her for the first time.”

You stop in your tracks hearing his choice of words,

what the fuck Todoroki?

He softly squeezes your hand in reassurance, you didn’t realize that the both of you have been holding hands since you posted that photo of you two.

That’s probably why those front desk ladies were laughing at you…

“Oh, yes! I’m his girlfriend, it’s very nice to meet you Mrs. Todoroki” you bow again.

She chuckles, “that’s very nice, I’d never think you’d get a girlfriend so early” she smiles.

“I didn’t either…” he smiles to himself.

Later into the visitation, you talked more with his mother and began to unveil the reasoning behind Todoroki’s scar and the reasonings she was here.

It was a boiling water accident, she couldn’t stand looking at her son since with his appearance he reminded her of his husband too much. So she threw the hot kettle to his face, in shock she tried to come to aid and used her freeze quirk to cool the burn down, but instead it created a freeze burn.

Due to her mental illness, Endeavor threw her in here for her own good until she could fully recover. You didn’t discover then that Todoroki never visited his mother due to the dying guilt that she wouldn’t be able to fully recover with the sight of him being there, since he looked too much like his father.

But he decided to break out of that fear to become a better hero and started to regularly visit and send letters to her about a couple months ago.

This made you smile inside, small improvements leads to big changes.

Night soon falls and the both of you bow and leave the hospital and begin to walk to your house.

“Why did you tell your mom I’m your girlfriend?” You say, “I’m sorry for that, it was the first thing that came my head” he sighs.

“We’ll think smarter, because we have to keep this act up for your family now” you frown.

“May dad can’t know about this…” he says, you grown confused.

“And why is that? I thought he seemed—like the type to not really care?” You state. He shakes his head in disagreement, “he’s the udder opposite, he likes to—keep the bloodline pure if I could put it in a way. So depending on your quirk he needs to know if you’re a good fit for me to date necessarily…”

Just disgusting…

“I think my mom doesn’t care, she seems happy about us”

“Or, you felt your moms motherly instinct” you chuckle, he smiles at your comment. “I don’t mind, as long as she stays happy for you I don’t care at all” you softly smile.

Walking to your house you head for the front door, waving goodbye. Before you could start walking, Todoroki grabs your arm, you hum waiting for his response.

“About what you posted…”

“Can we do it again?”

Even in the darkness, the dim light of the streetlight shows Todoroki’s bashfulness. You smile and pull out your phone instead, taking his hand you take a photo and post it to your story.

“What do you mean again?” You teasingly ask.

“Well, since we’re in a pretend relationship, I-I thought it would only mean good intentions to play the park of course…” he looks away from you scratching the back of his neck.

“So you want to post us holding hands regularly?” You ask, he nods at your response. You laugh, “oh I see!”

Rolling his eyes at your response, his phone dings a couple seconds later, opening the notification he smiles. Aw, he has his post and story notifications on…

“Home :)”

He then tilts his head in confusion,

“This isn’t a post?”

“It’s my story, it’s like a place where you can quickly update instead of making a whole post about it. There’s filters, stickers, and music, it’s fun.”

“It only lasts 24 hours though, don’t worry I’ll save it somewhere.”

Taking a quick screenshot of your story, he takes his phone and puts it into his pocket.

“Okay, well I’ll be leaving now.” Heading into your home, he turns and leaves.

“Todoroki!” You scream, he turns around alarmed. You laugh at his reaction, “see you tomorrow?”

He chuckles, “yeah, see you tomorrow.”

Walking home, he began to think to himself.

How many more days can he like this? He doesn’t want this bubbly feeling in his stomach to stop, the curve of his lips to never stop aching, the warmth of his body to never wither.

He craves for more, more, and more.

And that’s what he got, the next day, and the day after that. Seeing your face every made his day one hundred times better.

So he thought to himself again,

He’s actually happy…

Once again, thank you all so much for 100+ followers! This means so much to me!

TAGLIST: @suckerfor-fanfics @kunaigirlx44 @softbkg @toxji @horrorgloves

[souichioneshots]

Souichi x Spanish!Reader

Disclaimer: SPANISH and English Mixed

I love the idea of Souichi picking up on the Spanish words i use daily, so i decided to write a super self-indulging fic on what that might be like if we were actually dating. 

I purposely wrote his lines really weird in Spanish for 1 specific reason. 

⊛Japanese people have a tough time pronouncing L’s because its not in their vocabulary! Instead all L’s are pronounced as R’s! ⊛

I wrote this super fast after class, so im sure there's a lot of misspells. probs both in english and spanish lol. 

I also had a tough time trying to write in a way that showed that Souichi was unfamiliar with Spanish. But i tried my best. Hope its understandable. 

(btw the Spanish used is specifically from latin american slang, so i apologize if it means something else in the Spanish you know)

Dating a foreigner is tough. That’s what Souichi parents told him when they found out you 2 were dating.

They tried to warn him that food you ate might not be his taste, or that the way the people of your country greet one another might be a bit too much intense for an antisocial like Souichi. But since you were more interested in assimilating into Souichi’s culture, you 2 never really seemed to have a problem with any of these things.  

However, truth be told, during the time he’s been with you, there was one problem that never seemed to go away. The language barrier.

Although you both were able to have a normal conversation in the same language, there were times when you would switch back to your mother-tongue.

For example, whenever you would get angry and curse. Instead of using words Souichi would understand, your mind would suddenly switch back into Spanish, making you use words like ‘Coño’ or ‘Puta’.

Souichi had literally no idea what any of those words meant, but they sounded kind of funny, and since these words could be easily pronounced in Japanese, Souichi would often practice saying them in his free time.

Like when he had gotten caught mid-curse by his older brother. Instead of cursing at him in Japanese like always, he used the word ‘puta’ to confuse him. Ultimately giving Souichi a sense of pride for being able to speak in a language no one in his family understood. 

Of course, there were times when you would use clean-words from your mother tongue as well. Specially whenever you were feeling very affectionate.

Souichi quickly understood the meaning of ‘Hola’ and ‘Gracias’, but there was one phrase that he couldn’t figure out for the life of him.

‘Bebé lindo’.

Every time you 2 would meet up, you would yell this at him.

He’s asked you to explain it multiple times, but you insisted that it would be better if he didn’t understand. However, Souichi would not accept that kind of answer. If you were going to speak in a language that almost no one around you understood, then he wanted to be apart of it as well. 

That’s why he decided that today he would greet you the exact same way you did to him. This way, if it was something offensive, he would be able to tell immediately by your body language. 

Souichi listened carefully as a pair familiar sounding footsteps approached his room. As soon as the door slide open, you put your hand high up in the air and exclaimed “Hola, mi bebé lindo~!”

That was his cue.

“Ola, me bebe rindo!”

A quizzical expression formed on your face as Souichi responded back in a language other than English.

Finally piecing the puzzle together, you laughed through your nose.  

“What’s so funny?” Souichi asked, now feeling even more confused as to what that phrase might actually mean.

“You got masculine and feminine mixed up. I’m a girl, so you would need to call me ‘Linda’ not ‘Lindo’.”

“Oh, I see. So, I’m ‘me bebe rindo’ and you’re ‘me bebe rinda’”?

“Yes.” Your cheeks suddenly turned rosy-pink as you realized what he had just called you.

“I mean no! Hehe... D-Don’t call me that.” You put your arms in an X-formation, trying to express how much you didn’t want Souichi to use that phrase. 

“So, it does mean something nasty!” Souichi said with confidence. 

“No, no. It doesn’t mean anything nasty. It actually means... ‘cute’...‘baby’.” You put your face in your hands, trying to hide how embarrassed you were feeling right now. “It’s a phrase commonly used by people who are dating...”

Souichi brought his hand up to his chin. It all made sense now. If this were any other case, he wouldn’t appreciate being called something as defenseless and pathetic as a baby, but at least it was better than the other bad words he had previously predicted it might mean.

“Well, now I see why you only say in Spanish. If I were to call you ‘my cute baby’ in English, I’m pretty sure my grandpa would come back from the grave just to cringe. Haha.” A evil grin spread across Souchi’s face as he looked upon your still extremely-flushed demeanor.

“But since I do wanna try using Spanish more, from now on, I think I’ll call you ‘me bebe rinda’~.”

“Ahh!! No no no!! No nicknames!! No more Spanish!!”

Souichi laughed as covered your ears, trying your hardest to block out his half-joking utterances. Even though you were used to speaking in an affectionate way, you were still super shy when it came to receiving it back.

It seemed like this little language problem you 2 had would now become a new weapon Souichi could torture you with.  

[daydreamerdrew]

Do you have any thoughts specifically on Captain Marvel Junior’s origin story (Whiz Comics #25)?

Hey! Sorry I didn’t get to this sooner, but I’m revisiting Freddy’s origin issue now that I’m planning on properly reading some of his Golden Age comics in preparation for watching the Elvis movie! So here are some various musings:

I read Captain Marvel Jr. be referred to as the first important spin-off character in comics, which would make Whiz Comics #25, published in 1941, the first comic book to introduce such a character.

I haven’t really read any other comparable spin-off character introduction issues from this era, but unlike Mary Marvel, whose origin was told in Captain Marvel Adventures #18 and then who also appeared in Captain Marvel Adventures #19 to promote her cover feature at Wow Comics, Freddy just appeared in that one issue of Whiz Comics with Billy before his tenure at Master Comics. However, this appearance did come at the end of a crossover event between Whiz Comics and Master Comics, the storyline that culminated in his origin having issues in both. Also, Mary appears on the cover of her origin issue, while Freddy does not. And Mary’s issue does more to establish her backstory than Freddy’s does, it seems that by the end of 1942 they had refined the process a bit.

I think if this kind of issue were published today, the story would show a brief look at Freddy and his grandfather before they are attacked by Captain Nazi. His origin had this in The Power of Shazam! (1995). Instead, Whiz Comics #25 begins like any other Captain Marvel story and we are dropped into Freddy’s life as it is being changed forever.

This issue was impactful on the Marvel Family’s mythos in many ways, including bringing the Wizard Shazam back into having an active role, when he originally wasn’t intended to appear after he first gave Billy powers. I’m a fan of the Wizard Shazam and his dynamic with the kids, so that’s real special to me <3

I like how, when Billy is telling the Wizard Shazam about what’s happened and that he has to help Freddy somehow, the panel’s narration reads “Billy, himself, was only a poor starving newsboy before Shazam gave him the power to become Captain Marvel.” I like this connection between how Billy and Freddy weren’t in good circumstances before receiving the power of Shazam, something that isn’t the case for Mary. For her it’s more of an opportunity for adventure and to do more good, whereas it’s a bit more serious for Billy and Freddy, which isn’t traditionally how Billy is framed in what discussions I’ve seen.

I also really like Captain Marvel telling Junior, “[...] whenever you need me, speak my name and as Captain Marvel Jr. you will be able to do the things I do.” Later on the Marvel Family develops so that there is a Marvel Family group and they regularly team-up in The Marvel Family, but I don’t believe that that was originally foreseen. When there is a team, they’re all capable enough to, and do, hold their own, but they also spend time together for fun and work together to defeat bigger threats. For now though, I think the sentiment of ‘if you need me, call on my name and receive my powers to handle yourself’ is sweet.

I don’t feel that we get a real in-depth look at Freddy’s personality in this issue. We see how he carries himself in the boat with his grandpa and then how he reacts when his grandfather is killed, and then he’s unconscious until the very last page when he becomes Captain Marvel Jr. Though, Freddy Freeman is already being drawn more realistic than Billy Batson in this issue, so that, and the intense events, give an indication of tone.

A random note, I like how when Captain Nazi kills Freddy’s grandpa, Freddy immediately picks up an oar to attack Captain Nazi with, a detail that was maintained when the story was revisited in the early 80s in the E. Nelson Bridwell and Don Newton run.

[shuahoonie]

out of love [tom holland]

PAIRING: tom holland x female!reader 

SUMMARY: being close friends with your ex is fine, right? even if your love for them was unparalleled among others. even if you were still in the process of moving on from them. even if you know they’re happy with someone else. even if you have no clue whether they loved you like you loved them. 

WARNINGS: foul language, so much angst, it starts ok at first then goes downhill from there. i literally write things on the go so i don’t know if this will have fluff at some point 

(if it does and i didn’t state it here, send me a cute photo of tom and a message of: ok wow she pulled thru 🤪; and if it doesn’t have fluff, send me a meme and a message of: miss girl i simply cannot today ✋😃)  

WORD COUNT: 5.6k 

A/N: hello! tonight, we are going to be sad!!! i know i usually like to write about all things fluff, but this?? this is just for me because i am having one of those episodes. i just need to feel something again aside from the stress of writing 3 academic papers per week lmao. i’m def not expecting people to like this type of vibe but yannoe. i apologize in advance. 

this is inspired by that one episode from new girl (season 6 x ep 16)

gif credits: @thollandgifs​ 

vanessa’s masterlist | taglist form | part two - pandemonium ​​

“You know, you can still live with us right?” Your friend Maia commented as she placed the box, labelled “fine china that mom gave me but will i ever use them?”, on the kitchen island. 

“I know,” You murmured dropping the heavy case of pots and pans on the floor. “But maybe living alone will be good for me.” You replied, forcing a smile. “Besides, I don’t want to int—“

“Hey, Y/N, where do you want this?” Harrison asked as he held out a box that’s labelled with “books that my grandpa passed on. HANDLE WITH CARE!” 

“Oh, just set it down on the living room—“ before you could even finish, Harrison dropped the box on the floor as if it was nothing. “Harrison!” You hissed, as you quickly rushed to check on the box. 

“Y/N, babe, they’re just books. Surely they can withstand any amount of pressure, yeah?” Haz tried to reassure you. 

“Haz, those books are from my grandpa—which I’m sure he got from his grandpa.” You sighed. “They’re really old and fragile, so I just want them to be in a well enough condition to stand in my bookcase.” 

“‘m sorry,” He murmured, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s just, why do you have to move out?” Harrison asked, frustrated at the whole thing. 

“Like I told Maia, maybe having my own place will be good for me.” You replied calmly, as you neatly put the box filled with your grandpa’s books in the corner room—the initial place where you want to build your bookcase. “It’s been a while since I’ve lived on my own.” 

“Yeah,” Harrison acknowledged “But there’s absolutely no reason for you to move out. You can’t possibly leave me with her!” He pointed at Maia who let out an audible gasp. Harrison was being dramatic of course.  

“Haz—“ You were trying to fight off a laugh. “You two are my constants and if I became dependant on having you two at my convenience, it’s going to be a huge problem.” 

“In my opinion, I don’t see it as a problem.” Maia pointed out childishly. You shook your head in disbelief. You had to move out because you miss having a place to yourself— a place where you can be at your complete worst and you don’t have to think about your friends worrying about you. 

Besides, moving out means you don’t have to see Tom that often and that was a bonus in your book. It wasn’t a sour breakup per se, it’s just really difficult to feel happy for your ex when he practically showcases how different he is now with his girlfriend. 

You prided yourself as a mature and well-rounded person who could be complete friends with her ex as if that’s normal. You could only keep the façade for so long. 

Four months. It’s been four months since you and Tom broke up. You lived with Maia soon after the breakup and that enough was a blessing. Maia couldn’t bear to handle the fact that you would be alone at a time like this. Harrison usually crashes at Maia’s so he was bound to move in with you two. In fact, he was always there more often than you. 

That was the point where you were convinced that Harrison liked Maia and that Maia liked Harrison.

Conveniently, you and Tom never ‘officially’ moved in together so you could avoid him freely at all costs.

Of course, that was eventually going to end soon. You and Tom were in the same friend group so you were bound to see each other, much to your dismay. You couldn’t exactly make Harrison and Maia pick friends because it’s not fair for anyone. 

You were all friends before you and Tom decided to date. Maybe that’s why people say to never date a friend—especially if they’re near and dear. 

You were coming back from work when you found people in the living room, and as if the universe really wanted to test you, it was the least likely people you’d expect to see. 

“Y/N!” Maia’s voice was pure panic. “I didn’t know you’d be home this early.” 

Your eyes quickly flickered between the two people standing across you before you diverted your attention to Maia. “Uh—yeah. There wasn’t really much to do in the office so I came home early.” 

Maia turned to Harrison who was equally lost on how to handle the situation. I mean, who wouldn’t?! What were you supposed to do when your friend drops in unannounced with their new girlfriend and to makes the matters worse, your other friend—whom your friend dated before— decides to come home early? 

You didn’t know how what kind of spirit took over your body that prompted you to extend your hand to the girl sitting beside your ex and say: “Hello, I’m Y/N.” 

The girl looked surprised but shook your hand in return. “Nadine,” Nadine smiled slyly “I—um, I’m Tom’s girlfriend.” 

Tom looked mildly uncomfortable but you chose to ignore it. You were becoming good at that—ignoring Tom. 

You returned the smile at Nadine. You could feel the burning stares from your friends, mostly Maia. You cleared your throat and said, “I’ll just be in my room to finish the papers I need to send to my editor if you’ll excuse me.” 

Before you left completely, you gave Nadine another smile and said, “It’s nice to meet you again, Nadine.”

You don’t remember how you got to your room but that was the least of your concern. You were just undeniably overwhelmed with what just happened that you didn’t even notice that there was a knock on your door. 

When you opened the door, it was the last person you expected to see standing in your doorframe. 

“Can we talk?” Tom asked in almost a whisper. 

You gave him a half shrug and opened the door slightly wider for him. 

“We’re okay, right?” He asked, looking at you in the eye. 

At this point, you convinced yourself that you were numb. You never talked about the breakup. You never overtly said anything about what you felt. You felt empty. You convinced yourself that you were empty. 

You stared back at Tom and without missing a beat, you replied “Of course. Why shouldn’t we?” 

“Just admit that you two will miss me,” You teased, grabbing another box from Maia. 

“Only if you admit that you’re moving out for an entirely different reason,” Maia whispered carefully as her eyes flickered towards Tom who was also helping with your move out. 

You pressed your lips together and acted like he wasn’t even there. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You said, you know, like a liar. 

You weren’t a vocal person. The idea of talking about your feelings was really difficult for you so you try your best to avoid it. Actually, it’s worse than that. You’d go to extreme lengths to avoid confrontation.

Obviously, it wasn’t healthy. You would always distance yourself whenever you feel emotionally exhausted, and you really meant that distance. It wasn’t bad at first—maybe a day or two was all you needed before you felt comfortable enough to be around people again. 

Then it became worse when you were in university. You were beyond unreachable. Aside from being emotionally exhausted, you were mentally drained too. You were always buried with papers and readings which was unavoidable but it took a huge toll on you. So whenever you get a chance to get a break, you completely shut off from people. 

Your friends definitely noticed it and they tried their best to help. 

Tom was among the people who definitely went out of their way to help you. He would always drop by at your dorm with food or coffee—he would literally just drop them off, most of the time. He would leave small notes that up to this day, you still kept and tucked away in a box. 

Both Maia and Harrison followed Tom’s approach. They would all alternate on who’s dropping what and when. Some days, Maia would drop off a new skincare product she’s been using or a lovely box of macarons from your favourite patisserie. 

On other days, Harrison would drop off some of his home-cooked meals or maybe a book he saw from a local bookstore—a book that reminded him of you.

Tom was very persistent though. He would sometimes wait out on the hall, just so he could see you and reassure himself (and your friends) that you were okay. 

You found it taxing at first—you would often try your best to match the energy from your friends, which only left you exhausted at the end of the day. You wanted space and you clearly weren’t getting that from Tom. You did acknowledge that he only did it out of pure concern. 

You often wondered why he did that, staying, but you didn’t ask him. You never did.

Maybe you were afraid that you’d come off as rude or that you’d seem ungrateful for dismissing someone when they’ve clearly taken the time off their day just to check on you. 

However, every time you’d open that door, it always seemed that Tom would breathe a huge sigh of relief when you lock eyes. Even if it was just for a quick second. You wondered about that too.

Tom wasn’t really being intrusive. Most of the time, he will leave a few minutes after you’d open the door to get the things your friends would drop off. You’d always ask him if he wants to stay inside for a bit, but he’d always decline.

Except for that one time, though. That one time that you knew you were going to fall in love.

It was the week of midterms and deadlines. You were knee-deep with papers from different classes that demanded to be finished that week, one of which was a research paper that practically tied you to your laptop and made you consume an unhealthy amount of caffeine. 

It wasn’t until 2 am when you were about to go on a quick drive to a McDonald’s but saw Tom dozed off in the hallway, his back pressed against the wall.

“Tom,” You shook him gently, trying not to startle him. “Tom, wake up.”

His eyes slowly fluttered open, seemingly disoriented at first but would soon fall into the warm familiarity that your face always brings. 

“Why are you sleeping in the hall?” You asked quietly, careful not to make a fuss. The walls in your dorm were very thin and you learned that the hard way. You’d think they’d put a disclaimer about that in the lease when you’re housing a bunch of university students with raging sex drives. 

It took Tom a minute to fully comprehend the question, seeing that the bright fluorescent light was being harsh on him and that he’s generally like that when being jolted awake. 

“Oh, erm, I—” Tom was finding the right words to use. He can’t exactly exclaim ‘I’ve been worried sick about you!’ out of nowhere. Instead he said, “I was waiting for you to open the door, just to see if you’re alright.” 

“All night?”

Tom scratched the back of his neck. “It seemed that way, yeah.” He muttered sheepishly. 

You were dumbfounded. Surely this was the first time someone actually fell asleep outside your door, waiting for you to come out. It was sweet but highly unnecessary. 

“I was just about to head out and get some McDonald’s, do you wanna come with?” You asked, giving him a hand to hoist himself up. 

“I should get going—“ 

“Have you eaten yet?” You asked cutting him off, taking Tom by surprise. He shook his head no. “Then you should really come.” You said, jingling your car keys in front of him.

Tom was debating whether or not to go with you. It’s been a while since you hung out, but that was the same case for everyone. None of your friends have properly hung out with you ever since the semester started. 

Tom should say yes, right? 

“Let’s go, Tommy,” You said as you grabbed his hand and dragged him across the hall. “I’ve been staring at my laptop all day and I really need some unhealthy food to balance out the concerning amount of caffeine I’ve consumed.” 

“Is that why you’re practically bouncing off the walls?” Tom asked amused, trying to keep up with your pace with your hand holding his. 

“Totally,” You grinned at him. “I need to wear out the caffeine or else, I’d have to skip my morning class again.” 

“French?” 

You nodded. “They’re counting the amount of absences in that class and I really need to keep my shit together.” 

“‘m not exactly sure why you took that as an elective,” Tom commented, properly wrapping his hand around yours with fingers interlacing each other.  

You tried to ignore it, you really did, but the warm feeling that settled around your stomach drove you crazy. 

“Why not? I think it’s cool to learn another language.” You nudged him playfully which he gladly returned. 

“I know and trust me, I’m in awe that you’re learning another language! erm—I guess it’s just I feel like you’re overworking yourself too much.” Tom pointed out softly, hoping he didn’t come off as rude or intrusive. 

“Eh, I don’t mind.” You replied “It’s what drives me to keep going and for me that’s more than enough. Even if it leaves me little to no sleep, even if it takes too much of my time—it’s enough reason for me to do it.” 

Tom stared at you in admiration as soon as those words slipped out your mouth and you didn’t even notice it. You were walking towards the student parking lot, consumed by the twinkling lights from the neighbouring lanes near campus. 

Maybe if you weren’t busy consuming the quiet campus grounds, you’d notice the very first time Tom fell in love with you. 

“Besides, I know a phrase in french now.”

“Hm—and what’s that, then?” 

“Je ne suis pas l’escargot” 

“L’escargot? Isn’t that—“ 

“I am not a snail,” You giggled. “Well, it’s true, isn’t it?”

Tom laughed, “I supposed so.” 

Maybe if you weren’t so afraid of confrontation, you’d have an idea of when Tom knew that you were his person.

See, the thing is— you needed to face reality sooner or later and both your friends could see right through it. 

“Honestly, Y/N, how on earth can your box of art materials be this heavy—” Tom appeared in front of the door frame, heaving as he carried the box from two flights of stairs. 

You quickly averted your gaze from Maia, who was staring at you expectantly, and cleared your throat. “You can just set them by the door, Tom. I don’t know where to put them yet.” You said as you tried your best to act normal. 

“You sure? They’re a tad heavy and I don’t want you to strain yourself.” Tom asked with furrowed brows. 

All you could do was nod. The last thing you wanted was Tom’s focused attention on you.

“If you say so,” Tom sighed in defeat “I’m going to grab more boxes—Baby, you don’t have to carry that!” Tom was quick to disappear as he urgently dashed towards his girlfriend, Nadine. 

“Oh, but I want to help, Tommy.” You heard Nadine say sweetly, assuming she was also pouting. 

You could see Maia roll her eyes, urging you to give her a nudge and a taunting look. “Maia,” you called her out, silently pleading her to stop. 

Maia settled down but she wasn’t exactly calm about it either. “I’m still not sure why she’s here.” She murmured. You and Harrison were close enough that you can hear her rambles—which was expected from her anyway. 

Maia and Nadine go way back—like toddlers and playgrounds kind of way. Though that sounds figuratively adorable in a way, Maia and Nadine never got along. 

Nadine used to date Maia’s brother, which already caused Maia a great demise. As one could expect, the relationship didn’t end well. She left him out of nowhere, saying she needs to find herself—or something along those lines. 

A week after the breakup, what Nadine found was herself in the arms of another man. Of course, Maia’s brother was devastated—He truly loved Nadine. Maia had to be the pillar that her brother leaned on. It took Maia a great amount of time to help her brother pick up the pieces that Nadine left. 

So yeah—Maia wasn’t thrilled when she heard that Tom was Nadine’s new boyfriend. 

“She offered to help, Mai,” You whispered “Who am I to deny help?” 

Maia looked at you as if you managed to empty your head while you were moving in between flats. “She’s been after me ever since we were kids. She’s also the reason why it took my brother months to get out of bed,” Maia deadpanned “and She’s Tom’s new girlfriend. Remember Tom? Your ex?” She said rather loudly.

You gave her a tiny pinch on her arm, causing her to yelp. “Maia, are you nuts?!”

Harrison left the two of you so he could grab more boxes, while you and Maia bickered silently amongst each other. 

“You are thicker than I thought—Seriously, Y/N. Quit pinching me!” Maia aggressively rubbed her arm. 

“They’re going to hear you!” You hissed. “The last thing I want is for those two to get involved.” 

“Babe, they’re already involved. Tom, especially.” Maia remarked. “I see the way you look at Tom. I also see the pain you feel whenever he’s with she who must not be named.” 

“I’m not doing this Maia,” you mumbled as you walked past her. Your objective was now to help Harrison with the remaining boxes. Your objective was anything but to talk about you and Tom. 

“You have to face it sooner or later, Y/N.” Maia called out “I’m not leaving you or this apartment until you tell me what really happened.” 

“What’s going on?” Harrison asked as he entered the apartment, carrying three sets of boxes. You grabbed one from him and actively avoided his question. 

Before Maia could reply, Tom and Nadine appeared on the doorframe, with Nadine practically glued to Tom. 

“Harrison got the last remaining boxes so we’re heading off now,” Tom announced as Nadine’s face painted with clear desperation to get out of your place. “Are we still going bowling tonight?” Tom asked before Nadine whispered something in Tom’s ear and left.

“I’m actually exhausted so I’ll pass,” You answered, obviously avoiding spending time with your ex and his current girlfriend. You’re not that pathetic. 

“Same might actually have to just drink the night away,” Maia responded with a grin.

“Well, there’s no way I’m third-wheeling so I’m good,” Harrison said as he threw himself towards the plush teal couch that you snagged from a flea market. 

For the tiniest second, Tom seemed disappointed but gave a tight-lipped smile. “Oh, maybe we can reschedule our bowling night, then?” He asked. “It’s not as fun to go bowling with just the two people.” 

You, Harrison, and Maia all shared a look. You weren’t on board with bowling-night, to begin with, but you didn’t want Tom to feel as if you were avoiding him—which you were but no one needs to know that. 

Maia looked at you, waiting for an answer because god knows she will solely depend on her decision based on yours. You don’t even have an answer, to begin with. 

“What are you two supposed to do then?” Harrison asked Tom. Thank god for Harrison.

“I might take Nadine to this poetry jam event that she’s been dying to go to” Tom replied with a soft voice. 

“A poetry night?” Maia almost wanted to laugh “You don’t even have the slightest interest in literature, Tom.” Maia didn’t mean to offend him or maybe she did? She wasn’t completely fond of Tom ever since you and Tom broke up—well, she wasn’t fond of the idea that Tom was dating her ‘arch nemesis’, but Tom was her friend and so were you. 

“I know that, Mai.” Tom rolled his eyes “but Nadine likes it and I’ll do everything to make her happy.” That left a bitter taste in your mouth. 

“If you say so,” Maia murmured before she took a quick look at you. She looked like she wants to give you the biggest hug. But you held a stoic look on your face—something that you picked up because you were afraid of confrontation. 

“I’m serious,” Tom defended, lost in his feelings, which only irked Maia even more. 

“I know, I heard you— we heard you,” Maia replied, her face showing only one emotion: annoyed. “God, read the room,” Maia grumbled to herself. Harrison had to reach for her hand, urging her to calm down. 

“I really love her,” Tom whispered. That left a slap in the face. 

It was a cold Saturday afternoon and it has been raining almost all day. It was one of the rare weekends that you weren’t really occupied to do anything other than to lay on your couch and consume a copious amount of entertainment.

Despite the spitting rain, you actually want to head out this time. Being confined to your desk and the university was torture especially since you couldn’t do anything about it—the four of you were graduating this year, no one could afford to slack off. 

You and Tom were cuddled against the sofa— Tom was busy watching something on TV while you were busy scrolling on your phone. 

“Hey, Tom?” 

“Yes, my sweet girl?” 

“Do you want to go downtown?” You asked, looking at your phone as you read the details of an event happening this weekend.

“Right now?”

“Mhm,” you hummed. “There’s a book fair being held at the local theatre.” You rested your chin on top of his chest and gave him a pout. You were getting sick of being cooped up between your study table and the library. This book fair was a change of scenery and it’s definitely right up your alley.

“But it’s raining, darling” Tom tried to say in the softest way possible. It’s not exactly up in Tom’s interests though.

“I know,” You sighed “I guess I’m just getting sick of this place.”

“You’re getting sick of me?” Tom asked with a huge pout. He was kidding of course. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of you, Tom.” You chuckled softly. 

“Okay,” He hummed, pulling you closer to him—if that was even possible. “Then can we stay like this for a while?” 

“Anything for you, angel.” You whispered as you closed the details about the local book fair. Maybe next time. 

Soon after Tom left, Maia pulled you to her side and asked, “You okay, babe?” 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You feigned innocence. It was clear as day that you weren’t okay, your friends knew that. 

Knowing that you weren’t going to budge, Maia walked towards the kitchen and brought out a bottle of wine from the fridge. 

Harrison raised an eyebrow at her and asked, “When did you manage to put that in the fridge?” All of you had been occupied with grabbing boxes that there was no way that Maia had the time to put wine in the fridge, let alone obtain them from somewhere.

“It was supposed to be a celebratory drink for Y/N’s new place,” Maia replied as she set the wine and three various mugs on the coffee table. “Obviously, that’s not happening now.” Drinking wine using the oddly designed mugs you collected over the years was a cry for help. 

“It’s 4 pm, Mai.” You pointed out as you stared at the white LED clock that you bought off Amazon—another impulse purchase enabled from scrolling on Pinterest for way too long. “We haven’t even had lunch yet.” 

“Oh please,” Maia snorted “If there’s one thing that I’ve picked up from university, it’s drinking with little to no food consumption.” 

“And if there’s one thing that I’ve picked up from university, it’s cancelling all of my plans for the entire day because I have to tend your hungover-self, Mai,” Harrison remarked as he grabbed the bottle and placed it back on the fridge. “I’m ordering food and no one’s drinking until everyone has finished a meal.” 

You heard Maia mutter a string of curses but most especially the part that she said, “This is not the version of daddy that I envisioned Harrison to be.” 

All of a sudden Maia’s idea of binge drinking doesn’t seem like a bad idea, you thought. 

Turns out Harrison had no intention of letting any of you drink. He was pretty adamant about not having to babysit two drunk messes in one night. 

“As if babysitting one isn’t enough,” You recalled Harrison say. He was obviously pertaining to Maia, in which she just huffed the entire time. You often wondered if Maia and Harrison noticed the obvious tension between them, because personally you found it endearing. It was no question that they were meant for each other. 

“Y/N, you still haven’t told us whatever happened between you and Tom.” Maia suddenly pointed out. You, Maia, and Harrison were still in the living room, silently watching TV. 

You were actively avoiding this conversation for the longest time as you haven’t told anyone about it, and based by the curious faces of your friends, you figured that Tom didn’t tell anyone about it either. You’re still not sure whether that’s a relief or not.  

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You mumbled. It’s not like you were lying, there really was barely anything to talk about. Heck—You and Tom never got to talk about it properly either. 

“We see the way you look at him, Y/N.” Harrison replied softly. “I think there is something.” 

“Look—” Maia sat up properly “I know you’re not really vocal about your feelings, but the fact that you’ve never talked nor showed any emotion about your breakup terrifies me, babe.” Maia’s tone was laced with concern. 

“I remember the day you told us about it too,” Harrison couldn’t hide his concern too “We were having brunch together at our usual diner and half-way through our meal, you promptly said “We broke up” when Maia asked where Tom was,” Harrison recalled it like it was a fever dream. He and Maia had already expected that you weren’t going to tell them about the breakup when it just happened. However, it baffles them that it’s been over a year since you and Tom broke up, and not one word has been said about it. 

It was silent for a while, except for Criminal Minds that was playing on the TV. You blankly stared at the screen, hoping that you’d catch whatever the agents were saying. It was impossible, especially when all your mind could focus on was the recollection of the day Tom knocked on your door at 1 am to breakup.  

You were relatively busy that day from volunteer work, so you haven’t seen any of your friends the entire day—or Tom for that matter. Actually, you haven’t seen Tom in a few days. He would send texts periodically throughout the day but they were always short and most of the time, you always forget to reply. 

You figured Tom was busy with his own thing and both of you established early on in your relationship that texting—or lack thereof— shouldn’t account to your relationship, especially since both of you are equally bad at it. 

You didn’t think any of it since you were bound to see your boyfriend and your friends tomorrow for brunch anyway. He will have your undivided attention by then. 

So imagine your surprise when you heard a soft knock from your door at 1 am, only to find Tom in disarray. His eyes were bloodshot red, tears falling down his face. His messy curls were masked under the hood from his jumper. 

At first you were in panic, you thought that something terrible had happened to any of your friends—his family even. 

But as soon as Tom dropped to his knees and whispered, “I’m sorry,” you had a clear idea what was bound to happen next. 

It’s been silent for a while. The door was still open and Tom sat out in the hall with his back leaning against your wall. You did the same thing except you were on the other side of the wall that Tom was leaning on. 

You two were close enough to the door frame that you could hear each other, actually facing each other was a whole other thing. Tears kept streaming down your face as you kept your eyes closed and rested your head against the wall. 

At some point in your relationship, you prepared yourself in case this happened— that you would accept whatever happens between you and Tom. You didn’t exactly anticipate that it would happen so soon. 

“Was there someone else?” You asked quietly. It was the first time you spoke after Tom dropped to his knees. You hoped there wasn’t. In fact, you silently begged to yourself that there wasn’t someone else, because you knew that you couldn’t handle that. 

“No, no—of course not.” Tom immediately answers.”I could never do that to you.” 

It was silent again. You were starting to feel numb—you tried your best to gather your thoughts and forced words out of your mouth, but you couldn’t. 

“Are we not worth fighting anymore?” You practically whispered. It was a gamble— you weren’t exactly sure if Tom had heard it and you don’t have enough strength to ask it again. 

“Y/N,” Tom sniffled. “You can’t say that.” He placed his hand on top of yours. You had your hand resting on the floor and you didn’t exactly notice that it served as an invitation for Tom hold it again. 

You love Tom with all your heart. He kept dismissing it but Tom made you a better person. He made you feel like love can be expressed through different forms of things—not just words.

You loved him by exclusively making time for him. You went on museum dates where he would make cheesy remarks, saying that you’re the most remarkable piece of art in the entire place. You went on dates to watch football games—you never understood it but Tom was happy, so you were happy.

You loved him through your touch. You would often massage his back because he had been tirelessly working himself to the core. He didn’t ask for it but you knew it would make him feel better. Your touch didn’t have to be intimate—though you expressed it through that way too

You loved him through mindless actions. Almost every time you would stop by at the local cafe to grab yourself some coffee, you would always recite Tom’s favourite order on autopilot. 

You loved him through silence. Study dates were gems for you. Even if you didn’t talk for the entirety of it and even if you were the only one who studied for the most part and Tom was just playing on his phone, having Tom beside you was enough.

You loved him so much that it pains you to think that maybe you weren’t enough for him. 

“I don’t think I can fight for someone who doesn’t even want to,” You muttered bitterly. “Just answer the question, Tom.” 

He didn’t answer. All you could hear were the silent sobs that you two were trying to hold back. At this point, you knew you wouldn’t look at Tom. Your heart wouldn’t take it—it will crush you. 

“Are you not happy anymore?” Your voice cracked as you broke into a sob.

“Y/N—“ Tom squeezed your hand even more. You’re going to miss it, but you had to let go. 

“Tom, if I’m standing in the way of your happiness then we should end this.” You cleared your throat and pulled your hand away. There’s a ghostly feeling that still lingered from Tom’s touch. 

“Please, Y/N, let me explain—“ 

“It’s okay, Tom.” You whispered. “I understand.” 

“You know I love you, Y/N.” 

“I love you too, Tom.” 

“But—“ 

“But maybe it’s best if we end it, I know. I got it.” You let out a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down from crying. “Maybe it’s better if we stayed as friends.” Maybe it’s better to realize that whatever you and Tom had were too good to be true—that your love will never compare to the love he deserves. 

“Do you want the truth?” You asked your friends, with tears forming in your eyes. You can’t even decipher how they looked at you because of the tears clouding your vision. 

Were they looking at you in pity? Empathy? Sadness? 

“The truth is—I’m mad.” You gritted the words through your teeth. This was the first time your friends had seen you like this. All of the pent-up sadness, aggression, and hurt you felt was starting to get the best of you. 

“I’m angry. I’m hurt.” You snarled, furiously wiping the tears from your face. “I’m angry at the fact that I can’t seem to be genuinely happy for Tom. I’m hurt at the idea he seems to be a better boyfriend for Nadine, that he constantly makes an effort for her.”

“I don’t even know if he even loved me the way that I loved him,” Your voice became quiet “and it’s selfish for me to think that way because I never fought for it—for us. That’s enough reason to keep me up at night.” 

That’s enough reason for you to wonder if you’ll be capable of loving someone so deeply again. 

PERMANENT TAGLIST: 

@quaksonhehe @dark-infernal-instruments @trustfundparker @emsma11 @tomshufflepuff @spider-babe @goodgirlgonetom @tabi-toast​ 

[earliebirb]

nosedive

steve/tony, fluff, (newly) established relationship, 3250 words

Tony stares absentmindedly out the airplane window as he puts his phone up to his ear, watching people run back and forth, performing last-minute engine checks. Some of the guys look sweaty and out of breath.

From the comfort of the air-conditioned Stark Industries private jet, he feels a slight twinge of sympathy for the people having to suffer in the humid summer heat.

He loosens his tie and sinks deeply into his seat, closing his eyes with a massive yawn as he listens to the ringing tone. He hadn’t been able to sleep very well throughout his five-day stay in Tokyo, too anxious about the contract to rest properly. 

The ringing tone goes on for a few more seconds before ending with a click, replaced by an achingly familiar voice greeting him in his ear. 

“Hello?” 

Tony’s eyes spring open. Outside, an aircraft marshaller walks by, speaking rapidly into his walkie-talkie.

“I had a blueberry muffin for lunch today. One single blueberry muffin.”

“...What?”

“It didn’t even taste that good. I couldn’t finish it. Too dry.”

“Tony, that’s not good. Is that all you had for lunch? You should really eat—”

“The meeting went well, by the way. Mr. Watanabe finally signed the contract, everything went as planned. My ride to the airport, however…”

“I told you things would go smoothly, you had nothing to worry about. You’re a brilliant negotiator—”

“The traffic? Fuck. I had to keep shifting in my seat to avoid pins and needles.”

“That sounds awful, are your legs okay—”

“Did you know that Tokyo is number nineteen on the list of cities with the worst traffic congestion in the world? I know that, because I looked it up on the way to the airport. But boy, did it feel like it deserved the number one spot. I think I lost feeling in my ass.”

“I did not know that. And, uh, is your ass okay—”

“Thank God for my private jet. These plush seats are the best things I’ve ever spent my money on.”

“That’s objectively not true, and you know it—”

“Then again, I think these seats in particular were Pepper’s choice? We remodeled the airplane’s interior like… two years ago. I couldn’t be bothered to meet with the airplane seat people and I just told her to pick whichever looked best. I had much more important things to tend to, like sewing up the holes in JARVIS’s Christmas stocking.”

“I am concerned about how you sort your list of priorities—”

“Hm, that’s right. I think it was around two, three weeks before Christmas and I didn’t want JARVIS to be upset about the whole stocking thing, you know?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t have—”

“Also, you’re right, the single blueberry muffin was a bad idea because now my stomach won’t shut up. So I’ve ordered some pasta for my in-flight meal. Robbie’s making it, you’ve met Robbie—”

“I’ve met Robbie, yes, he’s—”

“Larry’s replacement after he resigned. Gotta say, I was sad to see Larry go. Guy worked for me for seven years. But then there was that thing with his grandma, and he had to leave, so… But! Robbie makes a mean carbonara, maybe even better than Larry, don’t tell Larry I said that—”

“I don’t even know Larry like that, how would I—”

“Mr. Stark, we’re ready to go.” The pilot—Paul—emerges from the cockpit, staring at him in anticipation.

Tony nods and makes a few rapid gestures with his free hand that he supposes Paul is only able to interpret perfectly after years and years of working for Tony. The gestures roughly translate to something like “Copy, I hear you, just let me wrap this up and then I’ll let you know when I’m done. Capiche?”

Paul—bless him—just gives him a curt nod and retreats back into the cockpit. 

“Anyway,” Tony takes a deep breath and puffs his cheeks out with the exertion of his exhale, “I called because… I got a feeling, Steve.”

“A… feeling?”

“Just— A gut feeling. A feeling in your gut. Inside of me. Like a hunch?”

“Okay,” Steve says patiently, his voice low and warm, “what are you feeling?”

“I… got a bad feeling. Today. A few hours ago. The feeling came to me when I was sitting in traffic, and I just— I feel like something bad’s gonna happen today, Steve. I can feel it in the air. In my heart. In my gut. In my joints.”

“Your joints? Like… the feeling old people get when it’s about to rain?”

“Okay, maybe not in my joints. Also, are you calling me old, grandpa?”

“I did not, you told me you felt something in your—”

“Anyway, so yeah. Where was I? Oh, right. Feeling. Bad feeling. Like, like, I don’t know, something bad’s gonna happen. Like an accident. Like a plane crash.”

“God, please don’t say that. You’re scaring me, Tony.”

“And I guess, I just called because I… I feel like I need to do this before the plane crashes and I die a violent and fiery death.”

“Nothing bad’s going to happen, Tony—”

“Like, if I didn’t do this today, maybe I’d never get to do it, you know? And, uh, okay, I’ve honestly been ranting to stall for time, but the longer I keep it in the more nauseous I feel, so maybe I’m just gonna do it now so I can die in peace—”

“Do what? And stop saying that—”

“Look, I’m trying to be brave and honest here and— Wait, actually? Maybe I’m being a coward because if the plane actually does go down, I won’t have to face the consequences of my actions, so I guess I’m just going to say fuck it, and say that I love you.”

“The plane is not going to— Wait, what?”

“I, uh. Love you. I’ve known it for a while now. And, uh, I know we’ve only been dating for like, a week, but—” Tony blinks. They’ve only been dating for a week. 

“...Fuck.” Tony can feel his own pulse starting to race. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Tony?”

They’ve only been dating for a week. What is he doing? What the hell is wrong with him? Normal people don’t do this. 

“Fuck. Shit, I mean— Uh, I’m sorry. That was super weird, huh?” Tony laughs nervously. He closes his eyes, gritting his teeth and cursing his stupid brain. Of course it’s weird. He always gets too attached to people way too quickly. No wonder Pepper was his only long term relationship. She was the only person who could put up with him—everyone else just got weirded out. “Uh, see you tomorrow? Or not. Fuck, sorry, I’m just gonna hang up before this gets—”

“Tony, wait.”

“...Yeah?” Tony says, hyper-aware of how breathless he sounds. His heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Everything is going to be fine. Right? Right. The worst thing Steve could do is… break up with him.

Oh, God, that is the worst case scenario. He really should’ve just kept his stupid mouth shut. 

“Tony, are you freaking out? I feel like I can hear you freaking out from all the way over here.”

“No, I’m not, of course I’m not. Who says I’m freaking out? You have no proof. I am calm, I’m calm as a clam, is that the saying? Did I get it right? Or was it happy— Anyway, I am absolutely calm, I’m the calmest I could possibly be. Any calmer and I’d be asleep. I’m—”

“Tony. Breathe.”

Tony forces himself to drag in a slow breath as he grips the arm of his seat with his free hand, focusing on the soothing hum of the airplane’s engine.

“Look, Tony, I—”

“No, listen. I’m sorry I jumped the gun, I hope I haven’t weirded you out or anything. You really, really don’t have to say it back to me. I mean it.”

“Tony—”

“No, in fact— Please don’t say anything. It’s fine. Let’s just pretend this never happened, okay?”

“But—”

“Drop it, Steve. Please?” Tony pleads. Clearly, his brain hadn’t been firing on all cylinders. That is the only reason that could explain his temporary lapse of judgment. “Look, I feel like talking about it more right now is going to send me spiraling into a panic attack.”

“...Okay. Fine.”

“Thank you. Uh, I’ll see you when I get home. If I get home. If the plane doesn’t crash. Haha.”

“Would you please stop saying that? It’s not funny.”

Tony latches onto the change in topic like a lifeline. “It is objectively true, you know. In order for me to be able to see you tomorrow, the plane has to land safely, and unfortunately, some things are just beyond my control. Like, who’s to say the plane won’t explode mid-air and—”

“The plane is going to land safely and you’re going to come back home to me in one piece. This is non-negotiable, Tony. You hear me?” Steve demands, his voice all hard authority and no-nonsense, like there will be Consequences should Tony fail to comply. 

As if he could ensure Tony’s safety with the force of his willpower alone. 

Come back home to me. 

That sounds good. Really good. Tony closes his eyes and pictures Steve’s baby blues in his mind’s eye. Warmth flowers in his chest.

“I hear you.”

“Great.”

“Awesome. I, uh, I gotta go now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you.”

Tony hangs up and lets Paul know that he is done with his phone call. The jittery feeling left over from his call with Steve refuses to leave him, however, so he pulls up the drawing application on his phone and begins sketching something just to give his brain something else to fixate on.

He tends to lose track of time when he is hyperfocused on a project, so he isn’t exactly surprised that the next time he becomes aware of his surroundings, the plane is already well up in the air, his sketch of what looks like a flying coffee pot is almost finished, and Robbie is placing a plate of spaghetti carbonara on the table in front of him. 

“Spaghetti carbonara. With extra cheese.”

Tony’s mouth waters as he eyes the mountain of grated Pecorino Romano sitting atop the pasta. He sighs dreamily and smiles up at Robbie.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

“Enjoy, Boss.” Robbie grins and slips back into the kitchen.

He only realizes just how truly famished he is after taking his first bite, and proceeds to finish the rest of his meal with gusto. Afterward, he spends the majority of the remaining flight time sleeping, the result of post-carbonara food coma and his sleep-deprivation finally catching up to him. 

It’s well past two in the morning when Tony finally makes it to his floor in the Tower, which is why he is surprised to see Steve sitting on his couch, one of Tony’s fantasy novels open in hand. 

“Steve, what are you doing here?”

Steve’s head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Tony frowns. “Actually, why are you awake at all?” He is usually an early sleeper, unless—

“Nightmare?” Tony gives him a sympathetic smile. It wouldn’t be the first time. In the early days of their friendship, Tony and Steve would sit together in the living room whenever they had trouble sleeping, talking to each other until the sun came up.

Steve shakes his head, closing the book with his eyes still trained on Tony. “No, I was just… waiting for you.” Tony blinks. 

“It’s…” Tony glances at his watch. “Half past two. In the morning.”

“I know, I just…” Steve stands up, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. He ambles over before coming to a stop right in front of Tony. “I wanted to see you.”

Tony stares at him uncomprehendingly. “You’ll see me later anyway.”

“I couldn’t wait any longer. I didn’t want to go to sleep without seeing you first,” Steve says, low and earnest. His gaze wanders around Tony’s face, as if he were cataloguing each and every facial feature and trying to locate any changes he might’ve missed during his absence.

“Oh.”

Steve steps closer, arms snaking around Tony’s waist and pulling him close. His next words are whispered against Tony’s shoulder.

“I knew you’d make it home safely.”

“Uh, yeah.”

“You were wrong.”

“I was… wrong.” Tony swallows. “Uh, turns out the bad feeling completely disappeared after I woke up from my nap on the plane, so I suspect that perhaps the bad feeling I got was due to my severe hunger and sleep deprivation. I mean, I’ve heard about hallucinations caused by hunger or exhaustion, but this was—” 

Steve presses a soft kiss to the column of Tony’s neck, effectively cutting off Tony’s ramblings.

“Tony,” Steve whispers against his skin.

“Yeah?” Tony squeaks.

“Please don’t call me before a flight and say that you think the plane is going to crash, ever again.”

“Right. Noted. I’m sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Steve says, pulling away slightly and loosening his hold around Tony.

Tony allows himself to relax, letting out a quiet sigh. This thing with Steve is so new and delicate that every single physical contact still sends his heart fluttering, butterflies going crazy in his stomach.

Which makes, in retrospect, his abrupt love confession—as truthful as it was—that much more insane. God, Stark. Never do that again.

Except, it turns out that Steve only pulled away to slide his hands down the back of Tony’s thighs, wrapping his hands around them, and then lifting him up without warning.

Tony yelps, and in his alarm, promptly locks his ankles around Steve’s waist. When Steve begins moving, Tony quickly wraps his arms around Steve, resting his chin on Steve’s shoulder.

“Uh, Steve?”

“Hm?” Steve says, calm and nonchalant, as he begins walking away from the elevator. 

“Um— Wait— My suitcase—”

“Leave it. It’ll still be there in the morning.”

Tony blinks, staring dumbfoundedly at his lonely suitcase, abandoned by the elevator. It becomes smaller and smaller with every step Steve takes. 

“Where are we going?”

“Your bedroom.”

“Why are you carrying me there?”

“Because I want to.”

“You know it’ll be faster if you just let me walk, right?”

“Maybe. But you won’t be in my arms.”

“Um.”

“Bear with me, will you? I missed you.”

“I, uh, missed you too.”

Steve hums, satisfied. Tony lets himself settle more comfortably in Steve’s arms.

When Steve has successfully carried him to his bedroom, Tony fully expects Steve to deposit him on the bed. 

That is not, in fact, what happens. 

Instead, Steve turns around and begins walking backwards towards the bed before sitting down on it. Tony, still seated on his lap, swallows and pulls back slightly to look at Steve. 

“Look, Steve, as much as I’ve missed you, I’m kind of tired right now. I mean, don’t get me wrong. This whole carrying thing? Great. Very romantic. Ten out of ten. But I’m just not in the mood for sex, you know? Like, I’m not even sure I would be able to get it up if—”

“We’re not going to have sex.”

Tony blinks.

“We’re not?”

“We’re not. I’m just here to tuck you in.”

“Oh.”

Steve reaches up and begins undoing his tie. After setting it aside on the bed, he begins to unbutton Tony’s shirt. He takes his time, one button at a time.

“So…” Steve begins with a deep breath as he unbuttons the final button. “Did you mean, uh, what you said to me? On the phone?”

Tony closes his eyes, feels his own cheeks heating up. “Steve—”

“I’m sorry, Tony, I know you told me to drop it. But— I feel like if you did mean what you said, I owe it to you to… set the records straight.” When Tony opens his eyes again, Steve is looking up at him, blue eyes solemn.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean… We have only been together for a week. Well, eight days. In fact, we’ve only been on one date. And it was interrupted. By giant lizards.” Steve chuckles incredulously. 

Tony remembers that day very well. They were in the middle of dessert at Tony’s favorite Italian place when they received the call to assemble—something about giant lizards wreaking havoc in Central Park.

The lizards had green, gunky blood that got into the nooks and crannies of the suit. It had taken forever to clean.

“But Tony…” Steve gathers the material of Tony’s unbuttoned shirt in both of his fists, pulling him closer until their noses are only inches apart.

The second their eyes meet, Steve smiles the sweet, lopsided smile that never fails to make Tony’s stomach flip.

“I need you to know that… I didn’t have to date you to know that I loved you. I figured that a long time ago.”

Tony stills, breath frozen in his lungs.

“I guess, what I’m saying is… I love you too. I’ve loved you for a very long time, Tony. Even way before—” Steve breaks eye contact, looks down as he clears his throat. When he speaks again, his voice is tight. “Way before we got together. I’m talking… years before.”

Tony still finds it hard to breathe. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” Steve says, the word more breath than sound. He meets Tony’s dazed gaze. “So you don’t have to worry about… jumping the gun. Not with me. I’m in it for the long haul.”

“...Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels a lightness growing inside of him, spreading outwards to his extremities.

“Good.” Steve smiles, warm and impossibly fond.

“...Glad we’re on the same page.” Tony’s gaze drops down to Steve’s lips.

“We are.” Steve inches closer, nose brushing Tony’s. He then tilts his head ever so slightly and takes Tony’s lower lip between his, kissing him so tenderly Tony’s heart feels like it’s about to burst with it.

Steve’s warm hands slide up Tony’s naked back under his open shirt, sending goosebumps breaking across his skin. Tony buries his hands in Steve’s hair and relishes the feeling of the soft strands caught between his fingers. They stay caught up in each other for a few moments, capturing and releasing each other’s lips until the need for breath becomes too unbearable.

They break apart eventually, accompanied by soft chuckles. Steve smiles up at him, lips slick and cherry red, courtesy of Tony. He reaches up to caress Tony’s right eyebrow with the pad of his thumb, fleeting and affectionate.

“Get some rest, okay? You must be really tired. I should probably go to bed, too.”

Tony looks down at his lap, clearing his throat. “Uh, I know that we haven’t done this before, but…”

Steve waits patiently for Tony to gather his thoughts, hands stroking up and down Tony’s sides.

“Do you want to stay with me tonight?” Tony finds the courage to meet Steve’s eyes, holding his breath.

Steve’s blue eyes are gazing at him intently, looking at him like he’s the only person in the world worth his sole, undivided attention.

Tony swallows. “No sex. Just to sleep. If you—”

“Yes.”

“Yeah?”

“I would like that very much.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.”

“Good.” Tony feels his own lips slowly curve up into a smile, wide and unbridled. 

“Good.” Steve nods, lips twitching, his eyes never leaving Tony’s. 

Tony grins, feeling near giddy with delight. “Glad we’re on the same page.”

“We are, sweetheart.” Steve looks up at him, blue eyes fond and smile radiant. “We definitely are.”

[jimlingss]

Kale’in Me Softly

➜ Words: 17.1k

➜ Genres: 90% Fluff, 9.5% Angst, 0.5% Smut, Farm!AU

➜ Summary: After your grandfather's passing, you decide to take over his farm and plant the trendiest vegetable: kale. It's a struggle to be in the countryside when you've always been a city girl. But there's someone less than sympathetic — a grumpy farmer across the acres who's constantly trying to pick a fight with you.

➜ Warning: Strongly implied smut

cr.

Home — you left it all behind for this.    The tractor chugs and wheezes. Its wheels roll over the craggy and unpaved road, making you feel every bump and pebble through constant jolts and bounces. The sweltering heat of the scorching sun was already making you break into a sweat and you sigh, listening to the buzzing of cicadas and the sputtering engine.   But otherwise, it was quiet. More than what you were used to. There isn’t any traffic, honking, construction or the noise of motorcycle engines or sirens of ambulances. There’s just the rustle of leaves and the swaying of grass strands.   “I can’t believe Old Man Seok had such a pretty granddaughter.”    A laugh bubbles out of you. “It’s all in the genes. Did you know my grandfather?”   “Everyone knew Old Man Seok. Everyone knows everyone here. But it sure helps that our farms are next door to each other. Just down yonder.” The middle-aged farmer grips the steering wheel. A good-natured aura in spite of his intimidating disposition, he feels like a strict but caring father figure. “He was very kind even to the end of his life. Offered my family a lot of jam throughout the years. A good man through and through. My condolences.”   Your smile softens. “Thank you.”   “I gotta say, it’s nice to have a new face around these neck of the woods. Doesn’t happen often.” The corner of the man’s mouth pulls and the wrinkles by his eyes crease. “You should come meet my son sometime.”   “I wouldn’t mind.” The tractor pulls up to the worn house you’ve seen in your mother’s childhood pictures. “I always love making new friends.”   You hop off the tractor the moment it comes to a stop and the man wishes you luck before you thank him again and he’s on his merry way.   With only one packed suitcase in hand, you walk up to the house and push your Gucci sunglasses to the top of your head to get a better look. The fence, door and roof are made with a cherry wood that compliments the forest green walls. The patio, on the other hand, is out of oak that matches the rocking chair in the corner. There’s white trim lining the rectangular windows, giving you a peek at the purple, paisley curtains inside.   The house looks tattered through time, but cozy.   “You’re leaving?!” — “Do you really think this is a good idea, Y/N?” — “Do you even know what you’re going to do there?”   The voices of the friends you left behind echo in the recesses of your mind while you fiddle with the hem of your dress in the shade of classical blue — 2020’s pantone colour and a fantastic fashion statement. It’s not farm-appropriate, but better than most of the things in your closet.   You went shopping for the last time before you packed your one pink suitcase, but you’re starting to realize those tight, denim overalls might not work like they do in the movies.   “You think you can run a farm?!” — “I didn’t raise you so you could go back to the countryside!” — “You don’t even know what you’re doing, Y/N! Grow up already and stop being ridiculous.”   An exhale squeezes out of you as you dispel away your family’s discouragement and you grip your grandfather’s letter as you finally muster the courage to approach the house.   When your grandfather passed away, you inherited ten thousand dollars and his five acre farm. It’s small. Nothing worthy of bragging about and one of the hundred of reasons everyone thought you would sell it. They even urged you to, so they could get a split of the money. But they never thought you would refuse. That you would leave everything behind and come all the way here.   It’s a mess.   Thick layers of dust coat the antique furniture and peering out from the kitchen window, the field is littered in leaves and twigs, wooden planks and debris. A sense of guilt overwhelms you.    You can’t believe your family let it become this way.    You set down your belongings and almost immediately, you begin to look around. Pacing the backyard, the field, the barn, trying to figure out what is what. And it’s not long before a dark-haired man with doe eyes and a permanent dear-in-headlights expression finds you.   He nearly startles you to death with his timid greeting. “H-Hi...”    “Holy shit!” You press your hand to your chest, spinning around and he boyishly grins. “You scared me!”   “S-Sorry…my bad...” Boots, jeans and a white shirt, he looks like a newly graduated high school student who stumbled into the wrong place. “Are you Y/N?”   “That’s me.” You wonder if he’s here to kill you. The farm setting was the perfect location after all and serial killers these days have the potential of looking as cute as he does. “You’re...?”   “I’m Jungkook. I used to work with Old Man Seok. My mom told me you’d be comin’ today and that I should show you around, so….” He scratches the back of his neck, oddly endearing for how awkward he is.    You let him guide you despite having already gotten the chance to peek at almost everything — a detail you leave out to spare him from being disheartened. But with Jungkook here, he has the strength to widen the doors of the old shed out back and you get a better look at the storage and old equipment.   “God.” You cough and bat your hand from the dust piles arising. “It’s so dirty.”   “Yeah. The tractor needs a bit of fixin’ up which I can help you with, if you need.”   It’s clear that towards the end of your grandfather’s life, he was too weak to properly take care of his property. You can tell by the way the field is in tatters, all his crops long dead and his machinery is in desperate need of repair. But as you gander at the space, you discover that there’s everything you need right here. Shovels. Wheelbarrows. Sickles and spades.   “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”   Jungkook nods, wearing a small smile. “Your grandpa used to help me out a lot, so it’s the least I can do. If you ever need any help, I’m down a few acres West by the market. Just give a holler.”   Your cheeks warm, realizing he’s not as young as he appears to be. “I will.”   After a while longer, Jungkook leaves you to get settled down and you bid him farewell. You know it’s going to take a bit of time for you to get used to this change, but with a sigh, you try your best to familiarize yourself with the land and surrounding climate.   //   Back in LA, you were a fashion design marketer.   Originally, you set out to fulfill your childhood dream of being a top designer for a big brand like Chanel or Dior, but along the way, you ended up in the marketing sector. It wasn’t as bad as what people thought. A kind of niche you actually quite enjoyed and while you might've left it all behind for the farm life, you know the first step to starting anything is doing market research.   So at nine in the morning sharp, you enter the farmers’ market.   Open every Sunday, there’s a certain bustle and liveliness in the atmosphere. People from surrounding communities and even far away cities have come to get their fresh produce and dairy products. The market place is held in an open building with doors and massive garages wide open, practically held outdoors itself, and as you walk along the stands, you notice goat milk to beeswax lip balm being sold. There’s everything someone could ask for, bath salts and herbal soaps, baked goods and handmade aprons and quilts. You didn’t know farmers’ markets had so much to offer.   “Would you like to try some raspberry jam, darlin’?” A plump lady offers you a spatula.    “Sure. Thank you.” The sweet taste ends up bursting on your palette and you hum at the taste, considering buying a jar for breakfast. But she interrupts with a curious stare and a bigger smile.   “I haven’t seen you around before, dear. Did you come from somewhere far?”   “Oh no, I just moved in. My grandpa was Seokjin….”   “You mean Old Man Seok?” Her entire spine straightens, face lighting up. “I never knew he had a granddaughter!”   You warm, proud that your grandfather’s made such a lasting impression. “I just moved in a few acres away.”   “Taking care of your grandpa’s farm?” she asks and when you nod, the woman practically swoons. “Why, what a gracious thing you’re doin’! Old Man Seok would be proud to have a granddaughter like you! Keepin’ his legacy alive like that. Heaven knows I can’t even get my boy up to milk the cows!”   You laugh and she ends up handing you a small jar of raspberry jam for free, wishing you the best of luck.    Apparently word spreads fast in this place. After ten minutes of exploring the market, kind and overfamiliar strangers approach from behind their stands, greeting you and taking your hands. Some muse how similar you are to your grandfather while others happily send you some cheese and bread. By the time you’re at the end, it looks like you went grocery shopping.   But in the midst of it all, you get the chance to talk to some customers. Making conversation with a pregnant woman, an elderly man, and a little kid overly excited to use his allowance for some candy. People are receptive and friendly, more than what you’re used to back in the city. But you study what they purchase, their spending habits, what people seem to be interested in.   Then, your attention is caught at a cute honey stand — jars of honey sealed being sold with beeswax candles tied with pastel yellow ribbon. More importantly, you recognize the doe-eyed boy at the cash register.    “Jungkook!”   He greets you with a big smile. “Oh, hey, Y/N! I didn’t expect you’d be here.”   With your previous lifestyle, the attention of a cute boy like Jungkook isn’t enough to make you bashful — a few years too late on that — but you can still appreciate how endearing he is. “I’m just taking a look around. Thought I should get to know the place since I might be here soon.”   “How’re things going? Did you settle in yet?”   “I did actually.” It wasn’t in the realm of your expectations to make friends so quickly out here, but to have such pleasant small talk with Jungkook proves your anticipations were wrong. “It took a lot of time to clean the house, but totally worth it! I strung polaroids above the mantle and I found a vintage armchair that’s really in style, so I’d say things are going pretty well.”   The boy grins from your enthusiasm. “It sounds like you’re adapting better than I would.”   “I’m trying.” Your smile becomes sheepish. “I’m still figuring out the fields and the land. I haven’t even gotten started in clearing out the shed yet.”    He nods, lips parting to respond. But then there’s a call of his name behind him and he sighs before sending an apologetic expression. “Sorry. My ma has more honey to unload from the truck. I gotta skedaddle before she yells, but I’m glad things are working out for you!”   Jungkook’s undoubtedly cute, even when he says goodbye and promises to catch up with you soon. You don’t dwell either, continuing to parade through the market by yourself and discover all the places you missed on your first walk that was overwhelmed with others intercepting.   What piques your curiosity this time is a wooden stall with a soft green cloth draped over the flat surface and a sign that reads ‘Romaine with Me’. What’s offered in the crates are lettuce. Lots and lots of different heads of lettuce lined in rows like plush animal prizes on display at carnival games.   You don’t pay much mind to the man behind the stall that’s sleepily blinking and leaning his head in his hand, elbow propped up and figure slumped over. He looks like he’s dozed off but somehow kept his lids peeled back.   You approach and read the labels underneath. Red. Green. Romaine. Boston. Bibb. Arugula. Batavia. Radicchio. Iceberg.   “I didn’t know there were so many types of lettuce,” you mutter to yourself.   “It’s two dollars for each bundle or head,” the man suddenly pipes up in a raspy tone, nearly startling you to death. You realize his pupils have darted right on you and that’s he’s not in fact sleeping with his eyes open. “Romain is three. And there’s a sale on the radicchio.”   The man has an oddly intimidating disposition for looking so tired. He has tender features and seemingly soft skin that makes you wonder about his skin care routine. Yet, his hair is as dark as his cat-like eyes that have narrowed in on you. You suddenly feel pressure to make a purchase lest you waste more of his time.   “What are the differences?” you ask, studying the lettuces in front of you.   “Iceberg, romaine and radicchio are crispy. But iceberg has a clean and fresh taste. Romaine is more bitter and radicchio is a bit bitter and spicy. Boston and bibb are butter lettuces which are softer and have a sweet taste. Boston's leaves are wider and lighter green than bibb's. Arugula is peppery. Batavia is your usual with more crinkled leaves. Red and green are your standard.”    The man breathes the explanation out with only one lazy inhale in between and when he’s done, he gives you a look as if asking if you’re satisfied. But you’re more than that. You’re genuinely impressed.   He spat facts at you and you’re not sure what to do with the information.   “You know a lot about lettuce.”   “I’m a lettuce farmer,” he deadpans.   “Really?” The corners of your lips pull, even more intrigued than before. You didn’t take him for much of a farmer. The man has a kind of bad-boy vibe that you’re accustomed to and without much thought, the clumsy words stumble out of your mouth— “I thought farmers were dirtier.”   “What?”   “Like sunburnt, straw hats, overalls.” You nod, studying the produce and missing his offended expression. “Like that’s totally the farmer’s aesthetic.”   “Aesthetic?”   “Yeah,” you hum, not realizing the man was glaring holes into you. “I’ll take a bundle of the romaine, please.”   You end up going home shortly after, trekking underneath the sun with recyclable bags full of food that fills your fridge, sure to be enough for a whole week. You’re not sure what to exactly do after that — there’s plenty of tasks and jobs to be done, but you’re not certain where to start.   So you decide to take a break — partly to relax and partly to procrastinate. With your sweat wiped away and a fan whirring in the corner, you plop down into the vintage armchair and grab one of the magazines you brought with you. But it isn’t a good read, not when you had already looked at most of the pages on the plane ride over here….   Your mind ends up wandering, considering what you should do with grandfather’s land, if there was anything new you could offer at all. And at the same time as you’re flipping through the magazine, you stumble on a particular page. A recipe for an avocado kale poke bowl.   You skim it and your eyes stop at a single word. Kale.   Kale. It sticks to you like glue and you squint at the text, the four letters in print. Your mind searches and it hits you that kale was never sold at the farmers’ market. There was everything, every fruit, every vegetable. But not kale.    A smile stretches across your face, determination blooming in your chest. Organic kale was a total new fad. Good for you. Healthy. Sought after in the city, but yet to be prevalent in the countryside. It was a perfect opportunity, one that was sitting right in front of you this entire time.   Relief overwhelms you as you make a decision on your niche: kale.   //   It starts off with books.    Gathering as much information as you possibly can, you also learn through guides and internet articles on your chosen crop. You find out that kale becomes bitter over the summer, sweetest in the Fall after being touched by a light frost. It bolts in Spring, so sowing seeds is most appropriate around April to May while they can still be planted throughout the seasons. It provides a yield between late September to early May, direct seeds maturing in fifty to seventy days while transplants take a bit less than half the time.   You learn how to protect seedlings from pests, purchasing lightweight fabric to cover rows, and you begin to plow the fields.    It takes time to clean up, to get your grandfather’s equipment fixed, to become financed. But you start right away and soon, you’re sewing the seeds eighteen to twenty four inches apart. Getting transplants. Watering them appropriately. Working day and night.   You’re not exactly sure if you’re doing this right. Especially on hot days when you’re sweating buckets, dirt has marred your skin and your lower back screams. But you know that even if you fail and have to pack your bags, the effort of trying would be enough for you to feel satisfied.   So, you persist.    And day by day, the seeds begin to sprout. The dirt is littered with tiny green specks and you feel thrilled that it’s actually growing. Slowly, but surely, you would return this farm to its former glory by your own hands.   //   It’s another Sunday when you take a trip to the farmers’ market.   In spite of having only been here for a short amount of time, you’ve become acquainted with the market. You don’t get lost anymore in the bustle and many like to stop you to ask about your day. It’s a hospitable place, never making you feel uncomfortable or awkward, and you feel relieved that your grandfather was surrounded by such warmth till the end of his life.   You’re also starting to become familiar with one particular wooden stall and the sleepy man behind it.   No matter what week it is, he’s always there, wearing the same loose flannels but in different colours, flipping through a pamphlet or dozing off. He only looks up when someone comes to buy lettuce.   But today, he’s joined by an older man that recognizes you all too easily. “I almost didn’t see you there without being so gussied up in those city clothes. Looks like you’ve gotten yourself comfortable with farm life. Almost reminds me of Old Man Seok back in his heyday.”   Immediately, the younger lifts his head up, brow cocked. “You know her?”   “She’s Old Man Seok’s granddaughter. I gave her a ride to his farm when she first came,” Mr. Min introduces and his son gives you a better look, one that’s ridden with a modest amount of distaste. “Y/N, this is my boy, Yoongi, that I was talking about.”   It never occured to you how similar they are. Their husky voices and quiet yet intimidating dispositions are unparalleled. But the older seems more open and friendly than the younger who has a blank expression and his eyes narrowed in at you. Although you don’t get much time to dwell, ask him that the issue might be or if that’s simply who he is.   Some people naturally have a resting bitch face and Yoongi might be one of them.   “How’s the countryside life doing for you so far?” his father asks and you smile, attention redirected.   “It’s not too bad. But the sun’s hot and I didn’t know farming could be so hard!” Your head quirks to the side, still awed that this was the lifestyle of so many. “I always thought it would be easy cause the organic edamame plant back at my apartment wasn’t so bad to take care of.”   Yoongi scoffs.   “Yep, it’s difficult alright.” Mr. Min’s engrossed and asks, “What’re you growing?”   Enthusiasm and a sense of pride makes you exclaim the answer— “Kale!”    Yoongi winces at the volume of your voice while his father is made even more curious.    “Kale?”   “I was thinking about what wasn’t being sold at the farmers’ market and I found that kale was underrepresented,” you rant, “Kale’s totally the new wave. It’s a trendy, super food and packed with antioxidants. Did you know that kale is among the most nutrient-dense foods on the planet?”   “Can’t say I knew that.” Mr. Min has his mouth upturned into an amused smile. Yoongi, on the other hand, sighs. “I’d love to hear more about it. My wife’s quite passionate about these kinds of things too. She practically runs the entire farm! You should come over for dinner sometime, Y/N.”   “She should?” — “I’d love to!”   Both you and Yoongi talk over another, but you don’t hear him. You’ve never been invited to this kind of thing before and your family rarely ate together. So, the aesthetic of sitting down for a countryside meal with a farming family, like it’s Thanksgiving, is a fantasy you’re eager to fulfill.    //   Unfortunately, dinner at the Min household has to be held off when your first harvest comes.    Finally after a month of waiting, there’s actual kale out in the fields that are ready to be collected. The leaves are small, a little bitter and it’s not a large yield — but it isn’t bad for the first time. You’re happy enough that you’ve grown something, so you don’t nick pick for now.   Instead, you focus on wrapping up the bundles, on preparing a stall, on organizing a spot at the market to sell. And when the days of busy work and high pressure accumulate into the first Sunday of the month, you’ve arranged crates of freshly washed, organic kale ready for purchase.   It’s exciting. One week you’re walking around as a customer and the next, you’re on the other side of the stand as a vendor. You get to witness the behind the scenes of other farmers, the doors opening at nine sharp, the increasing bustle of the market.   But for some reason, you only have a few people who stop by and only one who buys a bundle.   “Don’t be worried,” Jungkook comforts, having stopped by once he noticed you. “People tend to buy what they’re used to, so just wait a while. You’ll eventually get your own set of customers!”   You can only hope he’s right.   By five in the evening, it’s over and you hold in your sigh. You wonder what you should do with the abundance of kale you have left, but you try not to linger as you close shop and the market shuts its doors.   Everyone seems to disassemble their stalls with ease, carrying crates to their cars, collecting their earnings. Most are gone within ten minutes but you struggle, unable to keep up when it’s all too new to you and before you know it, you’re the last one left in the space that’s still cleaning up after yourself.   The only person you catch is Yoongi who’s walking off, passing you with a crate of two lettuce heads, having already sold most of it. You notice he’s in one of his open flannels again, this time it’s yellow and gray, and you send a friendly smile. But he doesn’t say anything or make a change from his indifferent expression.   But then he stops. Five meters away.   “You should stop treating this like a joke,” Yoongi deadpans, swiveling around on his heel.   You freeze, halfway from grabbing the mason tip jar that you decorated with washi tape the night before. You blink, not sure if Min Yoongi is actually and willingly uttering words to you or if it’s your imagination. “What?”   But it isn’t. He is very much talking to you. “The market isn’t here for someone like you to play games.”   Now, you’re just confused. “But…...I’m not playing games...?”   “It’s obvious you’re not serious about this.”   You scoff. You’ve had your fair share of running into mean girls in the fashion industry and in High School, the ones who are snarky and make passive aggressive insults that are disguised as compliments. You just never expected to run into something like that here.   And in such a straightforward way too.   Usually people are more subtle when they show that they don’t like you.   “You can’t accuse me. You don’t know anything about me!”   Yoongi stares at you boredly. “You’re making a mockery out of people’s livelihood.”   “I’m trying to learn.” You cross your arms, standing your ground.    You suppose from his perspective it might be off-putting that you’ve come from nowhere and you’re trying your hand at the farm life. But you swear you haven’t been condescending nor have you ever looked down on anyone. At least you hope it hasn’t come across that way.   “I don’t know what I’m doing, but if it seems like I’ve been mocking you then I’m sorry.” This isn’t just a hobby to you nor is it a spectacle for your amusement. You’re serious. Even if you might come across as ditzy, insincere and inexperienced. “But you don’t need to go out of your way to insult me. I already know I was stupid for coming here. Why do you think I came alone? This is a whole new world for me and I’m trying, so I’d appreciate some empathy.”   Yoongi stares at you. You stare at him.   The two of you have your eyes locked in one another’s, and you want to throw hands, but then he suddenly walks away as if he didn’t hear a word you said.   You glare at his backside, huffing out in frustration.    As if your day wasn’t bad enough, he had to make it worse.   //   “Stop being ridiculous, Y/N!”   Your mom’s voice is jarring on the other end of the line. It’s grating to your ears. There’s a strong urge to hang up, but you’re not sure if she’ll call again. You’re surprised she called you in the first place — the likelihood of a second time is slim.   “I’m actually doing well, thank you very much.”   She ignores you. “Sell the land and come home. Do you really think you can do this?!”   Tears sting your eyes against your will. You inhale to keep your voice even and steady. “I do actually. I’m learning while I’m out here and it’s not as hard as I thought it would be.”   “You’re making this harder than it needs to be. You had a high paying job. An apartment. Clean water to drink. Lots of food to eat. You were comfortable! And you gave it all up, why?!”   “The air’s fresher here,” you quip much to your mom’s chagrin and frustration. “I’m a grown woman, mom. I can make my own decisions.”   “Until you make others pick up after you!”    You wince, hand tightening on your duvet. You try your best not to cry. She doesn’t need to know that you’re running out of money, that your kitchen is filled with leafy greens you couldn’t sell, that your back aches from working out on the fields. “Don’t come running to me when you finally get bored or you’re halfway to starving to death.”   You know they think sooner or later, you’ll show up back home with your packed bag. But you refuse to give in. You’ll prove your friends and family wrong — you’ll follow through with this.   If there was one thing you were good at, it was being stupid. Being stupid made you at the bottom of the class, it made you have friends who used you, it made you struggle. And it made you resilient. It made you know what working hard to get to where you want meant. It made you determined.   And you’re gonna fucking give it your best! Even if the smarter route would be to give up!   So with your sleeves rolled up to your elbows, you brace yourself and enter your kitchen full of kale. If you can’t sell it raw, then there are other things that you can try.   //   “Get your kale kombucha! Your kale smoothie! Full of vitamins and nutrients!”   You’re holding a tray of paper cup samples, voice loud with a wide smile. A woman who’s looking at your stand curiously passes by and you steal the chance, smoothly intercepting her way. “Would you like to try one, ma’am?”   “Sure.”   She takes a sample and once she sips, her eyes light up and her expression becomes inquisitive. The woman approaches your stand, looking over the products you have. “It’s really delicious. How much is it for a smoothie?”   “The three sizes are here.” You gesture to the display and she hums. “Two dollars for a small, two fifty for a medium and three for a large. We also have salted kale chips, kale guacamole and kale pesto.”   “Is this all homemade?”   “It is!” Your enormous smile is proud. “I grew the kale organically and made these with fresh ingredients.”   “I’ll take a large smoothie, this guacamole and a bundle of just regular kale then.”   “Coming right up!”   You’re no stranger to the art of advertising — it’s one of your strengths with your marketing background. You’re pretty sure the chalkboard signs are doing a good job of directing attention to your stall and the samples are certainly going a long way too.   “Can I try one, miss?” A little kid tugs on your green apron and you lower yourself down to their eye-level, happily handing them two.   “Of course you can!”   Sunday after Sunday, you do better and better.   Of course, it’s not without constant trial and error, honing in recipes and packaging, learning how to keep products as fresh as possible. But the improvements make the labour all worth it.    You notice how Yoongi watches you across the floor and when you smile, he immediately looks away. But there's little time to pay attention to him when the lineup at your stall gradually becomes longer and longer. Jungkook helps you out when he can, whether that’s manning the register beside you or handing out samples to draw in curious customers.   “You’re gonna run me out of business soon, Y/N.” Jungkook says in the midst of a slow down when you’re finally able to catch your breaths.   “Please,” you giggle. “I’m sure you’re the one drawing in the business. Weren’t those last two customers trying to get your number for the past ten minutes? Last time they kept on asking me about you too.”   The boy laughs shyly and it’s all too endearing. “They’re just bein’ nice. If anything, you’re the one drawing in the customers since you’re so pretty and all.”   More giggles bubble out of your throat and you lean closer to him. “So you think I’m pretty?”   Jungkook realizes what he said and his face reddens. He awkwardly scratches the back of his neck. “I mean...isn’t that a fact?”   “You’re too sweet, Kook,” you sigh wistfully. “Thank you for helping me.”   “Anytime, really.” Jungkook’s smiles softly and his lips part, but before he can say anything, his peripheral vision finally catches the weight of a third party’s stare. His eyes travel across the market floor to the wooden stall of lettuce — right on the man behind it who’s rolling his eyes.    You follow his line of sight and a knowing smile appears on your features. “Jungkook, can you hand me the sample tray?”   You might not be the brightest crayon in the box, but you’re not that big of an idiot. For the past two weeks, you’ve noticed how Yoongi keeps staring at you. You don’t suspect it to be sudden infatuation either. Most likely, it’s surprise that you’ve proven him wrong or reluctant admission that you’re on your way to success, or perhaps passive aggression too.   Whatever the case is, you approach him and witness him visibly stiffen as you come closer.   Your smile remains bright when you ask, “Is everything okay, Yoongi?”   “I’m fine,” the man deadpans. “You should move. You’re blocking my customers.”   “You have no customers.”   “I would if you weren’t standing there.”   You scoff. “You are not cute.”   Yoongi’s brow lifts, amused at your comment. “Excuse me?”   “I want to make peace,” you outright declare, having no shame with confronting him. “I’ve had my fair share of drama back home and I’m not looking forward to picking fights here, so I forgive you.” Yoongi snorts as you raise your sample tray as a peace offering. “I know you’re curious, so you try one. My kale kombucha is my most popular item. It’s a fermented tea that has lots of healthy yeast and bacteria.”   “No.” The dark-haired man rejects without needing to blink. “Kale is disgusting. There’s a reason no one sells it here.”   You’re shocked, not knowing where to start. But there’s no point in arguing with him and spewing nutrition facts. Your pride is much too high to insist too, so you merely lift your chin. “Fine. Suit yourself. But one of these days, you’re going to fall in love with kale, Min Yoongi.”   It’s a challenge — but a one-sided one. Yoongi simply sighs as you strut away, feeling more tired than he did before.    //   The engines of the moving truck rumbles and coughs as it rolls down the dirt road.   It’s drawn the attention of several, including his dad and mom. They’re peering out the front window, curtains tugged with their noses pressed to the glass. Usually, Yoongi doesn’t care much for what the neighbours are up to or keeping up with community gossip, but for some reason, his curiosity is piqued enough that he glances out as well.   “What’s going on?”   “There are trucks coming back and forth from Old Man Seok’s land.”   Yoongi wonders if you’ve given up and you’re moving out. He wouldn’t be surprised.   But suddenly, before he can walk off and mind his own business, his mother whirls around. “Yoonie, go check up on our new neighbour.”   He exhales exhaustingly. “Why?”   “Well, you’re friends, aren’t you?”    “We’re not.” It’s a firm fact, but his mother doesn’t hear him. She’s already moving into the kitchen and making him follow her. He knows arguing is futile — once she’s set on her mind on something, no one can change it.   “Go on and deliver some cheese too.” She hands him a paper bag. “We haven’t welcomed her properly yet and it’s customary to at least give a greeting and gift.”   Yoongi begrudgingly obliges and minutes later, he finds himself making the trek across the acres to the cottage that always reminded him of Christmas with its cherry red roof and forest green walls. The polluting trucks drive away in the meanwhile, wheels turning against the gravel fading, and the countryside returns to its quaint atmosphere. As he comes closer, Yoongi notices the wooden spools on your lawn and some barber chairs littered around, akin to a dumpster yard, but he avoids them and walks up the porch, knocking twice on the door.   He can imagine thrusting the bag in your hand, muttering a greeting and question or two before getting back to the farm. Yet, what he doesn’t anticipate is silence and then noises farther away.   The man sighs and decides to follow the sounds lest he spends the rest of the afternoon waiting at your front door.   He rounds the house to the backyard.    “What are you doing?”   Yoongi discovers mason jars, picnic blankets, wooden crates sprawled all over on the grass — things he guesses the trucks brought over — and he finds you on a ladder with fairy lights tangled around your limbs.   You jolt. In horror, Yoongi watches the ladder dangerously wobble back and forth, but luckily, it steadies and you twist yourself around. “Holy shit! You almost scared me half to death!”   “What are you doing?” he repeats, more urgently and concerned than before.   “I’m setting up fairy lights obviously.” Your smile is big, cheeks swelling with it. “I’m gonna decorate part of the land with hipster furniture and channel the farm aesthetic. It’s going to become an Insta spot. Hashtag kale-in-farm.”   Yoongi doesn’t understand half of what you just said and he’s not sure if he should even ask.   “What’s a hashtag?”   “You don’t know what a hashtag is?” Your eyes are perfectly rounded, looking at him like he’s an alien and he chuckles. The irony isn’t lost on him. He isn’t the weird one — you are.   “Should I know what it is?”   You don’t answer, merely climbing off the ladder and his breath hitches at how you don’t watch your step.    Yoongi doesn’t get stressed easily, but he swears he’s going to get a heart attack looking at you.   You pull out your phone suddenly from your back pocket and after some tapping, you thrust the screen in his face. “This is Instagram, see? It’s an app where you can follow people and see the pictures that they post. An Insta spot is a place where you can take good Instagram pictures. Hashtags is a way to label the posts, so others can see and search it up. Or at least that’s what I think it is. It’s kind of hard to explain, it’s one of those things that just catches on and you get after using it. This is my page, see?”   You’ve given your phone to him and Yoongi eyes your bikini photos before handing it back.    “Uh-huh.”   “I can’t believe you don’t have an Instagram. You should make one and add me!”   “No thanks.”   You huff, pouting at him and Yoongi’s mouth twitches as he resists the small smile. There’s something in the way you react to him being mean to you that makes it all too entertaining.   “My mom wanted to give you some cheese.” He hands the paper bag over and you excitedly peer inside. “It’s just goat cheese. Usually she makes a cherry pie as a housewarming gift, but today….was a bit last minute.”   Yet in spite of the measly present, Yoongi’s taken aback at how happy you seem. “This is so sweet! Tell your mom I said thank you! I should probably give her some kale—”   He lifts his palm, stopping you in the middle of your sentence. “There’s no need.”   “Well, tell her I said thank you.” You put it down on the wooden patio steps and move towards the ladder. Then something by his foot catches your eye. “Oh, can you do me a favour and put that typewriter on the wooden crate?”   Yoongi doesn’t know why you have a broken typewriter, but he follows your instructions. His eyes travel to several worn bikes you have leaning against the railing. It’s strange considering you don’t seem like the type to bike.   As if reading his mind, you laugh. “They don’t work. It’s just for the aesthetics.”   “Uh-huh.” He turns back, about to bid goodbye and leave this mess behind him. But as he turns away, he witnesses you step on the highest prong of the ladder. The part you’re not allowed to step on. With the danger warning signs plastered on it that says ‘STOP’ in big, red letters.   Yoongi’s breath hitches and he lurches over, grabbing the ladder to steady it as it wobbles.   “Woah!” You regain your balance and turn to grin at him. “Thanks for that. You saved my life!”   “Get off.”   “What?”   “Get off the ladder before you die.” His stern command has you obeying and you come down to the ground again. Yoongi sighs and takes the lights from you. “I’ll do it. Tell me where you want them and hold the bottom rung for me.”   You’re bewildered, but you don’t reject his offer of help. Yoongi follows your instructions too, working quickly and more efficiently than when you were, and you can’t help but giggle as you watch him string the fairy lights.    He glares at you. “What?”   You look up at him, beaming a grin. “For being such a mean, old grump, you’re actually pretty reliable and considerate, Yoongi.”   He diverts his vision elsewhere. “Whatever.”   But it’s all too true.    In many ways, Yoongi reminds you of peppermint candy. Hard on the outside but with just a bit of melting, all too sweet and sugary on the inside.   //   It starts off with you.   A post, a cute caption, the hashtag. You manage to get Jungkook to follow suit and then it’s a group. A person who shows up with their friends, stopping by to enjoy your kale farm and haphazardly filming their adventure to put onto their social media. Then it’s three or four, more and more of the hashtag being used, of pictures being taken, of others catching wind of the trendy new place to take photos, of fresh kale being harvested and kale kombucha being sold.   It’s an exponential growth and before you know it, there’s a bustle at your farm.   Strangers that park in the designated area, families enjoying the picnic spots, young adults posing for photographs underneath the strung fairy lights after dark. Your kale chips and smoothie sales skyrocket and after constructing a website, you know you’ve made a name for yourself.   You hire Jimin, Jungkook’s cousin, to help you out. Recently turned eighteen, he’s gentle and luckily attentive. He excels in customer service and in between selling your products and doing measly tasks to upkeep the farm, you know you’ve finally found a sustainable income aside from the farmers’ market alone.   “This ‘s what I call innovation,” Yoongi’s dad muses as the two of them stand near the tractor, looking over the field to the figures prancing on your land and listening to the laughter that leaks over. “It ain’t often a smart woman suddenly shows,” he says, glancing at him. “You should take advantage of it.”   “It’s not smart.” Yoongi turns away. “It’s dumb luck. There’s nothing impressive about it.”   His dad sighs at him, but as they retreat home, Yoongi can’t help glancing over his shoulder.   //   Yoongi has accepted that you’re a complete wild card — when he thought you were making a spectacle of this rural life for your own amusement, you make a whole declaration about how serious you are. When he expects you to move out, you instead bring bits and bobs to your farm. When he expects you to completely and utterly fail, you thrive.   Yoongi always thought that he was the enigma — hard to understand, hard to get to know, one of the many reasons he isn’t particularly close to anyone. But in reality, you are. At surface level, it looks like you’re simple-minded, overly enthused, optimistic. Yet you continuously defy his expectations.   And he has to applaud you for it.    But of all things, Yoongi most certainly did not expect to see you on his porch one afternoon.   “I got invited by your mom for dinner,” you explain with another infamously bright smile and your arm lifts with a bag. “I brought kale!”   “You did.” He holds in his sigh.   “I don’t know how you want to eat it, so it’s raw….unless…..do you not have electricity? I can go back to prepare it.”   “What?”   “You know, electricity.” When he stares at you, you begin explaining to be helpful. “The stuff that gives you light and power and you can turn on the stove—”   “I know what electricity is!” Yoongi shouts. He’s almost always calm, but you have a talent for being condescending without even realizing.   “What’s with all the noise?” His mom emerges and her face immediately lights up, lips forming into a warm smile. She wipes her hands on her apron and comes to embrace you. “Y/N! I thought I heard your voice! Come in, come in! Oh my word, what’s this? Kale? Thank you! Was the walk here long?”   “Not at all.” You smile, being ushered in the kitchen. It still amazes you how much Yoongi looks like his mom. They both have tender, soft features. Albeit, the male took on his father’s personality and characteristics, his physical appearance compared to his mom is nearly a carbon copy. “It’s only a few acres away. I love your home, by the way. It has a good energy to it.”   Yoongi wonders when you got so comfortable with his parents.   “I’m preparing dinner right now. Should be done fairly soon, but Yoonie! Why don’t you show dear Y/N around the farm?”   Yoongi knows he doesn’t have a choice and you hold in your giggle at his dejected expression. It’s not often you can witness him being obedient and when he takes you through his backyard, you can’t help poking fun at him. “Yoonie?”    “It’s a childhood nickname,” he grumbles.   There’s an urge to squish his cheeks together. They’ve always reminded you of jello or bread loafs, but for the sake of not being slapped, you control the desire.   The Min property is vast.    Chicken coops and several sheds are close to the house, but in the distance, cows and goats graze in the open pastures. The lush fields seem to stretch to the horizon, only broken up by the occasional tree left to grow in peace. It’s a tranquil landscape and there’s an urge to sit back in a rocking chair and knit. Even though you don’t know how to knit.   “How big is the farm?”   “It’s a hundred acres.”   Yoongi says it like it’s nothing impressive, but it’s still fifty times the size of your own farm.   “Is that all lettuce?” You look over the plowed fields filled with green.   “Some of it is asparagus and carrots, but it’s mostly different kinds of lettuce,” he explains, “We don’t sell all of it at the market. We got a few contracts from grocery stores and those get shipped out, so we’re always busy year round.”   You’re amazed. His family manages to do a lot more than you and you already feel swamped half the time. But you suppose you still have a long way to go before you can call yourself a real farmer.   The pair of you approach the fence and you watch the goats chewing on their grass, bleating at you. You grin and mimic their noises, oblivious to the way Yoongi steals a glance at you. “What do you do with all the animals?” you ask.   “They’re for personal usage. We eat chicken eggs and my mom makes cheese a lot.” Yoongi diverts his vision at your intense stare and clears his throat. He didn’t know all of this was so interesting to you. “Have you ever milked a cow before?”   “No!”   “Do you want to learn how?”   “Yes!”   This time, Yoongi can’t hold back his chuckle at your childlike enthusiasm.    He leads a smaller cow into the stall, introducing her as August, and you help him brush her down. Yoongi shows you how to wash August with warm, soapy water, how to clean her utters and let the milk down by relaxing her. He demonstrates as well, clamping the top of the utter between his thumb and first finger before squeezing.   You follow his instructions, mimic his movements and milk squirts into the silver pale successfully. “It feels kind of weird.”   The corner of his thin lips pull. “Is it supposed to feel nice?”   When your hands get tired, Yoongi leans over to help you out, explaining how often someone can milk cows for, where August came from and how long she’s been around. You never expected how awfully endearing it would be to listen to a farm boy talk about his precious cow, but it is. Or maybe that’s just Yoongi being Yoongi. Everything that comes out of his mouth is interesting to you.   “—months ago and…..are you even listening?”   “Of course I am!” You totally weren’t and he doesn’t seem to believe your assertion either, so to divert his attention, you turn the direction of the utter and squeeze. The line of milk squirts directly at Yoongi’s kneecap, dampening his jeans and you laugh at his scandalized expression.   “What the fuc—!”   “Stop! Stop!” You stand, giggling incessantly while blocking your arms up when Yoongi lunges down and squeezes two utters at you. The milk is warm and sticky against your skin. “I’m sorry!”   “Too late!” His cheeks are swollen with a gummy smile, happily taking his revenge.   Before any of you have realized, the sun has gone down and there’s a lingering scent of milk on your clothes. But no one other than you and Yoongi notices or at least his parents don’t say anything.   “How are things going, dear?” his mom asks you with a satisfied smile as she watches you devour her dessert apple pie. Dinner at the Min’s was all too cozy and welcoming. Food had filled the rounded table and the family, albeit only three members in total, had gathered together.    For the past few months, you’ve been eating by yourself with a magazine by your side or in front of the old television with some obscure show on. You missed having conversations over delicious meals and part of you wonders how you’ll return to your regular routine after tonight.   After a taste of the forbidden fruit, you’ll wish every night was like this.   “Better than expected actually. It’s a learning process, so it goes up and down, but everyone’s been so helpful to me that it hasn’t been bad.”   Yoongi’s father nods solemnly. “All on your own too.”   You become shy under their praise. “It’s nothing, really. I just wanted to preserve the memory of my grandfather and all I have is his land, so....”    Sometimes you lay awake thinking about how much your life has changed. A year ago, you were still in LA in a high rise apartment working, and in an effort to connect with your family roots again, you left it all behind. But you don’t regret your decision whatsoever.   From the moment you came here, no matter what challenges you faced, it all became worth it in the end. It’s a hard life, but a peaceful one. A simple and serene way of living that you always needed.   “Bless your heart,” his mother swoons and you realize Yoongi’s gazing at you too — with an odd sense of gentleness that you aren’t used to. Or maybe that’s merely the dim lighting of the small dining room. “You are the hardest working, gosh darn smartest young lady I have ever met.”   You look away from Yoongi, face warming at the compliments. “No, I just try my hardest.”   “And try hard you do!” His mom leans across the table, eyes bright. “Don’t you think so, Yoonie? Isn’t Y/N marvelous?”   You turn to him expectedly, but Yoongi’s eyes are suddenly down at his empty plate. “Well, there’s nothing else to do out here but work, so isn’t that the default?”   You scoff and it takes his attention. “You aren’t cute at all.”   The corner of his mouth tugs. “Excuse me?”   “Don’t pay any attention to him, Y/N.” His mom bats at your arm. “He’s too much like his dad.”   “You mean, he took after my best traits?” The older man at the table has his brow cocked and you smile at the banter, but the woman beside you doesn’t entertain it.   “He took after your temper and grumbling.”   “Which is why no one ever bullied him.” Yoongi’s father slaps him on his back and he sighs.   His mom turns her head to continue, “Never mind them. I swear, Yoonie used to be the cutest kid in the whole country. I don’t know when he changed. Do you want to see his baby pictures?”   Your spine straightens and your eyes widen. “I would love to—”   Suddenly, there’s the ear-piercing noise of the chair leg scraping against the wooden floorboards. Yoongi has stood up and tosses his napkin down. “It’s getting pretty late. Probably time to go home, right?”   You laugh, but oblige only because it gives you reason to come over again. Yoongi’s mother at least assures as much, promising that next time you’ll be able to see all the albums and photographs of that time he cried while being chased by a goose — something you’re looking forward to, much to Yoongi’s dismay.   He’s just too much fun to tease.   The more and more you get to know Yoongi and the people in his life, the better you’re coming to realize that he’s not that much of a grump at all. It’s a facade, really. A thin curtain that hides how soft and pouty he actually is. Less like the bad boy you initially thought. More like a farm sheep.   “You didn’t need to walk me home, you know.” You turn to him, glancing at his profile. “It’s only a few acres away.”   “Yeah, but then I would never hear the end of it from my mom. It’s dark out anyway and it’s not like I mind.”   You nod and the pair of you fall into a comfortable lull. There’s a lot from tonight that you have to think about and it’s not just about Yoongi and his family. After seeing how they run their farm and how much they’ve expanded, you wonder if you’ll ever get to that size too.   “What do you think if I started growing quinoa and soy?”   He gives you an incredulous look, still visible in spite of the darkness, and it makes you laugh.   “What would you do with quinoa and soy?”   “I don’t know. Make different smoothies or flavours of kombucha? I would have to look into it. But it’s just a thought for no—” The pitch of your voice raises as you lose your footing, about to plunge. But then Yoongi yanks your arm back, steadying you before you trip in the ditch. “Oh my god! I almost died!”   “Watch where you’re going, woman,” he scolds and his hand boldly wraps around yours, palms clasping together firmly. You glance down, foreign to the feeling of his affection and Yoongi notices. He looks straight ahead, but quickly explains, “If you die and haunt the farm, that’ll bring down the value of the land nearby.”   You scoff. “You’re lucky you have a cute face, Min Yoongi.”   His lips curl. “I thought you said I wasn’t cute.”   “Your personality isn’t, but your face is alright.” If anything, you’re downplaying it, but he doesn’t need to know that. “Out here, you’re a good eight, but where I’m from, maybe you’re a six and a half.”   His laugh is mellifluous, and it infects a smile on your own features. “What about you?”   You look down to where you’re joined at the hands and muse how much larger his palm and fingers are to you, how his skin is calloused from working the fields, how warm and secure it feels.   “Clearly, I’m a ten wherever I go,” you quip. “Can’t you see?”   Yoongi apologizes, “I’m sorry, I might be blind then ‘cause I can’t see you as attractive at all.”   Another scoff tears from you, a lighthearted one that makes his grin widen. “You know what? I take it back. You aren’t cute at all. Not even your face can make up for your sour personality.”   Yoongi chuckles, squeezing your hand, and it’s awfully unfair how your face heats more.   //   Despite how busy you get managing the Insta spot, planting and harvesting kale, and cooking and packaging products, you never fail to find time to be at the market every Sunday. While your other sources of income are slowly increasing more than what you get from the farmers’ market, the atmosphere and sense of community is enough for you to scrape up time out of your week to set up your stall.   And it’s often the time that you get to have your conversations with Jungkook too.   “So….did you try it out?” Your eyes glisten, locked into his. “What did you think? Did it work?”   The boy scratches the back of his neck. “I...don’t think kale shampoo is it, Y/N.”   You deflate, keeping your sulking to a minimum. It didn’t work for you either, but you were trying to see if it was just your hair that was the strange one. “Really? But it looks soft.” You reach over and plant your hand in his black bed of hair. To your surprise, it’s even silkier than it appears.   “Woah! It’s soft!”   Jungkook ducks his head, colour blooming on his cheeks. He doesn’t bat your hand away nor does he lean into your touch when you pet him incessantly. “It isn’t that soft…”   “What shampoo and conditioner do you usually use? It feels so nice, Kook.”   The both of you are oblivious to the flannel-wearing man from across the market who’s glaring above the heads of lettuce. He bores his gaze into you, wondering what the hell you’re doing in the middle of the farmers’ market and putting on a show for all the older ladies to watch. Don’t you know how gossip and rumours start at this place? Merely chatting is enough to grab attention, but to be outright flirting like this was downright reckless.   His jaw ticks, nostrils flaring. He’s uncomfortable. It isn’t any of his business, but Yoongi feels an urge to do something. It’s utterly irrational. Completely out of the norm of his usual behaviour.   But somehow, he finds himself abandoning his stall and crossing the floor.   “What the hell are you two doing?”   “Yoongi!” You turn, greeting him with a big smile and suddenly that irrational emotion is replaced with something else that sits at his chest. To have your attention, he feels…..satisfied. Even if it’s childish. “I was just talking about the kale shampoo I made, but I think it’s an idea I’m going to have to scrap.”   “Shampoo?”   “It left a sticky mess on my head and took me ten minutes to wash it off,” Jungkook tells and his smile softens at your sigh. “Sorry, Y/N.”   “Maybe kale conditioner would work better....”   At the same time, Jungkook’s name is called by his grandma nearby, so he bids goodbye and a see you later to the both of you. It’s a slow down period right after lunch, so there’s fewer people around and with Yoongi here, you take the opportunity. “Can you watch my stall for me?”    “What?”   “I need to go to the bathroom.” You clasp your hands together and bat your lashes, trying to appeal to him. “Pretty please, Yoongi? I would really, really appreciate it.”   He exhales and waves his hand boredly, not sparing you a glance. But you already know he’s relinquished before he says it. “Fine.”   You jump up with a smile. “Thanks! You’re the best!”   In the next three seconds, you’ve jogged away and Yoongi’s left standing at the market, watching your stall and his stall from across the floor that he abandoned. He wonders how he got into this predicament, but doesn’t dwell when his eyes stray to your bottles of fancy kombucha on display.   He picks up a bottle, curious as to how you made these fancy labels, and he snorts when he notices in tiny text it says, ‘don’t kale me’. You’re such a dork, it’s impossible to believe. Then again, his mom decided to make a pun for the lettuce stall too, so he’s not one to talk.   For a moment, Yoongi ponders what the hell this kale kombucha tastes like.   He got a chance to try it before when you waltz up to him all those weeks ago with a tray of samples, but he denied you out of pride and stubbornness. He knows it must taste somewhat decent if you’re making all those sales. He’s seen people drinking it as they walk around too, but he’ll be damned if he actually went up to you and bought one. He’s sure you’d throw a celebration and do the whole ‘I told you so’ dance if it was actually delicious.   Relinquishing, he places the bottle back on the display.   But then the awful happens. Time slows — there’s a noise and the entire dainty shelf is collapsing. Yoongi is helpless to the way the bottles collide against the ground deafeningly, how the dark green liquid splatters on the concrete, to the way the glass shards spray. He cusses and manages to catch one bottle before turning around.   There are people staring at him — customers alarmed and vendors sympathizing.   But more importantly, you’re standing meters away, returned from the bathroom.   He catches your shock, your confusion, and then the heartbreak — even if it only lasts for a blink before you’re smiling again.   You come over, looking down at the mess. “I didn’t know you hated me this much to sabotage my stuff like this,” you quip jokingly. But there’s no banter or excuses being made. There’s silence. And you lift your eyes to meet Yoongi’s, realizing how mortified he is. “Hey, it’s alright. I knew the shelf had a few loose screws, but I didn’t know it would fall like that. I should’ve fixed it sooner.”   “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”   “You don’t really need to do th……”   “I’ll make it up to you,” Yoongi states more firmly than before, eyes darkened and you swallow hard. He knows you’re trying to cover up how hurt you are, how you’re trying to save face and not only is he embarrassed, he’s guilty. “You were supposed to sell all this, weren’t you?”   You give in and Yoongi grabs a broom, aiding you in cleaning up the mess. You’ve never seen him so serious and solemn before, but it makes you glad that he’s the one here to help.   //   At six in the morning, you wake up and less than ten minutes later, you hear the wheezing engine of a truck out front.   The sun was barely on the horizon, but when you walk out to the porch, you discover Yoongi shutting the door of his vehicle and coming up to you. He’s dressed in an oversized purple and black plaid flannel and gray shirt underneath, black hair flopping to the side, features softer than usual. He’s yawning and rubbing his eyes, all too endearing that you have to admit it.   “Mornin’,” you greet with a grin and he merely grunts, gesturing inside your house. A laugh draws out of you and you open the door for him. “You didn’t need to do this, you know. I told you I was totally fine.”   “Just accept my help, lady,” he sighs and looks around your living space, glancing at the polaroids strung above the brick mantle, the recycled jar of flowers on the kitchen counter, and the couch cushions made from flour sacks you reused. You grow warm under his scrutiny, realizing that no one has ever entered your home before. But while you expect to get criticism, Yoongi instead says, “I like what you did with the place. It’s cozy.”   You smile, still a bit self-conscious. “Thanks. Do you want tea? Coffee? Kale juice?”   “I’m fine.” He follows after you, stepping into the kitchen. The space is crowded or maybe it’s just you feeling small with him so close. “I’m here to help. What do you usually do at this time?”   “Well, I usually start by harvesting whatever kale I can. The weather seems good today too and there are some fields that need to be plowed, so I should do that and then plant some seeds…”   “Okay.” He’s already tugging his sleeves up. “Let’s get to it.”   It’s unusual to have someone join you during your morning chores, but it isn’t unwarranted. Granted, you have to teach him a little on the way you do things, but he already knows a lot from working on his own farm and you find Yoongi is a great listener. He might have a blank expression and be exceptionally quiet, but his occasional questions are insightful and he’s attentive when he mimics you.   It’s peaceful — the sun not yet sweltering in the sky or giving an unbearable heat that makes it hard to work, the animals in the far distance not awoken, the breeze curling through your hair. When you look up from your spot, you see Yoongi working as hard as you are and it tickles the corners of your lips into a subtle smile.   Things finish twice as fast and then you’re taking a break, making breakfast for Yoongi.   His company is nice at the table, even when he complains that your sunny side up eggs are too overcooked and you threaten to throw him out. It’s a kind of banter that doesn’t so much irritate you — rather, it keeps you on your toes, making you giggle at witty remarks while he rolls his eyes.   After breakfast, Yoongi insists on washing the dishes and succeeds when he whines and feigns annoyance on how you don’t trust him to clean your plates. He ends up fixing a light fixture in your kitchen too after you mention that it sometimes flickers off and startles you.   He’s helpful and handy, more than you thought he would be, but you try not to get used to it.   “This is where you keep your kombucha?” he asks as you show off the pantry that you’ve practically changed into a cellar.   “Yep.” You tap one of the large jars on the shelf. “It takes five to seven days for it to ferment after I make it. Then, I have to add in the kale and let it ferment for another three days. These babies will be ready for tomorrow. But I have to make a new batch today.”   “That’s a lot of work,” he comments.   “Oh. You haven’t seen it yet.” You brush past him, smirking.   Yoongi looks all too cute in the pink apron. It’s a comical sight and albeit, isn’t actually a part of your usual routine to wear one, you made it up on the fly just to see him wear it and he’s too cute.    “What?” His head whips up, brow cocked at the way you’re grinning.   “Nothing. Hand me that bowl.”   It’s a bit of an irony that Yoongi hasn’t tried any of your kombucha, but is first to learn the recipe from you. You show him how to brew the gallon of black tea, how to add the cup of sugar in and allow it to cool before pouring it into the jar.    “What’s that?” he asks when you’re sticking a rubbery flab into the jar.   “It’s a scoby. It has a bunch of yeast and bacteria that helps with fermentation. It’s made from kombucha, sugar, black tea.” You seal off the jar and Yoongi goes quiet. You look up at him, discovering a thoughtful expression on his face as if he’s impressed you know what you’re doing. “I’m not completely stupid, you know. I know I come across as—”   “I never thought you were dumb,” Yoongi suddenly states without missing a single beat. Your eyes become rounded and the corner of his mouth pulls. “Maybe insensitive and ignorant, but not stupid per se.”   “Hey!”   “There’s a difference,” Yoongi laughs and insists, “Being ignorant means you just haven’t learnt yet, but being stupid means you can’t learn at all.” He ducks when you half-heartedly swing and more chuckles fill the home, including your own. But Yoongi’s right. You had no clue what you were getting yourself into when you first arrived. Everything’s been a learning process, but it finally feels like things are falling into place.   Yoongi helps you wash the kale out back and stays by your side, peering over your shoulder, as you make the kale chips, guacamole and pesto. He stirs and gets ingredients when he can, and you find he has quite a knack for packaging things neatly. He’s somehow careful yet efficient.   “I didn’t know you did so much.”   “Yeah.” You wipe your sweat with the back of your hand. “I try to space everything out, but sometimes everything falls on the same day and I’ve been running low on products, so I can’t put it off.”   He hums, sealing the jar of pesto shut and then working on smoothing the label on the surface.   It’s mid-afternoon already. You didn’t realize how quickly time was going. The golden sun is already coming through the windows of the kitchen as you and Yoongi work across from one another, falling into a lull. You turned the staticky radio on, but it often acts as background noise when either of you start another conversation.   You giggle and he tilts his head up at the noise. “What? Did I put the label on upside down again?”   “No.” You shake your head, smiling to yourself. “It just kind of feels like we’re a married couple, that’s all.”   Unbeknownst to you, Yoongi freezes. But then he eases, the corner of his own mouth tugging.   “You’re not trying to seduce me, are you?”   “Seduce you?!” You scoff, looking up to see him focused on tying the ribbon around the jar. “I have higher standards than that, Min Yoongi.”   “Says the one who’s been flirting with me all morning.”   “I’m not flirting with you.”   “Uh-huh. Don’t tempt me with the suggestion of marriage then. I might actually do it.”   You’re baffled, made speechless with how he twists his words and how sweet he can talk. Your face heats and you know that if you open your mouth, you’ll blubber and make a fool out of yourself. So you opt for a huff and silence which only spurs on his chuckles and inadvertently makes you sulk harder.   If anything Yoongi was the flirt. But you’re not about to declare it in case he asks if that means you’re affected by it. Because you are.   The rest of the afternoon is spent finishing on packaging and storing away the products to sell tomorrow when the Insta spot opens and the following day at the farmers’ market. But as you dust off your hands, you feel the gurgle of your empty stomach and you offer to make him an early dinner.   “Is there anything you want to eat? My cooking skills aren’t that great—”   “Clearly.”   You glare at him. “—but I can look up any recipe you want.”   Yoongi makes a disgruntled noise and he leans over to open your fridge. You peep over his shoulder and at once, blood drains from your face.   “There’s nothing in your fridge, Y/N.” He turns around with puzzlement on his visage. “How did you make breakfast this morning?”   “I….used the last of my eggs to make breakfast. I didn’t think you would actually stick around long enough for dinner.”   “And what would you have eaten tonight if I did leave?” With one foot keeping the fridge open, he starts taking out several things like a maid cleaning out your kitchen. “The strawberries have gone bad...and there’s….mold on the bread. How do you live?”   “My budget was a bit low for this week and I underestimated how much groceries I would need.” When he pulls out the drawer with bundled kale, you stop him. “That’s for me to sell.”    “You don’t eat what you grow?”   “Not really,” you admit. “I don’t actually eat much kale….I brought lots of instant noodles from the city, but I ran out two weeks ago….”   He shuts the fridge. “I’ll talk to my mom and bring more eggs and milk to you more often.”   “You don’t need to do that.”   “No, but I want to.” Looking at you, Yoongi realizes that you’re really just a girl who came from nowhere to start a whole farm. Partly hopeless and causing an urge in him to take care of you, but for some reason, he doesn’t seem to mind as much as he thought he would. “Move. I’ll make dinner. You have some iceberg lettuce and kale that I can work with.”   He starts rolling up his sleeves again and you don’t let your eyes linger on his exposed veiny forearms for long.   You feel a bit embarrassed that you didn’t prepare more and that he caught you at a struggling week. But more than that, guests are supposed to be treated better. “I’m sorry, Yoongi.”   “Don’t be.” As he passes, he plops a hand on your head and you look up at him, surprised at the unusually affectionate gesture. “I’m quite the chef, you know. I make better breakfast than you do.”   Yoongi probably does, but your pride won’t let you admit it. “Psh. You haven’t started yet. Don’t get so cocky.”   You help by setting the table and then pulling a stool to watch him cook. Maybe it’s a bit lame, but you’re impressed at his knife skills and how fast he chops the lettuce and kale into thin strips, keeping a constant rhythm and never once stopping. You scoff when he glances at you with a smirk, but there’s little you can say, especially when he sautes it in a pan with oil and half an onion you have left.   The house is filled with a mouthwatering scent and it’s even more delicious than expected once the plate is plopped down in front of you and you get a taste.   “Oh my god….how did you make this?”   Yoongi smugly shrugs. “I made it up on the fly. Can’t help that my talent is inborn.”   You’re too busy eating to retort with a snarky comment. “Maybe I should marry you.”   He laughs and quickly eats before you steal his own portion.   The sun eventually goes down and it’s hard to say goodbye after one of the best days you’ve had since coming here, but you know you’ll see Yoongi tomorrow and the next day — whether that’s across the acres and through a giant wave or arguing as you do at the market.   He’s always been around, an addition to the farm life itself, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

When Yoongi returns home, he announces that he’s back. There are storming steps, his mom enthusiastic and racing down the stairs to ask him how it went. His dad looks around the living room corner as well, and he sighs at their intrusiveness.   “It was fine.” Yoongi tosses the keys aside, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s actually a lot more hard-working than I expected.”   He walks off before they can bombard him with any more inquiries, but they understand their son well enough and they exchange knowing smiles.

You never expect to see Yoongi awkwardly lingering on your porch like a car salesman, especially considering you were once doing the same thing at his house not long ago. But while he’s here just to deliver some apple pie his mom made, you eagerly pull him inside.   “Why? Why?” he whines childishly, but stumbles after you anyway.   “I need you to try something for me.”   It was an Insta spot day, cars filled in the lot you designated, people from the city out in the back and the chatter loud enough to leak inside the kitchen. Families were strolling about, children picking kale, young adults posing for countless pictures by the picnic blankets and decorations. Yoongi can’t quite understand what their fixation and fascination is to drive all the way out here for such frivolous things, but if it works then it works, he supposes.   You set the apple pie on the table and notice Yoongi peering out of the window, primarily watching the brunette boy fussing about and working the register behind the cute stall you made.   “Oh, that’s Jungkook’s cousin, Jimin,” you tell him, even though he probably already knows. Everyone knew everyone around here. “I hired him to help out.”   “Doing well enough to hire people?” he asks, brow lifted and a smile raising on his cheeks.   “I guess you could say so.” Your pride is supported by the bustle outside the window. “I need all the help I can get.”   “Are you trying to get me to help out too? Because I don’t work for free, lady.”   “Pft. No. I thought you might want to try out the kale kombucha you made with me last week. You came right in time actually. I just got it packaged and everything. Wait here. I’ll go grab a bottle.”   Without another word, you pull the door open and Yoongi sighs with a softened smile, watching you march across the land to chat with Jimin. But within seconds, his attention is taken away by the squeak of the door and a middle aged woman sticking her head through.    “Excuse me,” her voice is shrill, “is there a bathroom in here?”   “Uh…” He’s fairly certain you don’t let anyone inside your house and that he caught sight of fancy porta potties you set up on the side. “No. If you turn the corner, there’re some bathrooms you can use.” Yet, she blinks blankly at him and Yoongi holds his long exhale in his nose. Whatever your intentions are, it seems like he’s working for you anyhow. “I can show you.”   Yoongi hopes he’s not wrong or it’ll be terribly awkward, but luckily for him, there’s indeed bright blue stalls and the woman thanks him as she waddles off. But he can’t take refuge inside your home when he’s interrupted by someone again.   “Excuse me!” This time it’s a group of girls around his age giggling with caked makeup and dressed in short rompers. They thrust their phones forward before he can utter a word. “Can you please take some pictures for us?”   “Uh, sure.”   Yoongi feels out of his depth. Embarrassed. While you knew nothing about farm life, he knows nothing about city life. You might’ve disproved a lot of prejudices and stereotypes he held, but he still feels awkward and out of place in their scrutiny. Like he’s part of a completely different world, and he’s not sure what to say or how to act.   But he still tries and crouches down, trying to frame the photo and catch the trees in the back with the stringed fairy lights above. “One. Two. Three. Smile.”   “Thanks!” The girl comes forward to look, but before he can ask if it’s good enough, her friend comes up to him with another phone.   “Can you take another one?”   “Alright.” He gets back into place and times it. “One. Two. Three.”   Yoongi hands back the device and is about to duck his head and seek refuge no matter who calls out to him, but the girl stops in front of him with a brightened smile. “Is it alright if you take a photo with me? I’ve never had a picture with a farmer before!”   Yoongi sputters, speechless. For one, he hasn’t taken a photo in years, much less for a stranger’s personal collection. And secondly, he’s not some spectacle to be gawked at. He’s not some dancing monkey or clown. Not a poster boy or a cardboard cutout. This is his life—   “I’m sorry.” A voice calmly cuts through his annoyance and Yoongi feels a hand against his shoulder. You’re beside him with a polite smile. “Staff aren’t allowed to be photographed.”   “Oh. Okay.”   They walk off and resume their activities. You take Yoongi’s hand and tilt your head towards the door. “C’mon. Let’s go back inside.”   He feels safe inside your house again when he can remain an observer and not a participant.   “Sorry about that. Some people can be a bit insensitive, but most of them have good intentions.”   “It’s fine.”   You pour out the bottle of amber liquid into a tall glass. “They probably just wanted a photo since you’re good-looking.”   “What?” Yoongi snorts and turns around with a grin. “So you think I’m good-looking?”   “Isn’t that a fact? That’s why people were staring at you. The whole rugged look works well for you.” You plop down the glass in front of him before you can think twice about the honesty that just unabashedly spilled from your mouth. “Try it. You had a part in making it, so it’s only right, right? And if you like it, I’ll even let you bring some home.”   He rolls his eyes at your mischievous smile and lifts the glass to his lips. It’s fizzy, and the taste is both tart and slightly sweet. It reminds Yoongi of sparkling cider, but with a herbal hint that he assumes is the kale. He doesn’t utter a word, even when you’re watching him intently. But after Yoongi smacks his lips together, he goes for a second sip.   And you take that as a positive sign. “You like it?!”   He’s startled at your overly excited voice. “It’s not bad.”   “See?! I knew it! All you needed to do was to try my amazing kombucha recipe and your mind would be changed. Didn’t I say that? I totally told you I would get you to like kale!”   “Hold on, hold on.” Yoongi stops you in your ramble. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. I only said it was decent.”   You laugh. “Sure. Whatever you say.”   He sighs, but ruffles your hair as he walks past, already bidding goodbye. “Get back to work.”   “Yes, sir.” You dramatically salute him and he leaves through the front door. But then it hits you a moment later. “Wait a minute….”    This is your farm. Not his.   //   You’re thriving in more ways than one. Aside from your personal projects on the farm, you’ve gotten yourself established at the market, like one of the decade long vendors who’ve spent their whole lives here. After a few months of setting up your stall, now everyone knows you by first name basis. A few older ladies even gave you the nickname of Sunshine and it only makes you love them more.   “You’re staring at her a lot, Yoonie.” His mother nudges him and he tears his eyes away from you across the market floor.   “No, I’m not.” He’s not sure why he bothers. Yoongi feels like a child trying to deny the obvious.   “Go talk to her. Lookin’ is not gonna do you any favours, young man. You have to talk.”   Yoongi already knows — he doesn’t need his mother to tell him.   “She’s busy,” he grumbles, “I’ll talk to her later.”    Fortunately, a customer comes up and Yoongi takes the opportunity to escape the conversation, immediately moving to ring them up and leaving his mom with a hopeless sigh.   At the same time, someone approaches you. After taking a sample from the tray, she decides to purchase a whole case of pesto much to your delight. “I actually bought smoothie and kombucha from you last week,” the lady mentions as you’re packing it up for her and you nod.   “I know. You bought two large smoothies and half a case of kombucha, right?”   Pleasant surprise takes hold of her expression. “How do you remember? Don’t you get a lot of customers?”   “I remember most of them, but I especially remember your Chanel classic handbag,” you point out with a smile. “The medium pink is a rarer one, plus it’s not the kind of thing lots of people wear in this sort of place.”   “You have a good eye,” the lady notes and you take the compliment. “It’s the only flashy thing I own and I have no other place to wear it aside from running errands.”   “Oh trust me, I’m like that too.” You grin, finishing up and passing the machine card for her to tap and pay. “I find that as long as you have confidence, you can pull anything off and it makes running errands a lot more fun.”   The lady laughs and easily agrees. She takes the box you offer her, but lingers. “Your kombucha and your smoothies are delicious by the way, and the pesto seems pretty good too.”   “Thank you. It took me a while to narrow down the recipe, but I think I nailed it.”    “You did.” She affirms and then out of the blue, asks, “Would you be willing to sell your products at the supermart? It’s a local grocery store I run with my husband, five miles from here, just down Imlings road.”   You’re speechless, blinking twice at her as your mouth opens and closes. The older woman waits patiently with a smile and you muster a half-coherent answer. “I-I would definitely consider it!”   “Great.” She smiles and then reaches over to her pocket. The woman hands you a business card. “Some folks around here have contracts with me too, and I’d love to add your products on the shelf. Give me a call some time tomorrow and we can chat about the details.”   You’re stunned and only broken out of your trance when a customer comes up and clears their throat.   It’s a triumphant day. You feel like you’re floating, walking on clouds — and Jungkook notices how you’re humming to yourself too and boyishly grins. “Something good happen, Y/N?”   The pair of you are walking out, Jungkook carrying your boxes as you lug your totes with you while waving goodbye to the other vendors that were leaving for the evening. “Just everything. I feel like things are going right for me, you know? And that’s kind of rare for me.”   “No, I get you. Pop always says there are rainbows after the storm. Then again, he always says how the Kim’s are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”   That makes you laugh, but then the two of you interrupted by a sharp cry of your name. “Y/N!”   You witness Yoongi running up to you, completely out of breath.    “Hey. Are you okay? Where did you even come from?”   “Never mind that.” He straightens out. “Let me drive you back.”   “Oh, Jungkook was just going to….”   “Nah.” He insists and takes the boxes from the younger boy. “Our houses are closer together anyway. I don’t mind.”   “What about your mom?”   “She’s already left since she’s having dinner with a friend.”   You look at Jungkook who’s wholly confused, a deer in headlights and you decide to spare him from the trouble. “Well, alright. Thanks then.”   It feels a bit odd, but you take him on the offer and bid Jungkook a goodbye. The rest of your kale and belongings are packed into the back of Yoongi’s truck before you’re getting in. It’s old and worn, but the vehicle feels like it’s full of memories. You buckle yourself in and then he’s driving off with the fuzzy radio playing in the background as the golden sun sets over the horizon.   “Jungkook ain’t shit,” Yoongi suddenly pipes up after a moment. You glance over to discover him looking straight out the windshield, hands gripped on the steering wheel. And you burst out laughing.   “What?”   “He was seeing Aria for a while and then left her for the hills, so he’s got a reputation around here. I thought I should let you know.”   You see him peek at you in the corner of your eye, but you can’t repress your grin. “You sound like a boyfriend.”   “Yeah, well, I’m actually a good one.”   “Oh yeah?”   Yoongi’s knuckles are white and with the way his tongue peeks out to lick the seam of his lips, you wonder if he’s nervous. “I could show you.”   A giddy giggle that belongs to the sixteen-year-old you bubbles out. “And what would dating Min Yoongi look like?”   Yoongi plays off of your playful tone. “For one, I haven’t gotten to show you around properly yet and you still haven’t gone to one of Taehyung’s bonfire parties. He’s the guy with the strawberry farm. And I have access to his exclusive parties cause we went to school together, so you could use me to get in.”   “Hmmm….you drive a hard bargain, Min Yoongi.”   “I know how to cook a mean dinner if you give me real ingredients too.”   You laugh again, leaning your head back against the seat. “You’re too good at sweet-talking. Does your mother know you chat up girls like this?”   “Maybe. But I only really sweet talk you.”   He’s bold tonight and it’s not doing good things to you.   Your face is heating and you’re incessantly tapping your fingers against your leg. Beneath the lighthearted flirtation was a sort of simmering nervousness that’s filled with questions of if the line is going to be crossed and when that would be, and who would be the first to make the move.   Yoongi parks the car in front of your house and pulls the keys out of the ignition.   The pair of you naturally shift and look at one another. Your gazes lock together and there are three seconds of tense silence — neither wanting to get out, to break the rather intimate moment. Where you muse how brown his eyes are and Yoongi, himself, hitches his breath.   And then you’re lurching over for a kiss.   It’s all mouths and noses bumping together, obscene and sloppy, but a long time coming. His lips are softer than expected, only chapped at the corners, but you don’t get to think about it for too long or deepen the kiss. Not when you’re too busy giggling and laughing against him.   You pull apart, hands grasping onto the collar of his loose flannel. “You’re so eager.”   It’s a bit unusual to see Yoongi be anything other than annoyed or composed, but you soak it up as much as you can. The sunset is painting his skin golden and the car smells like him too. It seems like you’re surrounded in Min Yoongi and it’s fully welcomed.   “You are too,” he retorts on an exhale, hand skimming down to the dips of your waist. But then Yoongi swallows hard and retracts. He leans his arm on the steering wheel and looks out the window in disappointment. You wonder if you did something wron— “I can’t stain the truck. My mom has hawk eyes and she’s gonna know if we do something, and I’d rather she not.”   You scoff and lean forward, swift enough to plant a kiss on his cheek and pull away. “For such a good talker, you sure are stupid, Yoongi. There’s a whole house behind you and no one in it.”   A gummy smile spreads into his face and you feign a tired huff, lifting your chin and sticking your nose in the air. You add, “But for your information, I only give people the time of day when they make it worth it for me.”   He’s already opening the door and accepting the challenge before you can finish.    “Oh, I’ll make it worth it alright.”   You find out that Yoongi has a dirty mouth and an even nastier tongue. Part of you always wondered if he hated your guts, but you couldn’t be any more wrong.    You’re tugging on the strands of his hair, chest rising and falling as you pant. “W-Where did you learn how to do that?”    The bastard shrugs with a smug smile. “I might be unlikable, but I’ve had plenty of practice before.”   “Oh yeah?” The corner of your own mouth tugs. “With who?”   Yoongi grins and lifts himself up to plant a sweet kiss against your lips. “You wouldn’t know them. But they’re not as important as you are.”   “I’m going to choke over your greasiness, Min Yoongi.”   “Good. Choke.”   “You’re gonna have to stuff me with your cock first.”   Yoongi laughs at how you’re desperately tugging him closer to you, but he easily agrees with one condition— “Only if you’re good for me.”   The pair of you are sweaty when you finish. You thought the old bed frame was going to give up mid-way. Luckily, it held up even with all its loud squeaks and creaks. But you wouldn’t be surprised if there’s a dent where the headboard slammed against the wall.    But you’ll count your losses later. You’re just relieved that there was no one in the house.   While Yoongi might’ve been all soft groans and rapid exhales, he made you absent-minded to your own noises that somehow leaves your throat sore. You’re sure anyone who would’ve stood by your porch would’ve heard and been scandalized for the rest of their life.   “You know.” You turn to Yoongi, having stared at the ceiling. His eyes meet yours. “You’re pretty good for a farm boy.”   The playful quip ticks him off enough that he does it again. Yoongi pins you underneath him and is merciless. Your bubbling giggles turn to tears leaking down the side of your face from overstimulation, but you climax again through a moaning apology.   When you’re spent, Yoongi collapses next to you.    You’re surprised at how cuddly he is, how he naturally reaches for you, torso molding against yours and arms wrapped around your waist. In spite of feeling hot and sweaty, Yoongi holds you against him and you relish in it. “How is it possible that no one’s snatched you up yet?”   “Maybe it’s because I’m known to be standoffish.” He smiles against your temple, soothed by the way you run your fingers through the strands of his hair. “And what about you? Do you have a boyfriend or a husband I don’t know about that’s waiting in the city?”   “No. No one’s drawn me in quite like you have.”   Yoongi’s smile pulls into a grin, and the pair of you are lulled by each other’s inhales and exhales, unintentionally falling asleep in one another’s embraces like lovers underneath tree canopies on a Summer afternoon.   It’s some of the most peaceful sleep you’ve had, but then you’re shaken awake by a rattle and an ‘ow’. Your eyes open to find the other side of the bed empty and Yoongi nursing his hip after presumably bumping into your nightstand. You sit up, disoriented as he’s hopping up and down, barely getting his pants on.   “I need to get home before my parents find out I was gone the entire night and start asking questions.” His voice is thick and husky, hair in a disarray, eyes bleary and barely awake.   His panic makes you giggle and you watch him struggle to put on his clothes. Peeking outside, the sun isn’t up yet and the clock reads that it’s five in the morning. “Are they even awake this early, Yoongi?”   “I don’t know. Sometimes.” He fiddles with his flannel, putting his arms through the wrong holes, and even when he figures it out, he doesn’t realize it’s inside out. “I’ll...see you later?”   “Wait. Yoongi.” You stop him for a second and he turns around. It feels awfully juvenile, like you’ve reverted back into your sixteen-year-old self that giggles over crushes, but Yoongi always seems to make you feel that way. “Are we….dating now?”   “If I didn’t make it any more clear last night and by sleeping over, then I don’t know what else to do.”   It takes a beat for the words to sink in, but once it does, a bright and overexcited smile overcomes your features. Yoongi snorts before the corners of his own mouth tickles.   When he’s gone, you discover that you miss him already.

The morning alarm rings at six. But by then, you’re already up.   You’ve fallen into a natural schedule, a cycle that your body has picked up on and has awoken before anything needs to call you. And after brushing your teeth and running a comb through your hair, you’re taking care of your farm. Plowing fields. Harvesting kale. Having breakfast.   You also package the last of the pesto and guacamole, pouring the kombucha into the bottles with the proper labels. Some of which are prepared for the grocery store to pick up while others are packed for tomorrow. Afterwards, you come to the farmers’ market and meet Hoseok, a boy you’ve hired to help you take over. He helps you man the stall and the cash register, giving you the freedom to chat with customers and other vendors or complete other tasks with Jungkook.   By afternoon, you come back to the farm to check out the Insta spot and aid Jimin in running things smoothly.   “This is beautiful, Y/N.” Today, you’re graced by a few friends from the city. They drove out here after you reached out to them again and you couldn’t be more pleased from their genuine reactions. “When you said you were coming out to start a farm...I didn’t imagine this.”    “It took a lot of work, but it’s not half bad, right?”   Mina leans in, eyes flickering around. “Where’s this infamous Yoongi?”   A laugh spills from you. “He’s busy. You’ll see him next time.”   “I keep hearing about him, but I haven’t even seen him or his picture once,” Tiffany huffs. “I’m beginning to think he’s fake.”   You grin and insist, “I promise you he’s real.”   “Oh my god!” Yeri startles the group by the sheer urgency in her voice, but when you all swivel to her, she has her phone held in the air, screen directed to her face. “This is the perfect lighting! Guys, come here and take selfies up before the sun moves!”    You can’t help smiling as you watch them, matching their footsteps as they approach the fields. You can tell that they’re still surprised, that they love what you did — and you couldn’t be prouder.   At ten at night, the last people have filtered out and you bid them goodbye.   “Great job, Jimin. Thanks for the help as usual. It didn’t get too busy when I was gone, right?”   “Not at all.” The brunette with the polite smile shakes his head. “Oh, but the customer feedback box was full. I put it in the living room for you.”   “I saw that. Thank you. I’ll take a look tomorrow.” Looking ready to go, you walk him to the door. “Rest up then! I’ll see you tomorrow.”   “Goodnight, Y/N.”   But as one man leaves, you catch another down the road. The familiar truck is chugging, head beams piercing through the darkness settling across the horizon. Jimin recognizes it too after months of the same routine and smiles at you before he’s on his way.   The truck is parked on your lawn and the dark-haired man in the flannel is already smiling when he catches you through the front windshield. He opens the door and slams it shut as you lean against the doorframe, arms crossed and the screen door held behind you.   “Well, well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in.”   Yoongi chuckles and grabs a crate from the back of his truck. “It’s groceries from my parents.”   He meets you at the porch and plants a chaste kiss on your lips as a greeting. You follow him into the kitchen as he beelines to it. It’s almost like this is his home — an idea that tempts you greatly.   “Aw, she packed me more pie.” There’s goat’s milk too and you store it in the fridge as Yoongi organizes your cabinet, making sure there’s enough sustenance to keep you healthy for the week. You’ve already told him that you could take care of yourself, but he’s stood firm and you didn’t argue. It was a guilty pleasure to be pampered by Yoongi after all, and you weren’t about to refuse it.   “My parents want you to come over soon. They keep asking me about you.”   You nod. “I’m happy to come over whenever they want. But I should probably bake something. Your mom always makes me food.”   “Nah. She does it cause she likes to. How about Tuesday?”   “That works for me.”   “Have you eaten yet?”   One shake of your head leads to him cooking and then the pair of you sitting at the table across from one another and sharing a warm meal. You ask Yoongi about his day and he tells you about bailing Namjoon and Taehyung out of jail. Apparently, they landed themselves into trouble after they lost their cow and went looking for it. Yet somehow, they ended up miles away on an orchard farm where they had a confrontation with an old grump and got arrested for trespassing.   But as exasperated as Yoongi likes to act, the irony isn’t lost on you how he drove that far out to bail them out and keep the secret from their parents. He’s the kind of man that conveys his feelings through his actions instead of his words and you’ve come to endear that quirk about him.   After dinner and cleaning up, you turn on the twinkling fairy lights strung along the backyard and stand on your patio, leaning against the banister. The land and rows of kale are strangely bare without people and the ruckus of crowds, yet there’s a certain peacefulness of the uncertain horizon.   “What’re you thinking about?” A husky voice sounds beside you as Yoongi meets your side.   “Nothing.” You shake your head. “All day I’ve been feeling proud of myself, that’s all. I think...my grandfather would be proud of me too.”   “Of course he would be.” Yoongi drapes his arm around your shoulder. “I’m proud of you too.”   As calm and detached as Yoongi may be at times, he still has the effect of catching you off guard when he sweet talks. And it’s a kind of duality that makes you adore him even more.   You wrap your arm around his slim waist, grinning and he plants a wet kiss at your forehead.   “Hey, Yoongi. Since you love me….does that mean you love kale too?”   “Those things are mutually exclusive.”   “But kale is my lifeblood.” You look up at him. “You can’t love me without loving kale.”   He scoffs at your ridiculous argument, but it’s pointless back and forths like this that you enjoy the most. Especially when Yoongi gives in. “Fine. I love kale. But for the record, I love you a lot more.”   You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m glad I came here.”   You’re glad you never gave up or gave in to the discouragement of your family, the apprehension of your friends or the voice inside your own mind.    You’ve finally found your place.   “I’m glad too.”   There’s no need to go home when home is right here.

[wonwooslibrary]

Stay Forever

pairing: lee seokmin x fem!reader (told in third person)

genre: royalty!au, arranged marriage!au

word count: 2587

warnings: there are no warnings, but there is a small sword fighting scene - nothing graphic though!

author’s note: i have been planning this and stressing over this for so long, it feels great to finally post it! this is written for @ficscafe ’s royalty au drabble event! thank you @cha-lan for beta reading & editing (and writing the chan part towards the end) for me (ily lannie & this is for you!! <3), along with @minghaofilm for editing and @sanshiine​ for beta reading!! (thank you all so much!!) 

this is based heavily off of “17″ by Pink Sweat$ ft. Joshua & DK of SEVENTEEN. The title is also from that song. You can find the whole playlist for this drabble HERE. 

The throne room was large. The golden trim seemingly glowed around the ceilings, and the red velvet curtains blocked out the blinding sun from being too overbearing on one’s eyes. In the back of the room on a higher platform were two thrones: the one on the left was larger than the one on the right, and was adorned with more embellishments carved into its golden-stained wood. 

Sitting in the larger throne was an older man in his early nineties; a shiny crown sat lightly on his white hair, gleaming in the sun. Next to him on the smaller throne was a woman about the same age—her hair pulled back and out of her face, the crown on her head sparkling. Sitting in the woman’s lap were two small children, both slightly above the age of ten. 

The man beamed at the children, his smile bright and full of love. “Do you want to hear a story?”

The children giggled, their loud, high-pitched voices echoing off of the walls and throughout the room. “Yes, please, Grandpa! Tell us a story!” 

"Well, it all started when your Grandmother and I were very young," the man began. "Before your grandmother and I met, she was living in a faraway place with your Uncle Junnie." 

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The first thing Seokmin noticed about sitting at the round table in the conference room was the uncomfortable surface he was forced to perch on. You'd think as a prince living in a palace that he'd get to sit on something softer or more comfortable, but no, the King had to make him sit on the same uncomfortable wooden chairs for hours, pretending to listen to any of the information that was being said to him. 

"Seokmin? Are you even paying attention to what we are talking about?" 

Seokmin snapped out of his daydream and lifted his head off of his palm to look up at his father. 

“Oh! Um, yeah—yes. Of course, I’m paying attention.” 

The King rolled his eyes but continued to catch Seokmin up to speed with the conversation. 

“So, as you know, the Queen of Shenzhen—along with her son and daughter—are going to be visiting soon,” the King explained. “We are going to hold a ball when they get here. It will be used to announce a wedding.”

The Prince looked over at his father, tilted his head slightly to the left and raised his brow. “A wedding? For who?”

His father coughed slightly and glared at the younger boy, "You and the princess, of course." 

With that, the King stood up and walked out, leaving his middle son to sit in the still uncomfortable chair of the conference room, staring off into space.

Hours later, Seokmin was found in his older brother's bedroom. Most of Jihoon's belongings were not in the palace anymore but in the neighboring Kingdom's, leaving the room to look as if Jihoon didn’t live there for almost twenty years. 

As Jihoon was unpacking some of the clothes he brought for his stay, Seokmin and their youngest brother, Chan, sat on his bed. 

The youngest patted his hand on Seokmin’s knee, “When did father say you were getting married?”

“In, like, four days! I haven’t even met the princess yet!” 

Jihoon sighed, “I can’t believe he’s doing this again.” 

Seokmin rolled his eyes, “Tell me about it. It made sense for the eldest sibling to go through an arranged marriage, not that any of us liked putting you through that, but why me too?”

“It’s probably because Father wants someone to be in charge here after he’s gone, and it obviously can’t be hyung if he’s living in another kingdom,” Chan looked over at Seokmin. “And I am way too young to get married–”

“When do the prince and princess arrive?” Jihoon interrupted his youngest brother. 

“Tomorrow. The Queen is arriving the day before the wedding. Father says that gives us time to get acquainted with them.”

Jihoon turned around and moved his gaze from the closet he was putting clothes into and to his brothers’ faces. “It can’t be that bad to at least meet them, Seok.”  

“I just don’t want to get married, hyung. I don’t know this person, and I’m only nineteen!”

“It’ll get better, hyung,” Chan started. “I mean, they can’t force you to get married.”

Seokmin opened his mouth to protest but was interrupted by a knock on the large, wooden doors of the bedroom. 

“It must be time for dinner, let’s go,” Jihoon told his brothers, setting the clothes hanger that was in his hand down onto the bed, and walked towards the door.

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“So?” the youngest of the two kids questioned the older man. “Did the prince ever meet the princess?”

“Of course he did!” The man exaggerated his words for the children’s entertainment.

“Tell us that story, Grandma!”

“Okay, Okay. When the princess met the prince, she was very—how do I say this?—surprised.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

On the day the Queen’s children arrived, Seokmin was pleased to have met the prince, Junhui, before he met the princess. The two bonded fairly quickly over their enjoyment of sports: Seokmin with sword fighting and Junhui with martial arts. 

Seokmin had offered to show Junhui around the palace, their last stop being the training grounds where Junhui suggested that Seokmin teach him some sword fighting. 

Seokmin quickly agreed, taking Junhui to the armory to get proper protective equipment and swords. They spent most of their time outside on the battleground, swords in hand and padded gear covering their bodies. The blazing sun made Seokmin start to sweat the more he moved to practice attacking his dueling partner. 

He had easily disarmed Junhui, the elder’s inexperience in the sport evident; Seokmin took his sword and used it against his opponent. One sword in the prince's left hand, the blade behind Junhui’s neck, and the one in his right hand pointed towards his rival's chest; the edge only centimeters away from his protective gear. Seokmin smirked at Junhui's scared expression and lowered the weapons, holding his left hand out for his opponent to take his sword back. 

Suddenly, the sound of clapping echoed around him, forcing Seokmin to look around his surroundings. His eyes focussed on a woman, no older than nineteen, who was applauding almost sarcastically at the display of Seokmin’s skill.  

He slid his sword back into the sheath that was slung over his shoulder, the blade resting on his back. With long strides, he walked away from the battleground and towards the woman, only stopping when he was a few feet away from her, a dazzling smile on his face. 

Seokmin bowed, “What can I do for you, miss?” 

“Oh, today is my first day here. I was just exploring. The other people seem to gravitate towards you, you know.”

Seokmin chuckled. “Being a prince—specifically one who knows their way with a weapon—does that to you.”

The woman’s eyes widened a bit. “You wouldn’t happen to be Seokmin, would you, Your Highness?” 

“I am. Were you expecting one of my brothers instead?”

“Um, not exactly,” she began. “I’m Y/N. Princess Y/N, from Shenzhen.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

The night following Y/N and Junhui’s arrival at the palace was a ball. His father had encouraged him to host some type of gathering to announce the wedding, and at this point, there was nothing Seokmin could really do besides agree. 

He had only spoken with the princess a few times; her calm and collected voice intimidated Seokmin a bit, not that he would admit to that. When introducing themselves at dinner later the night they met, she had expressed her love of sword fighting: it one of the main reasons that the battleground was the first place she explored when she arrived. Seokmin had wondered why he had never met the princess earlier in his life, especially since they both shared this hobby. 

Seokmin's mother made it clear—he was supposed to dance with Y/N for most of the night. The strict woman also made sure to make it very clear: 

"Do not, and I mean do not try to sneak out as your brother did. You know exactly how your father reacted to that, and we do not want to see that again." 

Of course, Seokmin rolled his eyes at that. He was not making any promises. 

Though, when it was time to get ready for the ball, Seokmin started to become impatient. He, surprisingly, was excited to see the princess again. He had never had someone that truly had the same love for sword fighting as he did, besides the generals and other soldiers—such as his close friend, Joshua. He couldn’t wait to talk to the princess about their mutual love of the sport. 

While Seokmin was getting ready for the ball in his bedroom—with the help of his best friends, Soonyoung and Seungkwan, of course—Y/N was on the other side of the castle, Seokmin’s mother helping her with her ball gown.

The dress was beautiful; the light reflected off the golden fabric and made the small sequins on the lace sleeves sparkle. The bodice of the gown was fairly plain, the off-the-shoulder neckline showing off the golden necklace that Y/N wore. The skirt of the dress, however, was the most beautiful part of the outfit. With a slim silhouette only going out a few inches around Y/N’s feet, the skirt's fabric floated slightly above the floor. 

When looking at herself in the mirror, Y/N had not failed to tell the Queen about how much she loved the dress her future mother-in-law had picked out for her. 

“Even the fabric shines in the sun,” Y/N had told the Queen. “It’s beautiful!”

The Queen was not going to argue with the princess.

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The ballroom of the castle was similar to many of its other rooms. The golden trim near the ceilings glowed, and the red velvet curtains blocked the sun from reaching the room. The colorful mural on the ceiling encouraged guests to look up and admire all the small details. 

Along the middle of the ceiling were three large crystal chandeliers, illuminating the room with a glow. Towards the left side of the room was a grand staircase, comparable to something out of a fairytale. The marble flooring matched the marble stairs; the steps led to a balcony that circled above the main level of the room. On the right side of the room on the platform were three thrones. They were smaller compared to the ones found in the throne room but just as elegant. Connected to the stairs was a hallway leading deeper into the castle on the next floor. 

The room was crowding up fast; different people from all over the kingdom arrived at the ball to hear the surprise that the prince had planned to announce. Everywhere Seokmin looked, he saw fancy gowns and hands holding champagne flutes. 

For the next while, Seokmin continued to stand at the side of the room close to the exit, greeting people as they walked in. He recognized some of the people as council members with which he and the King would have meetings. Others he recognized as villagers from the many outings he had taken to the outdoor markets deeper in the kingdom. 

As he was greeting people, he began to wonder, “Where is the princess?” 

Though, all of a sudden—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

“Did the prince see the princess wearing her big ball gown and—oh! Was the princess wearing glass slippers? Was she, Grandpa? Was she? Was she?!” the older of the two children began to tug on the man’s sleeve, demanding an answer that was enough to satisfy the child’s ever-growing imagination. 

“Yes, sweetheart. The prince did, in fact, see the princess standing at the top of those marble stairs. I don’t know about the glass slippers, though.”

“I can promise you I would never wear glass slippers to a ball. It may have worked in fairytales, but I would have tripped over that dress so quickly,” the woman sat next to the white-haired Seokmin spoke up, patting his arm to interrupt him from continuing the story. 

“What about the rest of the ball?” the other child asked. “Did the prince dance with the princess?”

“Oh, of course, he did. The prince couldn’t leave someone as beautiful as the princess waiting.”

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

As Y/N walked closer to Seokmin, he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. When she was only a few feet away from him, she smiled. Seokmin held his hand out to her, and she took it, coming closer to him. He moved his hands to Y/N’s waist, and she wrapped her arms around his neck, careful to not accidentally hit his crown. 

“Good evening, Princess,” Seokmin’s eyes morphed into crescents as the sides of his mouth lifted. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Y/N laughed, “Thank you, Your Highness. Her Majesty helped me with it.” 

“Mother. What can’t that woman do?”

As the music started to get heavier, Prince Chan yelped out from across the room. Seokmin and Y/N glanced in his direction, only to see the youngest brother hopping with his foot in his hand, face morphed with pain.

“I’m sorry!” another young guest exclaimed, her hands held out to try to stabilize the boy.

“Have I ever mentioned how glad I am that you don’t step on my feet while we dance?”

“Don’t push your luck, Your Highness," Y/N giggled, a sudden sly smirk upon her lips. "You never know what could happen.” 

Seokmin and Y/N proceeded to glide  across the marble floors; their conversation continued all while the prince's heart raced. 

"So, how do you feel about your first dance here in the palace?" Seokmin questioned. 

"Hm," Y/N began. "I think it's going pretty great. I didn't know you could dance.”

"It's mandatory for royals to learn here," he hummed. "I've known how to dance since I was seven."

Y/N's eyes widened, and silence ensued. Suddenly, Y/N leaned forward and rested her head on Seokmin's chest, his heart beating loudly into her ear. The two stayed like this for a while until the next song played, and Seokmin spoke up once again. 

"My father wants me to use this to announce the wedding," Seokmin looked down at Y/N. "Do you want that?" 

Y/N hummed. "I don't see why I can't learn to love someone like you, Your Highness."

Seokmin's heartbeat sped up as he moved his hand from Y/N's waist to her chin, making her face him. He bent down, his lips centimeters from hers and—

══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════   ══════ ∘◦❁◦∘ ═══════

"Ew! Cooties!" 

The two elders laughed at their grandchildren's exclamation. 

"Yes, kids. Cooties. Now, don't you think about doing that until you are much, much, much older, you hear?"

"Yes, Grandpa!" the eldest giggled. 

"But did the prince and the princess ever get their happily ever after?" the younger questioned, pouting at her Grandparents. 

"Of course they did!" Y/N told the child, running her hand through their hair. 

“The end?” 

“The end.”

“Oh! I guess I showed up at a wonderful time! C’mon kiddos, time for bed!”

The kids turned their heads to face the doorway. 

“Uncle Jun!” They bolted towards the door to greet their Uncle, throwing quick goodnights and goodbyes before exiting the room. Junhui waved to the married couple and followed after the children.

Seokmin glanced over at his wife, shot her a wink and said, "Please, princess, forever stay with me like this."

[bandgeek4life8]

Guardians - chapter two the lost city of atlantis

Chapter 1

WC: 3, 453

Season 1, Episode 2: The Lost City of Atlantis

Previously on Guardian in Jim's POV "The Nightmares have emerged once more." Pabbie told everyone.

"GREAT GRONKA MORKA!!" Blinky exclaimed.

"And they attend to assimilate an army. They already have the witch Gothel, the bogeyman Pitch Black, the dragon tamer Drago Bludvist with his mother of dragons Red Death, the prince Hans of Southern Isles and Duke of Weselton, the cursed bear Mor'du, the Pirate "Captain Hook" Killian James, and the Boggan Mandrake. And I have a list of who they want. From my visions. But only two people I wish to say it to: Vendel and... James Lake Jr. Because she wishes it."

"Who wishes for me to know?" I asked him.

"Starling."

Some people are chosen for this life and have no choice but to accept its transgressions. Others spend their life completely in the dark about this life we lead. Some, like me, choose to live this life. It is a lot of work for anybody. Not just anybody can get into this life and survive its trials and tribulations. But we were born for this. To become guardians. But I'm not a guardian yet. I'm just an apprentice.

|{[INSERT_OPENING_SEQUENCE]}|

"Welcome to the first meeting of the Druidia Order." I announced.

"Did you have to name us after a planet in your favorite Star Wars movie?" asked the raven-haired time-traveller Wilbur Robinson.

"Spaceballs is not a Star Wars movie, Wilbur." Currently undercover spy, Walter Beckett told him.

Wilbur rolled his eyes. "Whatever."

"Did your dad teach you anything about Star Wars?" asked blonde enpath/ hockey-player from Wisconsin, Riley Anderson.

"Only that he hated the sequels, he loves the originals, and respects what the prequels tried to do." Wilbur said.

"Can we please get to the topic at hand please?" I asked everyone.

Everyone in the room grumbled out a yes and we continued with the precedings. Wow. That sounds way too formal for me.

"Well what can we do? We already made allies with the Arendelle trolls via Elsa and Anna. We had Grand Pabbie alert the Trollhunter of the Nightmares." said Ted Wiggins.

"Which means a group of you have to go find the essence stones." Megamind appeared with a plate of, "who wants cookies?"

"Are you growing soft on us, Meg?" Megamind basically growled at Wilbur for the nickname he used.

"I am trying to babysit Gru's oldest daughter and her friends." Megamind told him looking the kid dead in the eye.

"What do you know of the essence stones?" I asked him, ignoring the intense staredown happening between the two makes.

Megamind turned his attention away from Wilbur only for the time-traveller to blow a raspberry at him and Megamind to turn back and glare at him I rolled my eyes. The same old stupid antics. "I know where you can find the essence stone of the ocean."

"If you tell me we have to befriend Poseidon or-."

"It's in Atlantis." Megamind said.

"Or that." I facepalmed. "And how would you know that?"

"Because I have an evil underwater lair in the city of Atlantis." Cue another facepalm from me.

"And why...? You know what? I don't want to know. So how are we getting there?" I asked.

"It's not a matter of how we, but rather how who is getting there." Megamind said.

"That makes no sense whatsoever, dude." Hiro said as he walked into the room followed by Lucy Tuchi.

"Some of us will go on the mission while the rest research the rest of the essence stones." Megamind suggested.

"You know... your ideas are normally terrible. But this one is actually a good idea." Wilbur told him.

The alien growled. "Easy now, Megamind. When we heading out? And who is coming along for the ride?"

"You, Rayla, Ezran, Callum, Sisu, Hiccup, Jack, Light Furry, Walter, and Toothless." Megamind told us. "And you will leave tomorrow. After school."

"Alright. Before we do anymore planning, I need pizza." I walked over to where Hiro plopped the pizza on.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL HERE]}| "

I cannot believe he has the audacity for this! He knows we're not on the best of terms, and yet he does this." I sighed.

"I'm sure he has a reason." said Hiro.

"It's Megamind. It's a stupid-ass reason." I told him.

Hiro sighed. "But you miss hanging out with Toby and Jim. And you-."

"Don't even finish that sentence. I know what you were going to say." Hiro gapped at me. "I know what you were going to say. Only three people know it. And one betrayed me."

My phone vibrated in my hoodie's pocket and I opened it up to see a text from my grandmother, Margaret. "Is that Marge? What she said?"

"She's wondering about the you-know-what with the you-know-who." I told him. She wants to know about James Lake Jr being the Trollhunter. Grandpa would not be pleased with this anyway. But he's dead. And he doesn't matter.

"You have gym next block right?" I groaned. Of course I forgot. And why of all days did we have to do the Pacer test today!

"And we're doing the pacer test today too!" I would have banged my head on a locker if we weren't coming from History. "Kill me now! Woe is me!"

"Stop being overdramatic. And I'm off my way to Robotics." Hiro said once we got to the hall where we would part ways.

"Don't take over the world of robotics without your team first." I called out to gim.

"Yeah, yeah. Just focus on making chemistry after gym, but preferably during." the smart-ass called back.

I'm gonna kill him one of these days. Just you wait, Hiro Hamada. I grumbled and continued on my way to the ends of the earth. Also known as gym. Because I lack the athletic ability of a worm. My arms are basically noodles before submerged in H20. I got dressed in my PE clothes and walked outside to the bleachers where I plopped myself down on. Gym. The one class I don't have my safety net to catch me. The one block where I feel alone. Completely and helplessly alone.

"Hey, [Y/N]. Mind if we sit here?" asked Toby.

It was just him and Jim. What on Earth are they up to? I scooted some ways away from my spot and patted the spot beside me. Jim took the spot beside me while Toby took the bench in front of us.

"We haven't hung out just the three of us in awhile, huh?" Toby remarked.

"You both seem busy since the semester started. I can't blame you for that one."  I told them. The pair shrugged at me, but it was a lying shrug. I would know. I do the same ones. "Anyway, what are we doing for our History Project, Jamie?" I looked over at him.

"I don't know. Wanna brainstorm some ideas after school?" Jim asked me.

"Can't. I have a family thing." Lying to them has gotten harder since I found out. Hopefully they don't catch. But they're idiots. They won't catch on... I hope. "I can come over tomorrow after school if you want."

"That... Th-th-th-that'll be gr-gr-gr-great." What's with the stammer? It's weird. "Oh, don't forget about Pig Zombies on Saturday."

"Don't worry. I have it all set in my calendar. So, what time is the movie?" I asked them.

Toby and Jim shared a look. Oh that is never good. "We don't actually know."

"Then, what are we going to do about Saturday?" I asked them.

"We're more of idea men." Like they're any close to being men. "Creating a plan is someone else's problem." Of course.

"You two haven't changed at all, have you? I'll get to work on that sometime this evening. You guys still have email, righr?" I asked them.

"Who still uses e-mail anymore?" Toby inquired.

"Good point. I'll just have Lucy drive us to the theater anyway." I replied. "So, how are you and Claire going, Jamie?"

"O-o-o-oh, m-m-me and Claire?" stammered Jim. That's strange.

"Yes, you and Claire. You two are dating, aren't you?" I asked him.

"Oh, y-y-yeah. We're g-g-g-good." Hmm. Peculiar. But Jim's always been like this when pertaining to Claire. Nothing suspicious about that.

I hope.

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

Jim

"So, you have a study date with [Y/N] tomorrow huh?" Claire teased me while we walked to Blinky's library.

"What-. Wait! You told her!" I exclaimed to Toby who was on my left side.

"Of course, I did. Dude, you've been hopelessly obliviously in love with this girl since she stole your first kiss on the monkey bars when we were nine. And she-."

"She clearly has feelings for you, but she's not gonna act upon them since you know we're fake dating and all that jazz." Claire said.

I sighed. "You're the smart one. Couldn't you have come up with something... um... better?"

"What? Because a wuss like you was going to ask her out if I didn't say we were dating?" Claire asked him, raising an eyebrow at her friend.

I sighed once more. She clearly had a point. And Tobes seemed to catch it too. "He tried to ask her if she wanted to go see Pig Zombie 6 for her sixteenth birthday, but dragged me along with them because he wussed out of calling it a date."

Claire tapped her chin in thought. I do not understand girls. Then, she did the thing where you smack your fist against your hand in an aha! idea moment. Which is what transpired next. "I have a perfect idea for your movie date on Saturday."

"Am I going to regret this?" I asked her.

"I hope not. I'm helping you whether you want me to or not." Yea me! Internal frown.

We made it Blinky's library in which the four arm troll was talking animatedly to Vendell. About Essence Stones? What the fuzz buckets are those?

"Um, what are the Essence Stones?" I piped up.

"The Essence Stones are the only thing that can combat the Oncoming Storm." Vendel explained.

"Which is why we should be looking for them! We already know where one is! The Sea Stone!" Blinky told him.

"I already told you the Starling has this under control. This is her fight. Not ours. We shouldn't-."

"But then why have Pabbie tell us about the resurgence anyways?!" Blinky cut him off. I don't think Blinky has ever interrupted Vendel before. This is a first.

"Because to warn us of an even greater danger, Blinkous!! One that we have to face on our own! As Trolls!" the elder roared.

I never saw a look of fear as intense as the look that crossed Blinky's face when Vendel told him that. A greater danger? Even Aaarrrggghh! and Draal had the same look as Blinky. What did it all mean? Vendel left the library.

"I don't care what the goat says. We're getting the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"And how do we acquire it?" asked Claire.

"Hate Gyre." Aaarrrgghh! cried. Oh.

"And where would we find the Sea Stone?" Toby asked. "It's underwater right? And we can't breathe in water? So is it in an aquarium? Washed up on a beach?"

"I'll tell you where when we get to the Gyre." Claire, Toby, and I shared a look before shrugging our shoulders and following Blinky to the Gyre.

When we got there, we reached the Gyre and hopped in. "So, where are we going?"

"Under the sea. In an underwater palace where there is no water inside located in what you humans refer to as The Bermuda Triangle. Get ready for Atlantis." And before the three of us could protest, Blinky put in the coordinates and we zipped off towards... did he really say Atlantis? And the Bermuda Triangle?

But I didn't have time to question it as we arrived in a palace? And our clothes were soaking wet. But we never submerged in water? You know what? I shouldn't question it. Me and my friends huddled for warmth. It'll be awhile before we're dry. But why isn't- you know what? Never mind. I don't care.

"Okay, so where do we go first?" asked Toby.

"We head for the treasure room. The Jewel of Atlantis is the Sea Stone." Blinky told us.

"Why are we wet, but you aren't?" asked Claire.

"No clue." Blinky shrugged his shoulders.

The three of us grumbled but followed after Blinky with Aaarrrgghh! and Draal taking the rear. This is going to be a long evening. Our little group trudged, our squeaky footprints giving our location to anyone who would be here. And I think someone was here. Because a familiar ball of silver and blue was charging at us. Not us. Me. Followed by a march larger greenish-blue dragon.

"Hi, Azymondias." I said to the baby dragon when he jumped into my arms.

"I see you humans have already met the Prince. Starling's Zym seems to like you Mr Lake." the green-ish blue dragon said. Um... do dragons normally...

"YOU TALK?!?!" Thanks for that, Tobes.

"Of course, I do. I'm Sisu. Starling sent me after Little Azymondias to make sure he stayed out of trouble." Why aren't Blinky, Aarrrgghh!, and Draal freaking out about there being another dragon? And the elf being here?

"You six, now-seven, looking for the Treasure Room?" asked Sisu.

I shivered as a breeze went by. Why was there a breeze? We're in a dry castle underwater! This is just too weird.

"We were headed that way right now!" Blinky told the dragon.

Azymondias coughed. Or sneezed? I don't know. But he zapped me and I yelped and I'm... dry? Well alot dryer than before. Uh, thank you. Living dryer thay could kill me at any given moment. But you're still cute. So you're forgiven if you do.

"Well I wouldn't go that way! That's where Meg put his evil lair at." Sisu told us.

"Lair?" "Meg?"

"Meg is what the time-traveler calls Megamind. And he placed a lair here when he was going through his 'evil' phase." I did not know Dragons did air quotes.

"Time Traveler? Like the Doctor? Or Loki?" askes Toby.

"Looks like a mix of Matt Smith and Loki as a tween with too much hair gel. Alright, kids follow me." Sisu told us.

Zym appeared on my shoulder, wrapping his small body around on my shoulder and we followed the hopping dragon towards the treasure room. We had reached the treasure room, avoiding all the traps (that was on the ceiling for some strange reason). We arrived there. And Sisu peered inside before letting us enter. Strange.

But I couldn't help peering over Sisu's sboulder "Are you really angry that the Trollhunter keeps unknowingly stealing your pet?" That sounded like... no it can't be.

"Azymondias is not my pet. My pet sounds like I chose to take care of him. The bundle of zappy madness chose me to take care of him. So if anything, I'm his pet." Please tell me that's not who I think it is. But the-I'm guessing- Startouch Elf looks nothing like her. Not one bit. Well maybe except for the nose. And the eyes.

"You make absolutely no sense. And yet you love him anyway." the other voice said. A male with slick-back hair. This must be the time-traveler Wow. Sisu was spot on.

"Kids, easy now. We wouldn't want this to get into the wrong hands. Not this close to the Cotillion." A brunette male that appeared to be the oldest of the group. Why does he look so familiar to me?

"I have a question for you, pig snout. Meg said you wouldn't be here. Why the hell are you here? And why are you even here?" the elf asked.

"I stowed away because none of you are smart." the time-traveller said.

"Says the royal dumbass." the female elf sighed. "I'm so young and yet I feel so old." she emphasized. I was half expecting her to do a dramatic fall like they always seem to do in soap operas notthatIwatchsoapoperasinthefirstplacethat'sabsurd.

"I already knew that, dumbass." time-traveler said.

"Go on, Trollhunter." Sisu used her tail to push me toward the elf's group to retrieve the essence stone. "Introduce yourself."

And suddenly I stumbled upon the room making the group's attention turn to me. "Um...hi." Cue the awkward wave. "I'm... James Lake Jr? I'm the... Trollhunter." I held out the Amulet of Merlin. I could practically sense Toby and Claire facepalming at this.

"Starling, I think this one is for you to handle." I now noticed the brunette boy that stood beside the other elf. Is that... Callum Schlott?? Um... I hope if that is him, he doesn't tell [Y/N] about this.

"I am the one they refer to as Starling as you must know. And we don't need you here. To help us." The girl's hand were running up and down a strand of her waist length periwinkle hair. [Y/N] did the same thing when she had long hair. Not the time Jim.

"I think we do. Because the Seastone is missing if you've forgotten." the other elf said. She sounds like Rayla. And sort of looks like her too.

"THE SEASTONE IS GONE!?!?!?" Blinky exclaimed.

"Unfortunately so. Now, one advantage turns out to be a setback." I didn't notice the other brunette who had a black dragon that was acting like a cat by his feet.

"Do you have any leads?" asked Claire as she stepped forward.

"Just a Roman Penny. No clue from where though." Starling told us. "Now, I think it's time you kids return to California. Don'tyouthink."

|{[INSERT_COMMERCIAL_HERE]}|

"So Atlantis was a flopp?" I had already told Draal about the whole atlantis situation.

Luckily mom had another night shift at the hospital, so Draal could walk around freely while I made dinner for myself. Elbow Pasta and Meat Sauce it appears to be.

"Yes, it was, Draal." I turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels to find the one I wanted. "At least, I met Starling. She was not what I was expecting."

"Most elves aren't. You humans expect them to be small and cute because of the Claus, but they aren't." Draal told me.

"Actually, I think," I found what I was looking for. The French food competition show the World's Greatest Chef Competiton. "she was the exact opposite of what all of you were saying. Sure she was a tad harsh to us, but I think she didn't want to involve us in the Essence Stones. Like she didn't want anymore added help. I don't know." A knock sounded on the door.

"Were you expecting anyone?" asked Draal.

"Not that I know. Toby and Claire wouldn't knock. They'll just barge on in." I told him.

And before I got to the door, the door opened to reveal a boy with white hair, incredibly pale skin wearing a blue sweatshirt and brown trousers. "Don't be such a pussy, Hiccup." That was Sisu.

"Yeah, we're only here since Zym wants the trollhunter to be his dragon rider and to train him how to combat magic." white hair said.

"Um... what are you doing at my house?" I asked them as I held my wooden spoon in my hand, ready to strike them if necessary.

"You and Punzie would be great friends, squirt." The platinum blonde ruffled my brown hair to make it messy. My hair now looks like the dragon boy's hair.

"We're here to train you. I'm Hiccup. And this is Jack. Jack Frost." Wait. What? I'm lost. "I live over in Berk Manor. And you have wandered in a den where you cannot get out of." the brunnette introduced.

"Which is why Starling didn't want you to get involved. By trying to help us with the Seastone, you and your friends have put a target on your back. Starling didn't want that. But now we have to help you. To train you. Hiccup here is a Dragon Rider. And even though Azymondias isn't big enough to be ridden. He will be. I suspect sooner than you think, so he's going to train you to ride him. And I and many others are going come here to help you train against magic. Since the people who will come after you to kill you will have magic." Jack Frost told me. Now I'm really lost.

"So let's begin."

@trollhuntersfanatic

[kpop---scenarios]

The Ride

Pairing: Mafia! Baekhyun x Reader

Genre: Mafia Au

Word Count: 4.8k

Warning: Gun Use, Mentions of Death, Kidnapping, Smut, Mentions of Blood, Mentions of Sex Trafficking

Summary: Baekhyun was hired by your grandfather to watch over your cousin after she felt like she was being watched and marked. During his time at the diner with her, you and him became quite close. Little do you know the two of you are in for quite the ride.

Tagging: @shesdreaminginoverdose @ice-cold-taeyong @skittlez-area512 @exolnctzens @tacojisung @you-n-me-e-e @puli2things @xlxbaekhyuneex @blahblahblah-boo @precious-seungwooya @michimouse98 @ncteaxhoe @brokenbutchocolate @amixoferrthang @xiumin-tzuyu @biaswreckingfics @milky-baek @reynadelsol25 @maygem2780 @bbhmystar @xnovyx @sunbyun21 @jungkooksworld18 @noonawriter​

You lean over the counter, your cheek resting on your palm as you giggle at something Baekhyun had just said to you. 

"You're so gross. He's supposed to be here for me." Rose scoffs as she smacks her gum, continuing to text on her phone. 

"Oh my god, no." You laugh at Baekhyun before glaring at your cousin, scrunching up your face before hiding behind your hands. Your phone rings, you take it out and look at the caller ID, seeing grandpa flash across the screen you know he's there to pick up Rose. 

"Grandpa is here for you." You tell her, seeing his car pull up out back. As she gets up to leave, you turn away from Baekhyun when you hear the bell from the front door ring, along with mumbling deep voices. 

"Um.." Baekhyun says, making you turn around. You see a group of three men walking into the diner and Baekhyun's body stiffening up. 

"It's a group of old men, Baek. Stop." You laugh, grabbing menus before heading over there. 

"Hi guys." You smile, laying out the menus. "Can I get you guys something to drink to start?" You ask, slipping your notebook from your pocket. 

"Well aren't you a pretty little thing. Hey Jon? Dontcha think she's pretty." One man says, looking you up and down. 

"Absolutely." Another one murmurs. "She would make a nice fit with the others, hey Al?" He chuckles. "It's too bad she's not who we're here for." 

Your hand begins to sweat and shake as you try to remain cool. You felt uneasy but your grandpa always told you how to handle these men, should you ever encounter them. He always told you to not worry about it because the diner was a safe place, but on the off chance something happened, he was only a phone call away. 

"We heard Rose was going to be working today?" One man says with a smile. "I hear she gives great service. Could you get her?" He asks, his smile forced. 

"She's not here but I'll get you some waters." You mumble, quickly walking behind the counter. You notice the spot that Baekhyun had been sitting was now empty. You gather up the waters and head back to the table, placing one down in front of each man. 

"Do you guys know what you want to order or did you need more time?" You ask, your voice shaky. 

"Oh I know what i want." Al says, standing up. "Rose." 

"She's not here, I believe i said." You say, waving him off. 

"I don't believe you." He laughs. All three men stand up. 

"You guys can get the fuck out before I call the cops." You spit, placing your hand on your waist. 

The men laugh as they stand up, one of them winking at you as they walk out the door. 

"I'll be seeing you." He says, walking through the door, letting it slowly close behind him. 

"Not likely!" You yell. 

What a piece of shit.

You felt like you could finally breathe as you watched them climb into a car, turning your back before you even see them leave. 

You walk into the kitchen where the cook was cleaning the grill, the music blaring from his headphones. You tell him about your encounter and just ask him to keep an eye out.

You go back up front and you see Baekhyun walking around the front of the diner as you gather up some garbage, watching him turn the corner. You never understood why he stayed here after Rose left, since she realistically should be the only reason he was here. 

 You take the garbage out the back and through the door to the dumpster. As you see Baekhyun looking inside your car you notice a man with a gun sneaking up behind him, the gun pointed directly at his head. 

"Duck!" You scream. 

Baekhyun drops to the ground as the man fires his gun, the bullet going straight through the window of your car.

He pulls out his gun, swiftly turning around to shoot the man before getting up and running to you. He grabs your wrist, dragging you to his car, opening the passenger door and pushing you in before he hops in the driver's seat, starting the car, putting it in drive, as he screeches out of the parking lot. 

"Shit they had people waiting." Baekhyun spits, pressing down on the gas as two cars follow behind you. "I fucking knew it. I thought they would have moved on since she wasn't here." He mumbles. 

"Yeah cause sex traffickers move on that easily once they have a target." You sigh, rolling your eyes. "They're not dumb, Baek. They know you're there to protect her."  

"Here take this." He says ignoring what you said and handing you a gun. "Just keep shooting out the window. Try to aim for the tires." Baekhyun yells as he jerks the steering wheel to the left, the car behind you still trailing you too close for your liking. 

As you take off the safety, your mind wanders back into how you got into this position, meeting Baekhyun. 

**

"Ayn, this is Byun Baekhyun of EXO. He's here to watch after Rose while she's at work." Your grandpa, Chairman Yang tells you. 

"Watch Rose? Why? Because she does such a terrible job?" You laugh. Your laugh quickly fades away as you see the seriousness on everyone's face and that's when you knew it wasn't something to be joking about. "What's going on?" You ask. 

"She's been marked. Her car for the last few days have had the markings for trafficking." Baekhyun tells you. "This is how they do it, stake her out for a few weeks before they try to make their move." 

"So you're there.." you pause before he cuts in. 

"To protect her." He finishes. 

"Don't worry Ayn. Nothing will happen." Your grandpa smiles, trying to ease your mind. 

You weren't worried. You knew everything would be fine. 

"Don't they know who she is? Why pick her?" You wonder. Your family was powerful, so why risk it? 

"More powerful the family, more money for the girl. Some guys are just willing to take the risk." Baekhyun says. 

"I've got to go to a meeting. All will be fine, Ayn." Your grandpa finishes, placing a kiss on your forehead before walking away, leaving you with the man you soon would fall for. 

** 

The first day Baekhyun showed up you laughed. He sat on a stool at the counter and looked around the building trying to locate Rose. 

"Seriously?" You smile, looking at him with a blank stare. "First day and you already can't find her?" 

"I know exactly where she is." He scoffs. "Back there." He says, pointing to the kitchen. 

"Actually no. She didn't come in today. She had me take her shift today." You say, smiling wildy. 

Baekhyun laughs as he shakes his head, lowering it in embarrassment. 

"It's okay if you're not very smart, you're still hot." You smile. 

"You think I'm hot?" He asks. 

"Don't get all soft now, mafia man. You have a job to do." You say, walking away to serve the new group of people who just walked in. 

Baekhyun knew then things would never be boring as long as you were around. 

**

"I did it!" You exclaim excitedly as you watch the car behind you lose control and crash into a pole. 

"Good job." Baekhyun laughs. "One more to go." He murmurs, jerking the car one more time and speeding up. "Hold on tight." He spits, grabbing the wheel tightly, stepping on the brake and turning the wheel hard, completely turning the car around. 

You both speed past the car that had been trailing behind you, and laugh as you watch them through the mirrors, they slam on their brakes and try to turn to catch the two of you. By the time they had turned around, Baekhyun had already pulled into one of many side roads, turning off the car. 

Sitting there in silence, you squeeze your legs together, your clit throbbing. 

"Are you okay?" Baekhyun asks, worriedly.

"Adrenaline makes me horny." You breathe. You move your panties to the side, slowly slipping your fingers into your pussy, only letting out a soft moan. 

"Are you..?" He begins to ask, but is cut off by you getting onto your knees, pulling your fingers from your pussy and leaning over to him. You lift up his shirt, running your fingers through his treasure trail, licking your lips before whispering "nice." 

You unbutton his pants and he lifts himself up, making it easier for you to pull them down. 

You lick your lips at the sight of his cock, hard, leaking pre cum. 

You place your mouth over the tip wrapping your lips around it, swallowing his cock. 

Baekhyun moans as you gag yourself on his cock. His head falls back against the seat, his mouth hanging open as he thrusts up, shoving his cock further back down your throat. 

You bring yourself up, sitting up, you wipe your mouth, looking him in the eyes. "Im clean. Are you?" You ask. 

"Yes." He whispers as he watches you pull your panties down and throw them in the backseat. He leans his seat back, pulling your arm to help you climb onto him, hiking your skirt up in the process. He holds his cock as you slowly begin to sink down on him, his cock stretching you out an unimaginable amount. 

"Shit." He cries. "You're so fucking wet. You're drenched." He moans. 

You place your hands on his shoulders, you're rolling your hips, curling yourself into him. 

"Oh my god." You moan in his ear, leaning forward. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils.

"Dont stop." You cry, rolling your hips in just the right way. Your clit becomes sensitive as your orgasm quickly approaches. 

You lift yourself up from against him, your head flying back as you cum all over his cock. You move your hand from between your legs, lowering your head to look Baekhyun in the eyes, you place your fingers in your mouth, sucking the juices from them. 

Baekhyun moans as his hands leave your hips, moving up to begin undoing the buttons of your top, exposing your bra. He pulls a cup down, letting a breast spring free. He moans as he cups it, leaning his head forward to take it in his mouth. 

Shivers run down your spine as he continues to suck while you ride him, his cock hitting the right spot every time. 

You move your fingers down, putting them in between the two of you and in between your lips, rubbing your clit. You nuzzle your nose into his neck, the scent of his cologne filling your nostrils. 

Baekhyun lets go of your nipple with a pop, but before he's able to say anything else, a pair of headlights are set on your car and a gunshot rings through the air. 

"Shit." He spits, turning the car on. You try to get off of him but his one hand keeps you there in place. "I don't think so, baby." He smiles, putting the car in drive and flooring it. "Grab the gun." He spits. 

You reach over to the empty passenger seat, grabbing the gun you had left there. "Aim it out my window. Try to hit wherever you can." He yells, jerking the car around another corner. You wrap your arm around his neck as he looks over your shoulder, watching the road. You stick your arm out the window and pull the trigger, doing your best to keep your aim at the car. You were having a little trouble concentrating with Baekhyun subtly thrusting inside you as he drove. 

As you aim the gun out of his window, a moan slips out of your mouth, whispering the sound into his ear. 

"Fuck baby, you can't do that." He groans, grunting as he bucks his hips up, pushing himself deeper inside of you. 

"And you can't do that, if you want me to shoot." You gasp, clutching the gun tightly. 

Managing to get a little bit of your concentration back, you squeeze your pussy around his cock as you aim and fire. 

"Oh my god." Baekhyun gasps, biting his bottom lip before thrusting his hips up, pounding himself into you. 

"Fuck." You cry out, bringing your free hand up to cup your breast, squeezing it tightly. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you ride Baekhyun, forgetting that you would be distracting him from trying to get the two of you to safety. 

"Take another shot." Baekhyun groans, trying to concentrate, both hands on the wheel but his eyes on your bouncing tits. 

You stick your arm out the window again, firing another shot, this time hitting a wheel, making the car begin to swerve before inevitably crashing into a tree. Baekhyun laughs as he slams on the breaks, shifting the car into park before his hands end up on your thighs, pushing down while he thrusted up hard. 

"So fucking sexy." He grunts. You use your knees against the seat, bouncing on his cock, your tits in his face. 

"Fuck I'm gonna cum." You cry, your hand grabs a clump of hair as your orgasm hits you, halting all your movements, causing you to shake. "Shit." You moan as Baekhyun thrusts himself into you more, chasing his own high. 

"Im gonna.. cum." He stampers, his fingertips digging into your thighs as he shoots his load into your pussy, coating your walls with his cum. "Fuck." He huffs. 

You smile as you both catch your breath before you get off of him and sit yourself in his passenger seat, feeling his cum drip from inside your pussy. "You can just drop me off at home if you want." You breathe, running your hands through your hair. 

"I need to talk to your grandpa so yeah, let's go." Baekhyun says, turning shifting the car into drive and heading for your house. 

** 

"Yes sir." Baekhyun says as your grandpa gives him new instructions. 

"You're to be there all day everyday. If EXO wants us on their side, you better be keeping us granddaughter safe." He says, not looking up from his desk. 

"Yes sir. Of course sir." Baekhyun finishes, nodding his head. 

"You may go. Ayn?" Your grandpa says. 

"Yeah?" You say, turning around to face him. 

"Maybe you should take some time off from the diner. Just until everything blows over." He suggests. 

You laugh as you walk over behind him, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I appreciate the concern, but they're not after me. Besides, you know i can handle myself." You say, giving him a kiss on the cheek. 

"I know you're tough." He chuckles. "Doesn't mean I can't worry about you." 

"I'll see you later." You smile, walking out of his office. 

**

A few days later you were back at work, missing Baekhyun. He had gotten a phone call from Rose saying she had an appointment and he was the one who needed to take her and watch her there. You could almost guarantee that she did not have an appointment, she just didn't want to come to work like usual. 

You're brought out of your thoughts when the bell on top of the door rings and you heat the sound of footsteps walking into the diner. You turn around and see one of the men from before standing there, but this time he's alone.

"Table for one?" He asks. 

"Sit where you want. I'll be right with you." You say, turning around to grab a menu. You take a deep breath, planning out what you were going to yell at him. You walk up to him, dropping his menu on the table as he looks up at you. 

"Before you say anything.." he pauses. "I want to apologize for my friends and I the other day." He smiles. "They're into some weird business, we were drinking that day and things just got out of hand." He sighs. "A friend had told us about Rose and we pushed too far, we didn't mean any harm,  i'm sorry." He finishes. 

"If you weren't here to do any harm, then what about the guy who was shot?" You ask, trying to unravel his apology. 

"What guy? Someone was shot?" He asked, looking worried. 

"Nevermind.' You whisper. You weren't sure if you believed him but it's not like you would see him  often, so you let it go. But that wasn't true. You saw home almost everyday after that, and everyday you became increasingly more and more comfortable around Al. 

** 

"Hey Al." You smile widely as he walks into the diner for the fifth time this week. 

"Hello dear." He laughs, sitting down at his usual table. Already you were behind the counter grabbing his water and his coffee to bring to him.

"BLT or eggs today?" You smile, not even bringing him a menu considering he only ever ordered one of two things. 

"I think the BLT sounds good today, Ayn." He says, sipping on his coffee. "How's your cousin?" He asks. 

You had told him that she was a terrible coworker and he always liked to tease you about it. "Shitty, as usual." You smile. "I'll go put your order in quick." 

As the night went on and Al finished his food, he liked to stay and have a few cups of coffee after, reading the paper and just enjoying the sound. Yoh remembers how he told you his family was all gone, his wife passed away years ago, and his children were all grown up and left the house. He missed the noise, being surrounded by people. Or that's what he told you. 

"See ya, Ayn." He says, waving as he walks out the door a few hours later. You head over to his table to clean up his cups and underneath one of them was a $100 bill. He always managed to make you smile with his tips. 

**

A few weeks later, Al was still coming in and Baekhyun didn't like it. "There's something off about him." He says, sipping his coffee, eyeing up the man who you had become close to. 

"He's lonely. Leave him alone." You laugh, smacking Baekhyun on the arm. 

"How was your day today, Ayn?" Al asks as you refill his coffee. "The same as yesterday and the day before and the day before." You laugh. "Work work work, go home and sleep and more work." 

"You work far too much. You closing up again tonight?" He asks. 

"Not tonight, I'm off early tonight but the rest of the week I'll be closing." You tell him. 

"You make sure to be careful. There are some weirdos out there." He warns. 

You thank him and turn around, missing the small smirk that appears on his lips before disappearing quickly. 

At 7pm, you happily took off your apron, throwing it in the laundry basket in the back before saying goodbye and getting into your car. 

Once you were home you took a quick shower, not bothering to use a towel to dry yourself off, you prefer to air dry. 

You walk to your dresser grabbing your lotion off the top shelf as your door opens and in walks Baekhyun with his eyes closed. 

 "Look." He says. "We need to talk." He finishes opening his eyes, trailing your body up and down. "I.. we.. um." He stutters. 

"Im listening." You say, rubbing lotion over your stomach before moving up to your breasts. 

Baekhyun lets out a deep breath before moving to your desk chair, he sits down, biting his bottom lip. "Well.." he pauses. 

"What do you want to say to me?" You ask, standing in front of him. 

"I don't remember." He says, looking up at you. You smile as you crawl into his lap, straddling him. You wrap your arms around his neck, your breasts pushed into his face. You lift yourself up before rolling your hips against his clothed cock. You feel him grow beneath you as you continue to grind yourself on him.

"What do you want?" Baekhyun asks, his voice low. 

"Do whatever you want to me." You breathe. 

"Whatever I want?" He smirks. 

You nod your head, biting your lip to hide your smile. Baekhyjn stands up holding your back as you wrap your legs around his waist. His hands move to your ribs, holding pulling you off and throwing you on the bed. 

"Ropes?" He asks. 

"Handcuffs." You reply, pointing to your closet. Baekhyun gets off the bed, moving to your closet. He reaches up to grab the pair of handcuffs, twirling them around his finger as he walks back to your naked body laying on the bed. He crawls on, smiling as you hold out your wrists for him. Happily he locks the handcuffs in place and pushes your arms to lay flat over your head. 

"Hold onto the headboard and do not let go." He says with a growl. 

"Yes sir." You purr. 

Baekhyun moves down your body, forcing your legs open, spreading them as far as he can make them go. Your pussy is already dripping at the thought of him between your thighs. 

He lays down on his stomach, spreading your lips before flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue. Your back arches for a moment, until he pushes you back down, keeping his hand there to not let you do that again. 

"Oh my god." You cry out, his lips wrapping around you clit, sucking harshly. 

He releases your clit, sliding two fingers into his mouth before slowly entering them inside you. He slowly pumps his finger in and out of you, bringing his other thumb to your clit and gently rubbing, making you arch your back again. 

"Fuck fuck fuck." You cry out, the overwhelming sensation continuing to grow as he works his magic fingers. 

"You're going to make me.. cum." You scream out, your hands holding on tightly to the headboard as your orgasm washes through your body, Baekhyun's fingers still continuing to work on you. 

"Please. Please no more." You cry out, your body trying to twist away from him. 

"Shh baby, you told me I could do whatever I wanted. So stop moving and let me make you cum again." He snaps, his eyes dark. You bite your bottom lip, your body tries to relax but fuck you're sensitive. 

"I can't." You cry. 

"You can and you will. Cum again, baby." He says, his fingers thrusting in and out of you quickly while his thumb rubs your clit. 

"Fuck." You cry out, another orgasm washing over you, your clit throbbing from being so sensitive now. 

Baekhyun removes his hands from you, standing up and pointing to the floor. "On your knees." He states, pointing to the hardwood floor beneath him. You crawl off the bed, your hands still in the cuffs. Your sink down onto your knees, in front of Baekhyun. He begins unzipping his pants, letting his cock spring free. You notice the precum dripping from his red tip. 

"Suck." He demands. 

You take a breath before leaning forward, licking the tip of his cock, swallowing the cum before taking more of him in your mouth. 

Baekhyun's hands reach around and grab the back of your head, pulling a clump of hair to keep your head still before he slowly thrusts his hips back and forth, gently hitting the back of your throat. 

As the seconds went on his thrusts became harder and faster. His grip on your hair tightened as he slammed his cock into your mouth, sliding it down your throat to make you gag. Tears brimmed your eyes as you choked on his cock. 

"Such a good slut." He moans, pulling his cock from your mouth, letting you breathe. 

"On the bed. All fours." He spits, discarding his shirt somewhere in your room. 

You climb on the bed, mascara burning your eyes as it runs down your face. You put your face in your bed, pressing it into your sheets while sticking your ass in the air and wait for Baekhyun.  

You feel the bed dip behind you before a hard slap lands on your ass, making it burning. 

"Good girl." He purrs, grabbing your ass roughly before slapping it one more time. 

Baekhyun lines his cock up with your hole, pushing himself inside you a little bit before he grips onto your hips and slams himself inside you. 

"Holy fuck." You cry out but it's muffled. Your fingers hold tightly onto the bed sheets as your face is buried into the bed. 

"Such a nice pussy." He groans, this thrusts slowly but hard, hitting your G spot everytime. 

Seconds later he picks up his pace and begins pounding himself into you, his breathing heavy as his fingertips dig into your hips. 

"Clench." He grunts. 

You clench your pussy around him, making him cry out loudly. 

"Fuck, just like that." He groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. "Im gonna cum." He yells, his grip becoming even tighter before he stops moving. He's hunched over you, as he spills himself into you, coating your walls with his cum. 

"Shit." He breathes, giving small thrusts as he milks himself for everything.  

He pulls himself out of you, letting cum fall from your pussy, as he walks to the bathroom to grab you a cloth. 

He comes back with a smile on his face handing you the cloth before unlocking your hands, tossing the handcuffs onto your bed. 

After cleaning up, he crawls in beside you, pulling you in close to him, sleep coming easily to you both. 

Late in the morning, Baekhyun gives you a kiss on the lips as he quietly leaves your room, heading home to shower before going to the diner for his shift with Rose. "I'll see you later." You smile, knowing you'll be there in the next few hours for your long shift. 

** 

Over the next few nights of your closing shifts, Baekhyun had to leave early for the first two and had planned on staying for the third one. It was around 10pm when Rose had left to head home and it didn't take long for Baekhyun's phone to ring after that. 

"You just left Rose." Baekhyun sighs as he answers the phone on speaker.  

"I think someone's following me." She whispers. 'I've been taking a bunch of random turns and the car follows me the whole time." She says. You can hear the panic in her voice as you hear whimpers through the phone. 

"Where are you? I'm on my way." Baekhyun says, taking off from the diner. Your stomach was in knots thinking about what could happen to Rose. You just hoped Baekhyun got to her in time. As you watch his car screech out of the parking lot, the front door opens. You see Al walking in, a smile on his face. 

"Hey stranger." You grin, grabbing a cup for coffee. 

"None tonight." He says. He looks uneasy and uncomfortable. "I'm really sorry Ayn. It's not my decision." He says. Before you're able to ask him what he meant, you hear the sound of a bullet hitting something or someone in the kitchen and then a body hitting the floor. 

You look at Al with terror in your eyes as he shrugs his shoulders before you're hit over the head with something, making you fall into the darkness. 

**

Baekhyun got to Rose as fast as he could. She had pulled into a well lit gas station that had many people around while she waited for him to show up.

"They're gone?" She says, looking around as Baekhyun walks up to her window. "It's like they saw you and took off." She says shrugging her shoulders. 

His mind immediately went to you. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong. He pulled out his phone, dialing your number but you didn't answer. His hand starts to shake as he presses redial before running back to his car. He speeds out of the gas station and heads back to the diner. 

You still didn't answer. 

Baekhyun dials Chairman Yang, who picks up on the second ring. "What is it?" He asks.

"It's Ayn. Meet me at the diner." Baekhyun says before hanging up the phone. His foot presses on the gas, jolting his car to go faster.

He finally reaches the diner, barely putting the car in park before he flies out of the driver's seat, running inside. He calls out your name but you don't answer. His eyes look to the floor where he sees a large spot of blood. 

"Ayn!" He calls again, no answer. 

Chairman Yang runs through the door, looking at the blood then back at Baekhyun. 

"It was never Rose." He breathes. "They never wanted her. It was always Ayn." He finishes, feeling like he's failed you. 

[abloomntime]

Kiddo Week Day 1 Prelude/Crash

Prompts by @snatchersnatched and @kinglieste

Prompts found here

https://at.tumblr.com/abloomntime/kinglieste-kinglieste-a-hat-in-time/gfyc7trjfxj4

(Hat Kid's journal entries before, during, and after landing on the planet explaining my headcannon backstory for her. Warning: Character death implied.)

************************************************************

"Day 1...

Hello new journal! I'm not sure what else to write in this since this is my first time writing in this. Mother's bookstore friend gave it to me while I'm staying with her to pass the time away while Mother's being taken care of at the weird white building. She says I shouldn't worry as the Doctor's making sure everything goes alright. I hope Mother returns soon, I don't really like all the green looking veggies Mother's friend makes me eat. But the doctor said she's sick so it'll take a while for her to get better."

'Day 2...

Every day is so boooooring! There's nothing to do around Mother's bookstore! She's had it forever and always works here with her friends. Mother's friend suggested I read a whole bunch of picture books but all of them are boring too! It's a lot more fun swinging on the chandeliers with the umbrella Grandpa Tim made me but Mother's friend only scolded me and took it so 'I wouldn't break anything'! This stinks worse than the green veggies!!"

"Day 3...

Today I found the old Blueprints I made with Grandpa Tim a loooong time ago! He said he would make me a spaceship just for me and one day I could go traveling the solar system like he did! I miss him he was really cool! He ran this BIG company and everyone called him the 'CEO of Time' or 'Third Eye' because of his extra eye. Some kids think he's weird but he's really smart and cool! Mother and him don't get along too much. They had a big fight when he said when his time went it would be my time to handle our family's treasured 'pieces'. This part is in qoutes because he made it sound like that. Mother made me leave when they argue but since I'm sneaky I listened anyways. She doesn't want me to travel space or take over Grandpa Tim's 'treasure pieces' and said I should have a normal life like she chose too. Which isn't fair and BBBBBOOOOORRRRING!! I don't wanna become a cranky old librarian. Traveling through space with treasure sounds much more exciting....I wonder if I can find where he hid the treasure if I follow the map on the back of the blueprints?? I haven't seen Grandpa Tim in a long time. One day Mother had her friend 'babysit' while she went out to see him in a weird black dress. (I can take care of myself!) She says she'll tell me when 'I'm Older'. What does that even mean? Anyways, I'll hide the map for now. I finally have an adventure! But first I have to get my umbrella back from the 'your grounded' area."

"Day 4...

I know this says 'Day 4' but I really haven't been writing in this journal too often. Too busy planning on busting out and seeing where this mysterious map leads too, and waiting for Mother to come back to get me. Which is why I'm writing now. Mother's Friend said that I'm going to be staying with her for a while now. Is Mother missing? I asked but she told me she'd tell me 'When I'm Older.' What is with THAT?! Also something weirder happened. These weird guys from Grandpa Tim's old company came to Mother's Bookstore to talk to me. They were looking for something Grandpa had called 'time pieces'. The heck was that? I don't know but something is telling me to follow that map soon. I've located where my umbrella and hat are. It's only a matter of time before I go see what's at the end of the map. I can't take any more broccoli."

"Day 5...

It's been almost three days since I snuck out. My umbrella and hat were easy to get since Mother's friend hit them on top of the fridge. As if that'll stop me! And I finally found out where the map leads! MY SHIP!! At first I thought it was just gonna be some dumb boring old stuff like checkers or something. But the map lead me to this old shed looking place outside town and there it was inside! As I'm writing this I'm inside the ship's control room. And I think I found out what these 'time piece' things are. There was this BIG vault and I was sure the treasure would be in there and these was hundreds of these shiny hourglasses inside. It must've been the 'treasure' Grandpa Tim always told me about. But why did he put them inside my ship?? Was he trying to give them to me without Mother knowing?? I found out they are called time pieces because that's what the computer calls them so it must be true! And that means the pretty things are mine!...But they're kinda weird too?? But in a familiar way?? When I held one it was like holding a piece of me...If that makes sense. I can't write it down because I don't like writing a lot, and because it's hard to describe. But I just...KNOW they're meant to be mine. Like they're connected to me somehow. Anyways, there's a whole lot of buttons on the control panel. I wonder what would happen if I press the launch button?"

"Day 6..

I think I messed up...I ended up pressing the button ON ACCIDENT and suddenly the entire ship launched into space. And...I think I'm lost. I fell asleep when the ship shook really badly and now I'm awake. And now I can't figure out where I am.....BUT THIS IS ALSO GREAT!! I'M FINALLY ON AN ADVENTURE LIKE I WANTED!! SPACE IS SO PRETTY!!....But I think I better go home first and tell Mother. If I don't she's going to worry when I'm gone, and I don't like it when she's upset. I found a Guide Manual so maybe this'll help me. I really don't like reading, but I think I don't have any other choice."

"Day 7...

That was easier than I expected! Grandpa Tim must've made this computer operating thing easy for me! I'll thank him when I get back too! According to my computer it's gonna take a long time to get back. In the mean time I'm gonna start exploring the ship! There's so many rooms and stuff to see! Did Grandpa Tim leave all this stuff for me??? Oh well. It's mine now."

"Day 8???

It's been really nice! I put question marks because I don't know how many days I've been gone now, but my computer says I'm almost half way there so it's ok! I made a pillow fort in the giant pillow mountain to hide in. And I looked more at those shiny time pieces, but something weird happened. I accidentally broke it but it was NOT my fault! How was I supposed to know it was breakable?! ...But I know how to fix them and use them too. It's funny because I've only had them for a little while but it feels like they've always been a part of my life and I know exactly how to use them! Crazy right? I must be a magic genius or something. There's also this nagging feeling telling me things. I think Mother said it's called your conscious when it tells you something's bad or good? Or maybe it's my gut feelings? I don't know, but it says I need to keep these things safe now. Which I'm gonna do anyways because these are MINE now after all."

"Day 8.5???

I found a weird robot building kit in the attic and decided to build him. It's gonna be cool having a cool robot pet! I think I'll call him Rumbi. The picture of him on the box is cute. I wonder if he'll be just as cute after I build him?"

"Day 9???

Well this is just great! I get half way there and now Im stuck on a random planet because some dumb guy broke my ship's door! And now all my time pieces are gone! I need them to magically?? power my ship or else I'll never get home! ...But I've never been on another planet before. This might be fun to explore! I'm gonna use another journal I found to write about what I find. Why? Because I can!"

"Day 10???

I met someone while in Mafia Town again! And not like that double crosser Mustache Girl. Her name's Bow and she's really fun to hang out with! She was being held hostage by these dumb Mafia so I beat them away with my umbrella! I think she's the only person I've met so far who hasn't double crossed me yet. She says she's from somewhere called Nyakuza Metro?? Sounds fancy. Anyways, I don't think she has anyone here to help her. In that case she can come with me and I'll keep her safe. I think I saw an extra umbrella in my spaceship too. I can show her how to use it!....This might be the first friend I ever had!"

"Day 11???

Bow gets along great with Mr. Grooves. I think he's really nice too! She's almost as good as I am when I use my umbrella. She told me more about her old home. She ran away too to find adventure but she used to love in something called an "Orphaned Kitten Home"?? I guess that means she doesn't have any Mother or Grandpa Tim of her own, but that's ok! She's my friend now so she can have my Mother and Grandpa Tim as well. I'm sure they won't mind!"

"Day 12???

Today we met some weird people. Really nice but really weird. That bell took us to some real weird place filled with ghosts and we met a new friend! His name's Timmy! And he can do magic like some wizard! And there was this witch! A REAL WITCH! ...But she didn't have green skin or black cats. What gives? Maybe witches are different on this planet. There was a time piece here too, a ghost gave it too us! He looked really scary but he was a lot nicer than that Jerk Snatcher. The Witch even teleported us back to the mountains. She's the nicest witch I ever met."

"Day 13???

I know it was a long time since I wrote something but I finally did it! All the time pieces are recovered and my ship's at full power! I can finally go home! And Bow's excited too! It's gonna be cool to have someone to hang out with! ....But it's gonna be sad to not see anyone again. I tried taking off but the emergency break stopped us because something was outside the ship causing a disturbance. And everyone was hanging on asking me to stay...I didn't want to do it, but I pushed them off. I'm sure they're ok...But I gotta go home. Mother and Grandpa Tim are waiting for me. And I promised Bow she could meet them! We're almost there anyways! Maybe one day Ill come back and see everyone again."

"Day Unknown???

I don't know what to do anymore. Something really bad happened when we got home. I should've been happy but I wasn't I was...Scared. I didn't know why until we tried landing. Something was telling me not to land but I did anyways. I should've listened to my gut. Someone tried to get into my ship! There was guys from Grandpa Tim's old time company and demanding I hand over the time pieces! NO WAY!! Not after I worked so hard to get them back! It was like Mustache Girl all over again but more scarier. Bow was scared too. I ended up pressing the launch button again and knocking them off the ship. I don't know what to do now or where to go, but my gut is telling me to stay away from the planet. I guess I don't have a home there anymore...And I have a feeling Grandpa Tim and Mother are gone too. At least I have Bow and my trusty ship and Rumbi! And the time pieces are all safe! I'll write again when I feel like it. For now we're gonna see if my TV works."

"Day Unknown???

We're doing ok..Better than I thought. I was showing Bow my cool collection of Rift Books! Apparently they appear where ever a time rift appears and depending on the surroundings makes a cool picture book about it's past! Pretty neat! Some are sad but most of them are really cool to look at. Snatcher's is really really sad though."

"Day Unknown???

How could I not notice before?! I thought I got all my time pieces but according to my log book there was more missing! I must've not gotten them all from the planet when that mafia guy and Mustache Girl made them all fall from my ship! ...TWICE!! I'm installing a giant new security lock on my vault and heading back to get them! ....I wonder if they'll still be happy to see me again? I might visit them again. After I get those time pieces."

"Day Unknown???

Today I found this hourglass in the attic. It's not a time piece but it's not just a regular hourglass either. According to the instructions this is a memory replaying device of some kind. COOL!! I'm still deciding what to do with it....But I have an idea."

"Day 14?.....Im just gonna say 14 and start from here.

A lot has happened since we got back. I found out Conductor has grandkids and they're all cute and very fuzzy with their feathers! ...But I still wonder what kind of bird they are if they are birds? And I got all my time pieces back! I had to sink a ship and visit the metro to get them though. YIKES!! Now I know why Bow left! They're all thieves and crooks! And that Empress is scary as PECK! But on the bright side now I can explore more of the planet and visit everyone! I can't wait to see Cookie and Mr. Grooves and Timmy again! I just hope I don't run into Mustache Girl. Speaking of seeing people, Bow said Snatcher tried to haunt my ship. I wonder where he was on the cruise?? I didn't see him on the boat, and I tried to visit him but every time I went to his woods he wasn't there?? Like whaaaat? Ghosts can turn invisible so was he invisible? Is he playing a game of hide and seek? I thought he wanted to see us? Oh well. We're gonna see Mr. Grooves tomorrow anyways! He says he wants to show us Cookie's new movie! I'm so excited!"