#like she sure spends a lot of time happily killing her old people.

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Moonstorm

YA space opera

a young girl who was taken by the empire after her people’s moon was destroyed is given the chance to become a mech pilot after an attack on their boarding school leaves their class stranded on an imperial space fleet

while it’s been her dream to become a pilot, the training is not what she expected, and there is more to the lancer mechs than the general public knows

when her past catches up with her, she starts to be confronted with where her loyalties lie

queer & nonbinary characters, no romance

[justdontaskme]

Just Kiss Already (Aitana Bonmati x Reader)

Little Christmas fic for anyone who needs a quick and short escape from holiday festivities. Wanted to try someone new. Thanks to @chaisreading​​ for the idea for this one. Happy Holidays to everyone!

After such a long flight to Portugal, you were praying that the first stop would be the hotel where you hoped to slip in a small power nap. You would kill for the comfort of a bed right now. 

The team was scattered around the plane, some still sitting and others aimlessly wandering the small space before it was time to deplane. For the time being, you were more than content, staying in your seat, head on Aitana's shoulder as she scrolled through her phone. 

It wasn't unusual for you two to be so close. The midfielder was actually one of the first people you had clicked with when you first joined the team a couple of years ago. Your teammates would joke constantly about you two being an old married couple, and you played into it every time. 

After stepping off the plane, you stayed close to the Spanish midfielder, feeding off the calmness she was always giving off when away from the pitch. You made sure you were seated next to her on the bus, and even led her to the nearest couch as soon as you walked into the hotel. 

The team waited patiently in the lobby of the hotel while room assignments were being passed out. You had been banking on getting to room with Aitana this trip, but you couldn't be too disappointed when you were paired with Keira. 

Your best friend came up behind you with a set of keys, happy to have been roomed with you. 

"Are you a little peeved that you didn't get to room with Aitana?" she nudged your shoulder lightly, her eyes alight with mischief as she watched your eyes following Lucy and Aitana to the elevator. 

"It would have been nice, but now I get to hang out with you so I guess it all worked out." And it had. You'd been meaning to spend more time with your friend since she'd joined Barca, but there had been little time to do so. 

"Have you thought about telling her?"

You turned to Keira confused, "What are you talking about?"

"Have you thought about telling Aitana you like her?"

You merely shrugged your shoulders, snatching the hotel keys from Keira and leading the two of you to the elevator. 

Keira was the only one, well if Keira knew then Lucy probably knew too, but they were the only ones you had openly admitted your crush on Aitana to. Your best friend had actually picked up on it not too long after joining the team. So after a night out a few weeks into her transfer, you had rehashed your whole life story surrounding your harboring of a crush on the Spanish midfielder ever since you had first joined the club. 

The redhead waited until the two of you were riding up the elevator to broach the subject once more. 

"I'm just saying, she's really cute and I think you two would be really good together."

"You sure do bring Aitana up a lot. Are you sure you're not the one with a crush on her?" You smirked, seeing the blush on Keira's face. 

"I'm happily taken," Keira said, but the damage had been done. 

"No worries, I'll happily take Lucy off your hands," you laughed, watching your friend's eyes bug out at the suggestion. 

"You wish you had a chance with Luce," Keira said, her eyes narrowed as if challenging you. 

"I mean I think I could have a chance. She did follow me all the way to Barcelona," you teased. Since Lucy's signing was announced, you always joked that she only said yes to Barcelona because you were there. You always enjoyed pressing Keira's buttons by reminding her how well you and her girlfriend got along. 

Redirecting the conversation away from your bromance with Lucy back to you and Aitana, Keira started in again. "Think about it. It would be so much fun. If you and Aitana were together then we could go on double dates together."

"Just say you're tired of third wheeling with me and Luce. I totally understand," you laughed.

Keira shoved you into the room with a roll of your eyes. Even though you'd been living in different countries for many years, she loved that the two of you were still so close enough to talk like this with one another. 

****

While the day had gone by as normal, the constant stares your friends were sharing with one another let you know they were up to something. You just didn't know what, so instead you focused on the conversation Aitana was having with Mariona on the walk around the city. 

Chaos began at breakfast the next morning. As a person who loved their sleep, you were always one of the last ones to breakfast and most of the time someone always had to wake you and make sure you didn't fall back asleep. And they had planned to use that to their advantage. 

With Keira and Lucy at the helm of the mission, your teammates had plotted to get the two of you to finally admit you like one another. And seeing as the Christmas season was upon them, they thought mistletoe would be the best plan of action. 

Seeing as Aitana was one of the few who could wake you without having to face your grouchy morning wrath, the younger woman had been tasked with making sure you made it to breakfast on time. 

Their plan was for your joint entrance to be the perfect time to share your first kiss. Unbeknownst to them, the two of you had come down just a little earlier than they had planned for, which gave it all away.

Approaching the dining room, you noticed a group of players hovering around the entrance, inconspicuously tying something over the frame. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing, so you decided to have a little fun with it. 

"Ooo look, Frido and Ingrid are under a mistletoe," you called out as you approached them, nudging Aitana ahead of you. "That means they have to kiss!"

Everyone had been so distracted by the collective gasps of surprise from Mapi and her girlfriend that they didn't even notice the sly wink you sent over to Aitana. 

Pina and Patri were next, and they had tried to catch the two of you at the team bonding session in Irene's room. They had sent the two of you downstairs to grab a few things while they got the mistletoe ready. Unfortunately for Pina and Patri, it backfired and the two girls ended up kissing one another. 

It didn't stop there, but most of the other attempts were spoiled before they could even start. 

On the last night before heading back to Barcelona, Keira had asked you to switch with Lucy and you were more than okay with that. 

So here you were, high off a crushing win, sitting on the edge of the bathroom counter as Aitana got ready for bed.

"Are we going to keep pretending we don't know what they're trying to do," Aitana asked, putting her stuff down and stepping into the space between your legs. 

"It's more fun this way, don't you think?" You asked, wrapping your legs around her waist so you could pull her closer.

Your girlfriend rolled her eyes, but she did have to agree. The lengths to which your teammates had gone to try to catch the two of you under a mistletoe was quite hilarious. 

"Well, I'm just glad we don't have to pretend in here and I can kiss you whenever I want."

"I like the sound of that. Kiss away," you said, eagerly accepting the kiss she planted on your lips. 

****

The next day, just before the game, your friends had concocted another plan to catch the two of you under the mistletoe. But with all of the previous failed attempts, they had planned a much more elaborate scheme. 

After warmups, the team slowly began to make their way back to the locker room. They waited patiently for you to enter the room, one person in particular standing just under the entryway. 

Before you could even get inside, you were stopped by Ana who had a few questions for you before the game. 

"Hey, Y/N, look up," Mapi called from the other side of the room, her face giving away exactly what you were to find over your head. 

You started stammering, looking for a way out, even sparing a glance to your girlfriend, who was already a little red in the face. 

Just as Ana was leaning in, you felt a slight gust of wind as you felt the blonde being pushed to the side and Aitana grabbing your training top and pulling you forward until your lips landed on hers. 

Never one to deny a kiss from your girlfriend, you let yourself relax into it, inching your body closer until it was pressed up against hers. 

"Finally!" Keira cheered from the side. "We've been trying to get you two to kiss this whole time."

"Oh, we know," Aitana replied, her eyes still fully fixed on you. The jealous stare you had seen just before your lips met was now gone, but you loved the determined look on her face now even more. 

"Is this when we tell them we've been dating for months now?" You smirked, leaning in for another quick peck before walking your girlfriend over to her locker. 

"You've been what?!"

[vaniloqu3nce]

More about the wenclair kids, this post is dedicated to @krystal-maiden because they wanted to know more about the twins! If anyone wants to ask anything about them, I’d happily share my hyperfixations with anyone (:

Leonidas is a pack animal and prefers company. He follows his moms everywhere and whenever his uncles visit he will hold something they have hostage so they can stay longer. Leonidas was jealous that Wednesday AND Enid had brothers, so he asked for brothers for his birthday. He got two twin sisters instead.

When the twins came home, Leonidas tried to return them because he thought they got the wrong kids.

Vittoria and Naenia are not identical twins, in fact one look at them and nobody could tell they were twins at all. Vittoria is the spitting image of Enid and Leonidas save for her nearly black eyes. And Naenia is the spitting image of Wednesday, except her bright blue eyes which stare into the soul of anyone and everyone.

Naenia and Vittoria were born with their dominant gene being psychic, and because of their twinship they share a connection. If Vittoria cries, Naenia will start crying soon after. If Vittoria is hungry, Naenia will cry, if Naenia wakes up in the middle of the night and sits there quietly, Vittoria will wake up and start crying. If Naenia needs to be changed, Vittoria will start crying. Leonidas noticed this and immediately started trying to experiment to figure out the limits of this. Wednesday always manages to catch him before someone gets beheaded though.

Vittoria was smiling as soon as they left the delivery room. (They had to make sure Leonidas didn’t cut the breaks) Naenia didn’t stop crying unless Wednesday held her and they didn’t like to be separated. Leonidas spent the entire car ride pouting because he wanted brothers.

Naenia has a permanent glare, unless her face is relaxed, like when she’s inspecting Enid’s fangs or near Vittoria. (Naenia will play with Enid and Leo’s fangs as a baby) The first time she smiles is at Leonidas as he’s about to set her on fire, and he decides she is more useful alive (his heart melts and he realizes he’d protect his baby sisters with his life). Vittoria is a very happy baby so long as she’s entertained. She’s very curious and tries to get into everything Leo owns (annoy him to death) and thus starts their life long prank rivalry.

Yoko loves the twins and Leo, she insist they call her aunty or dad (Wednesday firmly disagrees even though she is their god mother). Frequently Yoko just pops into the house with gifts for the twins and Leo. Vittoria loves anything colorful to chew on and expensive (she seems to be able to smell what costs money). Yoko very quickly becomes Vittoria’s favorite and Naenia loves her fangs.

Leonidas always tries to ambush and kill Yoko but she’s much faster and stronger than he is. Yoko just thinks he’s adorable every time he tries to jump on her back with a toy knife. He makes it his goal to defeat her in combat (even though he won’t say it, he respects her a lot). And he likes that she protects Enid, Leo is very protective of his moms.

Naenia loves being around Leonidas, she smiles most as a baby when he watches horror movies with her.

Vittoria loves when there are a lot of people around to watch, she doesn’t like to be bored at all. She often spends time in Leonidas’s old carrier with Enid because she likes to move around. And because Naenia doesn’t like to be far from her, Enid buys a second one for Wednesday to use in public. She is appalled. She wears it anyway. They’re in their snood colors.

Enid: We can match!

Wesnesday: …Leo I think your mom is trying to send me to an early grave.

Leonidas: Grave digging! :D

Wednesday, nodding: Yes we do have to take them on their first grave robbing expedition, they’re getting about that age.

Enid: …they’re five months old.

Wednesday: By that age my father and my uncle had already taken me across the sea to slay my first kraken with them. It’s a bonding experience for family.

[solomiracle]

I saw your post about levi encountering "himself" as an enemy/boss and I only can think about Levi loving some characters that look like his brothers.

Gathering a party that reminds him of his brothers but he does it without noticing. He will have a charismatic one who makes jokes all the time and is a fan favorite (Levi hates fan favorite character but he will always keep the joker around because he likes their jokes)

or maybe Levi will really like the serious and cold villain, but who did everything they did to protect their family (Levi is the number one Emet Selch (ff14) apologist and I'm going to die on this hill) (also sorry Lucifer, but your type It's used a lot in villains bye)

I can see him being "this villain is so boring, another villain who likes orders and is very strict. I hate people like them, who don't care for anyone besides themselves" and then bam! Here the villain backstory and Levi is just ugly crying for days and fighting with everyone in the forums and the funniest part is he doesn't do this because he is trist for the villain it's just hit some familiar thing inside him, he can't explain but he'll protect this tragic villain with all his force and determination

I also can see he saying "oh this old brother is so cool, I wish Mammon is like this" narrator voice: Mammon is, in fact, exactly like that

And not only Lucifer and Mammon, but all his brothers. I just can see the raid team "hey RurichanSupremacy666, why do you have this femboy in your party?" "Because he is the best in white magic!!" Or "stop calling them lazy, it's depression!" Or "I don't want to kill them! They're angry because they're lonely!!!"

I can see him searching for fan arts and fanfics with those characters but not because "oh I ship them with my oc" but more "I want to see them happy, I want to read a fix it where they're all happy together with their loved ones"

The best part? He does all of this for instinct, doesn't even realize what he is doing (maybe the mc point it out in the most hilarious way possible like "oh obviously this one is your favorite, it's Mammon" and Levi isole himself for the rest of the century, oh henry why do you betray him like this?)

ANON YOURE SO BEAUTIFUL AND WONDERFUL AND OH I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH AAAAAAAAAA

and the difference in how levi treats his usual favs vs these characters!! say when he defends or expresses why he loves his usual favs, he gets very loud and rambly, to the point of being incoherent. but with his not-brother characters, levi's more calm and precise, happily explaining everything he loves about these characters, because, subconsciously, those traits are the same things he loves about his brothers.

levi likes this mage, for both her healing bonus and how she sees the true beauty in everyone. yeah, the warrior does consume a lot of materials, but his protectiveness over his bedridden little brother is so touching!!

ohhhhhh there's gotta be some characters that unknowingly remind him of lilith. ohhhhhh that's a tearful can of worms i'm not opening today.

but the last part with mc?? and how they're so sure of themselves? oh he's such a loser <3 levi's gonna spend the rest of the century realizing half of his favs are just his family members and he's gonna be so embarrassed about it, esp when he discovers his top favs are a bunch of not-mammons. suck it

[quietblueriver]

Prompts!

Will you hold my hand?

They can't look at you like that!

Will you hold my hand?

Quick thing #2. Avatrice + Diego fluff. Thanks for the prompt!

-

She’s been waiting on this for a long time. There wasn’t time or capacity or, really, much to offer in the face of a possible apocalypse, but now that things have settled, that she’s able to live her life, Ava’s also able to help a few other people live theirs.

Nobody gets to enjoy the perks of martyrdom, which Ava guesses is kind of the point, but now that she’s back? Well, she’s cashing in on some of that goodwill and the Church doesn’t seem super eager to fight her. Cam finds Diego easily because he is, somehow, exactly where she’d left him. As soon as they have confirmation and a list of names, Mother Superion makes a call.

Two days later, there’s an address and an assurance of “state-of-the-art facilities” and “hospital affiliation” and “coverage of tuition and all related costs.” It’s what every kid should get, of course, and she thinks she’ll spend a lot of time trying to make that happen, but she feels happy to start here.

Diego is the oldest of the ten kids left at a smaller but still running St. Michael’s. Two nuns are there with them, ancient but, clearing the world’s lowest caretaking bar, not sadistic, and they don’t ask questions or fight when Mother Superion shows up with Camila and Dora and some strange but impressive paperwork, herding the kids into a van.

They call after dropping them off at the new facility, confirming that it is, as promised, excellent in all of the ways that St. Michael’s wasn’t. When Ava hangs up, she curls into Beatrice in their bed and cries for a little while, a steady heartbeat in her ear and a steady hand running through her hair.

“Do you think it would be okay for me to see him?”

Ava feels her response as she says it, voice low and close, “I think he would love to see you, and I think it would be wonderful for you both, if it’s something that you want.”

“I want it so bad, Bea. I just…I don’t want to mess him up. Or, mess him up more, I guess. Y’know, he has a fresh start now. He deserves that.”

The hand in her hair stills as Beatrice shifts slightly so that she can look Ava in the eye. She’s gentle, always so gentle with Ava, as she strokes a calloused finger across her cheek.

“Ava. Darling. He loves you. And you love him. You were there for each other in that awful place.”

“He saw me kill a nun, Bea.”

Her eyes harden. “He saw you protect yourself, and him, from an abuser. He thought you were an angel for a reason.”

She softens again, adds, “It might be a little difficult for him to understand your…change in circumstances.” Ava snorts and Beatrice tilts her head and shrugs the shoulder Ava’s not laying on in acknowledgement of that fucking understatement. “He might have a hard time understanding what happened and why, but more than anything, he’ll be happy that you’re back in his life.”

Ava settles back into her chest and Bea scratches at her back in the way that she loves, pulling up the hem of her shirt just slightly so that she can reach skin. She hums happily and wiggles in appreciation.

“And,” she continues, nails running gradually higher, “he’s old enough to have seen some of what happened over the last year, no matter how hard the sisters might have tried to shelter him. Not that they seemed to be trying particularly hard. In any case, I’m sure Diego understands now more than ever that strange things are possible.”

Bea’s right, of course. She decides, then, that she’ll talk to Mother Superion tomorrow to see what the best way to organize a meeting might be. In the meantime, she has a few other things she’d like to accomplish.

She rolls away just slightly so that she can push herself up and over, straddling Bea’s thighs and leaning forward to undo her bun, balancing with one arm on her shoulder. Beatrice makes a somewhat strangled noise, hands moving to Ava’s hips, and Ava smirks, because yeah she wants Bea’s hair down but it’s not exactly an accident that she’s chosen to do it this way. She presses her chest forward just slightly, feels Beatrice’s breath hot on her clavicle, the almost-whine that escapes her as Ava finishes with her hair tie.

“Has anyone ever told you,” she combs her hands through the loose hair and settles back, “that you’re very, very smart?” Beatrice is not looking at her face. Ava grins, thrills at the blush on Bea’s face when Ava slips a finger under her chin to tilt her head back and redirect her eyes. She doesn’t give her a real chance to answer, kissing her briefly and then dragging her lips down her throat. “And also.” she slips her hands under Bea’s shirt and tugs it up, Beatrice lifting her arms to assist so eagerly that Ava can’t help but breathe out a laugh against her newly available and perfect collarbones. “Very, very hot.”

“Oh?” Beatrice offers, eyes darkening.

“Yeah.” She trails her lips lower, moving her body down the bed until her palms are pressed to the mattress just beside Bea’s hips. She meets Bea’s eyes again, grins. “But show is always better than tell.”

-

Ava’s waiting anxiously, bouncing on her toes, and when the van pulls in, the doors are hardly open before a tiny blur is coming at her, hurling himself into her arms. She can lift him now, easy, and she spins him around and laughs, ruffles his slightly longer hair. “Diego, my guy. I’m so happy to see you.”

Beatrice is standing off to the side, there at Ava’s insistence, and Ava turns to her now, arm still around Diego’s shoulders, and says, “D, this is Beatrice, my girlfriend.” Beatrice, perfect Beatrice, offers a hand and turns her full attention to him. “Hello, Diego. It’s so nice to meet you. Ava has told me so many wonderful things about you.” She says it with the kind of Beatrice sincerity that makes Ava want to cry a little, and her voice is softer than it would be with a grown-up, but only just slightly, something comforting instead of something patronizing.

Diego’s blushing a little, which Ava understands completely and also finds to be really fucking cute, as he shakes her hand and says, “Hello. It’s very nice to meet you, too.”

Ava jumps a little as she says, “Okay. So. What do you think about a beach day?”

Diego lights up, and Ava keeps it together, barely.

“Really?”

“Yeah!”

He laughs and hugs her again and says, a little loudly but Ava couldn’t care less, “Yeah!”

-

They take Diego to pick a swimsuit, purple with green octopi winning in a close race against blue with orange turtles. He chooses a green rash guard to match, Beatrice extolling the virtues of UV-protection, and then they select an excessive number of sandcastle construction tools, packing them all into a beach bag that Beatrice carries easily while she and Diego debate the perfect spot for their towels.

Ava takes a minute to grab her water from the bag as Beatrice and Diego begin discussing the logistics of castle-building, and it’s really almost too much for her, watching these people that she has loved so powerfully in such different parts of her life sit together and seriously map out a floor plan in the sand. Bea, taking her own advice, has on a black rash guard and green board shorts, hair in a ponytail threaded through a black cap. Her eyes are focused, moving between their layout and Diego, who is busy looking up at Bea in something close to awe. Again, she gets it, and she takes the chance to watch for a little while, until Diego looks over at her and says, very seriously, “Ava, how do you feel about a double moat?”

It’s easy, so easy, to spend the day with them. The castle is more impressive than anything Ava would have been able to build with Diego on her own, Beatrice critically examining sand-to-water ratios and consulting Diego on every decision. A few other kids, Diego’s age and a little younger, look on, clapping at the successful installation of a new turret, until their adults call them away.

Beatrice unpacks the fruit and chips Diego had picked and, after a short time splashing in the shallow water, they get ice cream, sitting under an umbrella stand and watching the water.

When they get back to the towels, it’s obvious that Diego is a little tired, and Beatrice says, almost shyly, “Diego, I brought something I thought you might like.” She pulls a copy of Percy Jackson from their bag. “It was one of my favorites, when I was your age.”

Ava knows this is mostly true. Beatrice had loved it, although by the time she was Diego’s age, she was reading books many people didn’t read until college. She’d asked Ava before buying it, “He won’t think it’s silly?” And Ava had assured her that he would love it and then kissed her, like, a lot.

Diego’s holding the book a little reverently, still not used to anyone giving him anything, much less anything new with this kind of thought and care. “Cool,” he breathes out, the highest compliment he can give, really, and he looks at them both as he says, “Can I read it now?”

Ava lays a hand on Beatrice’s knee. “Yeah, D. Absolutely. We brought books too.”

Beatrice pulls their books out, and they settle happily on the towels. By the time the sun is setting, he’s made it through a surprising amount, and Beatrice offers, easily, as she packs their bag, “I’ll send you the next one, if you like it.”

“Thanks, Bea.” He says it like it’s something he’s said a thousand times, closing the book and looking at her earnestly, and Ava knows it means something, for Beatrice to have someone else, a child, be this comfortable with her.

“You’re welcome.”

Diego is staying the night with them, so they’re not in a particular hurry, and when Ava watches him staring at the Ferris wheel as they walk the boardwalk, she nudges Bea a little and nods in its direction. Beatrice nods and squeezes her fingers.

“Hey, Diego.” He looks back at her. “Wanna go on the Ferris wheel?”

By the time they reach the wheel, Diego’s a little more hesitant. It’s understandable—the thing is huge, and the carriages are all glass, and Ava knows he has never done anything like this before. He doesn’t stop, though, leading them into the line for tickets and then into the line to wait. The carriages are big, but there aren’t enough people that they fill, each group getting one to themselves. When it’s their turn, the attendant opens the door and Diego hesitates a little before stepping up, Ava and Beatrice following closely.

Before Ava can say anything, Beatrice has let her hand go to stand close to him. She says, gentle in all the same ways she is with Ava, “Diego, I’m a little scared of heights. Would you mind holding my hand?”

He knows, she thinks, what Beatrice is doing, but the smile he gives her is grateful and he grabs her hand without hesitation. “That’s okay, Bea. Me too. We can do it together.”

Ava stands beside them, leaning into Beatrice, and they watch the sun set over the ocean.

[lost-walmartbag]

Stan x Reader S2 Pt 5

Warning: N/A

Background: Sarah and you have a conversation before bed

Status: Ongoing

Previous part

Next part

Do you?

"Where's Papa?"

You pause for a moment, looking down at Sarah's soft features. It had been a while since Kyle left without saying a word. You knew what he was doing of course but it didn't stop you from worrying. Stan was unpredictable sometimes. Not that he would ever hurt anyone, but you were worried he'd hurt himself.

"He's just making sure one of his friends is ok." Gently brushing a strand of her hair out of her face and placing a gentle kiss on her forehead.

Adults do that a lot. Say something that's supposed to comfort, with little detail to shield their kids from the harsh truths of the world. And as you look down at Sarah you can tell it didn't work.

"He's ok I promise."

"He was really mad before...when that man was here."

Stan. Of course, she didn't know who Stan was but hearing her refer to him as only 'that man' killed you inside. What if that was you? You could only imagine the pain Stan would feel if he heard that. He was her father and yet here she was not even understanding who he was.

"That man was...he's a friend."

"Why were you yelling at him?"

"It's hard to explain, but I'm so sorry we scared you." You whispered, gently stroking her hair.

"Was he bad?"

"No honey he wasn't bad, he was just...angry." Maybe not the best choice of words but you knew they were the only ones Sarah would understand.

"At you?" She asked furrowing her brow. You knew she did this when she didn't fully understand something and as much as you didn't want to say it you knew she was old enough to know the truth.

"Yeah. At me." You whispered looking at the headboard behind her rather than her face. "Mommy...Mommy did something that hurt him and he didn't understand why."

"Why did you?"

Children were naturally curious. Asking you what the meaning of life was at least once a day was normal with Sarah and you loved that about her. Couldn't help but hate it now though.

"His name is Stan. He was friends with me and Papa Kyle when we were in high school."

"Before me." She said not as a question but as an observation. Sarah had an interesting way of understanding time. There was before her and then after her and that was all she knew.

"Yeah before you." You said gently shaking her leg. "Well, when we were friends...he did something. And it hurt a lot, and we stopped being friends."

"Did he mean to?"

"Hurt me? I don't think so, honey." And you meant it. Stand didn't leave to hurt you but that didn't stop it from hurting.

"Do you forgive him?" She asked, making you ponder on her question.

She was a smart kid. She understood a lot more than you ever did. You couldn't read people the way she read you.

"Yeah. I forgive him."

"Does he forgive you?"

Does he? Can he? You got to spend Sarah's entire life with her and all he got were an Instagram post and 4 seconds watching you comfort her. And it's your fault.

"I don't know, sweetheart. I want him to, but what Mommy did was bad, and if he can forgive me it'll take a long time."

"Like five days?"

"Maybe a little more than that."

"That's a lot." She said in a serious voice that made you chuckle.

"Ya it is, but sometimes it's ok to give people time."

"How much time would you need for me?" She whispered, looking up at you with those sparkling blue eyes she got from Stan.

She was so much like him. People wouldn't notice. Kyle didn't. But you did. You spent years hating him and then weeks loving him more than anything before he was nothing again. And every time you look into Sarah's eyes, kiss her soft face, watch her happily sing in the living room. It makes you fall in love with him all over again for giving you such a wonderful person.

"I wouldn't need any time for you. I could never feel anything but love for you." You whispered making her brow furrow again.

"You can love someone and not forgive them. I loved Papa Kyle even though he ate my cookie." She said with a small pout.

You loved Stan even after he left. Even after he broke you and left you to glue and tape yourself together again. But you didn't forgive him. You loved him even when you went through the pregnancy alone. And you love him even when you look down at your daughter indirectly telling you how much smarter she is.

"You're right. You can love someone and not forgive them."

"But you do."

"Yeah, I do forgive him."

"No. You love him?"

You pause before taking in the way Sarah looks at you. It is way past her bedtime. "Yeah, I do."

"Does he love you?"

"Who knows." You said softly before kissing her forehead. "I love you, sweetheart. Get some rest ok?"

"Night night Mommy." She whispered, with a small yawn.

"Goodnight my star."

A/N: Hey guys sorry I haven't been uploading it has been a long few weeks. I hope you enjoyed this chapter I still love ya'll thank you for reading 🩷🩷🩷

Taglist: @jessiegerl

[hapigairu]

For sure, he'd do something, considering his entire personality revolves around protecting his sister... yeah. It's also possible that Holst being "conveniently" ill during Edelgard's paralogue was his way of not supporting the Empire taking over Leicester lol. And yes, Nader does die during the battle...

Yes, needless to say between Almyra's aggressivity towards Fodlan and the Empire's military expeditions, there will still be a lot of conflicts. Edelgard might think that because the people of Almyra don't believe in the Goddess, she can foster a peaceful relationship with them only to realise that - Pikachu face - Fodlan's Throat is here for a reason. And while her army is busy "visiting" other countries (meaning there wouldn't be as many willing soldiers to protect her Empire), Almyra could catch wind of it and attack.

Oh, sorry, no I meant in Fire Emblem Heroes:

Like when you give her a blessing, or... whatever it is you can give your heroes, she mentions that her path is that of military rule.

There's a reason why she's so deadset on pursuing Dimitri. She knows he's loved by his subjects, and allowing him to live will only undermine her conquest. No matter how much the stans want to ridicule Dimitri for (rightly) assuming that she's not after his head, the fact is she's very clear about this through both her actions and her words. She wants the Kingdom to disappear and continues her invasion even after Rhea's death. Makes me think that her whole "What do you mean it's not enough to kill your foes?" isn't a genuine question at all, but a way to gauge Claude's exact stance on this. She's known for assessing the people she engages with (peacefully or not) even if she quite often ends up drawing the wrong conclusion.

Yeah, true. Although I'm bappy to think of a post-AM where Lysithea is cured and lives happily with Cyril while working with Hanneman (and/or Linhardt), that whole Crest-removing doesn't make much sense. How would that even work? You mean like if the true Edelgard ceased to exist once TWS' experiments on her started? I mean, I wouldn't put it past them to do something of this calibre. But it wouldn't be that difficult to indoctrinate and manipulate her into hating and wanting to do away with the Nabateans considering how young she was when it happened. Feel free to correct me if I'm missing something though!

True, but on the other hand, some people might want her to be punished for her deeds, and you can't exactly punish a woman trapped in the mind of a 10-year-old child. Well... you could, technically, but I doubt Dimitri would stand for that.

There's something that slightly bothers me about Hopes!Claude actually; we know from Houses that he acts as though he's not a hardworking student when he actually spends a lot of nights researching and studying during his year at Garreg Mach. So why didn't he do that during the two years that preceded the war? I understand that he must have been super busy with Alliance stuff, but even so, wouldn't he study Fodlan's history whenever he got time? Wouldn't he visit the monastery in 1181 (it would have been open this year around, right?) to conduct some research or ask someone to do that for him? Granted, it's not like he found all that much in Houses, but surely, as the leader of the Alliance, he'd have more leverage to uncover some of Fodlan's mysteries, no?

Nope, I checked, and it's both a JP and a localised thing! Here are both versions:

In Japanese, he says something like "Everyone (or we humans) is afraid of getting robbed, even if it's just their imagination (or a fantasy/in their heads). If we consider the point of view of the people of Faerghus(and people here doesn't just mean the nobles, but the commoners as well), they probably don't know what the Empire is up to." 

(Hopefully, someone smarter can confirm or correct me, just in case.) I don't think Ferdinand's remark is acceptable in either version, but the localisation seems to, uh... try to downplay the Empire's actions by suggesting the Kingdom is probably exaggerating about their invaders? "We are so misunderstood :(, we don't mean to make these people suffer by taking over their lands through violence, we just want to take over their lands through violence even if it leads them to suffer (uwu?)." I'm assuming he's referring to the Empire's big and shiny reforms, but... we both have the same opinion on these lol.

Regarding Erwin, I think most people got upset about him not being behind the assassination of Claude's murder?  And Ignatz and Raphael's paralogue doesn't paint him in the best light, was this ever addressed in Hopes? I don't remember... It's just a bit odd to think the Erwin we now know (someone very dedicated to the protection of his people even if it means looking like a weathervane) would turn a blind eye to what's been happening to merchants going to Riegan territory. He wouldn't mind stopping House Riegan from getting even wealthier, that's for sure, but since he did punish whoever was responsible (bar the 'mastermind') for what happened to the Duke and Raphael's parents, why does he allow this to continue in the Houses timeline? Anyway, it would have been interesting to see more political struggles in the Alliance (and even the Federation, I suppose... why was the plot about the three minor houses wanting to defect to the Kingdom relegated to side-quests? Ugh, the more I think about GW and what it could have been, the more frustrated I get...)

As for Matthias, I think Sylvain is like "Ohh, father is doing his best as well I see.  Was he in good health?", which... might suggest that he's not as surprised as he is in the localisation? Which would make more sense considering, well... can you imagine if the Margrave responsible for keeping Sreng at bay didn't pull his weight? In any case, I really liked what they did with Matthias and I'm glad our Faerghus cuties got most of the best additions in Hopes.

Yeah, considering Sylvain's reaction towards him when he asks about... Miklan? ("Why do you even care? You're the one who left" or something like that) It's rather apparent that they bonded, if just a wee bit.

I'm having a really hard time fathoming how some people consider SB to be a righteous/heroic route or a route where we're the good guys. The route where:

You invade two independent nations under the pretence of "saving their citizens from oppression" (though I guess you can't be oppressed anymore if you're dead lol) even though Her Majestic Hypocrisy repeats a bunch of times that she's in for conquest and that she'd obliterate anyone who stands in her way.

The cast keeps victim-blaming the invaded parties for *checks note* defending their countries. 

The death toll is the highest. You have to kill Ingrid, Rodrigue, Gustave and Sylvain. And you can also kill Ashe, Mercedes (btw, if she dies, the cutscene where Dimitri and Dedue grieve changes slightly, which is nice), Annette, Shamir, Ignatz, Raphael and Marianne (how does Margrave Edmund feel about Claude's alliance with the empire knowing his daughter was killed by its army?). 

IIRC, this is the only route where you conscript merchants into the imperial army. No wonder the empire has the biggest army.

Based Rhea who, despite being hunted, still thinks about the safety of the continent first in the final chapter. It's hilarious how characters like Edespot or Clyde harp on about how Rhea is the big bad, and in the few scenes you have with her, she's just kind? Anyway. Rhea based.

In the C support conversation - which happens right after Felix got seriously injured and Sylvain got killed- there's this bit where Dimitri is like "I don't know if I can talk with like everything is normal, so many have died already" and Edespot's response is basically "yeah I don't see it that way. Let's agree to disagree". Also, I believe she wonders if she shouldn't just kill Clyde and Dimitri once they're out. Even though Clyde is her ally at the moment. You bet on the wrong lord, Clyde... 

I probably forgot a few stuff, but... oh well.

To be honest,

The only things I like about Supreme Bullshit are :

Its ending! Supreme Leader and Barney (well, at least they throw a sword?) being sitting ducks while Rhea steals the show, and sacrifices herself in an epic shonen scene to get rid of the real threat, aka showing that unlike someone, she knows how to prioritize, and it ends up in an explosion. It matches the ending of the F-Zero anime (at 0.48!), Rhea/Falcon rushes to deal a blow (a Falcon punch and a Seiros strike I guess?) to their mortal enemy, there is a giant explosion, and both Rhea/Falcon fade away in a blinding light. Too bad the Supreme Bullshit BGM is eons away from "Searching to the Truth" :(

The reveal that Rhea kept the keys to the sekrit passages in the Imperial Palace - or Rhea knows more about Enbarr and its castle than the current Emperor and her aides...

Doro's paralogue being incredibly tone deaf about, uh, soldiers being "too busy" by the Mittelfrank troupe, that they can't basically protect the dancers/performers from bandits, when the paralogue happens in an area that is expressedly supposed to be full of soldiers!

If starts align in a certain way, it's the only route in Nopes where Clout dies!

Leopold! He's like Victarion Greyjoy, only if he was taken seriously. But we, as players, know better! Also he's a living retcon, from having a major cichol crest to gift to his son because he fought well (and not to, say, Big B or even Ferdie) a sacred weapon despite the route being all about muhritocracy!

Supreme Leader plans and plays with the cards she has in her hand - from trying to get good PR to get rid of people (Varley sr) by pitting them against her next target (the CoS)!

An entire game full of new Supreme Replies (tm)!

For shippers around, it has a Cathmir scene where everyone knows Shamir will prioritize Catherine's life over her allegeance! too bad this is a Supreme Leader route, so no, Shamir won't fucking try to kill her for blackmailing her and can even kill Catherine herself later on....

That's not a lot lol, and most of it are breadcrumbs because for the proper plot...

Yeah, it kinds of sucks.

Supreme Bullshit is even more tone deaf with the War and its realities than Tru Piss (and that's a feat!), Ferdie being completely, uh, off the mark about everything (invading lands and rekting people, and then saying those people's fears are only in their heads! Pal, one of the first missions in the SB exclusive chapters is to rout refugees??? + the nonsense about the Kingdom having more crested generals, when data shows the Empire has more crested peeps than the Kingdom!), Caspar being turned in the worst version of himself who dgaf anymore about protecting "innocents" and "justice", and, uh, everything with Monica.

Victim blaming is the norm with Fodlan games, but yeah, it really feels odd that suddenly, in the Zahras chapters, Dimitri's all "okay" when his closest friends either died or were grievly injured and the game proceeds as it does when, come on, why wouldn't Dimitri kill her the second they're out of the Zahras verse??

I really disliked how Supreme Bullshit yeeted Ionius from Adrestia, or how it didn't explore in more depth the Insurrection of the Seven, especially since we side with Leopold'n'Waldemar against Ludwig, who used to be allies! Also, as far as I remember, no one mentions anything about Arundel, why he ran away to the Kingdom with a young Supreme Leader and how he changed when he returned, or something?

If Ludwig is pushed by Supreme Leader, reciting her Dad's words, as the one who led the insurrection and the experiments on her, why the fuck no one else mentions them, as Leopold and Waldemar were on Aegir's side back then? They don't even mention "Arundel" participating, like, Volkhard sides against Ionius and hides his niece, but 3 months later, he returns and offers her as a guinea pig?

As is the norm with the Supreme Leader routes, the "truth" isn't what we're looking for, because we know Supreme Leader pushes a narrative she will follow to reach her goals, but where Tru Piss gave hints here and there about her narrative being, uh, rubish, we have no clues here, and Leopold prefers to flash his loincloth than giving us anything meaningful about that incident.

When you compare them to Matthias and Rodrigue (and Gilbert?) who often mention Lambert "back in the days", it's more and more obvious that... we're not supposed to ask questions in Supreme Bullshit, and just go with the flow.

And it ends with a high five.

I'd say it deviates less from Tru Piss than Golden Shower does from Verdant Winds, but it's an "expected disappointment".

That's why my only higlights are not plot relevant (save for the Captain Falcon - Rhea parallel) - because we know the plot will never deliver something meaningful in a Supreme Leader route.

[static-fanatic-1]

Hello, I hope you are doing well today. I was wondering if I can get a semi-angst hc of Pakunoda, Illumi, Milluki, Silva, Chrollo, Kurapika and Shalnark + Setsuno, Overhaul, Chronostasis, Tamaki, Endeavor, Shinsou, Aizawa and Shiggaraki with a s/o who hates them, but once their children gets kidnapped they beg and cry to the boys/girls to find their child and bring them safely home. Hopes that makes sense. Please and thank you.

Pakunoda:

She hates seeing you in pain, in ANY pain, so this doesn’t sit well with her at all. It hurts that you hate her, but to her it doesn’t matter as much as her undying love for you. She is sweet, and she knows despite keeping you captive, you are cared for. This includes your and her child. She will tear the world to shreds with her lovely heels.

She will be more methodical in ending whoever took her child, and no harm will come to the sweet baby. She will not use this against you in anyway, she would rather you love her naturally. So when da baby is returned, she won’t tease you or ask for something in return. She just wants to comfort you both and tell you everything is okay now.

Illumi:

Like Paku, Illumi cares about both of you, just in a really different way. He “loves” his kids more as a tool and as a successor to his lineage, not like he loves you. So when his kid is taken, there will be hell to pay.

He doesn’t really think much on the fact you are begging him, though it is a nice change to your typical screaming. He won’t brag, boast, or use it against you, for the most part anyway. He might be robotic, but he still is smart. He will keep your children in mind next time you try anything too risky.

Milluki:

He doesn’t care about his kids, they are spoiled little shits in his eyes. He probably didn’t really want kids in the first place, but one thing led to another and here they are now. So when they are taken, he sees it as an inconvenience, but also an opportunity once he sees how distraught you are.

He makes it into a big deal and boasts about how only HE can save your kids. HE is the only reason you will get your little babies back. And don’t worry, he will make sure you inderstand that. He will ALWAYS use this against you at any moment of any day. He wants you to know you need him.

Silva:

He doesn’t care about your kids, to him they are an end to a means, and another way to keep you with him. So as much as he knows his kids can take care of themselves, or at least he wants them to be independent through whatever means, seeing you hurt makes him take initiative. You are devistated, fine, he’ll save your kids.

Silva makes quick work of whoever took your kids, and makes sure to savor it. Once he’s done, he lets you take a moment to be happy for your kids being safe, but don’t expect to be in the clear. You will have to give him something in return, and knowing his sex drive, you probably wouldn’t like it. But your kids are safe, so everything is fine, right?

Chrollo:

Like Silva, Chrollo doesn’t care about your kids. A means to an end, to keep you locked with him. Though, he really does care about you, so he will do anything to make you happy.

This means getting that little bundle of attention-stealing-shitness back. Anything for you to get on his good graces. Besides, he has the whole troupe that loves the kid, so they will all pitch in to find the little one. I don’t think he will use this against you, mainly because you should already knows nothing will get between the two of you, not even your child.

Shalnark:

Shalnark is a strange one, to me he seems like a mix between Chrollo and Pakunoda. He cares, a lot, but if anything was to come between you and him, he wouldn’t mind making a point. Still, seeing you in so much emotional pain makes him jump into action.

He calls up his best friends to help find the poor sap who took his and your kid. Yeah, they won’t last long. Shal takes great care in handling the little one to make sure they aren’t too scared. He also spends a lot of down time after to bond with the both of you. Maybe this wasn’t a good thing to you, but to him it only brought you closer together.

Kurapika:

Really big family man, whoever took your kid must have been the most stupid person to walk the earth. He is defiantly on your side with getting his kid back, so he won’t use this against you as much as the others might. Instead of bragging or boasting about how you need him to keep you safe, he will want a little something in return.

He might be on your side, desperately wanting his kid back, but he wouldn’t waste an opportunity to get a little treat from you. He will manipulate you to feel guilty, like it was somehow your fault, just to get something from you. Wether it be some bonding time, or something more suggestive, he will get it through manipulation. Of course he’d love to bond some more with your kids after he retrieves them, just don’t think you are safe around Kurapika.

Setsuno:

This poor guy had a terrible relationship before you, so there is no way in hell he would let what happened before happen again. He hates the fact you hate him, but he refrains from hurting you in anyway, this includes your kid. He will leave the room, break things, anything other than touching you and both of your kid.

When someone takes the baby, you aren’t the only one pissed off. Setsuno is furious, so he will do anything to get your kid back. He calls his friends just in case, and the three of them destroy whoever laid hands on his baby. Setsuno is happy to have everyone together again and he’ll take this time to bond with the both of you. Just don’t push him away or else he’ll remind you who saved your kid.

Overhaul:

Overhaul finds children to be dirty, they are nasty things that need so much attention. With that being said, to an extent, he treasures his kid. He wants them to be just like him, so he takes his time to teach them everything there is to know about ruling the underground. Again, his kid is an end to a means, but he does think of them a bit more than most of the others on this list.

When he kid is taken, he is frustrated for a few reasons. One is because he taught his kid to use their quirk (if they are old enough to have it by now), and two because he has to waste his time trying did of dirty things. Though, seeing you beg for him to save your baby makes it more worth his time. Much better than when you grit your teeth and turn the other way. So when he gets the baby back, he makes sure you understand what he went through to appease you.

Chronostasis:

Another one that actually likes his children and treasures them. Chronostasis is more of a family man, taking care of the children, getting groceries, the usual stuff to help around the house while you are there. He doesn’t keep you stuck, he just uses his profession to threaten you. But other than that he acts like a normal father when he doesn’t have work to do.

Taking his child is a really bad thing. He values work a lot, so he will put work first, so he will only leave to find his kid once overhaul gives him the go. He might get help, but in the end it doesn’t matter. He will tear anyone apart to find your baby. When he does, he brings them home and smiles at you, taking as much time as he is given to comfort the both of you. Everything can go back to normal now, just ignore the spots of blood on the bottom of his white jacket.

Tamaki:

Such a shy guy, he doesn’t do much to your hatred against him, he kinda just lets it happen while apologizing profusely. Though he doesn’t let you go. He does, genuinely, love his kid. In a way it gives him a sense of pride that he helped create such a beautiful baby. So when they go missing, and you grip his shirt and beg for him to find them. Tamaki is relieved you finally need him, but so frustrated at the same time.

He wants to sulk and cry through his frustration at loosing his kid, but your begging doesn’t allow that. Instead he asks his besties for help and makes sure to hurry. He’s so happy to get his baby back he can’t help the tears of joy falling from his face. When he comes back home you both cry and hold your baby as close as you possibly can.

Shinsou:

I think Shinsou has an inner demon when he is a Yandere, this is when it shows itself. He loves his kid, and is a really relaxed guy when it comes to the both of you. It’s just when his patience is pulled by someone out of his obsessive behaviors is when it becomes a problem.

He goes on his own, after all he is a hero not many know about, and his ability is insanely powerful. He will find the people resposible and tell them to “jump off this building” or “go kill yourself”. Things that will force them to get their hands dirty and stay away from his kid. He comforts his kid, tells them everything is okay now and that the two of them are going home to see you. Y’all can all watch a movie too, get take out and simply take it easy.

Aizawa:

He is almost exactly like Shinsou, or Shinsou is almost exactly Aizawa. The biggest difference is Aizawa has less patience, and isn’t afraid to get a little sadistic. With that said, you are more likely better “behaved”, though you still have some fight in you. Your kid is one of your joys in life, so when he comes home from work and sees you begging for your baby back, he’s happy.

He goes on his own and takes out whoever was involved. He doesn’t kill, he isn’t that reckless, but he definalty beats them to a bloody pulp until the police arrive. He does the paperwork, and then happily takes back his kid. Aizawa will make sure you know he did this for you and he will make sure you only think that. He loves his kid, a lot, but if you think you owe him more love, then that’s a win for him.

Endeavor:

Enji thinks his kids are weapons, I mean, that’s obvious right? He does care, but more as it would be a waste if something bad were to happen to them. Also, they are keeping you stuck with him. So yeah, when they are taken he gets pretty pissed about it.

Enji kinda rubs it in your face too, I mean you are begging for his help. You NEED him to save your kid. He won’t tell you he would get them back either way either, he wants you to think you owe him. So expect listening to whatever demands he wants from you. Not much time to appreciate your baby being safe.

Shigiraki:

Crusty man actually kinda likes his kid. In a way it’s like he has a distaste for them but can’t help but have a connection with them at the same time. Even Shigiraki doesn’t think he would be too distressed if something happened to his kid, but he was wrong. He takes it personally, and your begging makes him even more pissed. How dare they?!

Shigiraki makes a huge deal out of it, the entire league (those close) will be involved to cause chaos to the idiot who hurt his kid. It will be all on the news, how much carnage he caused, but not a single person will know it was because of his kid. He will boast about how he defeated the final boss for you and his kid, and he expects you to reward him. After you reward his efforts he will relax with the two of you, taking in the warmth from your love.

[lostinthewiind]

Piss Off Your Parents - Part 1

Ukai Keishin - Haikyuu

Synopsis: freshly turned 18, you want to prove to your parents that you aren't a child for them to push around anymore. First, get a job at the local corner store. Second, use the store owner's 26-year-old son with piercings and a cigarette addiction to piss your parents off. Third, accidentally fall in love.

Rating: PG-13

Warnings: none

Song → 18 by Anarbor

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, I have planned this as a series/full story. I was torn between writing it on here or on Wattpad or something, but ultimately decided on Tumblr . . . but let me know if you would prefer it on another platform as well! Also, this series will eventually include smut/NSFW content but that will be tagged appropriately when the time comes. As always, I hope you enjoy. 

Next →Part 2

Slamming the front door behind yourself on your way out that morning, you quickly stuffed your earbuds into your ears and cranked your music as loud as you could to drown out the sounds of your parents yelling after you and, consequently, at one another after you had dropped the bomb about your new job on them seconds before you had left, giving them as little time as possible to shame you for it.

After graduating high school and turning 18, you had decided it was time to take your life into your hands, which wasn’t too easy while you were still living under your parents’ roof, but you had to start somewhere and that somewhere was getting a job at the local corner store, Sakanoshita Market. 

You knew that your parents wanted you to go to university and ‘make something of yourself’, but you also knew that you could never truly be happy under their dictatorship-like ruling, so you decided to get a job, no matter how shitty, save your money, move out as soon as possible, and go from there. 

It was definitely going to be a process, and not an easy one, but all you had to do was take it one step at a time.

Rounding the corner and seeing the market in the distance, you felt your nerves begin to bubble inside of you a little. Sure, you had gotten some part-time jobs here and there during summer vacation before, but you had never gotten a full-time job before and had never needed the money from a job like you did now. Before, the cash you made was for extra spending money during the summer and school year, but now the money you would be making would be funding your future. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on a job that entailed stocking shelves, checking out customers, and cleaning. 

The lady who had hired you had basically explained that since she was getting older and her son, who had been maintaining the place previously, had gotten a new job, the store needed someone to learn the ropes and take care of the place on a daily basis; and since you were young, a fast learner, and didn’t have anything else in your life besides work, you were a perfect fit. 

As the shop doors slid open smoothly to welcome you into the store you had been inside countless times in the past, you suddenly felt completely out of place in the familiar market. Now that you were an employee instead of a customer, the atmosphere had completely shifted. Instead of heading right for the fridges to grab a drink like you usually did, your eyes shifted immediately to the front counter where a figure with its feet up hid behind an open newspaper.

Just like every other time you had visited while the store owner’s son was working, he did everything humanly possible to avoid interaction. Usually, you would have appreciated not being bothered while trying to scan the shelves, but since this time was different, the lack of acknowledgement was slightly unnerving. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, hoping it was enough to catch his attention. It was not. Instead, he flipped the page of the newspaper and you watched as a hand emerged from behind the paper barrier to flick the ashes from his cigarette into an ashtray sitting beside the register. 

Eyebrows furrowed, you really wished that the shop owner herself had been there to greet you for your first day instead of her seemingly useless son. “Hello.” You stepped up to the counter, the feeling of not belonging sinking deeper into your bones. 

Slowly, the newspaper separating you from the man behind the counter lowered and the shop owner’s son glared back at you, eyes half-lidded as if he were seconds away from falling asleep and the cigarette from before hanging from his bottom lip. This was far from the first time you had interacted with him, but you would be surprised if he remembered you as a customer even a little. Whenever he checked customers out, you could tell he was running on autopilot. 

The man’s eyes drifted down to your hands, which were resting on top of the counter now. Noticing you didn’t have anything to purchase, he cocked a brow. “Need help finding somethin’?” 

“Ugh, no,” you answered. “I’m the new employee. I’m supposed to start today.”

His eyes scanned you once more, this time more thoroughly, and you swallowed hard. Feeling as if you were being observed under a microscope, you slid your hands off of the counter and stuffed them into your pockets self-consciously. 

As he inspected you inch by inch, you took the time to take a closer look at him as well. With dyed blonde hair, two earrings in his left ear, an apparent nicotine addiction, and a noticeably flippant attitude toward his job, he was the definition of the type of man your parents would kill you for bringing home. Somehow, this only made him more intriguing. You wondered if he really was as disinterested in everything as he seemed or if it was just this job he thoroughly hated and became someone a lot more interesting when he wasn’t behind a counter.

“How old are you?” he asked out of the blue, catching you off guard a little. While he waited for you to answer, he set the newspaper to the side, dragged his feet from the counter top, and patted out some of the wrinkles from the white apron he had tied around his bright orange sweatshirt. 

“I’m 18,” you responded, not sure why it mattered but also not seeing any harm in answering honestly. 

Seconds later, the door to the back of the shop and storage room opened and the familiar face of the woman who had hired you stepped into view. “Oh, Y/N!” she greeted happily; much more enthusiastically and welcoming than her son. “Sorry about that, I was just getting some last minute things together.” She eyed her son out of the corner of her eye and noted the fresh embers in the ashtray. “I hope you haven’t been waiting long.”

“No, I just got here,” you told her. 

“Good.” She smiled sweetly before turning to her son. “Well, you can head out now, Keishin. Thank you for watching the counter.”

“Yeah,” the man, Keishin, grunted as he untied the apron from around his waist, slipped it over his head, and hung it up on a hook behind the counter. “See ya.”

With that, Keishin left, leaving you and his mother alone. Wasting no time, Mrs. Sakanoshita, whom the store was named after, got right to work on teaching you the basics and gifting you with a white apron of your own to wear while on the job. Since it was the middle of the day and the customer flow was relatively slow, she introduced you to how the register and scanner at the counter worked before moving on to unpacking boxes.

Just like you had promised on your resume and during the interview, you were a quick learner and Mrs. Sakanoshita was more than pleased to see you picking up the job quickly and efficiently. 

By the time the after work/school rush of patrons picking up items on their way home had begun, you were feeling confident in your abilities and, with your boss by your side to answer any questions you may have, you checked out customer after customer, building up muscle memory for scanning items, collecting cash, opening the register, handing out receipts, and sending customers on their merry way. 

All in all, the job was quickly growing on you. You liked the fact that, for the most part, you were the only employee on duty, so when there weren’t any customers in the store, you could work silently on unpacking boxes without having to worry about making small talk or being friendly with any coworkers. In fact, as far as you knew, the only people who worked at the store at all were you, Mrs. Sakanoshita, and her son, Keishin. 

It seemed as though you had really landed a sweet gig. 

After showing you how to lock up, Mrs. Sakanoshita headed home for the night, leaving you to finish stocking the shelves and cleaning the shop before you would head home as well.

Now that you were truly the only person left, you walked over to the old radio you had spotted on the counter during training that day and fiddled with the dials, trying to get some music playing to accompany you during your evening chores. After some careful handiwork and enduring some horrendous static and high-pitched screeching while searching for a station, you settled on what sounded like some old instrumental music and got to work on stocking the remaining shelves.

Throughout your shift, you quickly learned that the store got quite warm during the day and you had needed to tie your hair up to keep the back of your neck from dripping with sweat. The night wasn’t much better either, especially since the lack of customers so late meant that the doors rarely opened, keeping the cold night air outside and the warm store air inside. 

After finishing the last box of supplies, you exhaled and wiped your brow. You were exhausted, that was for sure, but you still had to sweep. 

Deciding to take a quick break, you turned toward the floor-to-ceiling fridges at the back of the shop and pulled open the door, sighing happily when the cool air hit your skin. Exhaling slowly, you snickered when you saw your breath fog up in front of you face. 

“You’re letting all the cold air out.”

You shrieked when you heard a voice in your right ear and slammed the fridge door shut, jumping back in the process. Thanks to the music from the radio and the loud hum of the generator that kept the fridges cold, you hadn’t heard the front doors slide open or the footsteps of Keishin approaching you.

“Jesus!” You clamped your hand over your chest. “You scared the shit out of me!”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Sorry?”

“What are you doing here?”

Keishin glared at you. “You work here one day and suddenly act like you own the place?”

Realizing how rude your question had come across, you composed yourself and rephrased. “What I meant was, your mom didn’t say you were coming back.”

Pointing upward, Keishin sighed, disinterested. “I live in the apartment above the shop.”

“Oh.” Things started making much more sense and you suddenly felt pretty embarrassed for how you had reacted. 

“Yeah . . . oh.” He rolled his eyes, but it didn’t come across necessarily rude but more like he was exhausted and you were adding to said exhaustion. “Why were you standing with the door open anyway?”

As he spoke, he stepped toward you. At first, your feet felt cemented to the floor and you didn’t move. But when he persisted closer, you eventually stumbled back and Keishin opened the fridge door you had been standing in front of to grab a beer from inside. With drink in hand, he eyed you once again, waiting for an answer.

“It’s really hot,” you said, gesturing to his orange sweater. “I don’t know how you wear that thing in here.”

Looking down at his apparel, he just shrugged. “You’ll get used to it.” He turned and started for the counter, presumably to pay for the drink he had just taken. “In the future, stand outside if you’re warm.”

“Okay.” You nodded, mindlessly tailing him. You had to grab the broom from behind the counter anyway, but that was the furthest thing from the front of your mind at that moment. If anything, you were still trying to calm down a little from being startled and now being alone with your boss’s son. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” He popped the tab on the beer, settled into the stool behind the counter, and downed at least half of the drink in a few large gulps. 

You watched him, probably a little too closely, and as you did you found yourself reexamining the features you had taken note of earlier that day: the dyed blonde hair held out of his face with a thin black headband, the natural brown hair that peeked out from the roots, the two small silver hoop earrings in his left ear, the scent of cigarette smoke that clung to him like how the smell of rain clung to the air after a heavy storm. 

Noticing your gaze, which would have been nearly impossible to miss, Keishin quirked a brow at you and held out the can of beer toward you. “You want a sip?”

Startled from your thoughts, you shook your head. “I’m only 18.” You reminded him.

“Oh, right.” He withdrew the can and took another sip, this one much smaller than the first few. “Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Eyes wide, you thought quick to come up with an excuse. “The broom.” You pointed to the item behind him. “Can you pass me the broom?”

After handing you the broom, Keishin pulled a slip of paper and a pen out from his pocket and started writing and scribbling things down, sipping the remainder of his beer occasionally and ignoring you completely. 

Trying to avoid staring at Keishin anymore than you already had, you started sweeping at the far end of the store and left the area around and behind the counter for last. Eventually, though, you had worked your way back over to the the silent man and was forced to clean the floor behind where he was sitting, trying hard not to disturb him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of what he was so focused on; it looked like a crude drawing of a volleyball court. “What’s that?” you asked, the words leaving your mouth before you realized you were being rude again and snooping.

Keishin, however, didn’t seem angry or annoyed in the slightest. “Volleyball positions,” he huffed. It was clear he was growing frustrated.

“You play volleyball?”

He shook his head and looked over his shoulder at you. “I used to. Now I coach the boy’s team at Karasuno.”

“I went to Karasuno,” you said mindlessly, just trying to make conversation at that point. 

He hummed in response and turned his attention back to the sheet before him. “Did you play volleyball?”

“No. Soccer.”

“Do you still play?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Do you still play volleyball?”

“With a neighbourhood association sometimes . . . but not really.”

“Why?”

The corners of his mouth curling up into a smirk, Keishin looked back to you once more. “I asked you first.”

“It’s not a good answer.” You leaned against the broom handle and sighed. “Don’t have the time.”

“You’re young and just graduated high school. You’ve got nothing but time.”

“Not with this job.”

Keishin scoffed, folded the paper, and shoved it back into his pocket with the pen. “Speaking of which, why would you take such a boring job at a store like this?”

You just shrugged. “I need the money.”

“Don’t you live with your parents?”

“That’s the problem,” you said, noticing the confusion on his face. “I told you it wasn’t a good answer.”

“Do they know you work here?”

“Do they know? Yes,” you answered truthfully. “Do they like it? Absolutely not.”

Keishin grinned at that before finishing his beer and tossing the empty can into the recycling bin beside the front door. “So you’re one of those teens, huh?”

You frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Trust me, kid, pissing off your parents just for the sake of it isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”

“You think I’m doing all this just because I can?”

“Aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Why then?”

“That story’s too long and convoluted for me to recite right now . . . especially to some old dude I just met today.”

Keishin chuckled under his breath, hands stuffed into his pockets as he headed for the door at the back of the shop so he could head upstairs to his apartment. “’Old dude’,” he repeated, clearly amused. “Don’t forget to lock up before you go home.”

As he turned his back to you, your curiosity got the better of you. “How old are you?”

Stopping in his tracks, Keishin pulled out a carton of cigarettes from his pants’ pocket along with a lighter. After placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and inhaled deeply. “Too old for you, sweetheart,” he spoke while exhaling, smoke spilling from his lips as he smirked at you. 

With that, he disappeared into the back. You wanted to shout after him that you had told him how old you were without hesitation when he had asked, but you stayed silent instead. 

As much as his presence unnerved you and his superiority complex aggravated you, you still found yourself inexplicably drawn to him. Maybe it was because he seemed completely disinterested in you, or maybe it was because he was everything you were always told to stay away from. 

The one thing you did know, however, was that if everyone around you was going to keep trying to convince you they knew how you should live your life better than you did, you were going to prove to them just how they wrong they were one way or another. 

[tbmaybank]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write an imagine with Jj where the reader is Topper’s little sister and she’s friendly with everyone. (Rafe could have a crush on her or something if u want to spice it up a bit) Well, she is starting to date Jj ( with a little bit of help from John B and Sarah) and Topper and Rafe find out about their relationship at a party or at midsummer because they catch them almost doing the dirty. I hope this isn’t wierd and I hope you understand cause English is not my first language.

Here you go, doll! I hope you like it :)

Warnings: drinking, smoking, smut, and violence

Requests are open!

——————————————————————————

You sat at the dinner table, mindlessly pushing your food around on the plate, ignoring the on going conversations. You hated coming to the Cameron’s for dinner. Rafe was always making comments or trying to find excuses to be alone with you. You kind of felt bad pushing him away, you were once really close. He was your brother, Toppers, best friend, and at one point you had a huge crush on him. But now, with how much he’s changed lately, you couldn’t stand being around him. Plus, you were now secretly dating one of the boys he hated most, JJ Mayfield. All you wanted to do right now was to get through this dinner so you could sneak away to see him.

You hadn’t meant to fall for the Pogue boy, but after the infamous Sarah and Topper break up, you ended up seeing a lot of the group, as Sarah was more of a sister to you than a friend. After seeing how horribly everything went when everyone found out about John B and Sarah, you decided to do everything you could to keep your relationship a secret. As much as you hated having to hide the boy you loved, you had to admit it made everything more exciting.

A buzzing from your pocket pulled you out of your thoughts. You pull the phone out, seeing a text from JJ.

-Is Rafe behaving himself around my girl?

Smiling at his obvious jealousy, even though he would never admit that he’s jealous.

-More or less. Nothing too bad. I’d much rather be getting annoyed by you though ;)

-Oh don’t worry, I fully plan on being extra annoying tonight. Can’t wait to see you.

“Y/n, are you listening at all?” Your father asks. You quickly put your phone away, turning a little pink.

“I’m sorry, I got lost in my own head. What did I miss?” Adding a sweet smile, which always got you out of trouble with your dad.

He sighs as he says “I was saying your mother and I will be leaving with Ward and Rose tomorrow morning for a couple days. You are to listen to your brother while we’re gone, understand?” Internally you roll your eyes. I’m 17. I don’t need a babysitter you think to yourself. But nows not the time to argue, especially when this can give you an excuse to spend more time with JJ.

“Yes, dad. I understand.” Everyone was finished eating by this point, but you knew this meant you still had about another hour of after dinner drinks to sit thought. However, your parents were okay with you, Topper, and Rafe going to sit outside on the dock. Almost as soon as you guys sit down, your brother is pulling out a joint. He lights it, takes a hit, then passes it to you. You immediately start to pass it over to Rafe, on the other side of you. You didn’t like being high around your parents, so you never joined in these after dinner smoke sessions.

Rafe throws his arm around you, “come on y/n, have fun for once.” Trying to hand the joint back to you.

“I have plenty of fun all the time, I think I’ll survive being bored for an hour.” He rolls his eyes and takes a hit.

They start talking about throwing a party the next day at your house. “Are you actually gonna join us this time?” Rafe asks you, moving his hand to grab your hip.

“Sure, but only if I get to bring my friends.” You respond while moving his hand off of you.

“You mean those pogues? Hell no. Why are you even friends with them?” Topper says.

“They’re nice, plus if they come, Sarah will be there.” Knowing that the chance to talk to Sarah would make him agree.

“Fine. But you better tell them to not start shit.” Smiling, you hug your brother.

“ Thank you Topper!”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

———-

Later that night, you were finally on your way to see JJ. Sarah had picked you up down the street from your house after you snuck out your window. Sarah was the biggest help to you being able to hide JJ. She was always willing to give you rides to see him, or covering for you and saying you were with her.

Once you guys park the car, JJ is instantly at the car opening your door for you, pulling you straight into a deep kiss.

“You guys literally saw each other this morning.” Sarah says, laughing at his eagerness to kiss you.

“Yeah, but if y/n was your girl, you’d miss her this much too.” He says as you guys start walking to join the others.

Everyone’s in their own conversations when you walk up, and you and JJ sit on a log, his arms going around you. You all start talking while drinking beer, a couple blunts being passed around. This time, you happily took hits as they came to you. You tell everyone how there’s a party the next night at your house, and how you got Topper to agree to them coming as long as they promised not to start anything, making sure to shoot your boyfriend a look as you say the last part.

“When have I ever started anything with them?” JJ asks, prompting everyone to start listing examples of when he most definitely started problems with them. “Okay, okay fine,” he throws his hands up “I promise not to start anything, but if Rafe starts touching you I will-“

“You will do absolutely nothing and let me handle it so everyone there doesn’t find out about us.” You interrupt, giving him a quick kiss at the end. He finally agrees, but not without pouting.

————————————————

The next night, the party was in full blast. You sat in your room though, until you got the text from JJ that they were here. And when you did, you rush to meet them at the door, determined to keep them away from Topper, and more importantly, Rafe.

As the night progressed, you found it easy to keep everyone separated. Other than a few nasty looks exchanged, nothing bad happened. You and the Pogues stayed in a corner drinking and having a good time. After awhile, you were definitely drunk.

“Can we sneak away?” JJ whispers in your ear. Giggling, you nod. Carefully, making sure no one sees, you lead him up the stairs to your room. As soon as he closes the door, his lips are on yours. His hands on your hips, pulling you as close to him as you can get. He backs you up, til you softly hit the dresser. Without breaking the kiss, he lifts you up and sets you on the dresser, sneaking his hands under your shirt. You pull away to your shirt off.

“God you’re beautiful.” He whispers before attacking your neck with his lips, letting his rands roam your body. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer against you. You lift his shirt and yank it off him, and pull his lips to yours again. His hand going under your skirt to rub you through your panties. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” Moaning at the feeling of his hand, and his words, and whimpering when he pulls his hand away.

“JJ,” you pant breathlessly, “I need you. Please..” he smirks at your words before lifting you just enough to pull down your thong. His thumb returns to rubbing your center while he kisses your neck again, slowly moving to your chest before his fingers enter you, causing a gasp. His fingers thrusting, as he sucks at your nipples, makes moans fall out of you beyond control. You start to feel the warm feeling build up in your stomach, before the bedroom door swings open.

“Hey y/n, where’d you- WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING TO HER!?”

You guys quickly pull apart, you covering yourself with your arms as soon as you hear Rafes words.

“Rafe, get out!” You shout at him.

He ignores you, and goes straight for JJ, throwing a punch. You quickly throw your shirt on and start trying to pull them apart, which you knew was a useless effort. You instead ran downstairs to find Pope and John B. Your eyes scan the people in the party. The music covering the noise from the fight upstairs. Finally your eyes spot the boys your looking for. You run up to them, not even realizing your crying and try to say what’s happening, but the words won’t come out. All you can manage to say is “Rafe. Upstairs.” Luckily, they understand and run up. You follow behind and watch as they successfully get Rafe and JJ apart. Each still trying to get at each other, though.

“Don’t ever tucking touch my girl again!” Rafe shouts at JJ, but before he can respond you cut in.

“I’m not your girl, Rafe. Just because you have a crush on me, and try to act like my boyfriend, doesn’t mean you are. JJ is my boyfriend; not you.”

He looks between you and JJ for a minute, before smirking “so you’re a pogue slut now? I should have seen that coming.” JJ tries to go for him again at this comment, but Pope keeps him back.

At this point, Topper makes his way upstairs, noticing all of you missing. He walks in and sees Rafe and JJ being held back from each other, JJ still shirtless, in your room. He looks to JJ, and asks “were you fucking my sister?”

“Topper, Rafe, get out of my room.”

“Are you seriously with him, y/n?” Topper asks.

“Yes, Topper. I am.” You sigh.

“Get out.” He says.

“Topper, you can’t kick me out. Mom and dad would kill you.”

“No, they’re gonna be thankful when I tell them why. Now pack your shit and get out.”

You felt your eyes getting filled with tears. You knew it would be bad if he found out, but you didn’t expect him to look at you with such hatred. “Topper..”you say quietly, walking towards him.

“No, y/n. It’s them or us. And you need to choose right now.” The tears falling fully now. No body in the room dares to say anything or move, all watching you two, waiting to hear your answer. Suddenly anger rises back up in you, before you turn away from him, snatching up your old book bag, and stuffing as much as you can from your dresser in it, and walking out without a word to any of them. Your plan was to go wait by John Bs van, but then realize it was pretty bold of you to assume he would be okay with you coming back to his place tonight. So, here you were, aimlessly walking down the street. You walked like you had purpose, a goal in mind, but really you had no idea where you were going. You hear footsteps running up to from behind, and suddenly your arm is grabbed and your spun the other direction. You were about to scream, before you saw JJ standing there.

“I’ve been shouting for you,” he says out of breath, “didn’t you hear me?” You honestly didn’t, your head full of so many thoughts at this time. Looking into his blue eyes, seeing the cuts and bruises from Rafe, you feel the anger melt away, and instead all the other emotions hit you, and you just start sobbing. He pulls you close to him, “baby, y/n, it’s gonna be okay, okay? You can come stay with us, if you want?” You just nod against his chest, unable to stop crying enough to actually talk. He starts leading you towards John Bs van, continuing to tell you how it’s gonna be okay, and you guys will figure everything out together.

When you reach the van, Kie and Sarah rush to hug you. “I think this officially means your a pogue.” Kie says while hugging you, getting a small, but sniffly, giggle out of you.

“I’m sorry guys, I should have known this wasn’t gonna go well.” You say, trying to wipe away tears with the back of your hand.

“Hey,” John B says while lightly grabbing your shoulders and looking into your eyes, “it’s not your fault. At all. Rafe is a psychopath.” Nodding; you thank him.

You all pile into the van, riding in silence back to John Bs house. JJs arm around you as you try to clean his wounds in the bouncing van. You guys finally arrive, and climb out. JJ dramatically holding his arms towards the house, “Welcome Home, y/n!” He says smiling.

Home. You liked the sound of that.

[shinidamachu]

I need some Inuyasha as a great father (more like DILF, amirite?) headcanons, can you help me out?

I'm here to serve!

• It isn’t until they’re happily married for at least one or two years that the possibility of children are brought up.

• At first, they took that time to relearn each other, enjoy their company and make the honeymoon phase last a little long. They did spend three years apart, after all. There’s so much time to make up for, so many catching up to do before they’d even think to throw a kid into the mix. Plus, being a modern woman, Kagome would know how to avoid pregnancy the best her new circumstances allowed and how important that time alone is for a newly-married couple.

• They never actually had the child talk because Kagome just assumed that’s where their relationship would naturally lead to, given her motherly tendencies and Inuyasha’s history of ultimately giving her everything she wants. For his part, Inuyasha knew she wanted to be a mother someday and he'd be lying if he said he never indulged the fantasy of fathering her children. However, he has serious trouble wrapping his mind around the idea that, in reality, Kagome would still be up for it if he were to be the father. He could never dare to ask of her more than she has already given him. Be that as it may, it was not a big deal because it was not a dealbreaker. Nothing was.

• But with time, Kagome would have noticed how good Inuyasha is with Hisui and the Mirsan twins. How his relationship with Shippo had developed from a sibling banter to a makeshift paternal relationship. How people like Shiori and Bunza would look up to him like he was some kind of movie hero. How every kid in the village seemed to adore him despite his grumpy demeanor.

• And Inuyasha would have noticed the way Kagome would look at him whenever he so much as interacted with a child, the way her smell would spike significantly.

• She, of course, was the one to make the first move, jumping him one night, after they had spend the whole day stuck with babysitting the Mirsan children and popping the question.

• Inuyasha was relutant. There was a part of him that was adamant on making her happy and even believed having babies would make him happy too. On the other hand, he was terrified. Terrified of how her body would react to childbirth, of if her spiritual powers would accept his demonic energy. But mostly, about what would happen once the baby was born. The last thing he wanted was for Kagome to go through everything his mother had to go through. Or for another kid to face the same prejudice he did. Besides, he grew up with no father figure whose steps he could follow. He didn’t know how to be a father.

• Kagome assures him that they won’t have a baby until they’re both ready and on the same page, that they have time and that Inuyasha will be a great father.

• Inuyasha believes her.

• Then it is him felling some type of way whenever he sees Kagome around kids. And something deep inside desperately wishes to find out what would their children look like, what would it be like to hold and take care of someone born from their love.

• Finally, he caves.

• Inuyasha wants a big family, considering how lonely his childhood was. Kagome finds it pivotal for their first-born to have a sibling, since she had Sota and their relationship was one of the most important things in her life. That’s why they’d have two children minimum, preferably a boy and a girl. However, giving how dangerous and uncomfortable childbirth can be, especially without the perks the modern era provides, I don’t think they’d have more than three.

• Naturally, Inuyasha relies on Miroku for advice and the latter is more helpful than not. Except for the times Inuyasha asks or says something that makes it way too easy for Miroku to mess with him. Like the time he told Inuyasha that if he doesn’t get Kagome whatever food she craves while pregnant, the baby will be born looking exactly like that food. And Inuyasha believed him.

• And if you thought Inuyasha was protective of Kagome before... oh boy! He’d be almost overbearing, but Kagome would see it as endearing. Most of the time. Sometimes, though, a woman has got to have her privacy. He also becomes more attentive, more gentle, sweeter.

• After their first child is born, Inuyasha gets a makeover of sorts. He’s always borrowing the Fire Rat to Kagome and the baby anyway, so he figured it’d be more practical to just pass the clothes on to them already and get something new for himself.

• It’s white.

• Inuyasha becomes taller, stronger. And often lets Kagome experiment with his hair with braids, top nots... and ponytails.

• Old Myoga is the first one to notice the resemblance. And it’s true. He’s the spitting image of Toga. Former enemies and allies often mistaken him for Toga and Kagome thinks the look on their (and Inuyasha’s) face is hilarious.

• Sesshoumaru does not care for it (I stole this one from @heavenin--hell).

• Inuyasha hates his human nights even more because now his vulnerability also means he might not be able to protect his family as he usually would (Together Changed by @goshinote and @lostinfantasyworlds inspired this one). Plus, the black hair and lack of dog ears confuses the baby, who cries and fusses for a good while until realizing it is, in fact, Inuyasha holding them (this one I saw in an adorable fanart I can’t find).

• But since he needs way less sleeping than humans and he spends the New Moons up anyway, Inuyasha gets a lot of quality time with their infant at night, which allows Kagome to actually get a good night sleep unless the baby is hungry.

• The Beads of Subjugation get dooled and chewed on. A lot.

• A little contest takes place between Kagome and Inuyasha about what the first word of their first child would be, with Kagome going for “dada” and Inuyasha going for “mama.”

• Kagome wins.

• Inuyasha’s fighting style changes. He still says some snarky remarks, but now it’s more to push his opponent‘s buttons down so they would get sloppy than anything else. After all, he has a child to think about and provide for now. He doesn’t have the luxury of gambling with his life anymore. He has a home to come back to and therefore won’t be taking any chances (credit to @born-for-eachother for this one).

• And so he becomes more lethal on the battle field. Pragmatic. Objective. Calculating. Decisive. Cold blooded. Much like... Sesshomaru.

• He had never been more offended on his life than the day Sango pointed this out to him.

• When the kids grow up a bit, Inuyasha and Kagome start to tell them bedtime stories, with the PG version of the story about how the met and defeated Naraku being their favorite.

• Kagome tries to be a reliable and calm narrator while Inuyasha exaggerates the events and the voices, almost always breaking objects of their house in the process.

• After hearing one too many times about the Beads of Subjugation, their child tries to “sit” Inuyasha. Of course it doesn’t work, but he still makes a big deal out of throwing himself on the ground every time they say the word just to hear them laugh.

• The first actual toy Inuyasha buys them is a ball, just like the one he had as a kid, at the same time accomplishing a childhood wish through them and ensuring that they would always have someone to play with.

• Kagome is more protective of their physical state while Inuyasha is more protective of their emotional one (see Fist Fight by @omgitscharlie)

• Inuyasha goes to Totosai and asks him to make a weapon out of one of his fangs to each of their children once they get old enough for it. Not necessarily a sword, just something of their choice and that better fits their personality.

• He would be a just father, doing his best to show no favoritism, treat his children equally and make sure no one felt overlooked or unloved.

• But truth be told, if one of their babies turn out to be a daughter, he would definitelly let her get away with almost anything, no matter how much of a gremlin she is. Daddy’s little girl would have him wrapped around her tiny fingers.

• Life never treated Inuyasha kindly. From a very young age, it was kill or be killed. It wouldn't be too far off for him to think the exact same thing could happen with his kids, therefore he tries to prepare them, to tough them up so they can take it.

• And I believe this sentiment would be significantly amplified with a son, because it would involve the whole “suck it up”, “men don’t cry” and “man of the house” aspect of it. The “it is your duty to protect your mother and sister when I’m gone” too, especially because he couldn’t protect Izayoi himself.

• It’s “tough love”, but it’s love nonetheless. And in the right dose, which I believe Inuyasha manages to nail, it can be very important for one’s development and growth.

• But it’s hard to imagine him being as tough with a daughter. Probably because he sees so much of Kagome on her that the mere idea of seeing her cry simply breaks him.

• Kagome would actually have to step in when it comes to disciplining and saying “no”, because he simply wouldn’t have it in him to do so.

There’s actually a really nice post by @keichanz I reblogged a while ago discussing precisely that, but I can’t find it to save my life (should I start to properly tag my reblogs? No, it’s a lot of work and I’m right not to).

Anyway, that’s all I got for now.

Peace out.

[anabsolutetrainwreck]

tongue-tied like we’ve never known || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, swearing, not really proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: two single parents try to start their lives again...

Mornings were always the worst for you. Trying to pry Tommy out of bed, and even yourself for that matter, was always an incredibly stressful task. But you’d learned to live with it and quickly come to accept it. After all, he was only young now. He’d be old soon enough and you knew you’d miss these youthful years. 

You stood by the school gates, waiting for little Tommy to come bounding out of school to tell you all about his latest adventure. You always looked forward to hearing how his day went. As small children scrambled out of the doors after their teachers and straight into the arms of their parents, your eyes fell onto Tommy. He was with a boy you didn’t recognise. “Look, look! Meet my new friend,” Tommy grinned as he stood before you excitedly. “This is my mum.”

“Hello,” the little boy, dark-haired with perhaps the most striking green eyes, smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oscar,” you smiled. “Are you new?”

The boy nodded, his cheeks flushed slightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tommy had made a new friend. He’d been kind to the new kid and offered him a form of friendship. 

You were tugged away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You quickly turned to see a man, a little taller than yourself. You figured this was Oscar’s father from the dark hair to the green eyes. “There you are,” he smiled warmly and it seemed to make your heart flutter, as if he was smiling at you.

“Daddy, this is my new friend, Tommy,” Oscar grinned excitedly. 

For the first time, the man shifted his gaze from the two young boys to you. Your stomach lurched as you made eye contact with him. “You must be Tommy’s mum,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking it gently. You hadn’t felt like this since you first met Tommy’s dad. It was all of eight years ago now on a night out with your university friends, most of whom you didn’t even speak to nowadays. He had been kind then and polite and the sort of man you’d always envisioned yourself marrying. So, you ended up getting together and everything seemed great for the first year and a half. But then things began to decline and you both seemed to lose trust in one another and you felt as if you were putting all of your energy into this relationship. It was killing you. But then you fell pregnant with his baby and he broke up with you anyway. You went back home to live with your own parents for a while before you eventually found a proper job and moved into your own house. 

Anyway, you found yourself walking down the street, Tommy and Oscar running ahead slightly, with Harry. You had Tommy’s light bag clasped between your hands, listening to Harry tell you about Oscar. “And yeah,” he concluded, “we moved down here a couple of weeks ago, just the two of us.”

“What about Oscar’s mother?” you couldn’t help but find yourself prying. 

Harry seemed to tense slightly, before shrugging, “She was never really around much. Her parents thought she should have gotten an abortion but she didn’t want one and had the baby anyway. So, they kicked her out and she left Oscar with me and moved to Dublin with her friends.”

“That’s shitty,” you sighed. “At least you have Oscar, though, right?”

He nodded, smiling, “Exactly. What about Tommy’s dad then?”

“He was a dick. He broke up with me a couple of months after I told him I was pregnant,” you replied. 

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “sounds like a dick. Does he see Tommy then?”

You shook your head, your eyes caught between Harry’s and your son's lively figure running up and down the path ahead of you with Oscar. “No. He’s tried to reach out a couple of times but I haven’t let him see him. I just feel like introducing him to his dad six years later could just, you know, fuck it up. Besides, if he didn’t want to be with me through all the shitty, difficult stuff, then I don’t think he’s allowed to enjoy all the joys of being a parent.”

“Well,” he smiled, “good on you.”

And that was how you met Harry Styles. Over the weeks that followed, you would walk Oscar and Tommy to and from school with him. Tommy would spend time round at Harry’s and Oscar would spend time round at yours. And it felt like every time you saw Harry, you felt simultaneously more comfortable around him but more and more nervous. 

But you hadn’t dated anybody since Tommy was born. Having a young child seemed to be a deterrent for a lot of people. Or maybe had more to do with the fact that you didn’t have time for a relationship between work and raising Tommy. Sure, you’d been on plenty of dates and it wasn’t as if you weren’t ready to get back into the world of dating and relationships. If not for yourself, for Tommy. You wanted him to have some kind of parental figure that wasn’t you. 

You found it difficult to focus on the book you were reading when all you could hear was the two boys laughing loudly upstairs. Oscar was round for dinner and Harry was due to pick him up any minute. And as a knock at the front door finally snapped you into a new state of consciousness, you got up to answer it. Harry stood happily on the other side, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Evening, Y/N,” he smiled. 

“Evening, Harry,” you mocked. “Do come in.”

You opened the door wider, allowing the man to step into your home. You called down Oscar and Tommy, only to be met with groans. They appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces twisted into bitter scowls. “Why?” Tommy sighed. “Can he stay for a bit longer?”

You exchanged a glance with Harry, who shrugged. “Fifteen minutes,” you sighed. Really, all you wanted was to go to bed. They grinned and dashed back into Tommy’s small bedroom. You guided Harry into the kitchen, letting him sit himself down at the table. “Do you want a drink?” you asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he smiled.

You grinned, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, “Suit yourself. So, how was your day?”

“Stressful,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”

“Anytime,” you shrugged. “He’s delightful. Besides, you’ve looked after Tommy so many times, I kind of owed you.”

“Nonsense,” he laughed. “We’re not exchanging favours. We’re just… helping out a friend.”

You couldn’t help but let yourself deflate at ‘friend’. You had known all along that you were just two, young single parents that only knew each other through their six-year-old sons. But a tiny fragment of you hoped what was happening meant something more to Harry, like it did to you. There were instances of harmless flirting and subtle glances. “Right,” you nodded, forcing a soft smile. “Well, thanks for helping out a friend.”

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the table and your eyes wandered from their tips to the tattoos that peeked out of the cuff of his jacket. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked and you almost cringed at the small talk. 

But alas, you shrugged, “Not really. I have some work to catch up on, so an action packed day for me tomorrow. What about you?”

He shook his head, “I wish I had plans. Could go out for drinks or something, but I can’t because I have a needy six-year-old.”

“Treasure it while it’s still here,” you said. 

“Believe me,” he grinned, “I am. God, I’m so scared for the day he just… stops needing me. You know, the day he just sort of realises that he no longer needs me to wash his clothes or walk him into town or buy him things. And it took me ages to get used to putting somebody before myself, I don’t think I could imagine living without him now. Like, one day he’ll go off to uni and get a job and only come home every other birthday or Christmas.”

You smiled gently. You were sure he’d never been so vulnerable with you before. “It’s weird to think that’s what we’re doing with our parents now. We fear the day our kids stop needing us, but our parents are living that day.”

He hummed in thought for a moment, “I should probably go see my mum soon. I haven’t seen her in months. And my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Gemma is her name. She’d love you.”

“I’m sure I’d love her if she’s anything like you,” you said. 

You took a final gulp of your orange juice, your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You looked at the clock on the wall, noticing twenty minutes had passed since Harry arrived. “Right,” you smiled. “I’ll go get Oscar.”

And as you walked towards the kitchen door, Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

You turned back to look at him, your heart pounding heavily. All kinds of questions and hypotheticals raced through your mind as he paused for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody else, Y/N?” he asked. 

“Meet somebody else?” you repeated, though you were sure you knew exactly what he meant. 

“Yeah, you know… like somebody to replace Tommy’s dad. Somebody for you to settle down with and raise Tommy together. Do you think you’ll ever meet them?” he asked. 

You were utterly confused as to what had prompted him to ask such a question. But you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t hear your heart in your temples or taste your blood in your mouth. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d like Oscar to have a mum.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think that would be great for him. I’ll go get him.”

That night as you lay alone in your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share your bed with Harry. To feel his body beside yours on cold nights. To be woken up by his lips peppering your face in light kisses in the morning. To discuss all the trivial things when neither of you can sleep at night. Maybe he was trying to tell you something that evening…

Oscar had become ill over that following weekend. Nothing too serious, but something that warranted a day or two off school. So, after you picked Tommy up from school, you drove to Harry’s to check if they were both okay. Tommy sat at the end of Oscar’s bed, recounting everything the young boy had missed at school, while you busied yourself in Harry’s kitchen. You were heating up some of the soup you had made for the poor boy. “You’re really too kind. You didn’t have to do this,” Harry told you as he made you a cup of coffee. 

You shrugged, “Well, Oscar’s like my second son at this point.”

He smiled, albeit his cheeks a little red, “I’m glad you think that. I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as a mum at this point too.”

Now it was your turn to turn red. Your face heated up at Harry’s passing comment. Did he really think of you as a mum? “That’s sweet,” you said. “About what you said the other night… about meeting somebody, my friend says she knows a guy she thinks I’d get along with. So, I think I’m really going to try dating.”

He stiffened slightly, “Oh yeah? That’s great, Y/N.”

He hugged you and you couldn’t help but feel so safe in his arms. The hug was perhaps a second or three too long, but neither of you pulled away. And, as your bodies were pressed together, it was almost as if you shared a brief but looming epiphany together. “But,” you began again, “why try dating a stranger when I already know somebody?”

“That’s a good point,” he whispered softly, finally pulling away to make eye contact. He explored your face and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks. 

“I mean, this guy that I know, he’s sweet. Really sweet. He’s super funny and caring and so, so generous. And he has a kid himself, so he won’t be put off by the single parent thing.”

He understood what you were trying to tell him, “Sounds like an angel. Who is this fine man of whom you speak?”

You grinned, “I don’t know if I should say. He has tattoos and green eyes.”

“So he’s incredibly handsome as well as being an angel?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you chuckled. And, as if the sky were falling down, Harry wasted no time in pressing his lips to your own. He kissed you and you kissed him back. All of your prior dating worries just seemed to slip away as you buried your fingers in Harry’s soft hair. It was only when you heard a quiet ‘mum?’ from the doorway did you jolt apart. Tommy stood in the threshold of the kitchen and suddenly the microwave went off, notifying you that Oscar’s soup was ready. You and Harry turned back to each other, finally registering Tommy’s presence, “Shit.”

[miekasa]

pls do dad!armin hc I’M BEGGING YOU <3

Fine. FINE. Just this once... since it’s father’s day or whatever but this is the last one I swear 🙄🙄

He was very nervous to find out you were having a kid, but it turns out all of that was for nothing because he’s pretty good with them.

Still, Armin wouldn’t want too many kids—he would love all the ones you guys do have, but he doesn’t want a family as large as Jean’s or anything.

So you have one daughter and she is the center of his entire world. Nevermind the fact that even as an infant she clearly is a mommy’s girl, Armin still loves her with his whole heart, he’d give up anything for her.

She’s a pretty quiet kid, even as a baby. Not a lot of screaming or crying or kicking or whining—just a lot of sleeping. She’s almost scarily quiet... to the point where a few weeks after taking her home, Armin took her right back to the hospital because he was worried something might have been wrong with her hearing

A valid concern, but you admit it was a little funny seeing him fuss around and essentially try to cause a crying fit. Most other parents would kill to have a kid this quiet, and here was Armin snapping in your baby girls face trying to startle her.

Turns out nothing was wrong, the doctors (several, Armin wanted to be sure) assured you that her hearing was fine; she’s just a tired little bundle of joy. It’s gives Armin a lot of relief to know she’s perfectly healthy, but it does freak him out a little when he picks her up and she falls asleep within the next two minutes.

She does not get Armin’s blonde hair and he’s not upset about it. He’s not, really. Ask him, he’s perfectly fine with it. Not even a little bothered because he knows blonde is recessive. He gets it. Totally. Not bitter.

Truthfully, she looks... almost nothing like him at all, she’s all you, save for the shape of Armin’s eyes and his button nose; but just about everything else she gets from her mom. At first glance, you wouldn’t even be able to tell she was Armin’s kid.

Do you know how exhausted and bitter he is when he picks her up from school or whatever after school activities she has and they ask him for ID every single time 😭😭

She acts like him though, and as she gets older, it’s apparent she’s got his mind and curiosity and quite frankly, his ability to manipulate the two of you into getting her just about anything she wants.

Armin loves hanging out with her as she gets older, and he’s a pro with homework help, though she turns out to not need much help. She just pretends to because she likes spending time with Armin and counting dinosaurs with him.

Matching family pajamas for every holiday occasion: Christmas, Easter, New Year’s, St. Patrick’s day, hell even your birthdays. You all have matching pajamas and Armin loves it.

When she’s a baby, one of the first things Armin buys for her is a little plushy/stuffed animal, and you better believe it stays by her side through thick and thin. She’s very careful with it, even at five years old—she would never take it anywhere where it could potentially get dirty, and she keeps it in tip top shape. It’s her most prized possession.

At around that age for father’s day, she gets Armin a miniature/keychain version of the same plushy and he literally cries himself to sleep thinking about it it’s the cutest thing anybody has ever done for him. He wears it around with pride, happily telling people the lore of tiny stuffed animal hanging from his keys whenever they point it out.

Around that age is also when Armin realizes that maybe... maybe one more kid wouldn’t be too terrible. He grew up and only child and, yeah, he had Eren and Mikasa, but he always did wish he had a sibling...

You saw how your daughter turned out, so you don’t know why Armin is still sighs deeply when your son comes along and he also looks nothing like him 😭😭

He’s almost tempted to keep having kids until one of them at least resembles him a little bit. According to punnet squares if you had four at least one of them should look something like him right...

Unlike your daughter, your son cries for everything, and honestly, his older sister is the only one who can calm him down; virtually nothing you or Armin do can quiet him, but when his sister holds him, all is well in his world.

Armin feels kinda guilty using her as a baby-quieting machine but what else can you two do. Sometimes she just walks into your room while you and Armin are (unsuccessfully) trying to calm the crying baby, and she just sighs. Hops up on the bed, sits criss-cross in between you and Armin, and pokes her little brother’s cheek, “You’re being a crybaby.” And like magic, he starts to settle down.

(“This is probably not what they meant by gifted kid, but I swear she has a gift.”)

When that doesn’t happen tho, or the crying fit happens in the middle of the night, you can usually wake up to Armin curled up inside the baby’s crib, with your son on his chest, and Armin’s hands holding him close.

Armin spends a lot of time picking out their baby/booster seats and is 100% looking up and comparing the reliability of different brands. That goes for most things tho, from strollers to bibs, he’s done a thorough check on everything.

Obviously loves beach days with the kids, even if all your son can do is sit and splash his little baby hands around. Armin thinks it’s precious and he loves holding him up and dipping his little feet into the water.

His favorite thing tho is lining everyone up to leave footprints in the sand. He always takes a picture and keeps it as his homescreen.

Mikasa is the more trusted babysitter, but whether you two like or not, Eren is the favorite. There’s just something about him the kids like. Eren doesn’t have the same talent as your daughter, but even he can quiet down the crying toddler quicker than you can. (“They just recognize greatness.” “It’s just because you’re tall and your hand is big, shutup Eren.”)

They also really like Sasha, especially your daughter, and she very loudly proclaims that Mikasa and Sasha are her role models.

Blushes very easily whenever his kids poke at or kiss his cheeks. The one picture you have him and your daughter on Armin’s birthday with her hands around his neck giving him a kiss as he blows out his candles is one of his favorites.

He tries to become a better cook, but it doesn’t work out, so he leaves that you. What he does get good at is bath time and doing hair. Braids, twists, ponytails, headbands, bows, the whole show, he becomes a pro.

He’s a fucking wreck when you send them off to school/daycare for the first time. He made fun of Eren for not being able to make it through one work day after his paternity leave was up, but Armin is hardly any better. He doesn’t end up staying at home like Eren, but it is a big adjustment for him, and he can’t say he enjoys leaving them at all. 

When your daughter learns how to read, it’s her that reads bedtime stories to him. And Armin sits there and listens like she’s the greatest storyteller in the world and always applauds her for her reading skills. 

For whatever reason, one of the few things your son likes to fall asleep to is the sound of Armin typing on his computer, so he beings to use it to his advantage; he saves just a bit of work to do from home in the evenings, and conveniently does it all right before bedtime. 

Speaking of which everyone, yourself included, gets a little kiss on the forehead before bed. Two on your birthdays. 

[dracowars]

the right thing | draco malfoy

pairing: draco x slytherin!reader

word count: 3,0k

summary: where y/n does the only right thing, much to the dismay of everyone else

a/n: i had this idea in mind for so long and finally managed to bring it to life, enjoy <3

warnings: angst, mentions of death, mentions of childbirth, torture, mentions of blood

universe: harry potter

"Darling, are you listening to me?", your father's voice tears you out of your dreamy, peaceful thoughts and you silently direct your gaze from the nature outside, which is quickly passing by, to him. As an answer you nod, even though you were definitely not listening a bit.

"Very good! I am so incredibly proud of my grown up daughter", he smiles at you and takes off the glasses he used to read out what is written on the parchment in his hand to you when you were not listening.

You do not answer or show a reaction, causing your father to clear his throat nervously before looking down while you switch your own gaze back out of the moving carriage.

As much as you would like to believe what he is saying, you can't. This man has ruined your entire life and is now only trying to make up for it with his stupid niceness and courtesy. Just like he always has, knowing that you will never forgive him for what he did.

The sudden waggling of the carriage makes you assume that you have arrived and at that very moment you recognize the large creaking gate that leads into a wide avenue to a huge mansion. The Malfoy Manor.

Your pureblood family has been very influential for generations, just like the Malfoys, so it not really surprising that you and Draco immediately befriended each other in your first year at Hogwarts. A friendship that soon became more than that.

What you did not expect, however, is that you would get engaged to each other just as quickly.

Your parents wasted no time after learning about your relationship. After all, it would mean the continuation of the purity of your families as well as the union of two of the most influential families in the whole wizarding world. And it was clear for both of you that you were lucky to have met, because otherwise you would probably have married someone you would not have loved with your whole heart.

And yet, you are not happy.

The creaking of the carriage door opening by magic, makes you flinch before you follow your father out and are now standing in front of the huge building you have already visited several times. One of the house elves leads you to the large front door and another leads you through the halls of Malfoy Manor, past the numerous locked doors and through sparsely furnished corridors.

As soon as you arrive in the long, dark dining room, your breath gets stuck in your throat when you look over your father's shoulder, only to see many faces that you would not have expected to see here. Especially not the face of a specific someone since you originally assumed that you would only gather here to discuss more wedding preparations.

"Oh, how nice! The Y/L/N family has finally made it", the Dark Lord grins devilishly, locking his cold eyes with you, and your father bows respectfully before you two sit down at the wooden table, directly across from Draco and his parents. He throws you an unsettling glance and your pulse rises immediately.

"Very well. Now that we are complete, let us begin", Voldemort speaks up treacherously while strutting around the end of the table, his wand openly displayed in his pale, bony hands.

If there is one wizard in this entire universe that you can't stand, it is definitely him, even though you are a Death Eater and thus belong to his close entourage.

But you never had a choice.

Your mother died during childbirth, but your father had already foreseen it and did not want it to come true. In order to prevent this, he ran to Voldemort and his people to beg for help. He so gladly granted him his wish, but only on the condition that his only daughter and heir to the wealthy Y/L/N family will become a Death Eater at the age of sixteen. And so it happened.

Of course he was not able to rescue your mother from death, but you are not sure whether you would be sitting here at this table right now without his help or if you would not have survived the birth either. Whatever it is, you do not know what you would have preferred.

All in all, you harbor an abysmally hatred for this man as well as for your own father, who simply sold his daughter to the evil in person. For nothing but an empty promise.

In your eyes this man is not and never will be your father. To you, he is nothing more than a ridiculous, old and bitter coward.

You hear Voldemort keep talking in the background, but his words do not go inside of your head and you just emotionlessly stare at Draco on the other side, who switches his intimidated gaze between you and the other end of the table. Only when you follow his gaze do you understand why he has this kind of an expression plastered all over his face.

At the other end, across from the position where Voldemort is currently making his hate speech against Harry Potter, a terrible looking woman hangs upside down from the ceiling, softly whimpering. Floating in the air by a spell, she moves around a bit and if it were not for her making quiet noises, you would have thought she was dead.

But when her empty gaze meets yours, an ice-cold shiver runs down your spine. It is Mrs. Burbage, your Muggle Studies teacher. You almost did not recognize her because of her distorted appearance. Her pale, lifeless face, however, seems to be staring at you, almost piercing through you, making you feel like it is your fault that she is hanging there.

You quickly turn away from her and look down at the empty table, which suddenly seems much more interesting than anything else in the room while you try not to let the deep, ingrained shock show. Taking in a deep breath, you only lift your head up again when a silver snake's head is thrown on the table, frightening you for a second.

Apparently Voldemort has just damaged Lucius Malfoy's wand in order to use it himself. The look on Lucius' face makes you shudder again. You have never seen him like this before and you have had to spend a lot of time with him and the other Death Eaters already.

Just as shocked as you are, Draco is as well while looking to his father. Draco, like you, never wanted to become a Death Eater, but his father's failures eventually forced him into this position and now you are both bound to the same horrible fate, caused by your own fathers.

While Voldemort continues to drag their family name into the dirt with his words, you and Draco just look at each other intensely. As if you could understand what is going on in the others' mind.

At least until a green spark flies across the table in the middle of you two and Nagini snakes over it shortly afterwards. Unnoticed, you move your chair back a litte. Already suspecting what is going to happen, you turn your head away and try to block out the disgusting and disturbing noises that are triggered by killing one of your favorite teachers.

In the end, however, you are unable to take it any longer, getting up and running out of the room with your head and shoulders lowered, but you can still hear how the Dark Lord declares the meeting finished as you run down the stairs. Holding your hand in front of your mouth, your insides make a flip and you feel incredibly sick all of a sudden when you come to a stop in one of the hallways.

Startled you turn around when you hear your name behind you, but as soon as you recognize that it is Draco who followed you, you crash into his arms and he catches you, protectively holding you against him.

"D-Draco", you bitterly sob into his chest and he just hugs you tighter, trying to calm you down.

"Shh, love. I know, I know", he silences you softly and puts his hand on the back of your head while you remain in this position for a few minutes. Until you hear your father's annoying voice.

Moving away from Draco and straightening your posture, you look in the direction from where your father is now running towards you, Narcissa closely behind him.

"Darling, there you are! I will go back home now and you will have a nice time here", he happily announces, not even noticing how miserable you are. But what else did you expect from him?

"We will take good care of her, don't worry", Narcissa smiles, but it does not quite reach her eyes and therefore stays cold. Your father seems satisfied by her answer and, together with all the other Death Eaters, leaves.

"I will make us some tea", Narcissa clears her throat and you follow her into the salon, your hands intertwined.

A few days later Draco and you comfortably lay on the couch in front of the big fireplace in the afternoon, an open book about potions in your lap, your head leaned against his broad shoulder. As you continue to rummage through your book, Draco gently takes your hand in his and smiles down at you before placing a kiss on the top of your head.

Your little moment of peace and contentment, however, is quickly destroyed again when Bellatrix's crazy laugh echoes through the room.

"Draco, Y/N, my darlings! I searched for you everywhere", she giggles as she strolls towards you, pressing her wand against her temple as she stops in front of the sofa. You expectantly look up at her, waiting for her to explain why she so rudely interrupted your moment.

"Bellatrix! What is going on here?", Lucius suddenly rushes in after her, Narcissa following him, so that you are all gathered now.

"Oh! I assume you have already met our lovely guests", Bellatrix laughs and, as if on cue, two more men enter the living room. Death Eaters. Deeply breathing in shock, you abruptly get onto your feet when you discover that they did not come alone.

Hermione, Ron and someone who somehow looks like Harry Potter but isn't, are pushed ahead of them until they are ungently thrown to the ground, right in front of Bellatrix's feet.

"Welcome, welcome", she licks her lips bloodthirstily, a playful laugh escaping her throat as your gaze meets Hermione's. There is nothing but disappointment in her eyes. Disappointed that you do not step in, that you just watch.

You avert your gaze and look at the other person and the longer you look at him, the more it becomes clear to you that this is Harry Potter after all. Terrible things have been done to his face that made you barely recognize him.

"Why are they here?", you choke out and Bellatrix turns to you in amusement, giggling while mockingly sulking as she presses her knife against Harry's throat.

"Why not? Well, Draco! Why don't you come over here and and take a closer look", she urges Draco and he slowly loosens his grip on your hand, not even realizing how hard you have squeezed his. He cautiously walks towards his aunt, even though you would like to stop him immediately.

"Come closer. What does he look like to you, huh?", she asks him and Draco stops right in front of them.

He hesitates.

Lucius suddenly stirs next to you and puts his hand on Draco's back, whispering something into his ear which you can't hear before he raises his voice out of nowhere when one of the Death Eaters intervenes. Narcissa manages to calm Lucius down though and pull him away from their son.

"Don't be shy, sweetie. Come over", Bellatrix persuades him and takes his hand to pull him closer to the disfigured Harry, giving him a better view. You can clearly see the fear in Harry's eye that is not swollen, and something deep inside of you keeps telling you that it would not be right to betray him. You are about to step in when Draco mutters under his breath for the first time since they entered the room, kneeling down in front of Harry.

"What is wrong with his face?"

"Yes, what is wrong with his face?", Bellatrix counters and adresses the two men, but you automatically block out their conversation, only being able to concentrate on Harry and Draco. Draco examines his face closely, but you are sure that he too immediately recognized that it is actually Harry. However, he gets up with a shake of his head and remains silent.

You just do not understand why he does not say anything.

Maybe he never wanted to become a Death Eater either, but still, you always had different views on Harry Potter and his Gryffindor friends. He loathed them since first year, and yet he does not betray him now.

The sudden screeching by Bellatrix and the following fighting noises release you from your numbness and you only see how she orders the now injured men to disappear, a silver sword in her hand that was not there before.

"Put the boys in the cell! I will have a conversation with this one", she angrily growls and pushes Harry and Ron to Narcissa and Wormtail, who take them to the basement. "Get out!"

Not being able to move from the spot, you stop and do not obey her instructions, making her give you an aggressive look until Draco quickly grabs your wrist and roughly pulls you away from the scene, Hermione now alone with Bellatrix.

You have just left the room when you hear a terrible scream from behind you and there is no doubt that it came from Hermione.

"What is she doing to her, Draco?", you furiously ask him and pull your hand out of his strong grip, a little too strong for your liking.

"I don't know. Let us go upstairs and-"

"No!", you interrupt him angrily and his eyes widen at your sudden outburst, not expecting it.

"No?"

"I am not just going to look away when someone is tortured!", you yell at him and immediately turn around to go back, but Draco stops you.

"You can't do anything for her, Y/N! It is the best idea if we just stay quiet and let it happen. I can't risk them harming you as well", he explains and his voice softens towards the end, almost gets vulnerable, which is why the tension in your body slowly fades.

"But Draco.. This is Harry Potter and if your aunt finds out about it, he is doomed!", you sadly whisper and place your hands on his chest, fists clenched.

"Do you think I do not know? I do not want them to get him either, but we have no choice if we want to stay safe, my love", Draco sighs and lowers his head in defeat, his left hand clasping and loosening your fist, the cold rings on his finger slightly touching your skin. "Promise me that you will stay safe here with me."

"I-I.. I promise", you nod and avert your gaze, unable to look in his eyes while uttering such a lie. However, Draco has no chance to say anything about it when in the next moment a loud clink shakes the walls of the mansion.

Throwing a shocked look at each other, you quickly return to the room and abruptly stop in the middle when you see Narcissa defending attacks by Harry and Ron. Lucius growls behind you and you see him laying on the glass table that probably was destroyed by the impact of his body hitting against it. You are about to pull out your wand when Bellatrix loudly yells.

"STOP!"

Everyone's gaze falls on the knife she is holding against Hermione's throat and you discover a bleeding wound on her forearm, the word 'mudblood' cut deeply into her skin. Bellatrix's work.

"Drop your wands!", she orders and shortly afterwards they fall to the ground. "Pick them up, Draco!"

With you by the hand, Draco quickly picks up their wands and leads you back to his parents, his body blocking you protectively as he stands in front of you.

"Well, well, well. Look who we have here. It's Harry Potter", Bellatrix whisper-yells into Hermione's ear, who is trying to suppress her sobs while Harry's face is suddenly turning back to normal. "Just in time for the Dark Lord.. Call him!"

The last command coming from her mouth makes you swallow hard, but the lump in your throat won't go away. Especially not when all eyes are on you and Draco alone now. Their faces soaked in expectation and disappointment, it only intensifies the conflict within you.

"Call him!"

Releasing you from your suffering, Lucius steps forward when neither Draco nor you stir a single bit, pulls up his sleeve to reveal the Dark Mark on his forearm, the same one that painfully adorns your skin as well and always reminds you of who you have to obey. You see how the snake slowly winds around the skull and you look back and forth between him and Hermione, trembling.

"I am sorry, Draco", you breathe out barely audible, closing your eyes while doing so before letting go of his hand.

In a matter of seconds, you raise your wand, aim at the magnificent chandelier on the ceiling that is directly above Bellatrix and Hermione, and the following words fall off your lips with sudden ease.

"Confringo!"

All at once everything that happens next is like in slow motion. The huge chandelier crashes down onto the parquet, freeing Hermione from Bellatrix's grip and you are thrown to the ground as well. Raising your blurry gaze again, you see feet right in front of you and are suddenly pulled up onto your legs again.

By no other than Harry.

He brings you to the others and the last thing you see is the hurt, disappointment and heartbreak on Draco's pale face as you feel a stabbing, sharp pain from both your own broken heart and the dagger piercing through your skin that was thrown by Bellatrix before you vanish into thin air.

[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.

[obscuratorium]

Theory: Satoko hates Hinamizawa & Herself

(CW: mentions of self-harm, suicide, murder, and Spoilers Ahead for Higurashi Gou/Sotsu) In Higurashi Gou/Sotsu, I find it very interesting that Satoko’s been spending her time talking up Hinamizawa to Rika, and she’s also been proclaiming that Rika’s the sole target of her revenge. This has made sense thus far, since we’ve seen Rika’s done her dirty and is the only person who can remember the full events of the loops we’ve seen. But now I think there’s more to it than that.

Up til this last episode (ep 10 of Sotsu) my general impression of Satoko’s true feelings about the village was that she didn’t care one way or another about Hinamizawa, but it’s useful for her as a pitch to give Rika and as a place she knows well and can easily enact her plots. 

But after this ep, and seeing how her mind has fractured, seeing her “kill off” her old emotions of sadness/guilt/empathy, and being reminded of how it is actually true her uncle and the villagers used to mistreat her (even if she’s lying about her current mistreatment)... Man oh man, it’s no wonder she’s giving into revenge fantasies that involve manipulating, duping and killing off various people she knows from this town. It’s no wonder her deepest desire right now is to wallow in pity from others while making them suffer, after all the pain everyone in the town inflicted on her in the past, via either their action or inaction. 

Everything Rika said about this village being an inescapable trap that’s caused her too much suffering and despair to continue living in.... I think it was that for Satoko while she was being abused (Aunt/Uncle) and neglected/abandoned (by her brother and the townsfolk who couldn’t or didn’t help her). Rika just realized it consciously, while it seems like Satoko suppressed those memories in order to continue forward & live “happily” in the village. Rika’s betrayal was just the final straw that made Satoko realize her feelings of hatred and despair, and as the catalyst she became an easy target for Satoko to focus those feelings on.

It’s also no wonder this revenge fantasy of hers relies on self-harm and suicide in order to work, as she has to die in order to perpetuate the loops and complete her plans.... Satoko hates herself more than she hates anyone else in the town, and blames herself for putting up with her mistreatment and being powerless to fix the problems she was facing most of all. If the only agency she feels she can access, if the only thing that seems like it’ll fix her problems, is her own death (and the time loops that follow, sure, but still).... that says a lot about her own despair. It says a lot about the metaphor the show is going for.

Personally I have to say these past couple of episodes has really been an emotional gut punch. Satoko finally has not only the love of her friends, but also that of her Uncle, and the support of the villagers. She’s no longer being mistreated, people are speaking out to CWS about helping her, they rally and argue for her, they worry for her. But it’s all too late for anyone to help her when she needed it most - in that first timeline when she was truly an innocent, abused and ignored child. And they don’t realize that’s not who she is anymore, and she isn’t going to give anyone a chance to help her as she internally and externally vents her pain.

Anyways, I love this arc! So much!!! And if anyone actually read this ramble of mine, much appreciated!