#I wish the cheek pulling is actually more visible cuz Ty is pulling on the cuz he's jealous

[kagumiya]

"Just who do you think gave you permission to flirt with these guys?" >:(

"I was just trying to get us a discount..." :( o

[juniperjoy101]

Violet Sky – (Emily x Reader)

Rating: PG

Word Count: 2.3k

Reader is Gender-Neutral/up to you!

You’re close to giving up when the weather channel predicts the twentieth sunny day in a row. 

With you and Emily now reaching a whole year together as a couple, you were more than ready to propose to her, yet it wasn’t until you did some actual research on how to do that in the Valley that the sun suddenly started shining for days and weeks on end. It had been a customary act for you to have your watering can on the ready, crops still requiring their daily nourishment in spite of you feeling droopy and droopier with each day that went on with you being unable to find the dreaded Mermaid's Pendant.

Tired of waiting, you decide to walk over to the bar and invite Emily for a late-night walk around the beach, verifying the time to make sure you went in just twenty minutes before her shift came to an end. You pass by the usual road — the bus stop, Harvey’s clinic, and Pierre’s — until you reach the saloon, the muffled sound of music reaching your ears.

Gus greets you right as you step in while Emily turns her gaze to you, red lips curving into a smile as she stops her work to go approach you at the counter. In accordance to the troubled look on your face, however, it turns into a frown, red eyes softening as she reaches out for your hand, squeezing it softly.

“You doing okay, (Y/N)?” the blue-haired woman asks, lips parting as she goes to speak up again. “I can feel those vibes creeping from a mile away, and they’re not exactly cheerful. Is there something you want to tell me? You know I’m here to listen.”

“I’m fine,” you reply, breaking into a smile when her pale hand reaches out to cup your cheek, (s/t) complexion warming up under her touch. “I know you’ll probably disagree with me, but I really want it to rain for at least just one day.” 

She giggles at your comment while you do the same, her concerned expression shifting into one of amusement as she lets go of your face, a tiny blush showing on her cheeks. 

“It really must be tough for you, huh? The drought isn't helping the Valley’s soil, so I’m actually wishing for that, too — Even if I just end up heading over to the desert until the rain wears off.”

Emily turns her back on you after that statement, finishing off her last batch of silverware left to clean as she stares up at the clock marking only five minutes until she went out with you. You feel bummed at the thought you can’t offer her to move in just yet, though you push down those emotions and focus on asking her out, the violet sky perfect for watching the stars and strolling along the beach.

“Emily?” you call out, waiting until she places the last piece of cutlery in a drawer. 

“What’s up? she asks, turning back to your side.

You notice she still has that blush tinting her face when she looks at you, a sight that makes you hold back the urge to raise an eyebrow, grin, and tease her as to why she was doing that. 

“Wanna go for a walk after this? We can go to the beach, or. . . just hang out at my place.”

Pink changing to red, you feel you’ve made the wrong move when her cheeks are just the same colour as her lips. The woman only nods as she moves her hair away from her face and ties it up into a ponytail too short for it not to fall apart in an instant. You offer her your help, to which she accepts by turning around again and handing you the scrunchie. She waits as you comb your hands through her hair and bring it all together, tying it a bit stronger for it not loosen up.

“I’ll be there in a minute,” she states, redness fading away from her face as her mouth turns to a straight line, a stern gaze crossing her eyes. “But I need to go look for something at my house first.”

“Want me to wait for you?”

“You can’t — It has to be a surprise.”

You don’t know what to make of her serious tone and stare, though that falters quickly when a smile returns to her face.

“I promise it’s nothing grim or anything like that, so don’t go making that face when I come back! Those bad energies are back again, and I don’t want them anywhere near you.”

★ ★ ★

The horizon is a mix of dark blues and purples by the time Emily’s back, her voice sending relief right to your shoulders as you loosen up and see her approaching the shore, short hair still tied up with the exception of a few loose strands resting on each side of her face. She has her red dress changed for a more comfortable set of clothing, plus a beige messenger bag resting on her hip and a pair of black, open-toe sandals on her feet, though it still feels far fancier compared to the worn overalls you were wearing. 

“You’re making that face again!” she huffs, placing her hands on her hips as her teasing tone chastises the worried frown on your face. “I warned you!”

Unsure as to what she meant with that last statement, you don’t have much time to react when you feel her hands push against your chest, sending you off balance as your rear meets with the sand humid with salty water. She lays on top of you, grinning as she watches the shore crash against you, sending an all-too cold splash of water over your body, her own salvaging itself thanks to the position she stood in. Caught entirely off guard, you can only manage laughing when it dawns that this was meant to be her form of punishing you.

You didn't like exhausting your overalls more than they already were, and she was aware of it.

While these were in fact worn and discoloured, there was a reason for them to look the way they did now. It had been a gift from the same woman currently standing on top of you, one she had given to you not long after you handed her the bouquet meant for declaring your affection towards her. 

A whole year had passed since then, yet you were far from wanting to discard the overalls away. You smile at that thought, thankful for those memories despite the lingering concern that you would have to wait another year until proposing.

“That’s more like it!” she exclaims, shaking you out of your thoughts. 

You look back up at her to see her still grinning, brighter than you’ve ever seen as her blushing returns.

“Now lets get you out of those clothes, (Y/N) — I brought a spare change ‘cuz I figured you would worry even though I warned you not to.”

Emily gets off of you and helps you up by reaching out for your hand, pulling you back to your feet. She takes out a small stack of clothes a little too neatly-folded for them to be a mere spare, though you don’t question it. Rather, you accept them with a smile and thank her, excusing yourself for her to turn around while you went to change your clothes.

“Tell me when you’re ready!” she mentions, joy present in her tone. “I’ve got something I want to show you.”

★ ★ ★

From the same bag Emily had taken the spare clothes out of, she retrieves a silver ring. Her gaze casts up to you when she gets down on one knee, one hand placed on her lap as the other offers the jewelry towards you. Her stern expression is back again, red lips refusing to part out of their line as she stares sharply at you. You wait for her to speak up first, not wanting to jump to any sort of conclusions despite your surmount of nerves, racing heart, and sweaty palms.

"I know this isn't the traditional way of asking, but. . ." Emily drifts off in her words, bracing herself by taking a pause and a breath. "Will you marry me, (Y/N)?"

You can't shake yourself off your frozen state, mind processing the fact that she had taken that initiative without so much as waiting for a long-due rainy day to show up.

"Emily, I. . ."

You don't know how to react. 

Ever since you found interest in her beyond that of being her friend, you wanted to be the one to take every first step there was: to be the first one to ask her out at the Flower Dance, to be the first one to confess, and finally, to be the first one to propose. It hadn't occurred to you she could have taken initiative on her own. 

At the sudden observation, you burst into a full smile, take her into a hug, and rest your face on her shoulder, hands holding her waist while she takes hold of your upper back. You let go only to strengthen your grip on her and twirl her around, giddy with excitement and the prospect of getting married soon. She returns your enthusiastic nature by grinning wide, eyes barely visible through the curtain of tears blocking her from seeing you, mouth puckering when she goes to place a kiss on your forehead, giggling afterwards. 

“Now that’s what I’m talking about!” she exclaims, separating herself from you. A subtle trace of embarrassment is present on her voice, though her confidence and positive nature shine through all the same. “I couldn’t stand seeing you sad -- It’s worse than a rainy day.”

Sealing your engagement with a kiss, you break apart only to find another place to spend together in, going for the shore again, where the horizon’s turned to a full purple, cold breeze still prevalent and causing for the both of you to scoot closer towards each other. You offer her to rest her head on your shoulder, yet she takes initiative again by dismissing you and offering you to do that instead, smile encouraging you to accept.

“You need to allow yourself some ‘me-time’ every once in a while,” Emily speaks up, taking your hand. “I know you’re trying your best to make that farm bloom into something wonderful, but damaging your body and spirit will only shorten your time here.”

At the sudden tremble in her voice, you raise your head off her shoulder and look into her expression, smile still there yet conflicting with her watery eyes. 

“I don’t want you to leave so soon -- especially now that we’ve taken this step,” she continues, squeezing your hand tighter than before. “So let me help you. Let me take initiative every once in a while and let yourself be taken care of every so often. A relationship works best when both people put equal amounts of effort into it.”

“I’ll. . .” You hesitate in your words, not quite knowing how to offer her some peace of mind in terms of that subject. “I’ll try my best. Thank you, Em.”

“And thank you, (Y/N), for being here today,” she returns, blinking away her tears to form a brighter gaze. “You may not think the same as me, but I think you being here after what happened at the saloon really shows your dedication.”

“Honestly? I just don’t wanna wait anymore. I was getting anxious since winter’s just around the corner -- and that means zero chances of rain ‘till spring.”

Her smile grows in response to your words, her body pressing closer to yours, enough for your shoulders to brush and for her short hair to tickle your face, the lingering scent of the saloon sticking to her. With her this close, you can feel the pace of her breathing, comforting enough to make you grow drowsy.

“I like your honesty, (Y/N),” she comments, letting out a laugh.

The wind blows harder, drowsiness taking over completely. You rest your head on her shoulder again, sighing when she runs her fingers through your scalp in gentle strokes, reaching to the top of your forehead and later the upper back of your neck. She plants another kiss on your lips before you drift off to sleep, the sight of the purple sky and the sound of the ocean the last things you can see and hear right as you fall asleep.

“Sleep tight.”

★ ★ ★

You wake up in bed, fully awake and refreshed -- a feeling that was rare working for both the Joja Corporation and the Valley. Joja was, to put it lightly, inconsiderate with its employees while the farm required plenty of attention, crops and animals taking the most out of your day. Emily’s nowhere near the bedroom, though you can hear the clinking of pots and pans in the kitchen. 

Curious, you stand out of bed and rush to see her, heart racing when you spot her midway into your run towards the kitchen. You almost bump into her, though she manages to prevent that, the pot in her hands slushing and sending a puff of smoke in the air. She stifles a laugh and hands you the pot, telling you the name of the dish she had prepared when you’re incapable of identifying it on a first glance.

“It’s a bean hotpot!” she explains, kissing your cheek. “Figured you could use something to start your day off right. I have to go now, but promise me you’ll eat that, alright? If we’re going to live together, you have to eat a healthy meal at least once a day -- I don’t want you getting sick!”

With that, Emily takes her leave, giving you no space to utter a word of protest as she shuts the door behind her, leaving you alone with a fluttering heart and a large, steaming bean hot pot in your hands.

You smile late -- minutes long after her exit, overwhelmed by the change and the woman with the short, blue hair.