#right down to groceries everything is just designed to try and make you spend

[teenagefeeling]

how are name-brand frosted mini wheats 2 entire dollars more expensive than the generic? literally there's no difference between them 😭

[linka-r9-vysocina]

@ everyone who has tried to keep track of their spendings but always failed miserably because they couldn't find a good system:

After years of failing, I finally managed to figure out how to do it in a way that works for me. I now realise that there might be other ways and probably even specific apps for that so maybe this post is gonna be kinda useless... but I wanted to share anyway.

Are you familiar with an app called Settle Up? It's magic if you need to figure out how much a group of people owe each other - we use it to track our household expenses with my flatmates. And I figured out, well, I already have this app that I use, I could use it for tracking just my own expenses too?

So here's what u do. You download the Settle Up app if you don't have it already. You make a "new group". Then, you think of the categories of your expenses. For me, I decided it would be useful to have more categories than less, so right now I have: charity, transport, household and toiletries, coffee and cake, cats, culture (cinema tickets and Spotify subscription goes here), medication, clothing, groceries/food, therapy and Other. (Right now I added Belgium 2024 as I am planning to go on holiday and I paid for the plane tickets already, next month I am also adding "hobbies").

Then, when you have that figured out, you add all of the categories as members of the group:

What you do next is, whenever you spend any amount of money, you open Settle up (as you probably already have the phone in your hand anyway) and add that expense to the group:

Then, you can put down a description and, most importantly, you choose a category:

(unfortunately the free version doesn't let you add a receipt photo)

If you are tracking your own expenses, it's important to choose only one, otherwise it will make a mess.

Voilà: you have a list of what you spend on what.

you can also see the most recent transactions on top:

There are only two things that this system does not immediately solve, which are 1) you still need to, you know, open the app, punch the numbers and add the expenses - but I find that the app is making is simpler for me by being really simple, there are sometimes ads but they aren't super annoying, and it's just pretty fast and well designed, and 2) there is no statistic for month-to-month tracking. What I do is, I got a paper notebook, and for each month I write down my income and then I copy the expenses + categories there. It helps me to see numbers on paper, tbh. After I have written everything down, I delete all the transactions from the app and can start a new month with a clean slate :)

As I said, there might be apps which are made specifically for expense tracking and budgeting, but I wanted to share my system because it works for me and I was thinking that it might also work for someone else. Also I really like the app, it's one of those rare ones which actually makes my life easier, and it's pretty no-nonsense. (No, they're now paying for this post.)

Anyway, hope this might help if you're someone who is trying to figure out how much they spend on what

[neohart]

THINGS I CAN TELL YOU ALL SINCE I STARTED WORKING RETAIL (note: may vary from store to store and person to person)

Check the expiration dates on EVERYTHING, especially medicine. Depending on the store size and how many people work in the store, we may not always be able to take down any expired or close to expiring items. So please pull it off the shelf and take it to an employee :)

You are allowed to look at our screens, just ask politely because otherwise you’re getting a hard “no”

Don’t ask if we have something in the back. Most of the time the back room is a hot mess and is filled with boxes and trolleys are stacked high. So no, Sharon, I’m not going to the back and opening 50 boxes just so I can figure out if we have anymore tape or not.

There are designated truck days, which is when the a new stock comes in. If we’re out of something one day, figure out when the truck days are so you can come back then and find your item.

Again, depending on size, you can call the store ahead of time to see if there’s an item you need instead of coming yourself, looking around for 20 minutes and leaving because you couldn’t find it.

Additionally, if you can’t find something, ask an employee. Chances are it’s on the skyshelves or on a bottom shelf that you didn’t see before.

If you can’t find an employee at the register, we’re probably nearby. No need to yell or scream, just come find us and if you see someone in a uniform or stocking, that’s us.

If you’re unhappy with our service, don’t try calling the manager to get us fired. Most of the time, it ends up in a write up or a “try not to do it again” because unless it’s something serious, we’re probably not going to get fired right away.

Yes, we do remember you if you come in often enough or stand out. I’m looking at you that one family that always spends 200+ on groceries and then comes in the next day to get 30 more items that you “forgot”

Please don’t ask us if we’re alone in the store. You may be doing it out of concern, but doing it actually makes you seem like a creep (cough cough men cough cough)

Don’t hit on us :\ Pls. Some of us are either in relationships or are literally 20 years younger than you. I had a 40-some guy hit on me who knew I was 18. Just because I’m consenting age doesn’t mean shit.

If it’s broken, you don’t have to buy it. If you break it, just take it to an employee and say you found it like that. We don’t give two fucks if you broke it or not.

IF YOU DON’T WANT SOMETHING PUT IT BACK WHERE IT GOES I’M TIRED OF FINDING HOT DOGS AND ICE CREAM ON THE SHELVES

If you get thirsty or hungry, you can just eat or drink something while in the site. Just pay for it before you go.

Additionally, DO NOT DRINK OR EAT SOMETHING AND PUT IT SOMEWHERE RANDOM THAT IS ANNOYING AND IM TIRED OF DAMAGING OUT ITEMS THAT ARE LITERALLY HALF EMPTY

[omegaprotocol]

Jason Falls for Hailey Again

In Jason’s apartment, Jason, Omega and Hailey are sitting down relaxing with each other. Jason and Omega are playing a game of chess, per Omega’s request. Jason is losing horribly and has his head in his hands. Omega looks very relaxed and is just happy to be spending time with her friends. Hailey is on her phone reading emails. She sees that she has been rejected for eight more jobs. Defeated, she switches on an online form for robotics. Many of the comments are about her losing the national defense contract with the government. She reads several of the comments ridiculing her for not being able to stack up to the government's standards before she puts her phone down and lets out a heavy sigh.

“Everything ok Dr. Hailey?” Omega chimes.

“Yeah everything is fine.” she gives a small pause before continuing. “Hey Jason, I think we should go to the store and pick up something to eat, your fridge is looking kinda empty.”

“Yeah yeah whatever I just need a second.” Jason is not paying any attention, his full focus is on the chess game and how to salvage the totally lost position.

“That is ok Jason, you can go with Dr. Hailey to the store.” Omega moves one piece forward delivering a checkmate. “There. Now the game is over!” Devastated, Jason stands up and gets his keys.

“Ok, let's go.”

At the grocery store, Jason and Hailey are standing in the frozen aisle. Hailey is not really paying attention to what is going on around her and Jason is looking at frozen pizzas.

“Hey, do you like pepperoni or do you want a supreme.”

“Jason, I think my life is starting to fall apart.”

“I’m picking pepperoni.”

“I’m being serious.”

“You're a prodigy and leader in your field. You have written multiple books, made a ton of money, and have a phd. You also created a fully sentient life form so I don’t know what more you want.”

“I just… I don’t know. Things are different now that I lost the defense grant from the government.”

“What do you mean? You're like this generation's Einstein.”

“They didn’t like what I made. They asked for defense systems from an unknown threat we don’t know how to fight, and when I built defense systems they hated it. After they sent me a letter of correction I fixed all the original issues and even made Omega, a robot designed to solve complex problems and save the world, and it still wasn’t good enough. They wanted me to make a weapon that could destroy whatever they pointed it at and I couldn’t build it. So they took the grant away and when my peers found out, they started criticizing me. They all think I can’t do it.” Hailey pulls her phone out and sees she got rejected from another job. “Maybe they’re right.”

“No, they aren’t. You are easily the smartest person I’ve ever met. And fuck the government for asking for a weapon. As if they need another giant gun that they can wave around and threaten people with.” Jason looks at Hailey and sees that she genuinely feels hurt.

“But that’s the issue, I couldn’t solve it. I tried for months trying to figure out how to stop this threat and I couldn’t do it. So instead I built Omega, thinking that she would be able to figure it out.”

“No one else would’ve been able to do that. Half the people that are criticizing you would’ve just built a weapon for the money, and they would’ve made the world a worse place. Tell me this, do you genuinely think that anything anyone could have built would stop this alien thing?” Hailey leaves a long pause to fiddle with the charm on the phone even though she already knows the answer.

“No… I don’t.”

“Right. And even if anyone else had the idea for Omega, no one would actually have the know-how to build her. What you made was a true AI. One with thoughts and feelings, one with dreams and wishes, and most importantly a desire to want to save the world from something. That has literally never been done before.”

“Yeah, it’s true.”

“See? The government has no idea what it’s doing, and you do. Your colleagues have no idea what you’ve made, and you do.” Jason picks up a frozen dinner from the shelf and stops to think. He hesitates for a moment before talking again. “And I also think it’s rude of you to make me go to the store in order to have this talk away from Omega, she would agree with me and tell you how awesome you are.”

“I just don't want Omega to learn anything that isn’t helpful to her. She is going to carry the literal  weight of the world on her shoulders and I want her to reach her full potential.”

“She will, after all she’s got you as a teacher.” Hailey puts her phone back in her pocket and smiles at the complement.

“Thanks for helping me Jason, I know you didn’t have to do that.”

“Of course I did. After seeing Omega’s ‘disguise’, I knew you didn’t have what it takes to hide a super robot from the government.” Hailey chuckles to herself. A second goes by with them just walking to another aisle.

“Could we get the supreme pizza instead?”

“Not a chance, I want pepperoni and I have a job.” They both laugh at the joke and leave the store.

Back at the apartment, Jason and Hailey walk in and see Omega sitting on the couch. Omega is almost surprised that they are home already.

“Oh! Welcome home! How was your trip to the store?” Jason goes to the kitchen to unload the food and Hailey sits down on the couch and turns on the tv.

“It was fine. Were you ok by yourself?”

“Yes, I was fine.” There is a tone of sadness in Omega’s voice, Jason hears this and yells from behind the kitchen counter.

“Hey! Let's watch a movie tonight, we can let Omega pick it out.” Omega’s face lights up and she quickly grabs the remote and begins surfing through movies. Omega picks a nature documentary, and all three of them sit on the couch and watch it together. Hailey falls asleep first and rests on Jason’s shoulder. Jason smiles at how peaceful she looks before falling asleep himself. Omega stays up and finishes the whole documentary interested in every word. After realizing that Hailey and Jason have both fallen asleep, Omega slowly gets up.

“Have sweet dreams of good things.” She whispers. She walks over to the window, opens it, and sits on the fire escape watching the world below her. She enjoys looking at the beautiful city that people have built, and wonders who would ever want to destroy it.

[nzagencies]

How Does A Creative Branding Agency Convert An Idea Into Business?

Creating a brand for your business is all about connecting with your target audience. It's important to know who you're trying to reach, what they want and what kind of tone they use on social media. Best And Creative Branding Agency Auckland will help you develop your idea into a plan that will convert into business. Here are some steps they take:

An outline of the business plan.

So you have an idea for a new business, and you're ready to start building. But before that happens, it's important to take the time to create a plan for your business.

A business plan is essentially a blueprint of all tasks that need to be completed in order for your company to run smoothly from start-up phase until it reaches profitability. It helps you keep track of everything from operational details like budgeting down to what type of paper should be used for printing brochures or how many servers are necessary for web hosting purposes.

It also offers insight into how much funding will be needed in order for the project/company itself can flourish. The last thing any entrepreneur wants is spending thousands on something only find out later there isn't enough money left over after expenses are paid out so as not only sustain itself but also grow bigger than originally intended..

A report of how to increase brand awareness.

A report of how to increase brand awareness

A brand is the connection that an audience has with your company or product. Branding is how you create that connection, which can be done in many different ways, including advertising, website design and development and more. 

For example, if you're selling a product like bottled water at a grocery store then building a brand around "clean water" would make sense since it's something everyone needs to survive. If people aren't aware they need clean water they won't buy your product—but if they do know about its importance then they'll consider buying yours over others'.

To build a successful business from scratch without any existing experience or connections within the industry can seem daunting at first glance but there are plenty of resources available online where companies offer services like branding for small businesses at affordable prices (like our own!).

A content marketing plan.

A content marketing plan is a great way to build your brand, reach your target audience, build trust with your audience and build your brand's reputation.

With a content marketing plan you can create engaging content that is relevant to what they want to know or need help understanding. This will help you grow your online presence through search engine results pages (SERPs).

For example: If someone searches “how do I get started with a Creative Branding agency?” You want to show up in their search results page so they click on your website when they see it listed after searching for answers on Google or Bing.

Creative ways for the client to reach their target audience.

The way you reach your target audience is just as important as the creative idea itself. You want to ensure that your branding campaign capitalizes on the strengths of your brand.

How do you know if you have the right target audience? Take some time to identify your brand’s core values and how they align with those of potential clients or customers.

If a creative idea does not resonate with its intended audience, it won’t work for long—or at all. When brainstorming ideas, think about what kind of message will appeal most strongly to an individual customer or client base—not just in terms of aesthetics but also through messaging and language style used throughout the project process

Conclusion

The most important thing of branding agency Auckland is to be aware of what your clients are looking for and provide it. This can be done by taking the time to really listen to their needs and wants. However, this doesn’t mean that you should give up on your own ideas; sometimes they may need some convincing!

Source By - https://bit.ly/3GlK05D 

[sweetwatersong]

It's the residual anger from talking to his parents that has Buck making dinner as if the devil himself is settled between his shoulder blades. Somehow that conversation was harder when water hung heavy in the Virginia air, when the dry hills of Los Angeles weren't there to remind him he made it out. The ancient mountains of Appalachia are apparently just too damn close to Pennsylvania, literally and figuratively, and he can still hear his mother's comment about choosing not to visit them through the sizzle of oil on the stove.

He hates it. Hates that they make him so upset, hates that he picked a fight with Eddie over the missing almond extract and nutmeg for the cake, hates that his husband is spending time in their hard-earned vacation getting said ingredients because it will mollify him, give them both breathing space. Hates the hot, oppressive weight of summer on the East Coast and the expectations he thought he outgrew.

Hates that he's terrified about one day settling this same weight on Christopher.

Buck glances over at the preteen in question and pauses. Christopher has abandoned pretending to be absorbed in his Switch to look with concern out of the living room window.

"What's up?"

He frowns and actually answers, apparently too preoccupied to remember that he was mad at Buck for fighting with Eddie. "Is it going to storm?"

Buck takes the unintended olive branch for what it is. He turns the stove off and makes his way to the window bay, ducking his head to peer out. Sure enough dark clouds line the horizon, bubbling towards them over the rounded tops of the nearby mountains.

"Looks like it." He glances down. "What's on your mind?"

"The owners would have told us about the fire evacuation route if we needed it, right? I didn't see any in the binder."

It takes Buck by surprise but it shouldn't. Of course their kid would absorb all their wildfire safety lessons and look for a designated evac route in the AirBNB information. Of course he would. Christopher's worry makes perfect sense. Their only car is the rental one that Eddie's taken down the mountain to the grocery store so if they need to evacuate they'll be in a tight spot. The twenty minutes before Eddie's due back would be enough time for a spark in the California hills to spread like, well, fire.

Meanwhile, whether it's the press of humidity or the dense foliage literally everywhere he looks, Buck's mind has switched back to East Coast mode. The likelihood of a lightning strike starting a fire hasn't even occurred to him.

"Yeah, bud." He aims for reassuring, not condescending, because preteen sensibilities are tricky at the best of times. "There's no evac route because we're in an entirely different ecosystem, right? Out here on the East Coast, everything's so wet it usually takes a big drought for fire to be a risk. And with all this green it's pretty clear that's not a problem right now."

"Yeah." Christopher sounds understandably dubious. "So people here don't have fire seasons?"

"Nah, they have hurricanes. Which, let me tell you, are something else entirely, and why we're here in June instead of September."

The storm's moving quickly. Just over the ridge the first visible, fat drops of rain have begun to fall. Christopher watches them with a bafflement more reminiscent of his younger self than his current awkward forays into being a teen and the sight of it stirs something in Buck's chest. These reminders of the kid he first met are becoming rarer and rarer with each passing month. He's trying to treasure them every time he finds them now because some day their son is going to be a teenager and will rightfully be too cool for his dads, one of whom is still fighting with the ghost of his own teenage years.

A patter starts on the roof, a rhythm familiar down to Buck's bones. He seizes the moment of inspiration and straightens, nodding his head towards the door as the sound rapidly gains speed.

"C'mon. It's safe; I don't hear any thunder."

Christopher is openly confused but sets aside his Switch and follows Buck with skeptical eyes as they step out onto the front porch, his crutches clacking on the concrete.

"Are we watching it rain? I've seen it rain before."

"Maybe, but have you ever gone out puddle jumping in it?" Buck grins at him and steps off onto the walkway, the flagstone cold under his bare feet. The shower is cool on his shoulders, gentle on his face, and Buck's suddenly back in the days of his childhood; back in a hundred summer afternoons when the breaking of the heat was the only relief in his confusing, hollow battle of growing up. When it was just him and the rain and the sensation of being fully in his body instead of his head.

He cracks an eye and looks back to see Christopher staring at him from the safety of the porch. "What? Are you going to leave me hanging?"

Christopher's face says quite clearly that he thinks his pops is being an idiot but he braces his crutches on the flagstone and follows Buck out anyway. Buck's heart has so much love for him that it hurts. He won't do to Christopher what his parents did - still do - to him. He won't.

Unlike his parents, he loves his son.

Christopher yelps as soon as the cold rain sticks to his skin. Buck laughs. "Feels good, right?" He calls over the din. His own shirt is rapidly becoming soaked, wicking sweat from the back of his neck down the curve of his spine and taking his tension with it.

Overcoming his shock Christopher relaxes, blinking. "Yeah!" He tilts his head back, letting the rain splatter across his face and glasses. "It almost tickles."

"Kinda does, doesn't it."

The storm is continuing to race through; already the rain is so thick the air looks white, the trees at the edge of the yard hazy and obscured. Water's begun to pool in the grass next to the walkway. Buck grins.

"I gotta show you, this is the best part!"

He jumps into the growing puddle with both feet. It splashes to gratifying effect for being so shallow, even managing to catch Christopher in the shins. Christopher shrieks.

"Pops! No fair!"

He turns his head, looking for a puddle of his own, and jumps into it without hesitation. Buck laughs when the spray catches him, and it's - it's like the noise takes with it all the big, dark anger that's been spinning in his chest. There's no place in this moment for the rancor or the resentment, the remembered push and pull of trying to be someone - something - he's not. He feels blessedly empty; gratifyingly simple.

Right here, right now, he's all he ever needs to be, for himself and his husband and his son: Buck. Just Buck.

Christopher hops to another puddle, this one made deeper by a depression in the lawn, and Buck twists to let most of the water catch on the backs of his legs. They're both giggling madly at this point, probably only one step away from straight up kicking water at each other, and it's - it's good. It's just good.

In another few minutes they'll go back inside, tugging off their uncomfortable wet clothes and trying not to drip on the tile floor. He'll throw it all in another load of laundry and ask Christopher to mop up any stray puddles before Eddie pulls back into the driveway with the groceries. He'll catch him at the door and kiss an apology into his lips, his cheek, the curve of his wedding band. They'll have dinner together as the trees drip the remnants of rain onto ferns and the clouds gradually darken, finally leaving the kitchen's warm lights to shine into a night of reflected light and fireflies. Eddie will complain about Buck stealing his shirt when he changed and Christopher will be over his fathers' shameless flirting and Buck will serve a molten chocolate cake that won't remind him quite so painfully of his childhood home, the sweetness Hershey promised but didn't hold.

But for now, for now, Buck lets the rain come down as he laughs with his son, dancing in the rain, and the storm washes the world around them clean.

[festive]

Thinking about the bonten men as househusbands and how Kakucho, Ran, and Mochi would probably be the best out of everyone.

Kakucho: The best, without a doubt. Lays your clothes out the night before so you’re not struggling to find something to wear in the morning before you leave for work. Does the chores without any complaints, if you try to help he’ll tell you no and to go relax somewhere. Can cook, leaves really cute littles note for you in your lunch box. Gets everything on the grocery list and picks you up a few of your favorite snacks, also greets you with a kiss when you get home and sends you off when you’re about to leave with one too!!

Ran: Definitely knows how to cook and clean, however complains and tries to puppy dog eyes his way out of it before you snap at him. Is really good with kids?? It’s shocking, you assume because he’s the older sibling he had experience taking care of Rindou. Will wake up before you have to leave just to make you breakfast and spend some time with you before you leave. Drops you off at work and is SOOOO EMBARRASSING, HONKS AT YOU AS SOON AS YOU GET OUT THE CAR AND YELLS OUT HOW MUCH HE LOVES YOU, yes. Your coworkers are jealous of you.

Mochizuki: The best cook out of all of them, omg packs your favorite foods for lunch and even makes them in cute designs? Like heart shaped sandwiches and shit. Is a handyman! Really good at fixing things, does not mind doing the chores at all. Your kids LOVE him, the man is a big teddy bear. Knows the ways of couponing, gets everything on the grocery list, AND saves you money. 10/10

I’m 50/50 with Takeomi and Koko..

Takeomi: Maybe he can cook, but basic dishes, don’t expect too much from him. Smokes inside the house and leaves cigarette butts all over the place. Is an awful babysitter. Does the chores though, can clean to an extent, will get everything on your grocery list. You know what despite all this, at least he’s good in bed.

Koko: Doesn’t cook, doesn’t clean. Hires a maid. Surprisingly pretty good with the kids, does go grocery shopping but spends too much money. Will greet you at the door with kisses though, other than that he’s mainly there just to be your little trophy husband. Well, at least you don’t have to cook or clean.

Worst three would be Mikey, Rindou, Sanzu.

Mikey: would probably burn down the house on accident will trying to cook you a meal. (It’s the thought that counts right??) Caring for your child? Idk man, I wouldn’t trust him, I see him as someone that will cry with the child. Sucks at grocery shopping, will probably spend all the money on sweets and doesn’t get anything that was on the list.

Sanzu: The only positive things I see about him are that he’s pretty and can cook. Caring for your child? Yea ok, he’s definitely the type to scare them, tells them all different types of stories about monsters, congrats now your child thinks there’s a monster under their bed. Does the grocery shopping, however forgets half the stuff on the list. Other chores though? He puts them off for so long, you decide to do them.

Rindou: can’t cook, won’t even attempt to. Orders takeout, chores? He does them, but only after complaining about them for like 20 minutes. Your kids like him because he lets them do whatever they want, let’s them stay up late and gives them too much sugar. Probably even teaches them how to dislocate peoples shoulders. He might suck at the basic things but at least he’s cute right?

In conclusion, Kakucho I love you, Mikey? Stay the fuck out my kitchen.

[snelbz]

Tempting the Fates {Chapter 8}

Summary: It’s the final semester of Aelin Galathynius’ collegiate career and she is so beyond ready to be done. Her schedule is packed full of nursing classes and labs designed to test her knowledge and hone her skills for the real world and her “big girl” job. However, she needs one last elective to graduate, so she decides to study a subject she’s always been fascinated by: Mythology. Who would have thought that a class about gods and goddesses living complicated lives would end up complicating her own in such an unexpected way?

A @snelbz X @theladyofdeath collaboration.

Word Count: 2752

Chapters will be posted every Wednesday.

Tempting the Fates Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

***Announcement! *** After the completion of I’ll be Seeing You and Tempting the Fates, all of Tara and I’s joint fanfiction will be posted on a separate blog that we run together > @snacmc. Be sure to follow the new blog as we will start posting on there soon!

Athena

– Goddess of wisdom, reason, intelligent activity, literature, handicrafts and science, defense and strategic warfare

Rowan felt ridiculous.

He had spent the last hour cleaning his apartment and was currently pulling all of the food out that was meant to be prepared for dinner.

Steak, carrots, green beans, potatoes, a wide range of spices.

Thanks to the internet, Rowan knew what to do with them all.

It’s not like it was that big of a deal - Lorcan and Elide were joining him and Aelin for dinner.

And although he had hosted Lorcan and Elide a million times for dinner, Rowan had never cooked, nor had he introduced them to someone he was crazy about.

And he was crazy about Aelin.

She didn’t have classes on Fridays, something he wished he had been smart enough to plan when he was in college, so she’d done his grocery shopping while he was teaching all day. When he got home, he was expecting her to still be there. But his apartment was empty.

I have to get ready, she’d explained when he called her. I wasn’t expecting Lorcan the other night, but I have to impress Elide.

“You could have gotten ready here. You shower here all the time.”

We have sex in the shower, I don’t use it for functional purposes. Not yet anyway.

So here he was, laptop open to a recipe for pan-seared steak, making sure he had everything he needed.

Aelin had promised she’d be here before Lorcan and Elide, and he had been hoping to impress her with his skills in the kitchen, too, even if they were rough.

Now he was hoping not to set the smoke alarms off as he turned the stove on and put way more butter than he was used to using in the cast iron pan.

As it began to melt, he was already considering his meal a success.

Just as he was dropping the steaks into the pan, the front door opened and Aelin was letting herself in.

“Follow the sound of the sizzling,” he called, and Aelin came into view a second later.

She whistled, brows raised. “I like a man in the kitchen.”

Rowan laughed as he met her halfway, giving her a kiss. “Hopefully you still like it after you eat what I make.” Another kiss. “You look beautiful.”

She scoffed. “I’m wearing leggings and a top.”

“And you look beautiful in them,” he replied, turning back to the stove. “Just like you do in everything.”

“You’re a shameless flirt,” she said, beginning to chop the vegetables. But he saw the blush creep across her cheeks and ears.

Although they were cooking a homemade meal, he’d made sure she knew this wasn’t going to be anything fancy.

Elide would never let me live it down.

Rowan had always got along well with Elide, although he had absolutely no idea how she ended up with Lorcan. Rowan loved his oldest and closest friend, but he was a natural asshole.

Elide was the opposite.

“I have to confess,” Aelin began, nibbling on her bottom lip. “I’m a little nervous.”

Rowan’s brows rose. “Why?”

“Well, these are the people we’re going to be spending a lot of time with, I assume, since they’re two out of four people that know about us.” She gestures between the two of them. Their unorthodox relationship. “If she’s as sweet as you say she is, I’m worried my sarcastic ass will offend the woman.”

Rowan couldn’t help the laughter that shook his body. “Do I need to remind you that she’s been with Lorcan for the last five years?”

Aelin whistled. “Five years and still no ring? That gives me good material to ruffle Lorcan with.”

He froze and glanced over a shoulder at her. “Maybe don’t bring that up.”

Aelin was instantly grateful she had mentioned it now, and not in front of Lorcan directly. “Why?”

“Lorcan is…” Rowan trailed off as he flipped one of the steaks over. “He’s complicated. He’s not great with commitment. Elide is the only girl he’s been in a real relationship with as long as I’ve known him.”

“And how long is that?” Aelin asked, transferring the chopped veggies into a baking dish.

“We’ve been best friends since elementary school.”

Aelin’s eyes widened. “Oh. Wow. Okay, I won’t bring up anything to do with weddings or babies or any other lifelong commitments.”

“Good idea,” Rowan chuckled. “It may not seem like it, but as of now, Lorcan likes you. Imagine how cranky of an ass he would be if you got on his bad side.”

“Almost as bad as it is for someone who gets on mine,” Aelin grinned, and that mischief sent a thrilling chill down Rowan’s spine.

He opened his mouth to respond, to say something along the lines of lets do it right here, right now, before they get here, but a single knock sounded on the door.

Aelin whistled. “Even Lorcan’s knock is grumpy.”

“It’s also early,” Rowan mumbled, setting the tongs he’d been using down beside the stove and heading for the door. On any other occasion, Lorcan would have let himself in, like usual, but he knew how important this night was. Or at least was to Rowan.

He opened the door and found Lorcan grimacing, while the petite girl with dark hair was bouncing from foot to foot.

“Is she here?” Elide asked, grin growing. “Or do I have time to grill you about this alone before she shows up?”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to grill us both,” Aelin said, appearing from the kitchen, a smile on her face.

As Rowan shut the door behind them, Elide’s mouth popped open into a little O and her eyes narrowed.

Aelin’s grin grew. “Hello, Elide.”

“Aelin,” she breathed. “Aelin Aelin? As in…Aelin?”

“I’m guessing it was the same Elide,” Lorcan mumbled, carrying a covered dish into the apartment. “Elide made dessert.”

With that, he was going into the kitchen to place it on the table.

The two women ran towards each other and embraced. Rowan kept his mouth shut as he watched the scene unfold.

Elide stepped back. “You don’t seem as surprised as me. Why don’t you seem as surprised as me?”

“Lorcan told me where you were from and how you moved around last time I was graced with his presence.” Aelin shrugged, that grin remaining. “I had a hunch, but wasn’t sure. Besides, if it did end up being you, I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”

Elide turned and glared at her boyfriend. “A little heads up would have been appreciated.”

He was already halfway to the fridge, heading for a beer he knew Rowan would have restocked for them. “What she said. I didn’t want to get the story wrong or your hopes up.”

Rolling her eyes, Elide looked back to Aelin. “Men.”

Ending up back in the kitchen, Aelin finished up the veggies and was putting them in the oven when Elide asked, “So Aelin, how exactly did you two meet?”

Aelin glanced at Rowan and then back towards Elide. She was sipping her wine as she leaned against the counter, looking like the picture of innocence. Lorcan was shaking his head where he stood next to her.

Clearing her throat softly, she took the safe route. “In class.”

Elide’s eyes lit up. “So he really is your professor.”

“I thought that had been established,” Rowan mumbled, covering the steaks with foil to rest before they ate.

“I wasn’t sure if you two were just trying to mess with me again,” she said, eyeing Lorcan and Rowan. Turning to Aelin, she said, “I’m so glad I won’t be the only girl anymore. You have no idea how awful it is being the third wheel with these two.”

“You’re the third wheel with these two?” Aelin asked, brow raised.

Elide barked a laugh. “Absolutely. The more time you spend around these lovebirds, you’ll see what I’m talking about. Their bromance is out of control.”

“Bromance, huh?” Aelin grinned as Rowan rolled his eyes.

“It’s cute, really,” Elide said, then slowly shook her head as she met Aelin’s eyes. “Wow. I just can’t believe it’s you. It’s good to see you.”

“You too,” Aelin said, and Lorcan cleared his throat from where he stood on the other side of the room.

“Are we done with sappy pleasantries?” He asked. “I came to eat.”

Elide pointed to the oven, where the vegetables were still roasting. “Five more minutes in the oven, but you and Rowan can set the table if you don’t feel like hearing us talk.”

She gave him a brilliant smile, which he scowled at, but Rowan indeed clapped a hand on his friend’s shoulder and led him from the room.

“Are you still close with Aedion? How is he?”

Elide asked, perching on one of the bar stools as Aelin refilled their wine glasses and stirred the pot of mashed potatoes on the stove.

“Yeah, he practically lives with me,” Aelin replied rolling her eyes affectionately. “He’s dating my best friend, and graduates in the spring, like me.”

“What’s he studying?” Elide asked, then added. “I thought he was older than us.”

“He is, by two years. He took a year off to find himself,” Aelin snorted, holding up air quotes. “Then he changed his major twice, which gave him a few unexpected setbacks. But he’ll have a degree in sports medicine and will be going back at some point to get his specialization in physical therapy.”

“I remember him being big into sports,” Elide nodded. “Good for him.”

“And you?” Aelin asked, leaning her elbows on the counter. “College not the path for you?”

“Oh no,” Elide said, chuckling. “I went for a few months before deciding it wasn’t for me. I started serving and making good tips, so I didn’t pursue anything else until recently. About a year ago I started getting really into pottery. I started my own little business a couple months ago, that I do for just a little extra cash and for the hell of it.”

“Really?” Aelin asked, brow raised. “That's incredible. What do you make?”

Elide opened her mouth to speak, but it was Lorcan that said. “Vases, mostly. She’s incredibly talented.”

Aelin hadn’t even heard them come back in, but as if on cue, the timer behind her went off. She turned to pull the vegetables out of the oven, but glanced back over her shoulder and Elide, who was smiling softly at Lorcan. “You’ll have to show me,” she said, setting the baking dish on a trivet. “I’d love to buy one.”

Elide’s smile was almost as radiant as she was.

*

“Okay. No more ordering in when we come over,” Elide said, setting her fork and knife down on her nearly empty plate. “You’re cooking from now on, Rowan.”

Everything had been delicious, even if the potatoes had been instant. Rowan was pretty damn proud of himself. “Aelin helped,” he said, his hand finding her knee under the table.

“Then you better keep her, because that was delicious and take out isn’t going to cut it anymore.” Elide sipped from her wine and winked at Aelin from across the table.

“Even I can’t protest that,” Lorcan said, throwing his arm around the back of Elides chair.

“And I didn’t help that much,” Aelin said, holding her hands up. “Rowan started cooking this afternoon. I just put veggies in the oven.”

“Well, either way, it means Lor and I are on clean up duty. You two go relax,” Elide said, and rose, beginning to pick up plates.

Lorcan groaned but followed his girlfriend’s lead, nonetheless.

Aelin laughed quietly as she took Rowan’s hand and pulled him into the living room.

“I like the hold she has over him,” Aelin said, once they were alone. “It’s inspiring.”

Rowan hummed as he put an arm around her and pulled her against his side. “That’s a great way to describe Elide. Inspiring.”

Aelin thought of the murky memories she had of the young girl. She’d moved to Perranth right around the time Aelin’s own parents had died. Sadly, that move had been prompted by the same reason. Elide’s parents had also passed and her uncle had received full guardianship of her, and he lived in Perranth. Rather than uproot his life, he decided to uproot Elide’s. She had been too young for a cell phone, so there had been no way to stay in touch at the time, but Aelin was glad to see her back in Orynth. She was sure Aedion would be happy to hear about it, too.

“I think she likes you,” Rowan murmured, his lips by her ear.

Her laughter was soft as she rested her head against his shoulder. “I’d hope so. She’s known me since we were children.”

Rowan scoffed. “That means nothing. I’ve known

Lorcan since we were children and half the time

I hate him.”

Aelin’s head fell back as she laughed a little louder. “Well, that’s understandable. But me? I’m a peach.”

“Yeah, you are,” he whispered, and kissed her, softly. She held onto him a little bit tighter, and she couldn’t help but think how perfectly the night had gone.

If only the people who currently knew about their relationship would be the only people that knew about their relationship, Aelin wouldn't mind it. At least, not for a while.

“Elide was right, though,” Aelin muttered. “Your food is delicious. I’m continuously impressed by you.”

He shook his head and laughed quietly. “Thank the Internet. I can just follow directions well.”

The two fell into silence as they listened to Lorcan and Elide’s banter from the kitchen, and Aelin couldn’t help but laugh. It was clear they had been together for a while, with how comfortable they were, and Aelin was happy for them, if not a little bit jealous. She knew it was something that couldn’t be rushed, but feeling like that with someone, like that someone was home, was something she hadn’t experienced in a while.

“He’a different around her,” Aelin quietly mused as Lorcan’s deep rumble of laughter reached them from the other room.

Rowan nodded slowly. “Their story isn’t mine to tell, but… He helped her out of a dark place, but she also saved him, in her own way.”

She understood that. Hopefully, she and Elide would become close enough that she’d feel like she could open up to her.

It’d be nice to have another girlfriend, like Lysandra.

“You should come over one night this week,” Aelin said, looking up into his face. “So you can get to know Aedion and Lysandra.”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I think Lysandra and I got a good start on that in class.”

Aelin grinned as she framed his face with her hands. “She’s a little extra, but so am I, so you shouldn’t mind that too much.”

Rowan scrunched his nose but sighed. “I guess that would be fine…considering they already know about us.”

“Kind of hard to hide from my best friend and roommate,” Aelin muttered. “And obnoxious cousin.”

“We could always go up north for a weekend, too,” Rowan suggested. “With Lor, Elide, and Lysandra and your cousin. I have a cabin there.”

“Of course you do.” Aelin rolled her eyes. “Spoiled, rotten rich kid.”

There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, but before she could ask about it, or even begin to apologize, Elide was sweeping into the room. “Dinner is all cleaned up and I still have room for dessert. Anyone else?”

“Depends on what it is,” Rowan smirked, his arm still around Aelin. That hurt was gone and Aelin wondered if she’d imagined it. “Not your attempt at a crockpot apple pie again, is it?”

“That was one time and had too little liquid. My crockpot was too large,” she huffed, but crossed her arms. “It’s a triple chocolate cake, actually.”

Aelin’s interest was immediately piqued. “Oh, there’s always room for chocolate cake.”

Elide grinned and took her hand, pulling her off the couch and into the kitchen. Lorcan took a seat on the other side of the couch and sighed.

“The two of them together is terrifying.”

Rowan smiled. He was sure they could get into some trouble, but it was nothing he and Lorcan wouldn’t be able to handle.

He was happy, he realized, trying to shove back the dark memories he’d accidentally dredged up. He was happier than he’d been in years, and Aelin was the reason.

He just prayed nothing happened to end that happiness.

[personasintro]

our tiny christmas | ksj

𝑴𝒚 𝑻𝒊𝒏𝒚 𝑺𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝑪𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔𝒕𝒎𝒂𝒔 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 | Our Tiny Christmas

✱⏤𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔; this year's christmas proves to you that even though they're tiny, there's something special about your tiny and maybe not completely perfect family.

✱⏤𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: seokjin x reader

✱⏤𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: fluff, tiny angst, parents au

✱⏤𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 5.5k+

✱⏤𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: none

✱𝒅𝒓𝒂𝒃𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒙✱

⏤𝒂/𝒏: Merry Christmas luvs! I hope you've enjoyed seeing these two again!!

𝒎.𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 | 𝒔𝒖𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒎𝒆 | © 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒓𝒐 (𝒏𝒐 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒔 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏𝒔 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒅)

Christmas should be a holiday full of love, calm and nice energy with a possible beautiful decoration that could easily set everyone into a good mood. The holiday has a completely different meaning than it had a few years ago and the very own reason is right in front of you, watching the Grinch movie.

“Are you sure you don’t want to join us? It’s just the two of us anyway, and I miss baby pumpkin.”

Your best friend’s voice sounds a little bit beaten up over the thought that you’re not spending Christmas with him. You’re not sure why though, it’s not like you’ve spent last year’s Christmas with him and his girlfriend. Still, he makes sure that if you’ve any doubts about today, there is still a chance for you and your son to join your best friend on this year’s Christmas.

“No, no, it’s all good. I promise, thank you. He’s already invited and he’s coming, I can’t decline it at the last minute.”

“You can’t or you don’t want to?” Your friend asks and if you could see him, you know you’d see his tiny frown and suspicious eyes. Well, you’re glad you can avoid them right now because his words certainly make your heart jump a little. It’s like you got caught over something that never even occurred in your mind until now.

“Hobi,” you whine through clenched teeth, “I can’t because it’s not appropriate and he deserves to be with Yoojin too. He’s trying, okay?”

Last year’s Christmas was a little bit awkward to be honest, and it’s something that Hoseok knows because you told him everything. From the moment he came wearing some expensive and designer suit which you can’t even guess the price (nor you want to because you’re sure it’d make your head spin) to the point you were just awkwardly sitting together in your living room, staring at Yoojin who was too little to notice the awkward atmosphere between his parents. But of course, it’s only understandable how awkward it was because you’ve never been in that situation before and considering your relationship (or whatever the two of you have), it was awkward for the both of you. But it was quite funny to see him stuffing his face with gingerbread and other deserts you bought in the grocery shop. You just didn’t have time to bake anything, nor you knew how to bake Christmas cookies that time.

So you, wearing some Christmas sweatshirt you ordered from the internet and him sitting in a full designer suit, just awkwardly sat through the entire Christmas evening. But as sad as it sounds, you don’t think he’d get to spend the Christmas with anyone. You’re not sure if he’s still in touch with his father but something tells you they’re not that kind of family who spend and celebrate this family holiday together. And it breaks your heart at the thought that he’d get to spend it alone (even if he might not care about Christmas) but he has a family now. It’s different because there is your son connecting you for the rest of your lives.

You hear the deep sigh that he lets out. “I know, I know... maybe you could bring him over?”

You’ve to chuckle at that, even if he sounds unsure about the proposal and although you appreciate your best friend’s effort of trying to make things better, you’re definitely not sure him and the man who got you pregnant in the same room and on Christmas most importantly, is the greatest idea. Certainly, they get along better than they used to, but there’s still a weird tension lingering in the air whenever the two of them are in the same room. Your best friend eyeing your baby’s daddy and your baby daddy eyeing your friend like he’s about to stab him any second.

“As much as I appreciate that, I don’t think the last minute changes would be a great idea. I think we need to get used to being a family and celebrate Christmas together. Last year was awkward but I hope this year will be different.” you explain to your best friend who listens attentively, and you just know that he’s nodding along your words before he lets out another sigh.

“Well, you know him better than I do,” Of course, you do. You’ve spent months trying to persuade your best friend that the father of your child isn’t as cold as he makes himself out to be. “But I hope you’re coming tomorrow, there are a few presents waiting for you and baby pumpkin.”

You smile at the nickname, the nostalgia when your son was born and the first months of being a new mom washes over you. It’s crazy to think it was more than three years ago and so many things have changed.

“Hobi,” you whine, “I told you not to buy anything.”

You seriously don’t need any presents and Yoojin has everything he could possibly need or dream of. His father makes sure of it, just like you do.

“You did. But I never listen to you, do I?”

You chuckle, shaking your head at him. “You don’t, but me neither and I got you and Paige presents too. Don’t think I didn’t know you’d do this.” you grin, teasing tone evident in your voice as you hear him groan.

Of course, you bought him and his girlfriend presents too. You knew he’d never listen to you and your pleas of not buying anything. There’s nothing materialistic you or your son need. Like you said, his father makes sure of it. Even though you’re not his responsibility, he still asks whether there’s something you need. A few months ago when your bathroom battery stopped working, you just mentioned it when he asked what’s new because you’re just that awkward and didn’t know what to share besides Yoojin. The next day he visited with a new bathroom battery in a box holding it in his hands  as he bought it for you without any trouble.

And that just proves that he’s trying and doing his best, bringing a completely new side of him that makes you speechless every day.

When the call is over, another set of assuring words that you will be fine and enjoy this Christmas more than the last year, Hoseok finally lets you off the hook and says Merry Christmas. You glance at your son who giggles at the Grinch on the television screen, wondering just how he’s not scared of it but rather finds it funny and interesting. If you were his age, you’d run for the hills but somehow, he is brave for his age in a lot of things.

And you just know he takes that from his father.

As soon as the doorbell rings, you freeze for a moment and quickly stand up as you're trying to straighten the non-existent crinkles on your red dress. The ones you bought for yourself a few weeks ago, remembering just how awkward you felt in a Christmas themed sweater, especially when there was the father of your child looking like he came straight from the photoshoot. You know he's handsome just like that and he barely has to put any effort into his looks, which makes it even more stressful for you to look somehow representative and nice. And that's why you've decided to buy a dress with a price that made you scoff at first. Surely, it wasn't as expensive as any of his suits or just simple shirts he owns, but the couple zeros in the price were enough to make you feel doubtful whether you should buy it or not.

Thinking back to last year's Christmas, you've decided to put it into the cart and two days later you had a package waiting for you. You want to feel beautiful, you know you probably aren't from his circle where people don't think twice about spending money. You don't have expensive clothes and jewelry to show around. You still dress nice enough and you think your fashion taste isn't that bad either, but it all goes away when you look at him and realize that you are not coming from the same place or inner circle.

Anyway, you'll try to make this Christmas less awkward and more comfortable for the both of you. It's the second Christmas you're spending together as a family. Yoojin's third Christmas, the first one you spent with Hoseok together.

“Pumpkin,” you call out to your son, his dark eyes glancing at you from the sofa. “Your daddy is here. Are you coming to greet him?” you ask lightly, putting a huge smile on your face even though you feel like you can throw up any second.

You're not sure why you are so nervous anyways, it's not like he's not here almost every day to visit Yoojin or take him somewhere.

Your son, completely clueless to your inner battle, contrasts to the nervosity you're feeling and sounds ecstatic at the mention of his father and shoots up from the sofa before you can even utter a single word. His little feet paddle to the front door and you catch up to him, knowing he's too little to open it but you still rush yourself to get there just in time. Taking a deep breath, you reach for the doorknob as Yoojin jumps up and down yelling 'daddy' all over again until you open the door.

You barely manage to open it fully as Yoojin throws himself at his father, the tall and completely handsome man letting out a surprised 'oof' as he hugs his cheerful son.

“Hey pumpkin,” he greets him, dark eyes looking up at you.

Seokjin looks handsome as always. There's not a time you remember him looking opposite of that, his dark hair is swiped back revealing his forehead as his thick brows shoot up as he takes your appearance.

His eyes travel down your body, admiring the simple red dress that you're wearing. They hug your curves just in the right places and end just above your knees, so they are appropriate enough for Christmas. Black stockings hug your legs that look somehow longer than usual, but that's just an optical illusion.

He looks surprised at your choice of outfit and you almost feel like you overdid it or done it completely wrong, but as soon as Yoojin lets him breathe and steps aside, you understand why.

You've never thought you'd get to see Kim Seokjin, The Kim Seokjin, wearing a Christmas sweater underneath his coat, that somehow looks familiar to the one you wore last year. The sight of him wearing dark jeans isn't that unfamiliar, you got to see him wearing jeans before quite a few times but this complete outfit is a whole nother story. You let your mouth open before realization hits your and his face.

While you were trying to look like he did last year, he did the same thing by wearing an ugly Christmas sweatshirt he would probably never wear under other circumstances, but he makes it work and there's no lie that he looks good in it nevertheless.

“Oh my god,” he chuckles, you reacting with a set of giggles as you laugh and point at his sweatshirt.

“I can't believe you're wearing a Christmas sweatshirt,” you laugh, letting him to come in as you notice him grabbing a huge bag off the floor, full of presents. “Have you ever worn one before?”

He rolls his eyes at your teasing, patting Yoojin on the head who seems to be too curious with the bag rather than the conversation his parents are having. “No, I did it because you wore it last year. I thought--” he stops himself, glancing at your dress before he lets out an amused chuckle while he shakes his head at himself.

“Yeah,” you nod, knowing what he means. “I thought the same thing.” you tell him, glancing down at your dress.

“Well, you look beautiful,” he tells you, surprising you as your eyes snap to his, a lump creating in your throat as you give him a tight smile.

“Thank you, you look… good too.” you say, trying to hide a smile which he notices and rolls his eyes again.

“Please, don't.” he utters, shrugging off his black coat, fully revealing the Christmas sweatshirt that makes you smirk but you hide it by taking Yoojin's hand.

When Seokjin is done with taking off his boots and coat, he smiles at the sight of Yoojin waiting for him and outstretching his hand to him, and he doesn't hesitate to take it. You give him a faint smile, the one he quickly returns before Yoojin goes to show off your Christmas tree that you and Yoojin decorated.

When you see them sitting in front of the Christmas tree, while you're preparing the cookies and hot chocolate, as they're chatting and commenting on each decoration as Yoojin seems to be extremely proud at how your Christmas tree looks, you know this Christmas may not be bad at all.

“Let me help,”

You almost flinch at the sudden voice sounding behind you, before Seokjin appears next to you and takes the kitchen cloth from your hands. You're about to open your mouth, protest that you're able to dry off the clean dishes but you stop when he gives you a glare. That glare that tells you that he's trying to help and you shouldn't stop him from doing it.

“Is he asleep?” you ask, probably knowing the answer since Seokjin is standing beside you in the kitchen while helping you.

Each dish he dries off, you go and place it back to its place. The way two of you work is fine even while doing such a simple thing, it feels domestic and you don't persuade yourself that it's not. It feels nice, too nice that you could get used to this even though it's impossible.

“Yeah, it took a while. He was so excited about all the presents, kept talking about it until his eyes closed.” he says, a soft smile playing on his plump lips, a smile you see much more these days.

Since he's staying for Yoojin's bedtime every day, he decided to put him into bed while reading from one of the books 'Santa Claus' got him. You took that time to get rid of all the wrapping paper and mess in the living room. You're surprised that Yoojin didn't even ask for you, his attention focused on his father that read him to the bed. It's not like you've to watch Seokjin's every step, especially when it comes to Seokjin because you know he's perfectly capable of taking care of him without you being present. But curiosity got the best out of you and you caught yourself listening behind the door, appreciating how Seokjin's gentle voice carried around Yoojin's bedroom. Of course, you've heard him reading to Yoojin before – but it never gets old. It's the little things that make your heart bloom with warmth, remembering how scared you were when you found out you were pregnant. Telling Seokjin was never a plan, and as you look at it, you understand how scared you were at that time. You didn't want him in your life because he made himself clear, it had been all sex for him. But at the same time, you understand that you'd make a mistake if he didn't find out. Maybe later as Yoojin would be older, he'd certainly ask about his dad and grow curious why there's only one parent figure in his life. There's still a huge chance Seokjin would find out anyway, maybe in a few months or years even. Of course, you couldn't have known that he'll be amazing as a father and he's capable of changing his attitude. But deep down you know you'd regret if you didn't tell him. Maybe not straight away, but later.

“He was so excited about the presents.” you smile, remembering your son's bright eyes whenever he opened the presents or watched with big eyes as Seokjin helped him with opening it.

He brought a lot of presents with himself, a few gifted to you which you were completely speechless about. It wasn't anything you truly needed, but very well appreciated because he's trying. The thought of him picking up presents for you does warm your heart. A lot.

“What about you?” he asks slowly, the cabinet leaving a small thud as you close it.

He's done drying off the dishes, folding the washcloth carefully and skillfully, which you've never noticed before. You wonder if he cleans his own apartment, you know they had a maid when he used to live with his ex–wife.

“Me?” you ask, heart fluttering for a second as you nervously chuckle.

“Did you like your presents?” he asks, nibbling on his bottom lip which is very rare because he looks like he's contemplating whether he should bring this up or not.

The smile you give him is enough to calm down his nerves, his eyes flickering to your lips before he quickly looks back into your eyes, straightening himself. He's trying to mask whatever that could be, but you know he's just trying to look nonchalant. Luckily for you, you get to know him without him actually telling you. Just watching him is enough for you to know that he's nervous and not exactly comfortable. Yet he stays, eyes boring into yours.

“Of course I did,” you answer, “Thank you. You didn't have to buy me anything.” you remind him, smiling as you lean against the kitchen counter.

“Of course I did,” he repeats your words, causing you to amusingly roll your eyes which he reacts to with a chuckle before he continues, “How can I come here for Christmas and bring nothing to you? You deserve it, you know.”

You cock your head to the side, glancing at him curiously. “Yoojin is all that matters, I don't need anything. But I do appreciate you buying me all those things.”

Extremely expensive and not needed things, from cosmetics to some clothes which surprisingly, are casual and not the usual Seokjin style he'd go for.

“You bought me presents too.” he reminds you.

You did, but they weren't partly as expensive as his were. And you've found it extremely hard to buy him something because he can buy anything he wants to. There are barely any hobbies he likes to do because he's running between the company and Yoojin back to forth. He never mentions anything he likes to do or just generally likes, other than your home food. But you can't exactly give him your food as a present. So you just went along with cosmetics boxes and got printed Yoojin's picture which made him the happiest, you think. Hoseok went for a shopping spree with you and you can remember him clearly scoffing or whining about you being indecisive when it came to Seokjin's presents.

You couldn't help it. You had the need to do well, to buy him something that'll make him genuinely happy.

“Those were nothing,” you wave your hand, “I didn't know what to buy you. I spent the whole day in a shopping center trying to buy you something useful and something you'd like. Kim Seokjin, you're a very hard person to buy presents to.” you joke, causing him to let out a slight laugh which rings in your ears and causes you to smile automatically.

“Don't think I had it any easier,” he teases, slightly nudging you in your shoulder and you almost gasp at the sudden contact. “I dragged Namjoon's ass with me while he was trying to help me. I figured he's pretty useless when it comes to presents and giving advice.”

Giggling, you shake your head at the mention of Namjoon. You haven't seen him for a while, but you know he asks about Yoojin a lot and even forces Seokjin to show him some pictures of him whenever they're together. You know that because Seokjin told you that.

“Don't say that, he's a great friend to you.” you tell him, smile stretched onto your lips as there is honesty to your words.

“I know,” he tells you, letting you know that he's partly joking about that. Namjoon is his closest friend. “I just thought he could help me out a bit more.” he admits.

Giggling at him, there's a beat of silence for a moment while Seokjin stares at you with those dark eyes, the same ones you can't shake off ever since you've met him. You want to ask him why he's staring at you like that, knowing there's something more to his face expression but before you can even utter a single word, he beats you to it.

“I've got something else for you.” he says, coughing lightly as he reaches for the back pocket of his jeans while your eyes widen.

“But you gave me so much!” you exclaim, gasping when he pulls out a piece of paper.

“I'd give it to you when we were unwrapping presents but I didn't know what your reaction and answer would be… and I didn't want Yoojin to be excited about nothing, so… yeah. Here it is.” he says, lips giving you an awkward smile as he holds up the paper for you.

You take it slowly and look straight into his eyes with confusion. “What is it?”

“I thought we could have a little family trip. As much as walks in the park and other stuff are fun too, I think it'd be nice to get out of Seoul and make some new memories. Yoojin is older now, so he's perfectly fine sleeping elsewhere or we could just come back. There is this village, Boseong, I looked it up and there's such beautiful nature. There is also a kids park and lunapark nearby, I thought we could visit it in April. There is probably more that I'm forgetting right now, just look it up and let me know.”

This is probably the most he said to you for the past week and when you process his words, you're left speechless and gaping at the man in front of you. You don't hide the surprise and gratitude when you look up at him, seeing a few pictures of the place and information about accommodation. He's certainly right, the place is beautiful and you're sure Yoojin would love it there.

“I'm--wow, this is so… amazing of you,” you breathe out, “You know you can take Yoojin wherever you want.” you remind him, not wanting him to think that he has to ask you for permission to take your son away. As long as you know where they're going and he'll be taken care of, you've no intention in standing in the way of their father and son bond.

He took Yoojin to his apartment or out without you being there with them before, it's no news. However, taking him to a village for a weekend trip is something new but you don't see any problem with it.

“I know,” he says, “But I thought you'd come too.”

He sounds unsure, the tip of his ears are red as he tries to look away from your curious and big eyes. He looks cute and frustrated, definitely a rare sight for sure. And it does make your heart flutter at the fact that he wants you there too.

“Really? You did?”

“Well, don't sound so surprised,” he almost scolds you but refrains himself from doing so, as he gives you a pressured chuckle. “I want us to go… as a family.” he explains, a little smile spreading on your lips as you place the paper onto the kitchen counter.

He watches your every movement like a hawk, looking somehow uncomfortable by the silence and the lack of reaction you give him. He's desperate for your answer and you don't want to tease him any further, nor that was your intention.

“Of course, I'd love to go,” you tell him, your throat running dry as soon as a big smile erupts on his lips and the top of his cheeks get chubby. He reminds you of Yoojin a lot. It doesn't necessarily be about features, but the way they act. “As a family.” you add, smiling at Seokjin who doesn't hide the relief and even sighs in relief.

“That's… good,” he murmurs, taking a step closer to you as your breath hitches in your throat. “How have you been?”

You're startled by the sudden question but you quickly shake the surprise off as you shrug. “Good, really good. You're taking care of us really well.”

He does, it's true. Even though Yoojin spends his days mostly in daycare, and you've got a new job – Seokjin always makes sure you have everything.

“You're all I got,” he whispers, your eyes widening at his confession. “You and Yoojin, I mean.” he adds, same quiet almost as if he's scared of saying it any louder.

You know expressing his feelings and thoughts have never been easy for him, and he struggles most of the time. But whenever something like this happens and you get to see another piece of tender and honest Seokjin, your heart blooms with pride and happiness.

Your eyes flicker shut as the tip of his fingers tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, his thumb lingering against your cheek. He's barely touching you and you find yourself leaning to his touch.

There are times when you wonder if Seokjin is really alone, especially in his apartment that he bought after he divorced his ex-wife and left her the house they were living in. It's his private life, something that's none of your business especially if it comes to his lovelife. Still, curiosity is a really interesting emotion to feel and sometimes you find yourself wondering if he already found someone. He's a better version of himself than he used to be when you met him. There is certainly someone waiting for him, someone who can bring out the best out of him and set another, different light than Yoojin does. It's sad to think that he'll be alone for the rest of his life. Well, not exactly alone because he has Yoojin – and you.

“It doesn't have to be just us,” you remind him softly, feeling his hand retreat slowly from your face. “I'm sure there's someone out there for you.”

He scoffs at that, although it doesn't come out as bitter or harsh. He looks straight into your eyes, making sure you see the look in them before he says; “I don't want anyone else.”

“You're saying that now, but you'll meet someone eventually,” Well, not if he'll be totally against the idea. “Someone who you'll be interested in.”

You want to give him hope, something he can think about even if it settles a weird feeling in your chest. Him having a new partner means that person will be a part of Yoojin's life and probably yours as well. It's not that easy, because that someone can be a total bitch and you'll just have to accept it.

“Are you interested in someone?” He surprises you by asking you such a question, causing you to gulp as you stare at him with doe eyes before you shake your head.

“What about that guy? Taehyung?”

You're surprised that he remembers his name, you never thought he gave that much attention to him. He did tell you you deserve someone better, someone who can give you something Seokjin couldn't. You remember those words like it was yesterday, they had and still have a huge impact on you. Maybe that's why you've decided to tell Taehyung that you're not ready for a relationship yet. The kind guy he is, he completely understood that but you did feel extremely bad when you saw the hurt he tried to hide and mask with his boxy smile.

Maybe Taehyung isn't the right person. Maybe there's someone else waiting for you. Or maybe that person is in the same room like you, looking at you as nothing else matters right now.

“I told him that I'm not ready.” you whisper, licking your lips nervously as Seokjin watches the motion before he looks back at you.

“And are you? Not ready?”

“He's a great guy, but he isn't the one constantly on my mind.” you admit, heart hammering in your chest because you know Seokjin is smart enough to understand your words and read between the lines, without you being completely direct.

“Is there someone else on your mind?” he asks diplomatically, cocking his head to the side like he's completely oblivious to your quickened breathing and the red flush on your cheeks.

“I think you know the answer to that,” you whisper, looking down to your feet just to avoid those mystery eyes that are watching you.

But Seokjin doesn't like that, he wants to see you and that's why he tucks a finger under your chin before he lifts up your head and meets your gaze. “I told you I'm not the right one for you. I'm just gonna hurt you.” he reminds you softly, eyes holding something you can't put a finger on but it's something between sadness and guilt.

“You're not hurting me, you haven't hurt me in a while.” you whisper, glancing at his lips before you look back into his eyes.

“What if I will? I can't ruin our relationship. I ruined too many things with you.”

In other words, he appreciates your relationship and what it had become compared to the beginning and that you used to be just someone that kept his bed warm, until he had his fill. As harsh as it sounds, it's true and there were more painful words said during that time. And if being just a father to your kid is all that makes the relationship between you two calm and nice, he'll take it and he doesn't want to risk anything. Sadly, he knows himself and even if he slowly reflects on the wrongs he did, and realizes how badly he fucked up, he's certain there will come time when he'll just snap and let that dark side of him out once again.

Having something more with you, something more than just sex, scares him. He's not even certain if he truly loves you, he doesn't know that feeling. All he knows is that he wants to make it up to you how he treated you, and that he cares about you. He may not say it loudly, but his actions speak up for everything.

“Let me decide on that,” you tell him, hand slowly approaching his chest before you smile at the soft material of his Christmas sweatshirt. The fact he still left it on is somehow amusing and cute at the same time. “You don't see yourself the way I see you.”

“But I know myself enough to know that you deserve someone much better.”

There he is again with his words. You sigh, ready to pull yourself away from him but he doesn't stop you as he wraps his arms around your frame. You gulp, staring up at him as he slowly licks his lips.

“Maybe I do,” you murmur, “But there's no one else I want right now.” you admit, causing him to blink a few times as you don't wait for him to react, slowly leaning in.

He doesn't move and you wonder if you crossed any lines. Surely if you did, he'd push you away or say something. But he's standing there, arms still wrapped around your frame as he lets your lips connect in a soft peck. It's too quick, too light for him to truly appreciate the softness of your lips.

You pull away, his arms slowly sliding off your waist as he stands there dumbfounded, looking cute as ever. Chuckling, you bite your lip as you walk out of the kitchen, stopping yourself just between the door's frame as you look at him past your shoulder.

“You wanna try my mulled wine?” you ask, wiggling your brows as he chuckles, straightening himself. “You can stay over too. I'm sure Yoojin will appreciate seeing you here in the morning.”

“Just Yoojin?” he finds the courage to ask, wondering if he crossed any lines with you this time and you see the way he gulps, staying glued on the spot.

But then your warm smile spreads onto your lips and it feels like the room just lightened up.

“Maybe his mom too,” you tell him with a smirk, nudging your head towards the living room. “Come on, the night is still young. Let's see where it brings us.”

He sees you walking to the living room, your hips swaying naturally as he gulps, feeling stunned for a moment before he forces his body to move to join you. Your words affecting him more than he was prepared for.

Somehow, Seokjin knows you're not talking about tonight's night at all.

[book-of-yanderes]

Hi! I just found your account (and I love that you made it clear that there is a difference between fiction and reality, didn't saw it often enough till now) and saw that you even write for OHHS? Is this a dream come true?? ✨ Could I request a yandere Hikaru with a rather introverted reader who (not only doesn't gets hints) keeps to themselves most of the times, but just have problems expressing that they care for others? You know, the type that say "you should take more care of yourself" when you are ill in a not very empathizing way, but then put a little 'eat and drink this, the medicine is on the bottom, get well soon, dont overwork yourself' note with a little bag of grocery stuff inside his locker? I kinda wanna see him going yandere, just completely madness ✨🥺 You don't have to ofc! Have a great night anyways!

Oblivious, Yet Caring (Yandere Hikaru x Reader)

Word Count: 1129

Warnings: obsession, jealousy, possessiveness

-----

It was the same thing, again.

Hikaru and Kaoru had pulled out a shenanigan that ended up with Hikaru hurting himself.

He didn’t care though. 

As a host, it helped him with the princesses and princes that love him. They worried about him and he would feign pain to have them fawn over him even more.

The one thing he didn’t expect was his classmate Y/N to help him out.

“Seriously, you need to be more careful, Hikaru.” they spoke as they helped him organize his shelf in his bedroom.

They were good enough friends that Hikaru invited Y/N over quite a bit. Although he found he was starting to fall for them with how much they tended to him and cared for him. And sure, they came to support him at the Host Club, but it was moments like this where he found himself growing more and more fond of his friend.

But he didn’t expect to get sick just a few weeks after his injury healed.

“Hey, maybe don’t be at the club if you’re not feeling well, Hikaru,” Kaoru commented as he saw Hikaru trying to hide yet another cough during their lunch.

Hikaru looked at Kaoru with a blank expression for a moment before smiling wide. “Hey! I’m completely fine with hosting! Anyways, you and I are a pair…” a cough cut him off and Hikaru was quick to grab his napkin to cover his mouth.

“Seriously… you should go home and rest.” Kaoru only seemed displeased with his brother’s actions.

Kaoru wasn’t the only one.

Y/N was still in the classroom, organizing their wallet/purse before going out to buy themself a lunch. It was easy to note Hikaru wasn’t feeling well, and that was enough for them to feel sorry for him.

An idea was quick to form in Y/N’s head as they left the room, enough for them to hurry off to the local convenience store instead of the restaurant they first had planned to go to.

By the time lunch was almost over, Y/N was back. In their hand was a delicate and pretty package, something fancier than the commoner’s brown sack for a lunch. Before sneaking over to the locker designated to Hikaru, they checked the contents one last time before slipping in a written note. They opened the door to Hikaru’s locker and shut it. 

Thank goodness the classroom trusted each other enough to keep the lockers unlocked in the back of the room.

Soon, it was time to resume lessons, helping to pass time along.

---

“Just go home, I’ll tell boss that you’re not feeling well.” Kaoru was done with it. He knew Hikaru wasn’t feeling well.

Fed up with how much lecturing came from his brother, Hikaru caved in. “Fine… I’ll go home.”

It was enough for Kaoru. He ended up heading off fast to the music room, leaving Hikaru alone in the classroom. Everyone was gone, except for him.

Hikaru walked over to his designated locker and opened it, grabbing his bag automatically before noticing the foreign object placed on the shelf in the locker. It was an orange and blue bag, decorated in a blue ribbon and a fake blue flower. It wasn’t something he was expecting, but he was curious all the same.

He grabbed it and began to open it, finding the folded note first.

   “Hikaru, I overheard that you were sick and saw how bad it’s been affecting you today in class. I made this little goody bag for you with some items to hopefully help you recover quickly.                                                 Get well soon!                                                              Y/N”

Hikaru set the note down on the desk and went to start pulling out the items. There in the bag was herbal tea, some freshly ground ginger in a small glass jar, and a few cans of his favorite chicken flavored soup.

Y/N did all of this for him?

They really did care about him.

But what Hikaru didn’t expect was for this to make him snap.

If Y/N was this caring for him, then they had to be that special somebody.

He had to be with them.

---

Over the next few weeks after Hikaru had recovered, he did everything to grab Y/N’s attention. Subtle hints of how he loved them, how he was overjoyed to see them, spending time with them also increased.

But Y/N didn’t seem to notice the love Hikaru was pouring out to them.

He was getting frustrated.

Any time he saw them talking to the other hosts when they came to hang out at the club visibly upset him.

When Tamaki went to do his usual approach on a guest, it was the last straw.

“Y/N, come with me!” Hikaru shouted across the room when he saw Tamaki dip them.

The shout startled both parties, making Tamaki and Y/N look over at Hikaru. Tamaki was quick to bring them back up, but they were sdnatched quickly by a pissed off Hikaru.

“Hikaru, what’s wrong?” Y/N asked as he dragged them out of the room and into a quiet and more hidden hallway in the school.

Hikaru didn’t respond off the bat and instead went to corner Y/N, trapping them between his arms. Their faces were only a few inches apart, both locking eyes with one another.

“How stupid are you?” he nearly shouted it.

Y/N only kept silent, mouth agape with no answer coming out. Their eyes were wide, not understanding why their friend was so upset.

“I love you and you don’t even see it! And to allow Tamaki to romance you like that? When I’m obviously showing you my feelings for you?”

The confession mixed with anger was making Hikaru red in the face, although Y/N also now had a face dusted with the pink of the blood rushing into their cheeks. Never did they think Hikaru was in love with them.

“Hikaru… I didn’t know you liked me in that way.”

“Well, I do!” 

After that statement, he pulled Y/N into his arms and hugged them tightly. He nuzzled into their upper neck before having his lips close to their ear.

“You always worry about my wellbeing, how can I not fall in love with that? I want you to be mine and mine alone. No one else’s.”

His breathing was shaky as he continued to hold onto Y/N tightly. He was still a bit angry, but now he was calming down as he held them. This felt right, to have them in his arms. And when they began to raise their own arms around him, he felt joy begin to surge throughout him.

“Y/N, be my love. Be with me forever.”

[high-functioning-lokipath]

All About Eavesdropping - Loki x Reader - Words: 1,835

“You want us to what?” You yelled. 

“I need you and Elsa here to go to Greenland for about a month,” Tony said. You stared at him from across his worktable in his lab. 

“Why in Valhalla would we need to do that, Stark?” Loki retorted. “And don’t call me Elsa.” Tony had called the two of you in there right after breakfast saying that he had a very important job for you. This, however, did not seem to be all that special.

“For purely scientific purposes, of course,” He replied, mouthful of blueberries.

“And those would be?” You sighed, facedesking. 

“The new winter stealth suits I designed. I need them tested in the field. I’ve run as many lab tests as possible but,” Tony shrugged. “Field tests are absolutely necessary. Everything you’ll need is either in these boxes or in the house in Greenland. If you want to take any other personal stuff you’ll want to grab it before you leave.”

“And you think we’re the best for the job?” You asked.

“He’s already a popsicle so if it gets too cold he can deal with it and you can heal yourself or him anyway,” Tony said like it was the most logical thing in the world. Loki tensed at his words but didn’t say anything about it.

“Fine,” Loki grunted. He grabbed the box Tony had marked for him and headed for the doors. 

“You leave at 6! Don’t be late!” 

“I wouldn’t dare disappoint you, Stark,” Loki sassed before finally stalking out. 

“Have fun!” Tony grinned at you, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“First of all, perv. Second of all, ain’t gonna happen!” You replied. “Why are you doing this? This whole thing is a direct attack on a part of him he doesn’t like to address!” 

“Well I figured he has to grow up one day and deal with it. We all have inner demons to fight. I figured I’d help him.”

“A bit not good there, Sherlock.” Tony snorted in laughter and shook his head. 

“Would you rather I send him with Steve?” Your eyes widened comically.

“Nope!” You exclaimed, popping the p. “I think we’ll do just fine.” You grabbed your box and headed out as well.   

By 6 o'clock, the two of you were flying out on one of Tony's jets. "So, what do you think of the new suits?" You asked Loki, trying to make some conversation.

"They are no match for true Asgardian leather and would be greatly improved by at least a cape," He replied sounding rather bored. 

"Oh," You said. "How exactly are we to be testing the suits again? I forget what Tony said."

"He said nothing, darling. It was all in his infernal little packet." You blushed lightly at the pet name and nodded. 

"Alright, well, I guess I'm just going to," You paused, unsure of what to do. It was obvious Loki was not interested in conversation but there wasn't much to do on the jet. "I'm just going to sit over there," You said, getting up quickly and moving to the other side of the jet. The rest of the flight was quiet, Loki only speaking up to alert you that you were about to land. 

"Surely the man of iron could not possibly want us to stay here," Loki said, getting out and seeing the small house.

"Maybe it's bigger on the inside," You said hopefully. Gathering your few things, you both headed in. "Oh this is so much worse," You groaned. The large main room consisted of the dining and living rooms and the kitchen. However, it was very sparsely decorated. You could see a stack of groceries in the kitchen along with a note. Loki wandered off to explore the bathroom and bedrooms, you assumed, while you read the note. 

"Find anything of interest?" Loki called out, surprising you.

"Just that Tony said if we didn't like the food or somehow ran out there's a grocery store about 10 miles away."

"And just how does he expect us to go there?" Loki yelled, getting increasingly frustrated. 

"The note says our transportation is out back." You walked down the small hallway to the back door and looked outside. Stifling a laugh you called out, "Hey, Loki! I think your ex is here!"

"My who?" Loki replied, very confused. "I have no 'exes', as you call them, on Midgard." You smirked and moved aside so Loki could look. When he saw what was in the backyard, a strange look crossed over his face. "Run," He said in a dangerously calm voice. 

"I beg your pardon?" You replied.

"Run if you don't want to lose your phone," He smirked back. You laughed but you did take off running. He chased you back out to the main room but you ran out the front door. "Don't think you can escape me!" He called out. 

"Wanna bet?" You called back, running to the backyard. You quickly jumped on one of the two horses you had seen and took off. 

"Oh, you'll regret saying that, my dear," Loki grinned, getting on the other horse and taking off after you. 

The next few days continued in a similar pattern. There wasn't much to do so you and Loki would often spend your time exploring the woods behind the house or riding the horses or just talking. Loki had warmed up to you quite a bit, pun intended, and you were quite happy. Of course, you recorded the events of each day in your diary. Well, it was less of a diary and more of a collection of special moments you wanted to remember and sketches you'd made. You had just finished writing today's events when you heard a loud clatter and Loki call you from the kitchen.

"Y/N!" He said. "Can you come here please?" You quickly put your notebook in the nightstand drawer and hurried out to the kitchen.

"What in the world happened, Loki?" You exclaimed, holding back a laugh. Loki was laying on the floor, covered in a mixture of flour and eggs it seemed, with various cups and bowls around him. 

"I was attempting to reach a mixing bowl on the top shelf when I slipped on an egg and pulled the shelf down," He admitted.

"You're telling the truth!" You gasped, openly chuckling at the situation now.

"Of course, love! I couldn't lie to you." You blushed brightly, as he often made you do with those pet names. 

"Uh, well," You stuttered. "Why don't you go wash up and I'll finish," You paused, glancing around. "Whatever you were making."

"I was attempting to make breakfast," He grinned. "But I think I should make myself clean instead, hm?" 

"Yes, you should," You smirked. "Wouldn't want anyone thinking you were greying early."

"You-" He exclaimed, standing quickly. For a moment you thought he was truly angry, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. He reached onto the counter and threw a handful of flour at you before running off to the bathroom. You laughed, dusted yourself off, and got to work on breakfast.

About an hour later, he came back out and sat across you at the counter. "Your breakfast, my prince," You smiled, presenting him his plate. He smiled and you ate in silence for a time. 

"I've been reading a lot lately," He commented. 

"Mhm," You replied, mouthful of syrupy pancakes. 

"The last book I read had some rather interesting sketches in it too."

"Really?" You asked, truly interested. "I love art. Can you show it to me?" You took a large gulp of milk as he replied.

"My dear," He said, setting down his fork. "I read your diary." You coughed, almost choking on your ill-timed drink. 

"You what?" You screeched. "How dare you invade my privacy like that and-"

"Don't you care to know what I thought?" He interrupted.

"Why? So you can laugh at me, oh Mr. High-and-" He cut you off by leaning over the counter and kissing you earnestly. "Oh, that's nice," You said once you pulled away. 

"Just nice?" He smirked. "I guess I'll have to work on that." He kissed you once more before you pulled away, cheeks flushed and eyes wide.

"I just remembered something!" You gasped. 

"What's wrong?" You quickly pulled out the pamphlet Tony had made you about the suit testing. You then gestured to a paragraph under a subheading of RECORDING ANY AND ALL TEST RESULTS

ALL TEST RESULTS MUST BE RECORDED BY THE TESTERS USING THE STEPS LISTED. TO ENSURE NOTHING IS MISSED, HOWEVER, THE HOUSE WILL ALSO BE UNDER 24/7 SURVEILLANCE TO TRACK ANY UNRECORDED RESULTS.

OUTSIDE - AUDIO/VIDEO

INSIDE - AUDIO ONLY

Loki grinned and leaned into you, lips brushing against your ear. He whispered something and you giggled. "Loki!" You gasped. "We can’t do that here!"

"Oh, yes," He purred. "We can do it anywhere we want if we're creative enough." 

"But outside is so much more exciting," You grinned. "So," you paused, struggling to find the right word. "Freeing!"

"Please do not do anything outdoors where I can see!" You heard a loud voice yell. You both quickly realized it was coming from the monitoring system.

"Steve? Is that you?" You called back with a chuckle. 

"Yeah, Tony insisted I take a turn on guard duty," He grumbled. "Look, I'm sorry I interrupted," He paused awkwardly. "Whatever you were doing but could you please not do it outside? Outside has cameras." Loki laughed loudly and you did too. 

"We really didn't mean to prank you, Cap. I thought Tony was on the other end of that mic."

"I however have no objections to how this turned out," Loki added. You whacked him arm lightly and shook your head. "Truthfully, though, we were only speaking of testing another aspect of the suit. I whispered to Y/N my idea and-"

"I get it," Cap replied quickly. You couldn't see him but you could tell he was embarrassed. "I'll make you two a deal. Behave yourselves, finish the tests, and get home early and I'll help you prank Tony here in the tower. Ok?"

"You have yourself a deal, Captain," Loki grinned. 

"Alright. I'm going to take a nap now. Don't do anything stupid."

"Oh we won't," Loki smirked, wrapping his arms around you and planting light kisses on your neck.

"Loki!" You squealed.

"Do you want to prank Tony or not?" Steve yelled. "I can't see you but I can hear you! And that didn't sound like suit testing. Get to work! If you do as you're supposed to, you'll be done in a week."

"Yes, sir," You both grumbled. Loki, ever the mischief maker, wasn't about to let up. He grabbed a towel and twirled it, smacking your backside with it as you walked away. 

"What was that for?" You asked.

"Loki, did you just-"

"For purely scientific purposes, I assure you," He replied. Steve groaned in frustration.

"This is gonna be a long week."

Loki Taglist

@lucywrites02

@delightfulheartdream

@serpentargo

@khena

@nyx2021

@kaz11283

@weasley-main-lover

@up-to-mischief

@lokislittlesigyn

​Marvel (all characters) Taglist

@bartv21

@another-crazy-fangirl

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[just-here-for-the-moment]

For the DIFFERENT POV GAME:

I want Javi’s POV on this whole adorable scene.

Okay, my Queen @quica-quica-quica, I want you to know that I suuuuucked in a huge breath when I saw this Ask, because I was entirely unsure if I could do this. It seemed like a really hard challenge, but FOR YOU I’ll try anything.

I dug in to see what I could do, and of course because I can’t just write succinctly I had to start waaaaaay back in the beginning of the story to get Javier where I needed him for the phone number scene… hope that’s okay!!

Thank you for challenging me this way! This went from scary to amazing in just a few days! I love you so much, my friend!!!

---

Coffee Shop Girl (a companion piece to “For Now” told from Javier’s point of view)

Word count: 3000+

Rating: mature, 18+ only

Outline: Javier Peña x “You” (Austin coffee shop barista; cis/het female reader; “blank canvas”/no physical description/no name/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: slow-burn; references to previous hiring of sex workers; cigarette smoking; Javier masturbating

Javier Peña felt like he was at loose ends. Not for the first time in his life, but it’s different feeling ‘lost’ as a young man than feeling ‘lost’ when you’re on the wrong side of 40. At least a teenager can still expect their whole life ahead of them. Since leaving the DEA and the fight in Colombia behind, he had been feeling directionless.

Spending some time at his dad’s ranch in Laredo had helped, the way that hard labor and sweat always does. It left him too tired to ruminate, to sink into the blues and feel sorry for himself. He had lined up a teaching job at a university in D.C. but it didn’t start until the fall semester, and Javier wasn’t looking forward to an entire blazing-hot summer on the ranch. So when his friend Bill called from Austin and offered a short contract job doing consulting for one of the state agencies, he jumped at the chance.

Javier landed at Mueller Airport at 2:00 in the afternoon on the second Saturday in June. He made his way out of luggage pickup to the Hertz desk and signed for a rental car. It didn��t take him long to find the apartment complex where Bill had arranged for him to stay. Bill’s coworker’s son had graduated from UT Austin in May, and the lease wasn’t up until August, so everything worked out perfectly. Javi could sublet for the remainder of the summer, and the apartment complex was close enough to the office that he could take the bus, meaning he wouldn’t have to put too many miles on the rental car or pay for parking downtown. A small, blandly furnished one-bedroom apartment near work was perfect. He could make it work for two months, and he had certainly lived in much worse places during his years traveling.

On Monday Javier was introduced around the office and given his portfolio of cases to consult on. He also found out that the coffee in the office was total shit. He had spent too many years drinking government-grade slop at the DEA and other agencies to put up with it now. He wasn’t one to complain, or to order any of the frilly new designer coffee drinks that seemed to be making the rounds among the ladies in the secretarial pool, but he had noticed a coffee shop between here and the bus stop. Some local place, one of those Austin things where they boasted about fair trade and locally roasted beans. If they made a decent cup of black coffee he could splurge, buy a cup on his way into the office each day.

The bus dropped him off at the corner at 7:45, so he could grab a coffee and still be on time to work at 8:00. Punctuality wasn’t always his strong suit, but Javier wanted to at least make a good impression while he was consulting. You never knew who might be a network contact to something good, and he didn’t want to screw Bill over after he had recommended him for the contract.

Tuesday Javier tried the coffee shop and found out that their coffee was not only decent for the price, it was actually good. Wednesday he went back again, this time brushing fingers with the pretty barista by accident. He offered her a “thanks” and then went on his way. Thursday he walked in and stood patiently in line behind two stoner kids trying to make up their minds between breakfast tacos and blueberry muffins. The pretty barista was there again, and she waved him over with a smile, indicating he could skip to the counter and leave the hippie kids in line.

“Black coffee, right?” Her smile actually reached her eyes, and for a moment Javier was very glad for all of the body language and psychology classes he had ever had to sit through. It was nice having a pretty lady smile at you to start your morning, and even better that this one already knew his order. She was quick, he figured, and good at her job if she had his order memorized after only two days as a customer. Not that ‘black coffee, to go’ was a difficult order, but he hadn’t expected to become a regular so quickly.

He smiled and nodded, “That’s right. Thank you.” He looked for a wedding ring and then for a nametag on her black apron, but didn’t see either one. He slid a rumpled $5 bill across the counter, larger than the singles he had paid with the previous two days, but she was nice. “Keep the change.”

He thought he saw her bite her lip as she turned away, and while she was fixing his cup he took a moment to check her out. He wasn’t some kind of pervert who would goose her from over the counter, but from what he could see she was attractive. Hell, most women were attractive to Javier. He suddenly realized it had been a while since he’d gotten laid. His last relationship was years past, and he no longer visited prostitutes regularly. Javier wasn’t a ‘reformed man’ by any means, it was just that that habit had been limited to a specific time and place in his life where he wasn’t stable enough to have a long-term relationship, and it had the added bonus of gathering intelligence.

The barista turned back to him with the cup and when she handed it off their eyes locked and their fingers touched again. He saw her pupils dilate and recognized the little spark that turned over in his own gut. Damn, she really was attractive. But Javier didn’t want to be the kind of lecherous guy who hit on a woman while she was working. Too many men mistook the minimum of customer service friendliness for a sexual invitation. Or worse, like the men who hit on waitresses on purpose since they couldn’t be outright rude to stop them. Javier suppressed a smile and took the cup from her, nodding his thanks.

On Friday when he breezed into the coffee shop he saw the pretty barista smile from behind the counter, and she immediately turned and started pouring his to-go cup. She turned back and gave him the ‘what’s up’ chin nod while holding his cup up. Javier walked up and he slid a few singles across the counter to her.

Javier gave her a warm, “Thanks,” and winked at her. That was at least a harmless bit of flirting, in line with her bright smiles and her friendliness so far. If she liked it, great; and if not, then at least he hadn’t made her uncomfortable by asking for her number or hitting on her directly. When he said, “See you next week,” she smiled that bright smile back. Javier noticed that it again reached her eyes, lighting them up just a bit more than last time. A good sign.

The weekend dragged but Javier filled it up with errands: a run to HEB for groceries and to Highland Mall for a new shirt. If there was the possibility of a date sometime in the next few weeks he at least wanted to wear something other than his work clothes. Saturday night he ordered pizza and watched a movie on TV, some lame action movie with giant muscled guys shooting way too many bullets, and of course all the curse words and a sex scene edited out for network TV. Can’t let the kiddies hear the word ‘shit’ while they’re flipping channels, but watching Stallone blow a guy’s head off is good for their growing brains. He finished his pizza and a cigarette and then felt that tug, the loose ends, a little bored.

Javier took a shower and his mind went to the pretty barista, that smile, the sparkly eyes. He thought about those eyes looking up at him through her lashes, or down at him from on top. He wondered what her skin felt like, imagining the rest of her naked, spread out, touching him all over. He felt a little bit creepy touching himself to the thought of her, hoping it didn’t make him a bad person, hoping he would see her again on Monday. But fuck it, he needed the release. Javier came, spurting hot in the steamy shower as he leaned his head on his forearm and groaned into the cold tile wall. He wished he at least knew her name.

Sunday Javier slept in and then did laundry, tidied up the apartment, and took a jog around the neighborhood. He tried to talk himself out of a repeat of Saturday’s shower. It didn’t work.

On Monday Javier lit up as soon as he stepped off the bus. The first week of the consulting gig had gone well, but today was a big meeting and he knew the agency was not going to like his recommendations. He was constantly trying to quit, but at least he had cut back recently. He was down to a pack a day and only one cup of coffee. That had to count for something, right? Maybe his doctor would finally get off his back about that.

He smoked as rapidly as he could on his way to the coffee shop, and stubbed the cigarette out as soon as he reached the big window that overlooked the street corner. He tucked his sunglasses into the top pocket of his blazer and opened the door to the coffee shop.

The pretty barista was smiling, looking right at him and already holding up his cup of coffee like a game show model holding a prize. Javier felt his heart give a little squeeze, and he smiled and winked at her again as he approached the counter.

“You psychic or something? Or am I just that predictable?”

“Both, maybe.” She wiggled her eyebrows at him and gave him a toothy grin.

Javier opened his wallet and saw that his smallest bill was a $10, but he decided not to ask for change back. She was attentive to her customers, she had surprised him by having coffee ready, and she was cute. “Great service, keep the change.”

Her face lit up and she turned to put the money in the register. Javier turned and exited the front door, and then decided to look back through the big plate glass window. She was looking at him, and Javier realized that meant that she had watched him leave. He hoped he wouldn’t have to tip $10 every time to get that look. He lifted his cup, nodded at her, and then made his way to the office.

Tuesday she had his coffee ready again, so he gave her another wink with his smile, and he thought that she purposely put her fingers in a spot to touch his as she handed the cup over. He paid with a $5 bill again, and then thought about her smile and her touch all the way to the office a few blocks north. He didn’t want her to think that the overtipping was him trying to come on to her; it really was nice to have his order ready to go every day.

On Wednesday she had his coffee ready again as soon as he walked in, but Javier supposed that was a testament to the bus schedule more than his own punctuality. This time he paid with singles. But he didn’t want her to think the smaller tip was because of anything wrong with her customer service, so he smiled a little more warmly, turning the charm up as much as he dared without just outright hitting on her. He noticed she was looking again through the glass as he left. But of course the only reason he knew that was because he had looked, too.

On Thursday Javier decided that it wouldn’t hurt to flirt a little more obviously, but to give her an out in case she wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable or fuck up his supply of good coffee, so he decided to take it a little slow. When he got to the corner he glanced into the window of the coffee shop and saw the pretty barista looking right at him. He took that as a good sign that she might be receptive to his flirting. He opened the door and let someone exit, then walked up to the counter. She pointed at his cup sitting on the counter in front of her, smiling that bright smile.

He arched an eyebrow up. “You trying to get rid of me? In and out so quickly?”

She grinned at him. “Depends on how long you were planning to stay. We close at 1:00 a.m. after open mic tonight. After that you gotta go somewhere else.” That was the most that she’d spoken to him yet. Javier decided to take his chance.

“And what time do you get off, after the morning shift?”

“Depends on who’s asking.” She winked and then bit the inside of her lips, like she had said something she shouldn’t have.

Javier decided to be direct. At least that would give her the chance to say ‘no’ if she wasn’t interested. He locked eyes with her and said, “I am.”

He was relieved to see her flash that big smile, all pretty soft lips and sparkly eyes. “I finish at 1:00, after the lunch rush.”

“Good to know.” He stuck his hand out to shake. “I’m Javier, by the way.” She continued to smile as she gave him her name. When she took his hand she gave a good firm shake, not like one of those women who went limp as soon as they shook a man’s hand. Javier liked her even more.

He fished a few bills out of his wallet. “Can I maybe stop by after your shift, take you to lunch sometime?”

“You can do me one better than that.” She reached down to grip the lid and spun the cup. He saw her name and seven digits scribbled in Sharpie. “My phone number’s on the cup.”

Javier gave her the eyebrows, very much enjoying how direct she was. It was nice to get a clear signal from a pretty lady, instead of having to play guessing games and worry about overstepping. He pursed his lips and nodded in approval.

“You do that for all your customers?”

“Just the best tippers.” And there was her pretty smile and her wink again, so soon after the first one.

Javier decided to give her both barrels. He put his hand out again, palm up instead of a handshake. When she put her hand in his he lifted her knuckles to his lips and pressed a soft kiss, giving her a look from under his eyelashes before he let go.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Javier picked up the cup and left, and gave her a warm smile through the glass as he walked away. As soon as he got to the office he jotted her name and the number on a scrap of paper and tucked it into his wallet. He felt hopeful in a way that he hadn’t for a long time, and he rolled the cup endlessly between his palms while he considered his options. Options. Something he sometimes had taken for granted in life, until those moments where they suddenly ran out.

Javier drained the last of the coffee and then scribbled over her number with a Sharpie before tossing the cup in the trash. No sense in letting her number out into the world where some creep might find it. He smoked his third cigarette of the day out on the plaza and thought about her smile, the brush of her fingers on his, the way she approached him directly. He could use a friend in town, one who wasn’t a guy at the agency or an old college buddy. One who was soft and sweet and might be open to a date… or more. He checked his watch and calculated the hours until 1:00 p.m.

Normally he wouldn’t go back to the coffee shop until tomorrow morning, but it wouldn’t hurt to pop back over there today at the end of her shift, see if she wanted to grab lunch, right? He hoped it wouldn’t scare her off, going back so quickly. He stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray by the lobby door and jogged back up to his office, taking the stairs two at a time. He wanted to finish up, get this meeting over with, see if he could get over to the coffee shop before she left. He sat in the meeting, watching the clock hands spin slowly, listening to someone drone on about a budget issue that didn’t impact his work, and which could have been a memo in the first place. He felt his irritation creep up the longer the meeting went on.

Finally the meeting closed and Javier hopped to his feet. He told Bill he was headed to lunch and then jogged back down the stairwell instead of waiting for the elevator. He walked the few blocks to the coffee shop, keeping an eye on his watch. He hoped he wouldn’t miss her.

When he got to the coffee shop he opened the door and let his eyes adjust to the dim light for a moment. And then he saw her, slinging her bag over one shoulder and coming out from behind the counter. Javier smiled.

She stopped a foot away and smiled softly, “Hey.”

Javier realized he was still wearing his sunglasses, no wonder it was so dark. He took them off and slipped them into his blazer pocket. He really hoped she wouldn’t think it was weird, him coming back so soon.

“Hey, I’m glad I caught you. Are you busy, or can I take you to lunch today?”

Her face lit up. Good sign. “No, I’m not busy. I’d love to go.”

She gestured out the big window, “There’s a sandwich place around the corner, and a park we can go sit in.”

Javier felt his face split into a wide grin. “That’s perfect.”

---

Just-here-for-the-moment’s masterlist

The only tag list I have: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis

[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.

[quietmyfearswith]

cartoons ; preferences

warnings — fluff (?) 

characters — andy barber, steve rogers, ransom drysdale, bucky barnes, lance tucker, syverson, august walker

a/n — THIS IS A DDLG FIC,, i understand that for some their litlte age or little space activities varies for some but for this sake lets imagine that the reader loves to watch cartoons,, feedback is appreciated :)

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays

masterlist

As a reward for her good behavior, Andy allowed Y/N an extra half hour to watch television and she chose to watch her favorite cartoon — Higglytown Heroes. “Poor kitty!” She gasped out as the kitten was stuck on a tree. The lawyer was seated on the couch beside her with his hand rubbing her back as he quietly read a case file, “Kip is stuck now too!” Silently chuckling at her blow by blow report of the events of the cartoon he proceeded to read until he was summoned, “Dada, what will happen now?” Her eyes displayed worry and curiosity so he set the folder on the side table before making a guess, “Maybe they’ll ask someone from help? Let’s watch it, little missy.”

A few moments later, the characters were singing a song to reveal that they would be asking help from the firefighters. “You see that, missy? Who rides a big red vehicle with sirens?” His question got her racking her brain for a bit before answering, “Is it from the firefighters, dada?” Smiling widely as he pecked her cheek, he praised her, “Such a smart girl!” Her giggles indicated she loved the praise he was giving her, “The firefighters are the heroes because they help others.” Pondering on what he said, she stared at his bearded face with her lips pursed with a deep stare. “What are you thinking about, missy?” It was unusual for her to be this silent and serious when she was deep in little space, so it was slightly concerning. “Heroes help people; right, dada?” Andy nodded as he revisited the cartoon, “Mhm, just how the firefighters helped Kip and the kittens.” Holding his hand, she played with it as she concluded, “So does that make dada a hero too?” With a mouth hung agape, no words left the lawyer’s mouth as he was dumbfounded as his girl continued her explanation, “You help people and protect them right?” Planting a kiss on his bearded cheek, he smiled as her words of, “You’re my favorite hero, dada,” Melted his heart in the best way possible.

“Little one, what do you want to do today?” Hearing August’s deep voice tore her attentive eyes away from the television screen as she smiled sweetly at him, “Can we bake that cake, daddy?” Following where her finger pointed to where Mr. Bean was currently slicing a piece of the chocolate cake. Sitting down adjacent to where his beloved was sitting on the floor, he tried to convince her from doing something else, “Perhaps you’d rather go to the park? Or even color?” Crossing her arms as she let out a huff — an indication that her mind was set on imitating the animation meal, “But daddy I want to try the cake! It looks so yummy and I want to taste it!” Comparing her attitude to the previous times she whined about wanting something, she was relatively tame — so it ultimately convinced him that there was no harm in complying with what she wanted. “Okay, we’ll bake the cake,” She clapped her hands, excited at the thought of getting to taste the pastry; but her glee was halted as the CIA agent raised a brow at her, “But you have to wait a little while okay? Daddy still needs to find a recipe for the cake and see if we have the right ingredients; can you be a good girl in the meantime?” Nodding her head up and down, she proceeded to clasp her hands together on her lap as she returned to silently watching the cartoon. Draping an arm over her shoulders, his other hand fished out for the phone on his pocket and searched for the recipe; and he did find one after a few minutes.

With a kiss on her shoulder, he then excused himself to the kitchen to check if they have all the required ingredients; and when they did have everything it was then he called for her, “Turn off the television, little one. I found a recipe and we can bake that chocolate cake!” Never in their entire relationship had he seen her comply instantaneously and with a smile on her face. Standing beside him he smirked as he placed the cute apron he got her, “Are you ready to be a good baker, little one?” Jumping on her feet she nodded as she exclaimed, “I am, daddy! Can’t wait to feed you what we baked,” To show her appreciation of him going along with what she wants, she stood on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his scruffy cheek, “Thank you so much, daddy. I love you.”

“Tătic, what color do you like most — pink, blue, or green?” She asked the former Winter Soldier without diverting her gaze from the piece of paper she was drawing on; the man in question however stopped reading the newspaper he was reading as he peered up. “I like the color blue the most, sweetheart; why’d you ask?” Continuing with her drawing, she just mumbled a soft, “Nothing,” And there was really nothing alarming about her behavior so he shrugged it off and continued to read about current events. After a few silent minutes, Y/N asked him again, “Would you rather be an owl, a cat, or a chameleon?” Bucky was able to connect some of the dots — the three colors and animals she mentioned was reminiscent of her favorite cartoon, “Why are you asking me about PJ Masks, sweetie?” Having been caught, she removed her focus from her drawing to look up from where he was sitting on the couch while she was sitting cross-legged at the floor. “I’m drawing something for you, tătic. Please don’t take a peek yet.”

She so sweetly requested it from him that he had just nodded and answered, “I’d rather be a chameleon, sweetie,” Before reading through the text again. Folding the newspaper and placing it by the side table; deciding that he needed to scratch an itch, he quietly lowered himself to sit on the floor. Once doing so, he inched closer to his left so he could try to sneak a peek at  what Y/N was drawing; but it was as if spending so much time with the super soldier she gained spy skills, she sensed what he was trying to do and was quick to call him out on it, “Tătic, stop peeking!” Wrapping both his arms on her waist as he rubbed his forehead against her arm as he dramatically sighed, “But sweetheart I wanna see what you’re drawing.” Matching his sigh with a dramatic one of her own, she then pushed his face away and grabbed her drawing pad. “Okay here it is, tătic,” She showed him a suit she was sketching for him, it was blue and she tried to replicate Gecko’s scale in the suit but it proved too difficult to do so. “Wanted to design a new suit for you, tătic; you know just like in PJ Masks.” Unable to let out an audible coo, Bucky hugged Y/N in his arms as he planted kisses on the top of her head, “I love it so much, sweetheart. I love you so much.”

“What are you doing to my hair, doll?” Steve wondered as she was sitting on his lap, with her tongue slightly poking out of her cheeks as her hands were ruffling through his hair in her efforts to style him. “Just fixing your hair, sir.” Her answer just confused the retired Avenger even more as he just brushed his hair earlier; but apparently it wasn’t good enough for her. She was arranging the strands of his hair so they’d stand up instead of his usual look. “Only a little bit more and you’ll look like Ryder.” At the mention of that name, Steve was slightly concerned that he had a rival for his lover’s affection, “Who’s Ryder, baby doll?” Feeling giddy with the nickname she was called, she failed to focus on how he asked the question venomously. “The team leader of PAW Patrol, sir.” He let out a relieved sigh as relaxed visibly as he allowed her to rummage through his golden locks. 

“Why do you want to style me like Ryder?” Halting her movements through his hair, she grinned widely upon seeing that his hair now looked like the cartoon character’s. “Because you’re so much like him, sir. You’re both leaders and love dogs too!” The last part peaked his attention as she seemed extra giddy at the mention of dogs, “Is this your way of telling me you want a dog too?” Placing her head against his chest, she nodded as she shyly mumbled, “Yes, sir.” His fingertips grazed the skin of her shoulders, “Then are you gonna name ‘em after the dogs in PAW Patrol?” The suggestion had her enthusiastically nodding against his chest, “I’d love that so much, sir!” Hugging her frame flush against him, Steve then decided to play along with her, “Maybe someday, when you prove to be responsible enough; if I’m Ryder, who are you then?” Removing her face from his chest she beamed, “The Princess of Barkingburg! Which means you need to comply with my orders of us getting a dog!”

gif by @henry-cavlll​ i really wanted this gif but it wouldnt appear on the gif finder

“Aika, come here, doggy!” Upon hearing her name called, the German Shepherd plopped  herself down beside the girl who was currently watching cartoons as she was watching her favorite cartoon as she waited for Sy. Stroking her brown fur she looked at the dog who was staring at her with curious eyes, “Do you like the color red, Aika?” As the dog laid her head down on her thigh, the little girl took it as a no. “Why not? Clifford likes the cower red,” She pointed to the huge dog who was licking Emily as she was brushing his fur. “Maybe Captain will let me put red color on you,” She then began to brush her own nimble fingers against the brown and black fur of the dog as she imagined what it would look like with the color red instead.

“I’m home, baby girl!” Sy announced as he closed the front door behind him. Her head turned to his appearing figure with a wide smile as she waved enthusiastically, “Captain! I had a bright idea.” Having his curiosity piqued, he told her to remain seated on the couch as he placed some of the groceries he bought on the kitchen island and sat beside her. Not even more than a second after he sat down, she immediately perched herself on his lap, calling for Aika as well to scooch closer to the both of them. “What are you up to, baby?” Bopping her nose with his finger and she playfully chased his finger to bite it; pointing to the television where Clifford the Big Red Dog was still playing, “Clifford is red, right?” Not knowing where she was going with this, he just nodded and looked at her with curious eyes as she pointed to their dog who was laying on her crossed paws, “Can we please color Aika red? Please?” Chuckling at her suggestion, the former soldier could only shake his head, “No we can’t color her red, babygirl.” At the sound of the rejection of her idea, Y/N pouted in hopes to persuade him to change his mind, “But you colored her green!” Sighing, he held her hands as he explained, “Captain only colored her green so she wouldn’t be taken away.” With a huff she crossed her arms as she continued to whine, “I want a red dog.” Coming up with a bright idea, Sy then offered, “How about I buy you a Clifford stuffie? That way you’ll have your own red dog.” Almost immediately her pout left her mouth as her eyes shined at the thought of having one and she wrapped her arms around his neck as she excitedly squealed, “Yes please, Captain! Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“What’s going on, papa?” Y/N wondered as she found Lance perched down on the floor as he was tinkling with his laptop; she awoke from her nap and instead of having the gold medalist wake her up it was the faint groans and curses he let out that woke her up. Looking up from where he was trying to get the device to work, he put on a smile upon seeing his girl, “I can’t get the laptop to turn on, angel.” He was only slightly alarmed when she jumped and down, “Oh let me help, papa! Hold on, let me get my tools!” He could barely process anything she said as she was quick to leave him on the floor.

Dismissing her behavior, he turned his attention back to his laptop and stared at it as if his gaze would get it back to work. “Handy Y/N at your service! You break it, I fix it!” She said the cartoon character’s famous catchphrase, she held onto her own version of the toolbox he got her as a surprise. Smiling, Lance patted the spot beside him as he called her for help, “Hello handy Y/N! Can you please help me fix my laptop?” With a slight pout, she pretended to inspect the device for a little bit before grabbing Felipe, the yellow screwdriver that seemed to be her favorite character, and pretended to screw around the device. As she turned to place the tool box on its container and was rummaging through her tools, the gymnast sneakily pushed the power button and by some miracle it did turn on, “Look at that, angel! You fixed my laptop!” She jumped a bit at the sound of his voice but smiled widely upon seeing the screen light up, “I guess Handy Manny really teaches you how to fix things huh, angel?” Nodding her head she smiled brightly as she grabbed her toolbox and struck a pose, “It did, papa! And now I can always fix something up for you; you only have to pay me with kissies and cuddles!”

“King, can I pick what we’re both going to wear?” Ransom looked up at the girl who laid beside him, they both woke up a few minutes ago and they were just cuddling in bed as they traced shapes into each other’s skin; usually she would ask if she could dress herself, never him as well. Seeing how she hasn’t had the chance to slip into her comfort space usually — thanks to her demanding priorities — he didn’t see any harm in letting her do so; after all, he wanted her to enjoy her Christmas break. With a sweet kiss to her forehead he allowed it, “Okay princess, you can choose what we both wear. But why stop there? Choose what you want us to do this morning too.” Her eyes lit up with excitement at what he said as she stood up from the bed, leaving the former playboy to whine about missing her warmth, and search through their shared walk-in closet about the clothing articles she was looking for. Returning with their matching cable knit sweaters and a pair of plaid pajamas that had a king and queen symbol sewn on it. With a raised brow, Ransom silently wondered if she was planning this for a while and her excited squeal of, “Wear this one please, king — this way we’re like B1 and B2!”

“So that’s why you wanted us to match huh?” He concluded out loud as he sat up on the edge of the bed so he could reach for her to tickled her sides; in between her fit of giggles, Y/N managed to confirm it, “Mhm, I wanted to be like them. And this is my way too of making up for not spending so much time with my king.” Displeased with the whiff of sadness at her statement; grabbing for both of her hands, he held it against his as he rubbed soothing circles on it, “Princess, I completely understand that you were buried in your workload, okay? I’m so proud that you got to accomplish everything right away,” He paused his little speech to plant kisses on the back of both her palms before inquiring, “So have you decided what we’re going to do?” Nodding her head yes she shared what her ideal morning would look like, “Maybe you can make my favorite breakfast, king? Then watch ``Bananas in Pyjamas together?” Ransom could feel his heart flutter with how simple she was — which was a stark contrast to how the people that surrounded him for all his life was extremely materialistic — that all she wanted was to be with him for that would make her happy. Grabbing the clothes she had picked out in one hand as the other hand was dragging his princess on the other to guide them to the bathroom to change he jokingly scolded her, “Then what are we waiting for? We can’t let B1 and B2 waiting for us for too long!”

“I understand we have a holiday break, but I just wanted to go over the contents of the report one more time,” Will tiredly explained as he was having his final video conference before his holiday break. Y/N was currently watching Twirlywoos in the living room. Redirecting her gaze from the television screen to her bubba who was stressed out and she wanted to help him relax — but knew that one way of doing so is by not bothering him right now as he worked. “Okay, see you all again on January 3rd,” Was the last thing Will said before ending the call and groaning out loud as he rubbed his hands on his eyes, “Bubba, are you okay?” Hearing her concerned and small voice snapped him out of his distress; he was then quick to put up a smile on his lips as he left his home office that was adjacent to the living room and sat beside her on the couch. “I am now, munchkin. Bubba doesn’t have to work for two weeks and you have him all to yourself.” With that Y/N smiled brightly as well and kissed all over his face, “Okay calm down, munchkin,” He laughed feeling ticklish with all her kisses, “How about a snack?” Nodding her head, she accepted the help he offered her to stand from the floor, “Yes please, bubba.” 

Grabbing her hand he led her to the sit on one of the chairs on the breakfast bar, and just as Will was about to head to the pantry to grab some snacks he remembered, “Oh hold on, I just need to fix my things before fixing you a snack, okay?” The business consultant expected that his girl would be disappointed but she was the opposite, “Can I help you with that, bubba?” He had to take a double look at her as he wondered out loud, “Are you sure you want to help? And I don’t think you know exactly how to do so, munchkin.” She pouted when he doubted her capabilities, “I do! I learned from the Twirlywoos,” She pointed to the cartoons playing on the background — the family of four were now carelessly shoving all the beach items inside the tent — and since this was her favorite show, she’d watch this particular episode multiple times and picked up quite a few things. Will wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist to lead her into his home office, “Very well, my Chickadee munchkin, show me what you learned from the show.”

[katieslotherford]

Radio Wade's Wave FM Ch. 1 (David Santiago x gn!Reader)

A/N: This is based on a story I wrote in early 2015 in the Harry Potter fandom. The original inspiration is a Russian film called Peter FM I watched back then barely understanding the dialog but loving the idea. It's now a David Santiago mini series. No copyright infringement intended, though. And again, English is not my first language, so please tell me when some things don't make any sense or sound weird...

Summary: You are an upcoming radio host who loses their phone in New York City's rush hour. Your phone is found by David, but getting it back seems to be more difficult than expected. What follows are long phone calls, doubt and little tugs at your heartstrings.

Tags: Fluff, slightly abusive bf, SFW, gender neutral reader

Hope, you enjoy the first part!

You are late for work, very late. It is eight in the morning and New York City’s rush hour swallows you. You sprint past brokers, lawyers, moms who take their kids to school and street vendors, trying not to hit anybody. You are used to the hustle on the streets but today you were not feeling yourself. Misery had started the night before. Your boyfriend Eric came home venting to you about not making enough money, your neighbours made good use of the thin walls and partied until 3 in the morning and you apparently did not plug in your phone properly leaving you with 10 minutes to get to work on time after your alarm did not go off.

As you are running down the block, drifting around the corner, dribbling one businessman not seeing his friend, least of all paying attention to the open pocket of your jacket, you lose what you would deem your most important possession: your phone.

Really, on a regular day you would have instantly realised that it fell out on the pavement, clearly hearing the screen crack, cursing about it. But today is not a regular day and you simply walked on, oblivious to the abandoned phone on the concrete.

Someone else does not walk past it. David Santiago, slightly annoyed with himself picking this time on his day off for grocery shopping on the local organic food store, stands above the cracked phone and stares at it. Looking pretty expensive, he did not want it laying around for someone to snatch and sell it. David picks it up. The owner would probably try to call it. He would wait for their call.

He looks around for someone in distress. Not spotting anyone who seems to look for something other than their designated destination, David continues away, a busy day ahead.

When you reach your office and put down your bag, you feel knackered. Running has never been your strong suit. Your colleague Jon just looks up for a second, smirks at you and your disarray and directs his attention back to his laptop. You would go on air in less than an hour. Your radio show getting more and more attention every week, but right now there is only music playing. From the Beatles to early 2000s Jon would allow anything to play, granting wishes from your listeners. His interest in modern music just had stopped sometime in 2006. Anything younger than that would not be played by him. You were fine with this rule.

“Pray tell, Jon, did the big boss mention anything about the new section?” you ask him, trying to sound casual while starting your PC.

The new show was entirely your concept. Your passion for foreign cultures, books, music and travelling inspired you to graduate college with degrees in English and History, sending you on a trip through Europe, attending university courses, lectures, and workshops all around the continent, getting a good understanding about the cultures. To pay for everything you even tried your luck with teaching English, failing miserably at primary level but enjoying the exchange with graduate classes. After learning Spanish in Madrid, you ventured from one continent to another and spend months in several South and Middle American countries, slowly travelling up north back to the US.

Your new show would focus on the diversity of cultures, roots so many in New York City and all around the US were proud of. You would dive into that, talk about everyday life in those countries, even invite friends you made during your years of travel and people from New York communities. You wanted to bring people closer.

The radio station was not big by any means. Jon and you being the only two hosts with him presenting the music, weather and traffic and you hosting the morning show with interesting news all around New York, hopefully adding your new afternoon show once a week to the schedule. The only problem was that adds did not nearly pay as much as you would like. So, a sponsor was found in the “big boss”. Wade had too much money for anyone to count, was an ex-lover of Jon and bored as hell. For him to finance the small station you had to agree to three terms: he would name the station (hence the ridiculous name), his other companies would be announced hourly without being charged for it (alright), he would have the last say in shows (you did not like that at all). But you and Jon needed him and his money and so you were waiting for his go.

His marketing experience brought you success very fast. You took alternative radio consumers overnight, appealing to those who did not need the dark and devastating news about accidents, robberies, bankruptcies, cheating husbands and lost children early in the morning, but positive news about new and sustainable businesses, school openings and acts of community. Your salary rose.

“Nah, he isn’t in yet” Jon answers. Nodding and gathering your prompt cards for the show you exhale. 18 minutes till the red On-Air sign above your head shines.

Someone who has never bothered to listen in was your boyfriend of 2 years. Eric could turn on his radio in the office, working alone on his online shop would not distract anybody. He just was not happy with you working and gaining success. You gradually earning more money every month put pressure on him, not from you though. He wanted to be the breadwinner.

Lunch rolled around. Eric checks his phone for any messages confirming your date again. You had not texted and so he dials your number.

“Hello,” a male voice answers, Eric looks at the screen Y/N <3 shown.

“Good morning, hello?” the male voice asks fairly quickly. Eric hangs up wondering about a man answering his girlfriend’s phone. Different scenarios come to his mind. In the end jealousy wins. Could that be your secret lover? He fumes.

You wait. You are sitting on a bench looking on the Hudson. Eric is late, again. You had planned to speak with him about his late-night mood concerning your work and his view on your joined future. You wanted a family, sure, but not anytime soon and not if it meant for you only to cut back work. You enjoy what you do.

“Hey babe” Eric says taking a seat next to you and planting a wet kiss on your cheek. He does not look at you but puts the take-out container he brought in your lap. The talkwould have to wait.

David is satisfied with his day off. After the shopping he went home and plugged in the dead and cracked phone. After that he had other errands to run like finally getting a haircut, seeing his physician about a new allergy treatment and finally cooking with the fresh groceries he bought in the morning. The call from Babe around noon had been weird. He could not even determine whether Babe was a boy- or girlfriend. The contact photo being an outline of a couple during sunset.

“Good afternoon?” David picks up the ringing phone again. It is Babe.

“Hello? Sir?” a soft voice answers, your voice. He does not know whether you were Babe or the owner of the phone in his hand.

“Gosh, I’m so happy you found my phone, Sir. I must have dropped it this morning on my way to work. My boyfriend just told me you are picking up calls. Man, I’m relieved,” you continue talking.

“When would it be good for you to collect your phone?” David cuts in.

“Uhm, how about tomorrow at 7.30 at the Main Monument Central Park West?” you ask. You lost your phone close by and gathered he frequented that area of Manhattan as well.

“Sure, that works for me,” he replies. Saying their good bye’s, he hangs up. That’s when he realises: he does not know what you look like, you do not know anything about him either. Your phone is locked, he has no way of contacting you. David hopes for the best, hopes for being able to spot you among the crowd tomorrow.

Chapter Two

TBC...

[holidaywishes]

I don't get you...

  Requested: 👍

  Summary/Request: Can I request just some like filthy smut with Fred? Maybe sugar daddy Freddie? But like there’s actual feelings involved and maybe the reader flirts with Auston and it makes him jealous then he tells them he loves them then fucks the living daylights out of them...or something along those lines

  Warning: smut as per request, some angst, a little bit of fluff

  Author’s Note: So, anon, I'm not sure this is exactly what you wanted. I went through a lot as I was writing this, so that's part of the reason why it took forever to get this out. But yeah, it started out as something short and filthy and then moved to something exceptionally long and fluffy and I nearly forgot that I was supposed to be writing smut. Also, I'm really in a ✨summer vibes✨ kind of mood lately and I really want to go to the beach but because I can’t until the borders open, I guess I’ll write about it. Hope this can give everyone a bit of a reprieve from everything for a little bit! Stay Golden, loves! <3

  masterlist

  the other masterlist

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  You never expected her to agree to the arrangement, you didn’t think she was the type, but you weren’t looking for a relationship at the time. She told you she’d never had a sugar daddy before but she was happy to try it out

  “I’ve met people who’ve done it and they seem to be really happy,” she said

  “Well, yeah, I would think they would be,” you joked, “a little bit of money for a little bit of pleasure...”

  “That makes it sound like prostitution” she giggled and you nodded

  “It’s not, I didn’t mean it like that...”

  “I mean, it’s not far off, I suppose”

  “But you’re okay with it?”

  “I’m okay with it, but I’m curious,” she asked, “if you’re willing to spend money on me and fly me places and do literally everything a partner does... why not actually be partners?”

  “I just think we’re better off doing this”

  “I know,” she added, “but why?”

  “My life... is a lot for a relationship. I don’t want to put anyone in a position where the fans or the media can tear them down”

  “But you like me enough to do all the same stuff?”

  “Yeah, just... as a secret” you admitted shyly

  “Alright” she finally said, leaning in to plant a kiss on your cheek before your hands latched onto her sides to pull her closer and station her on your lap. “I have to go...” she whined and you groaned in response

“But you don’t” you laughed

“I have to do a presentation tomorrow that I have to work on”

“Skip it,” you mumbled, “you know that you don’t have to work”

“I still like to work”

“Just stay a little bit longer” you urged, kissing her neck and squeezing her hips tighter

“Freddie...” she moaned before you picked her up and carried her to your bedroom, dropping her onto the big mattress. She giggled as she bit her lip, waiting for you to lay your body against hers, “come here.”

xx

  The arrangement was simple. He wanted a warm body just not a relationship. You were in debt up to your eyeballs but you still had very, very expensive tastes and Freddie was all too eager to get you whatever you wanted. There was never any real talk about never developing feelings or what would happen if either of you eventually did but his lips fit so perfectly with yours and your bodies knew instinctively what to do for each other and the way his fingertips grazed the sensitive skin on the sides of your neck made your vision blurry and you weren’t sure how long you could keep this... simple. You were able to work enough that you were chipping away at your debt while Freddie indulged in your materialistic cravings. His gifts were relatively tame so far. Some jewellery, a few designer handbags, some very expensive lingerie, a pair of vintage Chanel stilettos that you almost never wore and when you asked why he didn’t get you Louboutin’s, he smirked and said ‘that’s what every other guy gets his girl. You deserve better than that.’ He really did know just how to say the right thing to make you feel important to him without fully taking that next step but when he started to offer bigger gifts, things started to feel different

  “You can’t buy me a car!”

  “Why not?”

  “I barely drive!”

  “Okay, what about a house?”

  “I’m sorry what?”

  “A house. I mean, not like a mansion but an apartment or like a cottage. By the lake...”

  “That’s too much” you scoffed, fluttering around your kitchen putting away dishes and wiping off the counter before your roommate could complain that the house was a mess

 “You shouldn’t have roommates. Not if you’re with me” he replied and you furrowed your brow before leaning on the cold granite of the counter

  “But I’m not with you...” you corrected, “not like that. How am I supposed to explain to people how I suddenly have enough money to have a cottage by the lake when I’m still paying off student loans and credit card debts?”

  “Tell them it was a super great deal!”

  “Because they’ll definitely believe that” you sighed, walking over to him and pecking his cheek before he followed you to the couch

  “Then say it was a gift”

  “From who? Who would gift something like that to someone? Am I supposed to tell people that you’re my sugar daddy now?” you teased

  “You could say you won the lottery,” he suggested but you ignored it, instead turning toward the TV and switching it on, “I mean that happens right?”

  “Freddie... it’s sweet but it’s way too much” you repeated softly and he dropped it

  “Come hang out with me this summer. I have a place right on the water, it’s beautiful there”

  “Where?” you asked curiously

  “Muskoka”

  “You wanna take me to Muskoka?”

  “It’s romantic there,” he added, creeping over to kiss your shoulder before his body hovered over yours and his lips slowly connected with yours, “and it’s private, too. We don’t have to worry about people interrupting us”

  “People don’t interrupt us he--”

  “(Y/N)!” your roommate yelled, interrupting your moment with Freddie and completely destroying your words even before she came down the stairs, Freddie putting as much space in between the two of you as to not give anything away. “Hey, where is.. oh sorry, I didn’t realize we had company”

  “Stacey, this is Freddie,” you smiled awkwardly, hoping your face wasn’t too flushed, “Freddie, this is my roommate, Stacey.”

  “Nice to meet you” Freddie greeted politely

  “Yeah, you too” Stacey replied, almost suspiciously and you scoffed

  “So what were you looking for?”

  “Huh?” she was clearly lost in thought now, “oh right! That big bag of sunscreen, where did it go? I thought it was in the closet in the bathroom but I didn’t see it. Did you move it?”

  “I did,” you admitted, smiling as you stood up, walking to the bathroom upstairs to show her, “it was just taking up so much space so I took them out of the bag and put them under the sink separately”

  “Ahh, okay. Thanks”

  “No problem,” you said, turning to walk downstairs

  “Wait!” she exclaimed, stopping you, “who is that?”

  “Freddie?”

  “Yeah, I mean... are you two dating? Why have I never met him before?” she rambled before her eyes went wide and panic rushed through your chest, “is this a first date?” you exhaled in relief, laughing in response

  “No, it’s not a date. First or otherwise. He’s just a friend, I met him at a work party last year”

  “Oh, right...” you could tell she didn’t believe you but you weren’t going to try to argue, fearing if you did that you might let the truth slip. She finally let you head back downstairs but before you reached the bottom, your phone chimed

  “Had to go” Freddie’s text read and you sighed before dropping your head

  “You didn’t have to...” you replied

  “I did but the offer still stands. You, me, the lake, Muskoka. Come”

  “I’ll think about it.”

xx

Freddie’s P.O.V

  After weeks of constant begging, (Y/N) agreed to go to the cottage with you over the summer and it was perfect. You almost never left the bedroom and when you did, it was to take a drive into the city to get a few groceries and then you’d lock yourself back in the house, drawing the curtains to block out the light. After that, she asked to go back the next summer and you were more than happy to oblige

  “You liked it huh?” you teased as the two of you lay in bed

  “I had a lot of fun,” she smirked, lifting your hand up so she could trace her finger along your palm mindlessly, “pretending like the world didn’t exist”

  “You sure you don’t want me to just.. get you your own?”

  “No,” she scoffed, “I like yours. As yours, don’t think about giving it to me”

  “Fine” you laughed at her figuring you out before you could even get your suggestion out.

  “Fine” she mocked, rolling over to kiss your cheek and lay on your chest, tracing her fingers across your skin

  “God you’re beautiful” you exhaled as you brushed her hair away from her face

  “YO ‘ZILLA!” you heard Auston yell as he crashed through your front door

  “Shit!” you panicked

  “What is he doing here?” she asked in a hushed voice

  “I don’t know, I thought he was gonna be playing golf all afternoon”

  “FREDDIE?” Auston yelled again

  “Just get dressed, I’ll go talk to him”

  “Okay” she laughed

  “Yo, Tony, what are you doing here?”

  “Hey!” He exclaimed, “I came to hang out with you... am I bothering you?”

  “No of course not. I just thought you’d be at the course for most of the day...”

  “Yeah.. it wasn’t all that exciting today. What have you—”

  “So I think that Shelley was right!” (Y/N) yelled as she came down the stairs, interrupting Auston with some lie that you couldn’t even follow. “I think we did do an event down the street,” you smirked, watching her eye-line go past you and to Auston, “oh, hi...”

  “Hi...” he hesitated

  “I’m (Y/N)”

  “Auston. It’s nice to meet you” he greeted and you watched as the two of them stared at each other

  “Matts, (Y/N) is a friend of a friend and she wanted to see a vantage point... from upstairs”

  “Not a vantage point. See, I work at an event planning company, I’m an intern but I help with a lot of events and one of them was an MLSE fundraiser and, Shelley, my friend that’s also Freddie’s friend,” she rambled and you had to stop yourself from laughing, “she said that Fred’s apartment was nearby but I didn’t believe it...”

  “Right,” he smirked, “well, now you know right?”

  “Right,” she smiled brightly, “but hey. I should go, I have stuff but thanks, Fred, for letting me look. It was nice to meet you, Auston.”

  “Yeah.. nice to meet you, too. Maybe I’ll see you again?”

  “Now now,” you intervened, “no flirting”

  “Bye Freddie” she chuckled before walking out the door.

  “She’s cute,” Auston said to you and you could sense that he was trying to get more information, “young for you though huh?”

  “We’re not dating” you tried

  “So she really was just here to scope out the view?” he teased

  “I guess so” you tried, making your way to the kitchen to grab a glass of water

  “You wouldn’t mind, then, if I asked her out?” he asked, forcing you to sigh at his incessant attempts not to drop the subject

  “No, go for it...”

  “I will” he smirked and that was the end of the conversation. You found out a few days later that he had actually asked (Y/N) out for dinner but she told him she had to think about it

  “What am I supposed to say, Freddie?” she asked, following you around your apartment, her annoyance apparent as she waited for an answer

  “You should say yes” you replied

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I mean you said it yourself, we’re not together. We’re not dating, we just sleep together every once in a while and I buy you stuff. I don’t care who you date...”

  “It’s not tha..” she stammered, shaking her head hastily, “it’s a little more complicated than just me dating someone else. This isn’t just some guy you’ve never met before who wants to take me out on a date. This is your teammate, your friend. He has a key to your apartment. You watch his dog... so it’s not as simple as what you think it is”

  “I’m fine with it. We’ll still do what we do, if you want, and Auston doesn’t have to find out” you added, sitting down at the kitchen island, fidgeting with your water bottle

  “And what if he does?”

  “He won’t”

  “You really want me to say yes?”

  “If you say no, he’s going to think something is going on with us,” you admitted, “if you say yes, he won’t. Simple”

  “That’s all this is?” she sneered, “I’m surprised you haven’t told him already. It’s not something that you’re ashamed of. Unless... are you ashamed of me?”

  “No” you replied. She sat down slowly in the seat across from you and dropped her head to her hands before exhaling

  “Fine,” you groaned, “I’ll say yes.”

xx

  It was the last thing you really wanted to do but Freddie seemed intent on you going on a date with Auston. It wasn’t awful but it didn’t feel right but the two of you stayed in touch, which created its own issues between you and Freddie, just like you knew it would. After nearly a year, you had grown a lot closer with Freddie’s teammates than you thought you would and you were starting to feel like part of the group, whether or not that was a good thing remained to be seen. It did allow you to spend time with Freddie outside of the bedroom but it led to questions about why you never carried a wallet or offered to pay for meals

  “I’m all for chivalry,” Morgan chuckled, taking a sip of his drink as the server took everyone’s plates away, “but you can clearly afford to foot the bill every here and there. I’ve seen all these fancy things before, I’ve bought a few of ‘em for Tessa, so...”

  “This stuff...” you stalled, gesturing to your purse and your clothes, “they’re all gifts”

  “Some friends who get you those gifts” Auston laughed

  “Who said they’re from friends? What about family?”

  “Or a boyfriend?” he teased, your eyes darting to Freddie quickly to gauge his reaction; nothing, completely stoic

  “No boyfriend. I’m not much for the ‘shower me with gifts’ kind of relationship” this comment earned a round of scoffs from the boys in front of you and you just rolled your eyes in return. Freddie offered you a ride home which you took gladly because you wanted to see where his head was at

  “So...” you started before Freddie huffed

  “The guys are coming out to the lake next week. You’re welcome to come but it won’t be like last year”

  “Are you mad at me?” you asked, turning your body to face him

  “No, why would I be mad?” he chided, keeping his eyes on the road

  “I don’t know,” you replied, turning back to face the road yourself, “but I’m glad you’re not mad. I love the lake so I’m happy to go, even if it won’t be like last year...”

  “Great” he sighed

  “Perfect” you replied, pursing your lips as the rest of the drive was spent in silence. He drove into the underground parking lot, turning off the ignition before looking at you

  “They really like you” he said and you furrowed your brow

  “Yeah... I’m likeable” you joked

  “It’s good,” he said, “but maybe after the lake, you should keep your distance”

  “What?” you scoffed as Freddie opened the door and made his way to open your door, leaning his hands against the side of the car and caging you in lightly

  “Or we need to end this arrangement”

  “So, it’s an ultimatum? You or them?” he nodded, sliding his arm under your legs to pick you up and carry you upstairs. It was a strange request but you could barely concentrate on your thoughts with the way his hands began roaming your body once he set you down. After the week had passed, and you managed to patch up things with Freddie, you were on your way back to the place where you had come to know as if it were your own. You wondered how different things would feel there, with ‘the boys’ being there, and if Freddie would keep his distance from you or if the tension would be too much to bear.

xx

Auston’s P.O.V

  You spent most of your time in the water, or watching (Y/N), while everyone else seemed to find other things to occupy their time. You couldn’t believe that (Y/N) hadn’t pursued more of a relationship with you, especially when you thought the date went really well; you decided to make it your mission to get her to fall in love with you or find out if there was something else going on.

  "So..." you grunted, taking a seat next to (Y/N), "how are you liking the cottage?"

  "It's beautiful out here" she answered with a smile

  "Isn't it though?" you said

  "Are you mocking me?" she laughed

 "I would never"

  "You're still mad that I didn't want to date you, aren't you?" she asked, taking you a bit by surprise and you weren't really sure how honest you should be

  "Why didn't you want to date me?" you said curiously, "I mean the date that we went on was good, wasn't it?"

  "It was fine, yeah," she replied, unimpressed as she seemed to remember the date in her mind, "I just have a bit of a complicated situation going and I didn't feel like adding more to that. But, I'm sorry, that wasn't fair to you"

  "Oh," you really were hoping that she would've made some joke about it all instead of... actually telling you the truth, but here you were. "Thank you..." you hesitated before chuckling, "I'm over it anyway. Let's just enjoy the summer, okay?"

  "Yeah" she grinned. As the night drew on, Freddie got the barbeque ready while setting out snacks as Mo, Mitch and Cogs grabbed a seat around the fire.

  “HEY! YOU TWO, COME HANG OUT BY THE FIRE!” Fred yelled to you and (Y/N) as the two of you stayed on the dock

  "I wanna go in the water!" she yelled

  "YEAH ME TOO!" you chuckled in return, seeing Freddie's distaste from where you stood before (Y/N) slipped by you and ran into the lake

  "HOLY SHIT IT'S COLD!" she screamed, her body already shivering from just a few inches of water crashing against the bare skin of her legs

  "What did you expect?" you scoffed, wading the water as you neared her, lowering your body so the water covered your chest

  "I don't know.." she hesitated, trying her best to maintain the composure of her voice before her shivers took over, "I just didn't expect it to be that cold..."

  "Well now you know" you smirked, catching her stare just as your body reached her space, letting your frame hover over hers as the two of you stood in the cold water; the waves splashing against your hips and trying their best to drag both of you into the current.

  "Right" she whispered, unable to tear her eyes from yours

  "Right" you returned, squatting down in front of her, your lips grazing her chest while your gaze stayed trained on her. You could feel her breathing build in her chest as your fingers traced her skin before you picked her up and she squealed

  "STOP!" she laughed as you threw her over your shoulder

  "What? I'm not doing anything!" you joked. She started to squirm in your grasp before eventually straightening her body which, luckily for you, meant that your face met her chest; you felt her hands rest gently on her shoulders as you shamelessly stared at her breasts before looking back up at her

  "Don't do it" she breathed

  "Do what?" you replied quietly

  "I know what you're thinking" she said and you smirked

  "No, no I don't think you do"

  "Don't do it Auston..." she repeated

  "You need to get used to the temperature," you replied, a grin growing on your face, "and the best way to do that is just to do it..."

  "You throw me in and I'll take you down with me" she threatened but you weren't going to listen. You stopped only for a second when you heard Freddie call to the two of you and you turned around to see him on the shore. You grinned before turning back, throwing (Y/N) in the water before feeling the tug on the back of your neck; both of you crashing into the water. When you finally came to the surface, you splashed water at her which she reciprocated before looking over at Freddie, "we should probably head in."

xx

Freddie's P.O.V

  You watched as the two of them held onto each other in the water, not able to discern their emotions from the distance you were at, but you didn’t like it. You called them in one more time before Auston tossed (Y/N) into the water and they began splashing water at each other. She looked back at you before wiping the water from her eyes and saying something to Auston, the two of them making their way back to shore.

  “Hey,” Auston said breathlessly as he walked past you

  “Finally had enough of the water huh?” you teased to which Auston just smirked, looking back at (Y/N) then back at you

  “Hi” (Y/N) said when she got close to you but your irritation from what you’d witnessed caused you to all but ignore her as you turned to walk back to the fire. The six of you sat around the fire, drinking, laughing and telling stories while you felt (Y/N)’s eyes on you, begging you to look at her without having to say the words

  “Well,” she sighed when you kept your eyes away from hers, “I’m exhausted from all that fun in the water. I’ll see you all in the morning” she laughed, Morgan and Andrew standing up to showcase their chivalry

  “Have a good sleep” Andrew smiled as (Y/N) made her way back inside. You weren’t sure how long you should wait to talk to her but you knew it couldn’t be too much longer

  “I’m gonna get some sleep as well” you said, finishing your drink as you stood up

  “Oh yeah, sure...” Cogs teased and you rolled your eyes at the tone

  “Goodnight. Please don’t destroy the deck” you said, making your way inside and turning down the hall toward (Y/N)’s room, letting yourself in

  “Hey!” she exclaimed, irritated that you didn’t knock, “what are you doing?”

  “I came to talk to you”

  “Oh really? You’ve sure done a great job of ignoring me all night. What do you have to say now?”

  “You can’t act like that,” you said under your breath, referring to how she was with Auston

  “Act like what?!” she argued, raising her voice as she stepped toward you

  “Like that!” you repeated, gesturing to the lake, trying your best to keep your voice low. “Throwing yourself all over Auston like that. Half naked and soaking wet no less”

  “Oh my god,” she scoffed, “you’re jealous”

  “Jealous?” you huffed at the suggestion

  “Yes. I have no idea why you would be but it sounds an awful lot like jealousy how you’re talking to me right now” she urged, anger covering her face

  “What if I was jealous?”

  “Why would you be jealous?”

  “BECAUSE I’M IN LOVE WITH YOU!”

  “What?” she whispered, stumbling back

  “I love you,” you said calmly, vulnerably, as you studied her expression

  “You don’t love me, you’re not in love with me” she argued, shaking her head in disbelief

  “I do!”

  “YOU DON’T!” she yelled, “YOU— I— ugh” she groaned

  “What?”

  “I don’t get you,” she sighed, “one second you say you don’t want a relationship and you want to be my ‘sugar daddy’ then the next you say you’re in love with me? Which is it?”

  “Both”

  “Both?” you could feel the disgust in her words but it almost made you laugh

  “Yeah, both,” you countered, “I didn’t set out to fall in love and get into a relationship, especially when I met you,” you noticed her mouth drop, realizing you had to backtrack. “I wanted to protect you from my life but I liked being around you. And the sex was amazing”

  “So all you wanted was sex”

  “Maybe that’s where it started,” you admitted, “but somewhere along the way I fell in love with you and I realized I would still be paying for everything either way but this way I’d get you all to myself”

  “Oh so now it’s about possession?” she growled and you rolled your eyes

  “I’m not trying to possess you,” you groaned, “I just wanna be with you because I love you. I have no idea why because you’re impossible to deal with and you test me every god damn second like I’m still in school but I can’t help it” you bit your bottom lip as you thought about tearing off her clothes, taking a step closer to where she stood. “I see you and you make everything... different. My heart races and I blush and I sweat and I just want to be around you. All the time. It���s infuriating. But I love you and I think I have since the beginning” she stood silently in front of you before you boxed her in with your arms, letting her eyes linger up your chest until they found yours, placing your hands on her hips to bring her even closer to you

  “Show me,” she said softly, watching your lips. You let your fingers slide up her body until they reached her neck, cupping her face as you kissed her softly. Her body moving closer to yours, forcing your feet to move backward until you felt the bed behind you, stopping only for a minute to pick her up

  “I love you” you repeated and, as if something possessed her, she bit her lip and pushed you onto the mattress

  “I want you to fuck me”

  “You’re n—”

  “Fuck. Me” she interrupted, moving across your body to straddle your lap. You honestly thought she’d say it back and it was throwing you off that she wasn’t. “What’s wrong?” she groaned when she finally realized that you weren’t exactly following through

  “I can’t do this” you sighed, pushing her off of you to walk across the room, dropping your head in your hand

  “What?” she scoffed

  “I...”

  “Should I go ask Auston? I bet he’d be more than happy to fuck me” she teased, smirking when she saw the glare on your face. You promptly made your way back to her, harshly grabbing her hips and turning her around where she stood; moving your hands up her body to clear her hair from her neck to bite at the sensitive skin between her neck and her shoulder. You felt her hips push back into yours and you grinned at her sudden neediness

  "Is this what you want?" you whispered

  "I told you. I want you to fuck me" she breathed, placing her hand on yours to guide it onto her breast and she leaned against your chest, continuing to back her ass against your growing erection. You pushed your hands into the waistband of her shorts and underwear, tearing them off her body, kissing up her legs and removing her shirt before forcing her to lean against the bed, keeping her back straight. “Freddie...” she whimpered when you stepped back, making sure not to touch her just yet

  “Shh,” you hushed before pushing your shorts off to expose your hardened cock. You ran your finger down her spine until you felt her shiver underneath your touch, holding yourself in your free hand before you began running the tip along her folds; letting her moan fill the room before you pushed yourself into her entrance. "Shhh," you repeated as her sounds started to get louder, "you don't want everyone to hear, do you?" she let out another moan before she nodded her head, looking at you over her shoulder and smirking as she watched you fuck her. She rocked back into you, sending vibrations through your body and encouraging you to dig your nails into her hips, fucking her harder. You moaned lowly as your pleasure began to increase, slapping her ass to give her the playful punishment you thought she deserved for teasing you earlier

  "Fuck" she shouted breathlessly, earning a growl from you as you tried to fuck her into silence. You weren't surprised when her panting filled the room and she brought her body up so she could lean against your chest. "Fuck" she repeated, quieter this time, as your fingers lingered to her core, pressing on her sensitive bud as your thrusts became stutters and grunts continuously left your lips. You came, messily, inside her but kept your fingers moving against her clit as you took yourself out of her, kneeling down in time to find your juices leaking down her leg; snaking your head between her legs to lick up the liquid teasingly. "You need to cum, don't you?" you baited, your finger poking inside and curving to find her g-spot while you gently swept the tip of your tongue across her clit

  "Fuck, yes," she panted, "faster baby. Make me cum" you smirked at her pleas. You quickened your ministrations until her legs shook and she was unable to stand, falling to her knees while a sigh exited her mouth. Her hand lazily rested on your chest as she attempted to compose herself and you could only chuckle

  "Oh we're not done yet"

  "What?" she gulped, eyebrows raising in surprise

  "Oh no no no no," you laughed, "you wanted me to fuck you. I'm gonna fuck you senseless. Until you can't speak without feeling me inside you. Until you see my face with every breath you take. Until you feel the heat from my body against yours just by walking across the room. Until you need to beg for mercy at any given second because I'm still making you cum."

  "T--" she hesitated, pushing herself up as best she could while still not being able to use her legs, "that sounds good to me"

  "You sure you can handle it?" you asked

  "From you?" she replied, raising her hand to stroke your cheek, "any day. All-day"

  "I do love you" you admitted once more, hoping she'd say it back but helping her up gently so you could continue to fuck her, as you promised you would

  "I love you, too" she confessed and you kissed her quickly, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed. It was at that moment, when you saw her smiling underneath you, that you didn't care if the guys heard the two of you. She was yours and you were hers. You had her and she had you. Nothing could ruin that.