#parsnip x oc

[honey-crypt]

slowburn elliott x farmer please please please please... (falls to my knees) strangers to mutuals to friends to lovers (explodes)

i only ask for angst to comfort and a lot of romantic tension go crazy w this if u feel like it

a/n: y'all... i present to you... my magnus opus... 3 days of work... maybe 50 or so hours dedicated to this... please... please enjoy

wc: 10.1k

features: slow burn (strap in), mentions of war, strangers to lovers, romance that will make you melt, minor spoilers for year 2 of sdv and sdv expanded, elliott cries a lot, imposter syndrome, elliott is a SAPPY SAP OF A MAN WHO LOVES YOU LOTS, i pull from my own sdv worldbuilding/elliott lorebuilding for this

summary: a box of cereal. the spirit eve's maze. a rowboat's maiden voyage. these are just a few moments that define your love story with elliott.

★ chapters in a story called life - an elliott x farmer slow burn piece ★

Chapter 1: First Encounters

A well-manicured hand reached out for the box of cereal at the same time as you, calloused knuckles brushing against your hand. In one swift motion, the hand plucked the last cereal off the shelf. You let out a surprised gasp and whipped your head towards the cereal thief, “Hey!” you exclaimed, ready to reprimand them but your words fell short at the sight of the individual in question. 

Long fiery red hair draped over their shoulders and emerald eyes bore into your soul, as the cereal thief adjusted their grip on the box, “I apologize,” their voice hummed out at a warm baritone pitch, “You seemed… to be struggling with getting the cereal box. I wanted to assist,” the man, at least you assumed them to be a man with their chiseled jawline and overall physique, handed the box of cereal over to you, “Apologies for any miscommunication, I simply wished to help,” his word choice was eloquent, unnecessarily eloquent. 

“Oh, uh,” you took the cereal box and dropped it in your shopping basket, “Thanks.”

“Of course,” the stranger flashed you their pearly whites, “Have a pleasant day,” he walked off to the next aisle in Pierre’s General Store. You looked back at your box of cereal then went about your merry way, finishing up your grocery shopping for that week. 

Chapter 2: Run-in at the Beach 

The local fisherman Willy ordered a bundle of parsnips from your farm and you were able to harvest them today, your first of many orders set for delivery. You tied up the sack of parsnips with a pretty red ribbon and dropped them in your bag, ready to make the trek through town to deliver your vegetables and produce. 

After running through town like a headless chicken and delivering orders to the likes of Pierre, Gus, and Jodi, you crossed over the bridge and onto the beach. Despite living in Pelican Town for almost a week, you never stepped foot on the beach until now. The ebb and flow of the waves greeted you, as you approached Willy on the nearby pier. The old fisher released his rod back in, no fish on the hook, when he saw you walking up, “Ahoy, (Y/N). I take it that yer got me order of parsnips?”

“Yes, sir!” you gave him a salute and pulled out the sack of parsnips before handing it over to Willy, “Hope they’re up to your standards.”

“If yer anything like yer dear old grandpa, I’m sure that these parsnips will be golden,” the fisherman reassured you with a belly laugh, “Here’s a few extra G for yer troubles. Go get yerself a nice drink at the saloon later,” he placed about 500G in your hand, “I best be gettin’ back to fishin’, you have a good day, alright?”

“Thanks, Willy, I’ll do my best,” you gave Willy a nod before exiting the pier. Stepping back on shore, you inhaled a fresh breath of sea air and stretched out your legs, sore from running around for so long. You were about to make your way back to town when you noticed a familiar redhead by a fire pit to your right. The redhead sat by the fire pit, a towel beneath him and his shoes set aside. The sea breeze ruffled his ponytail, as the man peered silently out into the ocean. 

I shouldn’t bother him, you reasoned with yourself, He seems busy. You turned your heel towards the cobblestone pathway, only to hear the redhead call out to you, “Oh! Hello, there!” Shit, okay, now I have to talk to him. You turned your attention back on the man on the shore, “Er, hello there.”

His eyes fell onto your delivery bag, “Ah!” he broke out into a smile, “The new farmer we’ve all been expecting and whose arrival has sparked many a conversation,” you made your way to his side and plopped down next to him, “How did you know that I’m the new farmer?”

“Your bag sports your farm’s name,” the man pointed to the embroidered letters on your grandpa’s old bag, clearly showcasing the name of the farm. Your face warmed up with mild embarrassment and you quickly fanned your cheeks, “Oh, yes… makes sense,” Yoba, I’m so- ugh! Silly? Yeah, I’m silly and trying not to make a fool of myself in front of such a… handsome? Yeah, he’s handsome, alright. Handsome man. Okay, please stop yapping-

“We briefly met at Pierre’s earlier this week but I never had the opportunity to introduce myself,” the well groomed man broke you out of your internal monologue and extended a hand to you, “I’m Elliott. I live by the little cabin on the beach,” the man- no, Elliott- gestured to the cabin behind the two of you, its exterior weathered from the elements, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You eyed his hand and grasped it, surprisingly rough to the touch. The two of you exchanged a handshake, as you introduced yourself to Elliott, “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you, too.”

Chapter 3: Writer’s Block

You stood outside Elliott’s cabin, clutching a bag of freshly grown potatoes in your hand. Another day, another round of deliveries; at least, you got to deliver to a friendly face. You knocked on the door, only for it to slowly creak open. Cautiously, you entered the cabin and called out to the redhead, “Hello? Elliott, are you home?”

The cabin was surprisingly under-decorated and somewhat shoddy, a lone bed in the far corner of the room with a piano beside it. In the corner closest to you, Elliott hunched over his desk, the sound of pen scrubbing echoing throughout the cabin’s old walls. You called out to Elliott once more, “Elliott?” he perked up at the sound of your voice, “Ah! (Y/N)!” he rose from his desk, “What a surprise to have you in my…” his voice trailed off, “…humble abode! What do I owe the pleasure of your visit to?”

“Just dropping off your order,” you set the bag of potatoes on the closest available space, “Whatcha doing?”

“Oh, the usual,” hummed Elliott, “I’m attempting to narrow down how to address this one scene in my novel.”

“You’re a writer?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to see if you can catch a glimpse of his work. Elliott hovered by his desk and brushed a few loose papers over his work, “Yes, yes I am. It’s a bit of a funny story, but I actually moved to Pelican Town to pursue my writing career.”

“Oh, really? How come?” you asked.

Elliott placed his hands on the desk and leaned on it for support, “I supposed a life of solitude would impose some… literary genius upon me, like the great Ernest Hemingway. Yet, I’m at a standstill—” he cleared his throat, “Well, in all honesty, I’ve been at a standstill for the past two or so weeks with this one scene and I’m afraid that I’m losing steam.”

You frowned, “Yikes, that really sucks,” you moved closer to the writing desk, “Maybe you need a fresh set of eyes? Like a new perspective.”

Elliott’s eyes twinkled at your suggestion, “A most excellent idea!” he hurriedly gathered up his notes and shoved them into your hands, “Alright, the scene I’m at an impasse with is when Clara confronts Horatio about his late lover. I’m not sure if I should go with a tame heart to heart or something along the lines of a miscommunication gone awry.”

You read through the passages, familiarizing yourself with Elliott’s work. He wrote in a style similar to the aforementioned Hemingway, but his vivid imagery and passionate dialogue left you with a sense of awe and a desire for more. You got to the scene Elliott was stuck on, thumbing between earlier scenes and scanning the pages. Finally, you spoke up and suggested to Elliott, “Given Clara’s kind demeanour and Horatio’s sensitivity, I would go with the heart to heart option.”

Elliott broke out into a grin, “Splendid! You’re absolutely right!” he grabbed the papers and set them back on the desk, “Many thanks for your assistance, (Y/N). I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course,” you flashed him a smile and a thumbs up, “Happy to help.”

Chapter 4: The Flower Dance

You stood by the assortment of refreshments and finger foods, nursing a glass of sparkling cider. Every few minutes, you would mindlessly adjust your flower brooch or take a sip from your glass. Laughter and chatter filled the air, as the residents of Pelican Town joined the day’s festivities. 

You scanned the crowd and found Elliott by the river, standing beside Leah and talking about something, Probably art. Not wanting to remain idle for another moment longer, you made a beeline towards the pair of redheads and greeted them nonchalantly, “Hey, Leah. Hey, Elliott.”

“Hi, (Y/N)!” the artist returned the greeting while Elliott waved at you, “Good day, (Y/N). Are you enjoying the festivities?”

“As much as I can without dancing,” you hummed, finishing off your glass. Elliott nodded, “You make a good point. This is the Flower Dance, there’s not much planned beyond dancing.”

“Speaking of dancing, are you two dancing with anyone?” you asked the pair of redheads.

“We’ll be dancing together like we did last year,” answered Elliott. For some reason, your chest tightened at his response, but you brushed it off as allergies. Elliott fixed his tie, “We best be on our way, Leah. The dance will be starting soon.”

“I’ll catch up with you in a sec!” replied Leah, placing a hand on your shoulder, “I wanna chat with (Y/N) for a bit.”

“Okay,” the writer smiled at the two of you, “It’s always a pleasure to see you, (Y/N), and Leah, I’ll be in the main area whenever you’re ready,” he walked off without another word, as you stared longingly at his fading figure. Leah nudged you in the side, “You should dance with him instead.”

“I should?” you blinked, “But you two already agreed on dancing with each other.”

“I don’t mind passing the torch to you,” the artist nudged you once more. Yet, you shook your head and answered, “I rather not. I’m not much of a dancer anyway.”

Leah puffed out her cheeks and exhaled before stating, “You two would make a cute couple.”

You eyed Elliott in the distance and mulled over Leah’s words, “You think so?” you found yourself smiling in unison with Elliott, as the writer engaged in light banter with Willy. 

“Yeah,” the artist nodded, “I think so.”

Chapter 5: Drinking Buddies

Friday nights at the Stardrop Saloon were always the most rambunctious, at least two thirds of Pelican Town packed inside. You entered the saloon, hungry for a meal after a long day’s work, and saw a familiar figure in a blue shirt and suspenders. Elliott turned his head and grinned at the sight of you, “(Y/N), my friend! Please, have a seat with me.”

You took a seat beside Elliott at the bar, “Hey El,” the writer’s grin grew in size at the nickname, “You enjoying your Friday evening?”

“Absolutely,” answered Elliott, “Well, I must admit that it has gotten better since you arrived. It’s always a joy to see you.”

Your face heated up at his words, but you brushed it off with a laugh, “You’re sweet.”

“Of course,” the writer responded. Elliott then waved Gus over, “Hello, Gus, my friend! May I have two beers?” to which the bartender nodded, “Two beers, coming right up,” and poured two pints of beer from the tap, “Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” the redhead slid over some G to pay for the beers, enough leftover to provide Gus and Emily with some solid tips. Elliott passed one of the beers to you, “For you.”

“Why, aren’t you generous?” you chuckled, happily accepting the beer. You clutched the pint tight in your hand and Elliott raised his up towards you, “I propose a toast,” the writer announced. You held yours up, “To what?” you asked. Elliott smiled, “To our friendship.”

Your heart skipped a beat and your expression nearly soured- you weren’t sure why, though- but nonetheless, you nodded in agreement, “To our friendship,” and clinked glasses with Elliott. 

As the night went on and after a few more beers, you and Elliott were completely hammered. You could hold your liquor, of course, but the sight of Elliott merrily dancing and humming a tune made you break out in laughter and let loose. He’s cute when he’s silly. 

Chapter 6: Dance of the Moonlight Jellies 

You returned to the pier for, what local scientist Demetrius referred to as, an ‘utmost special occasion’. The occasion in question? It happened to be the annual event where moonlight jellyfish would visit the pier. You had vague memories of experiencing the event when you were a little kid with your grandpa, you remembered the fond look he had when the jellyfish would pass by.

You approached the edge of the pier near Willy’s shop and noticed Elliott looking out into the sea with that same longing look you saw the first time you properly met the tall redhead. Gently, you tapped him on the shoulder, “Hi, Elliott.”

“Oh, hello, (Y/N),” his tone was much more… serious? No, it was somewhat sad. You frowned, “What’s wrong? Aren’t you excited for the jellies?”

“I am,” he responded, as the summer breeze ruffled his ponytail, “I’m excited to the point of grief,” your frown deepened and you questioned Elliott, “What do you mean?”

Elliott scooted over so you had more room to stand, you stood by him while he explained, “We pollute the world so much, (Y/N), especially here with Joja… I see Joja CDs and Colas washed up on shore all the time and I fear the worst,” his eyes glistened with pain, “I fear that we won’t see these magnificent creatures unless we take action and hold Joja accountable for their actions.”

You let out a low hum of agreement, it reminded you of your days at Joja Co. and the stories you heard from your coworkers about the higher ups bypassing environmental protections with some hush money. It was part of the reason why you left Joja, other than the fact that it was sucking the life out of you. The day you left Joja Co. was the day you freed yourself from the chains of society. Just like Grandpa wanted. 

“I’m sure we can,” you offered reassurance to Elliott, “I believe in us, I believe that we ultimately make the right decision.”

Elliott nodded, “Thank you, (Y/N),” he looked back at the ocean, “I hope so.”

You were about to retort when Lewis announced that the event was starting, turning your attention to the mayor. Lewis released the little boat towards the sea, you watched with bated breath for the jellyfish to arrive. Your hand brushed against Elliott’s, as the town witnessed the Moonlight Jellies appear. Elliott’s pinkly slowly reached out for yours, you timidly locked pinkies with the writer, as you enjoyed the sight of the beautiful jellies. 

Maybe, one day you’d have the courage to hold his hand. 

Chapter 7: Roadblocks 

Elliott was a no-show to your weekly outing to the Stardrop Saloon and it left you concerned. He was always so punctual and he always told you ahead of time if he couldn’t make it to an event. You worried that he was sick so you left the saloon and headed to the clinic. 

The overhead bell in the door chimed when you entered, signaling your arrival to Harvey. The town doctor gave you a wave, “Hello, (Y/N),” he greeted you, “How are you today? Are you feeling unwell? Injured?” 

“No, no! I’m okay!” you explained, “I was just wondering if you had any over-the-counter medicine. I think Elliott might be sick.”

“Oh!” the doctor let out a relieved sigh, “Well, I’m glad you’re well. Let me see what I got in stock,” he left the waiting room of the clinic and after a few moments, Harvey returned with a box of medicine, “I have this generic medicine in stock. It should help with most symptoms of illness.”

“Thanks, Dr. Harvey,” you handed him some G, to which Harvey gave you the medicine in exchange, “Have a good one.”

“You, too,” the doctor replied, as he put the G in the front desk’s cash register, “And remember to stay healthy! I’m here if you need anything.”

You flashed him a thumbs up and exited the clinic, heading off to Elliott’s cabin with a determined step in your stride. Upon arriving at the cabin, you knocked on the door, “Elliott?” you called out to your friend, “Elliott, it’s me. Are you alright?”

You heard shuffling and slowly, the door creaked open to reveal a dishevelled Elliott. His usual tan was replaced by a washed out pale, as if he hadn’t stepped outside his cabin in days. He sported heavy eye bags and an exhausted expression, “Hello, (Y/N)…” the writer rubbed his eyes, “What are you doing here at this hour?”

“This hour?” you blinked with bewilderment, “El, it’s 5pm. What time do you think it is?”

“Oh, dear,” he let out a weary chuckle, “I must have the times mixed up. I apologize, but I should go back to work. I’ll be free to chat another day,” the redhead proceeded to shut the door, but you stopped it with your foot, “Elliott,” your voice was strained with worry, “You missed our saloon hangout. You never miss an event without telling me,” you held up the medicine, “So I was worried that you got sick… I got you medicine.”

Elliott gawked at the sight of your worried expression and the box of medicine, “Oh, (Y/N), I apologize… I didn’t mean to worry you. I’m not sick or anything, I just have been so wrapped up in my work that I lost track of time.”

“Elliott,” you pushed the door open with your foot, desperate to reach out to your friend, “When’s the last time you got any sleep? Yoba, when’s the last time you went outside?”

Elliott’s freckled cheeks turned red at your questions, “I, er…” he stepped back and allowed you passage inside. The inside of the cabin was dimly lit, minus the light at Elliott’s writing desk. His trash can was overfilled with crumpled up papers, broken quills, and empty bottles of ink. You set the medicine by his nightstand and asked Elliott, “How long have you been writing?”

“I lost track of time,” he answered, taking a seat at his desk. Elliott took out a fresh quill and bottle of ink, dipping the quill into the ink and writing. Yet, the quill snapped and the man who prided himself on his elegance let out a stream of curses. He shoved the papers aside and laid his head on the desk, utterly defeated. You frowned deeply and placed your hand on Elliott’s back, rubbing it tenderly, “El… Talk to me. What’s been going on?”

A soft sniffle reached your ears, as Elliott lifted his head up and exposed his watery eyes to you, “(Y/N), it’s awful. I’m awful!” he turned his body towards you and hugged your waist, “I can’t write for- I can’t write for shit, (Y/N)!” his cursing caught you off guard, but you made no comment, as the writer continued to lament, “It’s been almost two years and I haven’t completed this damn book! I- I-” he buried his face into your shirt and sobbed, “I want to give up, (Y/N). I want to throw it all away.”

You held the back of Elliott’s head in your hand and stroked it, as the redhead cried his heart out. Yoba, how it broke your heart to see him in such… agony. You remained silent while he cried, wanting to give him time. Soon, the sobs subsided and Elliott pulled away from you, his cheeks stained with tears, “I- I apologize,” he looked flustered, “I shouldn’t have done that.”

“Hey,” you cupped his face in your hands and playfully squeezed his cheeks, “You’re my friend- Yoba, you’re one of my best friends. You’re allowed to lean on me for support, you’re allowed to cry in my presence,” you released your hold on his cheeks, “I’m here for you.”

Elliott sniffled and wiped away any remaining tears, “You truly are my muse,” he mumbled under his breath. Your chest tightened at his comment, “Huh?” you asked. Elliott’s eyes widened, not realizing that he made that comment aloud, “Oh, uhm- Apologies, it was nothing.”

“Oh,” you did your best to hide your disappointment. Maybe I misheard? “You need a break,” you changed the subject, “You can’t keep pushing yourself when you’re so low on steam,” you gave the writer a pat on the shoulder, “So how about you change your clothes and meet me outside, okay? We’re going to the saloon.”

Elliott nodded in confirmation, “That sounds like a marvelous idea. I’ll just be a moment,” he got up from his writing desk and walked off to his dresser. You took that as your cue to leave the cabin, wanting to give the redhead privacy to change. Although, I wouldn’t mind looking- you smacked your cheeks together, Hey! Don’t think that! You then proceeded to leave the cabin, not wanting to be consumed by thoughts of seeing your best friend naked.

Chapter 8: Spirit’s Eve

Jack-o’-lanterns and other spooky decor lined the pathway into the town square, as you entered Pelican Town for Spirit’s Eve. You dressed up as an old-timey sailor, a simple but classical costume. The town square was buzzing with chatter and the occasional creak of… skeleton bones? You peered out into the distance and sure enough, there were two skeletons in a cage. 

To your surprise, one of the onlookers happened to be Elliott, dressed up in a costume that resembled the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland. I didn’t realize he was into the spooky. You waltzed up to him and tapped him on the shoulder, “Hey, El. Enjoying the display?”

Elliott whipped his body around to face you, his face deathly pale, “Er, I don’t believe I am enjoying the display,” he leaned in and whispered in your ear, “I mean to alarm you, but I think those are real skeletons.”

You stifled back a snort, “Oh, yeah?” you eyed the skeletons, as they shuffled about the cage, “I think so, too.”

Elliott audibly gulped and appeared to be on the verge of fainting, “Oh, dear. I think I may need a drink. Care to join me?”

“I would be honored,” you replied. The two of you walked off to the assortment of fall-themed foods and drinks. Elliott grabbed himself a glass of pumpkin ale while you got some apple cider. He slammed the drink back in one or two gulps and exhaled in satisfaction, “That hits the spot,” he poured himself another pumpkin ale, “I needed something to take the edge off after seeing those… creatures,” he shivered. 

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a scaredy cat,” you hummed, taking a sip from your glass of apple cider. Elliott pouted, “It’s perfectly reasonable to be cautious around creatures of the undead,” he protested to you. In exchange, you let out a snort and stated, “It’s okay to be a scaredy cat.”

Elliott rolled his eyes and took another swing of his ale, “I’ll prove to you that I’m not a scaredy cat!” he proclaimed. You eyed him up with curiosity, “Oh, yeah? How so, tough guy?” his cheeks were flushed at your usage of tough guy and he responded, “By completing the maze! I hear that it’s especially spooky,” the redhead pointed to the maze in the distance. He was right, it did look especially spooky. 

“Wanna make this a bet?” you offered to Elliott. The writer’s eyes twinkled with excitement, “Depends on the bet, all I ask is that there’s no skinny dipping involved. You wouldn’t believe the amount of times I had to do that.”

Oh, I can imagine, “First one to finish the maze gets an IOU from the loser,” you proposed the bet to Elliott, “Other than skinny dipping,” you added on. Elliott flashed you his signature smile, “That sounds wonderful,” he finished his ale and discarded the glass in the washing bin, “One, two, three, go!” the writer sprinted off, leaving you in the dust, “Hey!” you yelled, trying to finish your cider as quickly as you could so you could run after him. 

Soon, you found yourself in the dreaded maze, thick but neatly trimmed bushes towering before you. You passed by a few other townies in your quest to complete the maze, such as Harvey and Abigail. After confronting a few dead ends, you were positive that the area where you found Sam in had a way. The blond mentioned something off about the nearby bush, perhaps that was the key to beating Elliott.

Footsteps echoed throughout the maze, as the man in question showed up behind you, “It appears that we’re tied,” he stated, “Yet, there also appears to be another dead end.”

“I don’t think so,” you beckoned Elliott to follow you. You approached the bush near the left side of the maze and patted around the area. Your hand suddenly slipped through an opening in the bush and you grinned, “Found it!” you immediately ran through the opening, Elliott hot on your heels. You weaved and bobbed through the terrain, laughing up at a storm. 

However, you failed to notice a tree root on the path and tripped over it, barely twisting your body in time so you landed on your back and not your face. Elliott couldn’t stop himself in time and promptly fell on top of you, slamming the palms of his hands into the ground so he didn’t crush you under his weight. Time seemed to pause, as you and Elliott locked eyes with one another, so painfully close. Your eyes drifted down to his lips and you swore that he did the same. You were so close, you were so very close. 

“Are you okay?” Elliott asked, as he pushed himself off the ground and back onto his feet, much to your disappointment. You were so close, “I’m okay,” you answered. Elliott then extended a hand to you and pulled you up from the ground, you stumbled a bit but Elliott caught you in time before you could fall again. Yoba, he was so warm and gentle, it was as if you were hugging a teddy bear.

“Be careful,” he told you, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” your heart fluttered at his words, “O- Okay,” you stammered a bit, “I’ll try not to.”

“Let’s try to finish the maze,” the writer released you from the embrace. You nodded in agreement and the two of you resumed your journey through the maze in silence. Finally, after what felt like hours, you two arrived at the end of the maze, where a treasure chest laid before you. Elliott gestured to the chest, “You should have it. After all, you were the one who found the opening that got us here.”

“Are you sure?” you questioned the writer. He gave you a smile in confirmation, “I’m positive.”

You approached the treasure chest and opened it, pulling out the prize. It was a golden pumpkin! Oh how it shined so beautifully under the moonlight. You showed the golden pumpkin to Elliott, “Look here! Isn’t this neat?”

“Very neat!” he laughed, “What a wonderful prize,” the writer then pointed to a nearby mine cart, “I believe that might be our ticket out of here.”

You hopped into the mine cart and noticed there was enough room for you, “Wanna ride with me?” you asked. Elliott shook his head, “No, it’s alright. I’ll take it when it comes back.”

You did your best to hide your sadness at his rejection and responded, “Alrighty… I’ll see you later, then,” you activated the mine cart and rode back to the outside of the maze. You considered waiting for Elliott to come back, but ultimately decided against it. You needed to go home, you needed space… so you left.

After some time, Elliott returned to the outside of the maze, eager to see you. Yet, to his surprise, you were nowhere to be seen. He frowned upon the realization that you left early and went over to grab his bag so he could leave, as well. As Elliott left the festival, his bag’s zipper opened a bit, revealing a small bouquet of flowers nestled inside. 

Chapter 9: My Muse 

Things were tense between you and Elliott ever since the incident in the maze during Spirit’s Eve. Each time you would hang out or see one another, the air would be… off. Yet, neither of you would address it, much to the annoyance of Leah, who happened to know both sides of the story and was sworn to secrecy about the crushes. Poor Leah, oh how she just wanted to slam you two’s faces together so you could make up and make out. 

You knew that Leah was right, though; you had to confess sooner or later, but the idea of getting rejected by Elliott consumed any confidence you had about asking him out. Nonetheless, you bought the bouquet from Pierre’s, the traditional gift used to ask a person to be your partner in Stardew Valley. You kept the bouquet fresh with water and plant food, not wanting it to die out before you could give it to Elliott. 

You weren’t sure how this crush started nor how it flourished to the point where your mind was plagued with Elliott almost everyday. Does he feel the same or am I just a dumbass for wanting him to feel the same? That was the question on your mind since Spirit’s Eve. 

You left your farmhouse early one morning and found the flag up on your mailbox, indicating that you had mail. Setting your scythe aside, you headed over to the mail and opened it, collecting the letters inside. You thumbed through the letters, seeing one from Pierre and another from Jodi. However, you stopped when you saw a letter with all too fancy handwriting and a red wax seal on it, Elliott wrote me a letter? you carefully opened the envelope and read its contents.

Dearest (Y/N),

I’m delighted to announce that I finally finished my novel, Camelia Station! I would be the utmost grateful if you were to attend my book reading today, at 3pm in the library. If you can’t, I understand. You’re a busy person, after all. Nonetheless, I hope you can come.

— Elliott 

You grinned ear to ear at his use of ‘Dearest’, he wrote like a Victorian noble. Your eyes darted to the words underneath Elliott’s signatures, eyes wide as you read.

P.S. I have a surprise for you. 

A surprise? your mind ran through all the possibilities of what it could be, Could it be him confessing to me? you shook your head, Maybe not… but this is a good chance for me to, though. You looked down at your watch and set an alarm for a quarter to three, plenty of time to get from the farm to the library. With that all out of the way, you then went about your chores for the day. 

After hours of hard labor, your alarm went off. You ran into your farmhouse and wiped off any sweat or grime from your body, spraying yourself in body mist to conceal the smell. On your way out, you grabbed your bag and the bouquet, neatly tucking it inside the bag. 

By the time you arrived at the library, most of the town was inside, presumably for Elliott’s book reading. Yet, the man of the hour was nowhere to be seen. You scanned the room and found Leah near the front, so you slid up beside her, “Hey Leah,” you adjusted your grip on your bag, “Have you seen Elliott?”

“I did earlier,” she answered, “I think he went to the bathroom, but he’s been gone for a while.”

“Can you hold this for a second? I’ll go find him,” you passed your bag off to Leah and made your way to the bathroom. You entered the bathroom and found Elliott by the sink, gripping down on the porcelain. He was muttering something under his breath, you couldn’t make out the words, “El?” you touched his back and he nearly jumped out of his skin, “(Y/N)!” he exclaimed, “Oh, dear, you gave me a fright!”

“I knew you were a scaredy cat,” you jested. Elliott rolled his eyes, just like last time you brought up his tendency for fear. You moved next to Elliott and leaned against the sink, “Why are you hiding in the bathroom?” you asked. Elliott lowered his gaze and mumbled, “I… I’m scared.”

“It’s okay to be scared,” you rested your hand on his shoulder and squeezed it, “It’s your big day. I know you’re gonna do great. Everyone’s here to support you,” the redhead looked back at you, “Are you sure they’re not here to witness my demise?” You stifled back a laugh at his melodramatic question, “I promise that they’re not here to ‘witness your demise’ or anything of the sort.” 

“Promise?” he asked, his tone similar to that of a small child. You held up your pinky, “I promise,” and intertwined pinkies with Elliott. The redhead smiled weakly, but nonetheless, he was ready to perform. With you trailing behind him, Elliott entered the main area of the library and greeted everyone with his good old Elliott bravo, “Good afternoon, ladies, gentlemen, and folks! I’m ever so honored to have you all here to celebrate the release of my book, Camelia Station.”

As Elliott babbled about his journey with writing his novel, you returned to your spot with Leah and watched with a fond twinkle in your eye at your friend. Elliott took one last deep breath and announced to the crowd, “Before I read the first chapter, there’s something I need to say…” his eyes fell on you, “I wish to thank my muse… (Y/N),” your heart began to pound like a bass drum, “Without them, I wouldn’t have completed this book. Through every hardship and challenge I faced with this process, (Y/N) was my shining light. I dedicate Camelia Station to them, so please... give them a round of applause.”

The library erupted in applause, but it was white noise to you, as you stared at Elliott in awe. Your heartbeat pounded in your ears and your hand grew clammy, as you slowly melted from the writer’s sweetness. His muse… I’m his muse.

The applause slowly died down and Elliott seized the opportunity to begin the reading, “Chapter One… Your ticket, sir? Ticket collector Gozman extended a gloved hand towards the young commuter. Ah, yes. I have it right here, he replied, reaching into his coat pocket. Mortified, he discovered that the ticket was missing…”

You listened with a keen ear to Elliott’s reading, mesmerized by his storytelling. The way he switched voices for each character, the vibrato in his words, the detailed imagery transported into the world of Camelia Station. Elliott was talented, but most importantly, he was having fun with his book.

By the time Elliott finished the chapter, a few townsfolk left the library, most likely returning to their daily responsibilities. The remaining audience applauded the writer for his reading and Elliott took a bow, “Thank you, thank you! I will have signed copies for sale at the front. Once again, thank you for coming, everyone!”

You hovered by the front of the library, watching silently while some individuals like Emily and Gus bought a signed copy of Camelia Station from Elliott. Once the crowd dispersed, you approached Elliott and flashed him a cheeky grin, “See, I told you that there was nothing to worry about.”

“You were right,” the writer replied, “Most times, you are right,” you scoffed mockingly, “Most times?” to which Elliott gave you a little nudge, “You do think sea cucumbers are a lovely fish when in actuality, you’re very very very wrong.”

“C’mon! They’re just little guys!” you huffed, much to Elliott’s amusement. A comfortable silence then fell upon the two of you, as you stared into one another’s eyes. Elliott’s pupils were big as saucers, you were positive that yours were, too. 

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” you rested your hand against your bag, the bouquet so close to your person. With pink tinted cheeks, the redhead answered, “I meant every word.”

“Elliott…” your mouth grew dry with nerves.

“(Y/N)...” the writer whispered.

Time stopped, as you pulled the bouquet out of your bag. At the same time, Elliott pulled out an identical bouquet from his own bag. Neither of you moved or spoke, you could only stare at the opposing bouquet. Soon and in unison, you and Elliott bursted into laughter, loud enough to get a scolding look from Gunther. 

You two finished your laugh fest and smiled at one another, “Wow,” you let out a soft laugh, “We really had the same idea, huh?” the redhead nodded, “It seems so.”

“Guess that means we’re dating?”

“Well, I did have a sonnet for you to highlight your passion, beauty, and kindness, but yes, we are dating.”

Chapter 10: Feast of the Winter Star

The fall season went by in an instant and brought the snow and frigid temperatures of winter. You and Elliott had been dating for a while when the Feast of the Winter Star rolled around. 

To your surprise and joy, Lewis mailed you earlier in the season that Elliott was your secret gift receiver. Part of you wondered if Lewis did that on purpose, but given how he handled his relationship with Marnie (you unfortunately found them in a compromised position in the bushes by the bridge in town), you highly doubted it. 

Despite Camelia Station’s completion, Elliott was already on his next book, a mystery called The Blue Tower. You thought it to be fitting that you gifted him a glass dip pen; he was strict about his writing instruments and never used a laptop, despite its ease and functionality. Hopefully, this was a good compromise. In addition, Marnie’s poor ducks would no longer have to suffer with Elliott’s weekly trips to the ranch for duck feathers. I think those ducks might be afraid of Elliott now. 

The Feast of Winter brought families, friends, and lovers together in the beautifully decorated town square. The lamp posts were lined with tinsel and a thick evergreen tree stood in the center, decked out in various ornaments with a big shining star on the top. You searched the bustling square for Elliott and found him with Gus and Leah, enjoying a glass of cranberry wine.

“Surprise,” you hugged Elliott from behind and whispered in his ear. He yelped and almost dropped his wine, “Oh! (Y/N), my love! You scared me!”

“Told yah,” you cooed, “You are a scaredy cat.”

“I concede,” sighed Elliott, “I am a bit of a scaredy cat.”

“Good enough for me,” you released him from the hug and pecked him on the kiss. You then turned your attention to Leah and Gus, but they were too absorbed in conversation. Well, at least, Gus was, as he enthusiastically lectured Leah about his various techniques for cranberry sauce. Leah, on the other hand, appeared half-sleep, but managed to have perfectly timed head nods to fake engagement.

“By the way,” you perked up at Elliott’s voice, “I have something for you,” he handed you a somewhat heavy box, neatly wrapped in red paper and secured with a golden bow, “I’m your secret gift giver!”

“What a coincidence!” you giggled, as you held out your gift to Elliott, “I’m yours,” the two of you shared a laugh and Elliott mused, “Perhaps the mayor had a part in that.”

“I doubt it,” you responded, “He’s–” you felt Lewis stare daggers in your back, as if he could hear what you were about to say, “He doesn't seem like the type to meddle in romance or romantic relationships,” you looked down at your gift, “Why is this kinda… heavy?”

“Open it up, my dear, and you shall see,” stated Elliott.

“Only if we do it at the same,” you requested and Elliott nodded, “It’s a deal.”

Together, you and Elliott unwrapped your gifts, you more so ripped through yours while Elliott was meticulous with his unwrapping. Before you, there was a black box, you opened the box up and gasped at the item inside, “You didn’t!” you exclaimed, proudly showcasing the gift to the world, “You got me the Polaroid camera we saw at the antique shop in ZuZu City!”

“I did!” replied Elliott, “You looked so happy when you saw it and you mentioned how much you wanted to get back into photographing your life, so I had to get it,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Anything for my muse.”

“You’re sweet,” you chuckled, “Now, look at your gift!”

Elliott opened the thin, white box and nearly choked on his own saliva at the glass dip pen. He carefully removed the pen from the box, a beam of rainbow light shining from the glass, “Oh, (Y/N)... this is one of–” he cut himself short, “No, this is the most beautiful and thoughtful gift I have ever received,” he gave you another kiss on the forehead, “You spoil me, my dear.”

“You haven’t seen the best part yet, turn it around,” you informed Elliott. 

He turned the pen around and read the engraving, “It says…” he squinted, “The Spirit of the Valley,” he seemed a bit confused by the words and you elaborated to him, “Your writing and you, Elliott, are so deeply connected to this valley. You brought life with your writing to this valley. You brought life, joy, and peace to me. You are the spirit that’s ingrained in me and this valley.”

Elliott sniffled, tears pricking the corners of his gentle emerald eyes, “You, my muse, are intertwined with my very being. I would be utterly lacking in life’s blessings if you weren’t here,” he pulled you into a deep kiss, your hands finding their way through his long fiery hair.

“Uh, guys?” the sound of Leah’s voice interrupted the kiss, “Too much PDA.”

Chapter 11: The S.S. Granger

Spring flew by as fast as it came. You tended to your farm, interacted with those in Pelican Town, and partook in the festivities. Your first spring was one full of unknowns and uncertainties but now, you finally felt like you were part of the town and the valley. You got some good use of the camera Elliott gifted you during the Feast of the Winter Star, photographing every precious moment. Your favorite photo was the one Leah took of you and Elliott dancing at the Flower Dance. 

Soon, summer followed the peaceful spring weather with thunderstorms, heatwaves, and… green rain? Yeah, green rain happened. Only in Stardew Valley, huh? It took half of the season before nice sunny weather came and it happened to be the same day you received a somewhat cryptic letter from Elliott.

My darling,

I hope this letter finds you in good health. If you are available, please stop by the beach before noon today. I have something spectacular to show you. 

– Yours truly, Elliott 

Elliott didn’t know, but you cherished every letter he sent you, even though they were  somewhat cheesy. You went back inside your farmhouse and opened your dresser, grabbing the ornate box you kept Elliott’s letters in and placing it inside. Your eyes darted up at the wall clock, the time being around 11am or so. I need to get to the beach!

You made your way to the beach, exchanging greetings with the passing residents. When you stepped on the bridge, you noticed a man with a short crew cut and camo leaning against the bridge and admiring the river. You smiled at him, “Hi, Kent.”

The man in camo flinched at your greeting and you frowned. It was only last spring that Kent returned from the Gotoro-Ferngill War and he wasn’t adjusted yet, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” you apologized.

Kent shook his head, “It’s alright,” he ran a hand through his hair, “Just a reflex.”

“Gotcha,” you nodded. You eyed the river and asked Kent, “Enjoying the view?”

“I am,” he answered, “Water is… calming.”

“Agreed,” you hummed, “Well, I’m off to the beach, but I hope you have a nice day.”

“Thank you, (Y/N),” replied Kent, “I wish you the same,” you bid farewell to Kent and resumed your walk to the beach. 

You soon stepped foot on the beach, as a crisp summer breeze blew through the air. You sighed with relief at the cold sensation, it was a hot summer day. Feeling energized, you scanned the beach for Elliott and found him standing outside his cabin. He broke out into a grin when he saw you, “(Y/N)! My love, I’m so glad you’re here!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you laughed, embracing Elliott. The two of you held the other as tight as you could, “What’s the surprise?” you mumbled, voice muffled by your face in Elliott’s chest. Elliott released you from the hug and responded, “You’ll see,” he intertwined his hand with yours and led you to the pier. In the center of the pier, a rowboat bobbed against the waters. 

Elliott gestured to the boat, “I finally fixed up the old rowboat outside my cabin… with Willy’s help, of course. I’m not much of a handyman but I did give it a fresh coat of paint,” you examined the rowboat with intrigue, its mahogany coat glimmering under the sunlight. You noticed some cursive on the hull of the boat, “S.S. Granger?”

“Named after my high school English teacher, Mr. Granger,” the redhead explained, “He was the one who lit the spark of creativity and my passion for writing,” he smiled sadly at the boat, “We kept in touch after I graduated high school, but sadly, he passed away from cancer when I was finishing up my bachelors’ at East Ferngill University.”

“I’m sorry for your loss,” you gave Elliott’s arm a squeeze, a sign of support, “I’m sure he would be proud of the man you’ve become.”

“I hope so,” the writer sighed. Elliott shook off his melancholy and hopped onto the boat, extending a helping hand out to you, “Care to join me for its maiden voyage?”

“Of course,” you grasped Elliott’s hand and boarded the rowboat. You took a seat across from Elliott, who grabbed the oars and began rowing farther into the Gem Sea. The pier faded into the distance, as Elliott rowed the boat. By the time he stopped, you could only make out the silhouette of Stardew Valley, “Wow,” you were starstruck, “You can see the whole valley from here.”

“Beautiful view, isn’t it?” the writer shuffled around a bit in his seat, “Although, I prefer the beautiful view right before my eyes.”

“You’re cheesy,” you snorted. Elliott shrugged his shoulders, “I would rather be cheesy if it means bringing a smile to your face,” you playfully nudged his arm, “You’re gonna make me melt.”

“Oh, my dear, don’t do that just yet,” Elliott cleared his throat, “I have another surprise for you,” you tilted your head with wonder, “Oh? You do?”

“I do,” the writer stated. He then secured the oars in the boat and began to recite, "Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate… Rough winds do shake the darling buds of Spring…”

You leaned in closer, entranced by your boyfriend’s words, as he continued, “And summer’s lease hath too short a date… Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines… And often is his gold complexion dimm’d… And every fair from fair sometime declines…” 

The world around you two came to a standstill, “By chance or nature’s changing course untrimm’d… But thy eternal summer shall not fade… Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st… Nor shall death brag thou wander’st in his shade…”

You leaned closer and closer into Elliott’s space, you could inhale his sweet pomegranate perfume, or in his words, his eau de parfum, Elliott was always a stickler with his words. He stared into your eyes, your soul, as he finished the sonnet, “When in eternal lines to time thou grow’st… So long as men can breathe or eyes can see… So long lives this, and gives life to thee.”

“Ellie…” you whispered. The writer smiled, “For the first time in my lifetime, I was at a loss for words and it was the moment I laid eyes on you at Pierre’s. You took my breath away, my love. It was only fair to share it with you in the form of one, if not, the greatest love sonnets.”

“Ellie, what are you saying?” you watched, as Elliott pulled a small, velvet box from his pant pocket, “(Y/N),” his tone was deep with emotion, “My muse, my love, my darling, my dear. I have a thousand names for you but,” he pulled a velvet box from his pants pocket, “Will you do me the highest honor and allow ‘spouse’ be one of those names?” Elliott slowly opened the box and inside, there was a Mermaid Pendant.

You covered your mouth and muffled your scream of delight before calming down enough to answer, “Yes! Yes, Elliott, I will marry you!” you embraced the redhead, nearly tackling in the process. You kissed Elliott deeply, the flames of love and passion exploding like fireworks. In that very moment, everything in the world- no, everything in the universe- was simply perfect.

Chapter 11: Wedding Bells

You fidgeted with your Mermaid’s Pendant, as Marnie and Emily added the final touches to your wedding outfit. Once they finished your outfit, you promptly walked off from the mirror in your farmhouse and began to pace around the farmhouse, “Oh my Yoba, what if he changes his mind?” you spouted off your worries. 

“I highly doubt,” answered Leah, your person of honor, “If he dares to even think about leaving you at the altar, I’ll knock some sense into him,” she held up her fists, “And I mean knock some sense into him.”

“Thanks, Leah,” you sighed, relieved. Emily, a member of your wedding party, approached you with your bouquet, a small one made of summer spangles and sunflowers you grew on the farm, “You are gonna do great, (Y/N)!” she reassured you, “I’m manifesting it for you, you will do great.”

“Thanks, Emily,” you chuckled, “I can always count on your manifestations.”

“Are you ready, dear?” Marnie asked, “It’s almost time.”

“I’m as ready as I can be,” you answered. 

You exited the farmhouse with Emily, Leah, and Marnie; the four of you making way to the entrance of the beach near Cindersap Forest. You gripped the bouquet tightly, your chest just as tight with fear. Marnie stood beside you and held out her arm, you relaxed the hold on your bouquet and locked arms with Marnie.

“You’re such a gorgeous marrier,” the rancher told you, “I’m so honored to be the one who passes you off, I hope I do your parents’ duty proud.”

Your parents couldn’t attend the wedding, your father being overseas fighting in the Gotoro-Ferngill War and your mother on the other side of the Ferngill Republic with her responsibilities at the hospital she worked at. You responded to Marnie, “You’re like a mom to me, Marnie. It felt right that you would be the one to hand me off.”

“And you’re like one of my own, (Y/N),” she retorted. You stared out towards the beach, getting a small sneak peek at the wedding arch. It’s now or never. You gave Marnie a nod and she hollered to the trio of Sam, Sebastian, and Abigail by the entrance, “It’s time!”

“Alright!” Sam cheered, “Let’s rock!” the band launched into the wedding march and you began walking to the beach with your wedding party behind you. 

Before you, the entirety of Pelican Town sat in white fold out chairs on the beach, as you followed the row of fabric towards the wedding arch. Near the front of the crowd, you spotted two familiar figures in a suit and blue dress, your parents. When you passed them, you whispered to them, “You came.”

“We did!” your mom smiled at you, “It took some phone calls, but we didn’t want to miss our angel baby’s wedding,” your dad nodded in agreement, “I can handle Gotoro grunts on the front line, but the thought of missing my only child’s wedding? That’s unacceptable. I’m sorry we couldn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay!” you replied, “It’s a great surprise!” you blew kisses at your parents and continued your walk to the wedding arch. Under the arch, Willy and Gus stood by Elliott as his wedding party. Your soon-to-be husband’s back faced you and once released to the altar by Marnie, you tapped Elliott on the back, “I’m here, honey.”

Elliott turned around and audibly gasped, “My darling! You- You-” tears suddenly formed in his eyes and rolled down his cheeks, “Oh, my sweet darling, you look absolutely radiant,” he leaned in to kiss you, only to have Mayor Lewis shove his hand in between you, “Mr. Lovebird! No kissing until I say so!” he proclaimed. Elliott pouted at the mayor’s interruption, but nonetheless, he pulled back. 

The two of you smiled widely at the other, your eyes shimmering with anticipation. Lewis stood behind you and he began the ceremony, “Can all attendees rise?”

The wedding guests rose from their seats and Lewis spoke to everyone, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the love of Elliott and (Y/N). My dear friends,” he smiled at you and Elliott, “This is a new chapter in your lives, from the moment I proclaim them to be spouses to the day you die.”

“That’s the plan,” you mused, earning a few chuckles. Mayor Lewis let out a laugh, “Splendid! Then we should get right into it!” he continued with his opening remarks, but you paid no attention to him, as you found yourself lost in Elliott’s eyes. 

“Now, the marriers will exchange vows,” you perked up at the mention of vows, watching silently as Elliott pulled out a piece of parchment and unfolded it, “(Y/N)... As I mentioned before during our boat ride, I was at a loss of words when I first laid eyes on you,” he recited his vows.

He let out a shaky breath, on the verge of crying again, “And today, I am again at a loss for words. There are no words in our language that can accurately describe your beauty, your strength, your resilience, your passion, your love. (Y/N), I thank Yoba and the forces of the universe that we are here at this moment,” the redhead hastily wiped his tears away, “You are my world, (Y/N). I love you.”

A collection of ‘aws’ and cheers erupted from the audience, as they clapped for Elliott’s vows. You sniffled a bit and blinked back your own tears, “Damn,” you let out a wobbly laugh, “Your vows blew mine out of the water, honey,” you passed your bouquet to Leah and grasped Elliott’s hands, “Elliott, the day I met… I was hella pissed off that you grabbed my cereal.”

The crowd laughed and you added on, “I thought you were a dick for that, but when you explained to me that you only wanted to help… that spark of unprompted kindness lit a flame in me. As I got to know you, I found myself falling deeper and deeper in love with you. From your passion to your mannerisms to your silliness to your determination… Elliott, I can’t picture my future without you. I can’t wait to make a beautiful life with you.”

Another round of applause came from the wedding attendees and Elliott grinned at you, his eyes full of unabashed love for you. Mayor Lewis gestured for the applause to simmer down and once there was silence, he announced, “With the vows now done… It’s my honor to, on this lovely summer day, unite Elliott and (Y/N) together as one,” you squeezed Elliott’s hands, eager to hear the ‘okay’ to kiss.

“As the mayor of Pelican Town and regional bearer of the matrimonial seal…” the mayor stated, as you took a deep breath, “I now pronounce you spouses! You may kiss!” you and Elliott wasted no time when given the ‘okay’ to kiss, as Elliott dipped you and kissed you tenderly on the kiss. Cheers and hollers of joy erupted once more from the wedding attendees in celebration of your new matrimony. 

Elliott pulled you back up and finished the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. He whispered softly to you, “You’re my spouse,” to which you smiled, “And you’re my spouse,” you planted a kiss on Elliott’s cheek, “It’s time for our new chapter, isn’t it?”

“You’re right about that, my dear,” he answered, “The first chapter in our story.”

A new chapter, indeed.

...

...

...

...

...

Epilogue: Remembrance

A redheaded woman in pantsuit stood in front of the orchard, fresh fruit hanging from the trees. Besides her, two small children held each of her hands. The woman heard the sound of footsteps, as a man in farmer overalls and similar red hair approached the orchard, his work boots crunching the autumn leaves. 

“Eleanor,” the farmer greeted the well-dressed woman, “Glad to see you here,” he supported his body against the hoe, “I didn’t think you would come.”

“I may be a busy woman, but I take offense that you doubt my attendance for this day, Elias,” Eleanor scoffed at Elias, the farmer. He shrugged his shoulders and instead commented, “You brought Kenny and Quinn with you?”

“Yes,” answered Eleanor, “I thought they deserved a chance to– Heyo!” a loud voice cut into the conversation, as another redhead appeared. They dressed in casual but neat attire, a flannel wrapped around their waist and their exposed arms displaying some old scars, “Sorry, I’m late! I got held up at my logging site.”

“Late as ever, Echo,” chuckled Elias. With a pout, Echo exclaimed, “Hey! Not my fault that I had to cut down a whole forest after last week’s wildfire!”

“Enough, you two,” Eleanor stated, “Do you have the supplies?” to which Echo and Elias confirmed that they did, “Splendid,” she squatted down to her children’s levels, “Kenny, Quinn… I know this might seem scary, but Mommy’s here to keep you safe, okay? You might not understand it now, but you deserve the chance to see them.”

“Okay, Mommy,” replied Kenny and Quinn. Eleanor squeezed their hands and with that, the group entered the orchard, going deeper and deeper until they made it to their destination. Two gravestones stood proudly in the center of the orchard, a few dead fruits and flowers by them. Echo pulled out a trash bag and collected the dead items while Eleanor and Elias set down fresh pomegranates and sunflowers. 

“Mommy, where are we?” asked Quinn.

“We’re at your…” Eleanor blinked back tears, “These are your grandparents, you were very little when they went to Yoba, but they loved you both so very much.”

Kenny stared out at the gravestones and squinted, “Mommy, what do they say?”

Eleanor read the gravestone engravings aloud, “The one on the left has ‘Elliott Cunnigham’ at the top and below it, it says ‘Beloved Writer, husband, and father.’ The one on the right has ‘(Y/N) Cunningham’ with the words ‘Beloved Town Hero, spouse, and parent’,” Eleanor looked up at Echo and Elias with tears in her eyes, “Can one of you do it?”

“I got it,” answered Elias. He approached Eleanor’s side and grabbed the final offering, setting it down between the graves, “We can go if you want.”

“I think that’s a good idea,” replied Echo. Eleanor nodded in agreement, “Let’s go to the Stardrop Saloon, I think Gus would be happy to see all of us together.”

“Sounds like a great plan,” chuckled Elias. 

With everyone in tow, the siblings and their children left the orchard, leaving the gravestones at peace for another year. The final offering laid still in the space between the burial sites. 

A single box of cereal.

[made-by-marlow]

The Pomegranate Tree [sdv Elliott x male oc] Part One: Hazel

ao3 version

Masterlist | Next

Hazel, for a long time, had dreamt of the city.

It was a stupid, naïve dream. But it was something about the thousands of people and thousands of opportunities with each individual. Thousands of places to go. The coffee shops, the museums, the libraries. The wanderlust that could be satisfied in the same big city. 

With no money or time, real travel was never an option. The city held countless places to go, all within a half hour hike.

He held onto that dream now. The moment it came true, he realized the expectations for living in the big city were unrealistic. Countless places to go, yet trapped in a shitty apartment with little free time.

What little time was spent outside of work (Joja Corporations. A stupid office job. The farthest he could go without a college degree) was spent tending to a small garden on the porch. As spring was coming, it was the perfect opportunity to raise cheap little parsnips he found seeds for at Joja Mart stores.

Along with this, little digital farms. Hours and hours poured into a Nintendo Switch taking care of small digital parsnips, beans, and flowers. Talking to silly little NPC's. Now, this was the dream. To live in a small, walkable town. To tend to a farm as big as you want it to be. That was the life.

Real life was sitting in an office chair pretending to work.

Hundreds of workers surrounded Hazel, each doing the same. Or at least, pretending to. Writing emails, making excel sheets, attending pointless meetings. It was the kind of thing his grandpa warned him about.

Grandpa.

The letter.

A frantic motion towards the drawer made those in the surrounding cubicles stop and stare. It didn't matter. This was the time.

If you're reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

This same thing happened to me, long ago. I'd lost sight of what mattered most in life... real connections with other people and nature.

So I dropped everything and moved to a place I truly belong.

It was about time for Hazel to do the same.

No two week notice. Hazel simply left.

★

What few trees the city had were planted in neat, evenly spaced, organized rows. The trees screamed with cicadas. The grass was painted green, smelling of weed killer. The grass and forest of Stardew Valley was different. Natural, tangled with weeds.

It seemed surreal to see trees so large and overpowering. Strong. Home to little woodpeckers feasting on the bark. Surviving despite the birds. The trees were spread randomly, proving the tree chose for this to be their home rather than man made foliage.

As naturally green grass met Hazel's feet, Hazel met Robin.

Robin looked exactly like Hazel imagined the bird Robin would look like as a human. She appeared to be in her mid to late 40's, small lines reflecting where she smiles the most. Ginger hair was pulled back into a fluffy ponytail, a rectangular wooden pencil sticking from it. The style appeared to be more for practically than looks. The theory was proven when Hazel noticed a tool belt.

"Hello, Farmer Hazel!" The ladder smiled at the greeting. It was the first time anyone had spoke like that to him in a long time. Genuine appreciation of one's company. Someone talking to him outside of work.

"We've heard a lot of good things about you. Mayor Lewis asked me to find you and show you the way to your new home." The land to be inherited. It seemed surreal to own anything other than a one bedroom apartment.

Trying to match pace keeping behind her, Hazel followed the older woman to a farm. Weeds grew everywhere, stone in the way of most of the farmland. There was a lot of work to be done to treat this land as a farm, but Hazel found beauty in it. Land nature decided to thrive without any human touch.

The place could really use some human touch.

"Here we are, Lavender Farm." It was ironic, really, that lavender was never grown here. The name was simply aesthetically pleasing. Hazel forgot to control the expression of his face. He came here to escape work. All of this clearing to be done was definitely work.

"What's the matter?" Hazel smiled when he remembered to. "Sure, it's overgrown. But there's good soil underneath that mess."

Hazel couldn't help but study the trees. Once again, randomly placed. The wood could be used, but a part of him wanted to leave some natural forest. Some sort of nature reserve.

Pulling him from his thoughts, the mayor exited the cabin that would soon be Hazel's home.

"Ah the new farmer!" A label Hazel wasn't used to. Lewis made his way to the boy's right, holding his hand out. "I'm Lewis, mayor of Pelican Town. Everyone has been asking about you."

That's an anxiety inducing thought. There's expectations. What did the people expect Hazel to be like? Charming, and hard working like his grandfather made him out to be? A grandparent's perception of their grandchild isn't always the most accurate. If anything, Hazel was more introverted than charming and hard working.

When Hazel had zoned back into the conversation, the two "proper" adults had finished their conversation with laughter. Something about the old cabin needing fixing.

"Anyway..." The mayor said coming down from the laughter. "You must be tired from the journey. You should get some rest." A bag was placed into Hazel's arms. A blanket, toothbrush. The bare minimum of essentials.

"Tomorrow, you should try to explore the town and introduce yourself. The townspeople would appreciate that."

With that, the mayor and town carpenter turned and made their way to their respective homes. Now, Hazel could do the same. He once again scanned the area.

On the front porch was a collection of tools. An ax for the wood, pickaxe for the stone, watering can for farming. Seeds. The same little seeds he used to grow on the porch towering ten feet above the ground. This, he could plant into the real dirt. Allow the roots to spread as far as they wanted, not just in a little garden box.

And with that, he got to work.

[cookierunconfessionblog]

Cookie Run Oc ideas for people who need them! (#3) Key Lime Pie, Chili Choco, Bagel, Choco Cake, Supangle, Beignet, Baklava, Beautyberry, Bearberry, Serviceberry, Dewberry, Canistel, Langsat, Marble Choco, Broccoli, Parsnip, White Pumpkin, Pepper X, Macadamia, Sunflower Seed, Black Walnut, Cashew, Thunderstorm, Shadow, Mastic, Geode, Pecan, Chocolate Habenero, Chocolate Lily, Lilly Pilly, Wilted Rose, Pavlova, Meatball, Hot Dog, Sriracha

ㅤ🪄🕸️🍀🕯️

[plasticfangtastic]

Carnivorous lamb ch 1

A Homelander x Male! oc fic

A/N: this is a prequel to a fic writen for @digitalbath2008 and my kinktober prompt, hope you like it- thx 4 giving me the inspo :) I could not control myself, i had to write the prequel/sequel to them ‘cuz I love writing this OC and he plays a minor role in my WIP so I don’t get to play with him often, his faceclaim its Nicolaj Coster-Waldau if that helps

Sypnopsis: A young Homelander finds absolution from all that would make him rotten.

tags: R18, NTR-ish, dubcon, age gap (Homelander is in his mid 20’s, OC’s in his 40s) older man, DILF, priest kink, moral degradation, slow burn.

Chapter One

Spring

The soft spring sun settled into the horizon covering it all in its runny yolk, the cool breeze made Father Amarello shiver slightly, tightening his cardigan as he ventured the gardens.

Expecting to find a curious hare munching on his tomatoes instead a much more curious sight caught his sight. Sitting in the rusted metal bench was a young man wearing the most peculiar gear. He had seen these costumed figures on the telly, and on his favorite brand of cereal, never had he ever seen one in person, they were for big city folks, they didn’t seem to ever grace middle of nowhere small towns much less the kind of town that was only known for its clean restrooms at a busy rest stop, most never noticed the small town even when they drove past it… so why was this Superhero in his gardens eyeing that curious hare as it munched on some parsnip leafs.

He raised his sight towards the older man who immediately put on a friendly smile.

“Afternoon.”

Nervously walking towards him, he rips a couple tomatoes fresh off the vine on his way towards him, he observes the blond man closely, to him he looks so young he might pass for a boy but he looks as if something had aged him, he chucked it to the pressure of the job, the closer he got the more he noticed the blue of his eyes almost as blue as his suit– he had seen this man before, it took him a minute to remember the name from the newspaper.

“You… You’re The Homelander, no?” He looks around– Is there anything I should be worried about?” 

His tone it's surprisingly calm as he approaches the young hero.

“Is there some trouble, perhaps?”

Homelander only shakes his head.

“Didn’t mean to frighten you– I was flying over and it seemed like a nice place to rest…” He stood up looking slightly embarrassed– didn’t mean to be a bother, sir.”

“That’s a relief… admittedly I was looking forward to seeing some action” he chuckled dryly– is alright, my son. Rest all you like I imagine flying can be quite exhausting.”

He looked at the older man catching a glimpse at his handsome face as the man smiled kindly, and the intense pale green of his eyes.

“Is not… flying… not for me anyways.” he spoke awkwardly observing the man as he filled up his arms with salad ingredients– hmm… your sermon… it… it was nice.”

Homelander expected to be received with the same fanaticism and awe as he had with so many others but this strange man seemed little impressed, opting not to leave to satiate his newly formed curiosity over the man.

“Thank you. Were you listening the whole time?”

He nodded, he had listened most of the service, he had flown over many churches listened to many services from afar, as part of his branding they wanted to foster this good christian boy image but he found them boring, the way they talked, the way they all clamor and lost their minds as the preachers got louder, the music always excessive but this had been simple, the passion behind it earnest... but what he had liked was in his voice… it was light, pleasant… like listening to flowers, he thought.

“Yes…”

“You should’ve come inside… No matter the creed all are welcome in this parish.”

“I’m an evangelical.”

“It’s never too late to seek the light.” He gives him a sordid smile– well enjoy the gardens, feel free to take some peaches or blackberries or anything… will not recommend the brussel sprouts… is for the rabbits.”

It had been odd to be ignored, the man retreated inside after a quick wave, he watched him as he wandered into the small house attached to the church, nothing more than a cabin– all contained into one single room with a bathroom awkwardly installed on the side, he considered taking something but he left soon after.

He would come back a few days later still thinking of the lack of reception he had gotten out of the priest, the man stared at him just as friendly as before, throwing the gardening gloves aside as he saw the young supe descend– he had to admit that was quite the sight.

“They do say I got the best peaches in town.”

Homelander almost fumbled his landing at that moment, the priest seemed to have not noticed as he leaned on his rake.

“You don’t seem impressed?”

“About what exactly?”

“Me.”

“Oh it’s quite fascinating that you can fly and I can’t but I've seen my fair share of miracles.” Homelander can’t help but to think his smile is smug even if it doesn’t look like anything– So how can I be of service?”

“I… I… wanted…”

“To join?” He looked up at the man wearing his dark gray clerical shirt and sullied jeans, he took a weird step forward towards Homelander– as I said all are welcomed– even Supes. Altho it’s a few days away from Sunday.”

“I wanted guidance, actually. I’ve been having a crisis… but I don’t… I don’t think the people at Cape’s for Christ or Samaritan’s embrace can help me…I… I don’t know where else to go.”

“I can’t blame you. The message is good but the deliverance leaves… a lot to wish for…” He cleans his hand on the back of his jeans before offering it to Homelander– Amarello. Father Dennis Amarello– and you?”

Homelander raised an eyebrow, vividly remembering being recognized on their last encounter.

“It’s Homelander your government name?”

“John…” he said nervously-- John Gillman."

Homelander instinctively took his hand catching the sudden grimace on the man’s face when he received a gloved response, he followed him inside to find a quaint and claustrophobic parish, it was nothing but two wide rows, a sweet balsamic perfume permeated in the air, just as woodsy as the old worn down pews.

“You don’t like ‘Capes for Christ’?” 

“I believe Supes are a gift from God. His way to protect us… I just don’t like how commercial it is… I generally don’t think any preacher, pastor or priest no matter the creed should live anything but humbly– which extends to his parish. Massive concert stages don’t fit my standards.”

“That’s a lot to say to a stranger.” He swallowed, feeling offended.

Father Amarello sat down on the front pews, urging the young man to take a seat.

“I only answer things honestly.”

“Rudely.”

“You got blood on your glove.” He lifted his hand to show the specks of dried blood at the bottom of his palm heel– please sit.”

Homelander flustered slightly, staring at his hand where he had missed it, his expression melted into something awry, his chest sinking as he stood there staring at the man who seemed completely unbothered.

“When I was a boy… my father murdered my mother… he shot me… and then… god send me one of his soldiers... a supe… her name was Agent Rogue… She killed my father and took me to a hospital– Blood doesn’t bother me at all. I understand that this must’ve come from your job.”

Homelander had nothing to say, before he knew it he sat beside him with his eyes firmly on the floor, he had a hard time believing the man could speak so softly, as he recounted something so horrific.

“I knew I wanted to do good after being rescued, but I had no powers or smarts… until I felt God calling for me. I realized that I could still help people just like that woman did for me, if I followed God and helped spread his message– people’s lives could also be rescued too by his grace. Our father just forgot to tell me to fix my personality.” His chuckle was short.

Homelander smiled slightly unsure of how to feel.

“So… tell me, son, how can I help you?"

His mouth opened on its own, his sight fixated on those pale green eyes.

“I… I don’t know… I think I’m bad at my job… I keep failing and no matter what I do… they praise me but I don’t think they mean it… as if they’re afraid of telling me that I'm doing wrong. I want to save people. I’m a hero. I just keep messing up” His voice cracks– nobody wants to help me.. they just expect me to know… but I keep asking… and I listen but… I still mess up… I thought God could help me… I don’t want to mess up anymore… I don’t want to cause Madelyn any more headaches.”

Father Amarello sat silently for a few seconds smacking his lips pensively as he stared at the stained window and the portraits of saint’s it held.

“You have more casualties than you wish for?”

“I should be catching the bad guys alive too… I just… humans are so frail.”

“You shouldn’t feel bad about killing those who decide to harm others… but it will pollute your soul… is a heavy burden you’ll carry for the rest of your life… All you can do is keep God in your heart and seek to right your wrongs… God blessed you with these powers, and you can use them for good” He turns to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder– your burdens are far greater than those of most men… so perhaps you only fixate on your failures, because you believe you shouldn’t be able to make them? Do you feel guilty? If so… good… feel guilty… feel like you are a monster… hate yourself and self-destruct but then look up and ask God what to do to atone.”

Homelander felt as if somebody finally told him something genuine.

“I don’t think that's good advice…” he says nervously– What if he doesn’t say anything.”

“He doesn’t actually talk back y’know… not with words… signs…” He looked around and took one of the old bibles from the bench– You can learn a lot from this… and you can learn a lot from talking to him but you will only really hear him… when you’re open to him, John.” 

He handed him the book.

“Maybe… next time when you save a life, think of that instead of the person who died… the good or the bad ones who died… just that one more person it's alive, and they get to see tomorrow… if that helps a little bit to ease your anxieties… then you can pray later.”

Homelander can help but chuckle as he hears the man speak.

“Shouldn’t I be begging for forgiveness?”

“When you die… God will let you know if it worked. You can do everything you can in your power to do good and you should– but ultimately it's out of your hands… I like to think that I’ve done okay… not enough to be condemned to hell… just enough to get a sneak peak of heaven.” He smiled awkwardly scratching his wrist for a second too long– Oh you should definitely do good tho, my son. Like I'm not telling you to start going on remorseless murder sprees like your name is Pol Pot! Just… be aware that we’ll never know if we did enough until it's time. So we just gotta keep trying and not because you want Heaven but ‘cuz it's the right thing to do anyways.”

He leaned back feeling slightly flustered, briefly ogling the young man as he leaned away from him getting lost in his own thoughts, catching a sudden crease on his cheek as he smiled softly, this had been the first time he had ever been so close to one of them, he thought. He expected them to look a lot less human, always so grand and incredible on the pages and the screen, he had grown up with the likes of Payback and other great supes during the ‘Golden Age’ of American heroes– so they never looked like people ‘til now.

The boy was a beautiful thing… so pretty like a girl, he mused the thought. His eyes fixated on the shorn undercut and his tousled blond hair so much brighter than his pale beige locks, at the way his shoulders fit the suit, he licked his lip as a knot buried itself on his throat.

“I must not be very convincing.” 

“Is good. Nobody has ever spoken to me like that… thank you.” he stood up after a long pause, turning to face the priest once more– You… You have a raccoon inside your confession box by the way”

“Its quite cute... I just don’t want to wake it up… or get rabies.”

Homelander almost offered to take the animal out, but the priest seemed to not care one bit.

He left feeling lighter than before, thinking that perhaps he was too rough on himself, that those around him weren’t being deceitful… he was a hero, he had these powers to do good and even if a dozen died, Father Amarello was right– one life was better than none. 

But it wasn’t easy.

With every added corpse on his back he found himself surrounded by spiritually rotten folks, nobody would aid him, nobody would advise him much less console him, just brush it off, just tell him everything was taken care of – each drop of blood had to be out of his conscience… even the voice in his head would tell him the same– that he had done nothing wrong… that at least one person lived.

He had done the right thing.

Right?

He had, no?

The sight burned into his cornea, those bloodied finger stumps reaching after him, the smell of burnt meat and gas, caught in his nose.

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

1) ShadowOrchid (Shadow Milk x Lily Orchid)

2) ElderRuby (Elder Faerie x Ruby Butterfly)

3) PearlCaviar (Oyster Pearl x Captain Caviar)

4) RoseVanilla (Rosemary x Pure Vanilla)

5) RoyalFlower (Royal Margarine x Parsnip

I love doing oc x canon ships :)

[insertmesoftly]

👀 Art from 2020 when I watched ManlyBadassHero's playthrough of Parsnip, the game. I had like a fever dream after it where Parsnip was a yandere and decided to draw it lmao. I never showed it cuz I was still too ashamed of self insert stuff but *slams it on the table* it here.

It's been a while and I didn't write any of this down so my memory is hazy but from what I can remember:

Dog moved into the neighborhood right next to Parsnip. They were sent to be a guard dog for the sheep to keep animals and other people from stealing them. They're pretty relaxed about it; they love hanging out in the fields with the sheep.

Parsnip was enthused at their arrival and went about making them a treat to welcome them to the neighborhood. Unfortunately (fortunately lmao) for Dog, Parsnip tripped and the treat fell before it could be handed over. That's ok, though, Dog appreciated the sentiment, and their chill personality is something Parsnip begins clinging to. The neighbors see this, and some warn Dog about Parsnip not... being the best person to befriend. They wave their concerns off, thinking everyone is in the wrong for ostracizing Parsnip. The neighbors stop trying easily.

Dog never gets annoyed at him; instead, they volunteer their time to help Parsnip, and ask to hang out when they have free time. A friendship blooms and Parsnip could not be happier to have someone understand them, finally.

A bit of time passes, and much like with what happened with LeRose, Parsnip starts to get a creepy crush on them. He HAS to always be next to Dog, even when working he'll either be sitting near them or be far away but overlooking the field with binoculars. If Dog is talking to someone, Parsnip needs to hear or he'll ask probing questions afterwards. He's terrified of Dog switching and treating him like everyone else does. He wants Dog to always be friends with him. Special friends.

[retschina]

Parsnips and parsley, Part 3

Arthur Shelby/OC

Part 1 you find here: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/171376739948/parsnips-and-parsley

Part 2: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/171414608998/parsnips-and-parsley-part-2

Five days after their dinner she walked home from Watery Lane, tired and exhausted. She stopped at the grocer’s shop and bought oat flakes, two bottles of milk, a loaf of bread and a very small piece of cheddar - dinner for next five to seven days. Ruby sighed and tried not to think of Billy Kimber, who’d send his thugs not later than Friday, to collect the next rate. Finally at home, she trudged upstairs and stopped in the middle of the staircase when she noticed Arthur Shelby in front of her door.

“There you are, Ruby,” he said. “I’m waiting for half an hour already.”

“I ... I was at the grocery shop.” She answered. “Do you need me at the office?”

He shook his head and took the few steps down the stairs to grab her bag, gentleman he was.

“No. But I need to talk to you. In private.”

“Oh. May I offer you a cup of tea?” She said, pulled the key out of her handbag and opened the door.

Arthur grabbed a big black leather bag from the floor and followed her into her flat. He placed both bags on the kitchen table and answered: “I’d love some tea, thank you.”

Ruby gave him a smile, lighted the stove and filled water in the kettle. His behaviour in the last few days had been totally normal, professional, no sign of attraction towards her.

“Oh, please, take a seat,” Ruby said and placed two cups on the table.

The atmosphere turned into something tense and uncomfortable, and she wondered if this was because Arthur watched her closely, his facial expression unreadable.

“Did I ... did I do something wrong?” She asked after serving the tea and taking a seat, not longer able to bear the silence and his stare.

“No.”

“Oh, good. So, what is it you wanted to talk about?”

Arthur cleared his throat, opened the leather bag and pulled a piece of paper out of the bag.

“About this.”

Reluctantly Ruby reached for the paper. “Ruby Madison (debtor: Bobby Whitman). Your payment of 942 Pounds has been received. Actual balance: 0 Pounds. Billy Kimber,” she read under her breath and looked up: “What ... what did you do? Did you pay Bobby’s debts?”

“Aye.” Arthur nodded and gave her a smile.

“So I owe you now.” Ruby answered after a moment of silence and folded her arms.

“Somehow.” Once more a nod, and this intense stare that made her jumpy. “Contrary to Billy Kimber I won’t charge you with interest rates.”

“That’s very generous, Mr. Shelby. What’s your payment schedule?” She asked and took a sip of tea.

“Bloody hell, Ruby, stop calling me Mr. Shelby.” Arthur said with a sigh and continued: “You’re gonna give me the half of what you’ve left at the end of the month, after eating good and enough, after buying new dresses, whatever shit you need. The other half you save. For later.”

“Can I have this offer in written form?”

“If you want. But there’s no need for this.”

“I’m sorry but I have to ask, if you ... if you ...”

“Aye?”

“Do you want ... another type of repayment?” She asked and looked down on her lap.

“No. I dinna pay Billy Kimber to make you my whore, Ruby. I did it because I wanna make your life a bit easier.” Arthur stood up and opened the leather bag he brought, placing beetroot, thyme, a big piece of cheddar, some ham, a packet of sugar, a bottle of whiskey and a box of chocolates on the table.

“I ... I don’t know what to say, Arthur, I’m ...,” Ruby stammered and started to cry.

With one step he was at her side, pulling her up in his arms. His hand petted over her back and his voice sounded strained and raspy when he started to speak: “Don’t cry. I dinna do all this shit to make you cry.”

“I ... know. I’m sorry. But ... I ...” Ruby sobbed helplessly.

He held her until there were no tears left, until she was silent and calm. It felt so good to be held, to smell him and feel his warmth. She enjoyed the gentle, comforting touches so much that she instantly felt ashamed again. This wasn’t right, it was indecent and condemnable, but it felt so good. It needed all her strength to break the contact.

“I need a drink.” He mumbled after she took a step back and blew her nose.

“Here,” she said, pointing to the whiskey he brought. “Help yourself, Arthur. I just ... need another moment.”

“Alright.” He answered and filled two glasses to the half, handing her one. “There you go.”

“I ... I’ve never had alcohol,” she whispered, looking down on the glass in her hand.

“Never?” He asked, his facial expression giving away his surprise.

“My parents were teetotaller. Tim never drank, too.”

“I see. He was a good man, Ruby.” Arthur nodded and took a sip of the whiskey. “Try it.”

Carefully she took a sip and started to cough right after swallowing. Arthur grinned and encouraged her to take another sip.

“Oh, my god!” She gasped, after trying again. “How can you drink it without batting an eye?”

“You’ll get used to it, Ruby.” Once more he grinned and took a seat again. “So, uhm, may I stay for dinner?”

“Yes, of course. That’s the least I can ... oh! I ... I didn’t even say thank you so far. God, I’m sorry, Arthur. Thank you a thousand times and ...”

“It’s alright. Don’t mention it. Tomorrow at the office we’ll write it down, if you want.”

“I do.”

“So, it’s a deal,” Arthur stated and she nodded.

��While cooking she started to feel the effects of the alcohol and was able to loosen a bit. She was even able to laugh and was taken aback by the fact that Arthur refused a second glass of whiskey for her.

“Why not?” She asked, and pouted like she never pouted since she had been about five years old.

“You’re not used to it. You’re gonna feel like shit tomorrow morning.”

“I don’t care about tomorrow morning. I have something to celebrate.” She smiled and tried to grab the bottle.

“No.” Arthur said. “Listen. If you drink another glass you’re gonna be ... needy. We’re gonna end in your bed and fuck like there’s no tomorrow, because I’m not able to resist you. And you’re not gonna be able to resist anymore, too. But there will be a tomorrow and I don’t want you to feel shame and remorse.”

Ruby nodded slowly and took a step towards him, entering his personal space. She caressed his cheek and looked into his eyes.

“Ruby ...,” he said under his breath. “What are you ...”

She closed his mouth with a kiss, sweet and slow, but enough to make him pull her closer, to kiss her back.

“I don’t know,” she whispered after ending the kiss. “I’m sorry. I ... I guess dinner’s ready.” She cleared her throat and pointed to the table: “Please.”

“You’ll never have to say sorry for kissing me,” Arthur answered. “I’d love to stay after dinner, but I guess I better go.”

Ruby nodded and turned around to the stove: “Will you come back tomorrow? For dinner?”

“Of course I will. How about green beans and mint?”

“Whatever you want, Arthur.” She said with a smile and served dinner.

“Feels good. Hearing these words and getting dinner served,” he mumbled and closed his eyes for a second.

Ruby nodded and her imagination came up with the picture of a dim bedroom. She watched Arthur’s slim and brawny form moving. Loving. Fucking. His sometimes so scary stare focused on her face, concentrated and stern.

She felt her blushing and tried to concentrate on the dinner. She didn’t know if it was the whiskey or something else that made her think of a naked Arthur Shelby penetrating her. The thought itself was shameful and she was thankful that Arthur stopped her from doing something stupid.

Part 4: https://retschina.tumblr.com/post/171653407143/parsnips-and-parsley-part-4

[depressed-chicken-man]

Cooped Up

Shane x OC

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

Summary:

After failing to start her dream in the city, the fashion designer turned farmer tries to cope with her new life in the last-ditch effort to make a happy home for herself. She has so many concerns for her new life. How much of her identity is stuck in the city? Will she even make a difference?

Even if she doesn’t think so, it’s undeniable that she will make a difference for a certain depressed coop keeper.

Chapter 5: Flower Dance

Chapter 5 on Ao3

“Honestly, I think I like this slight tan on you. You’re as stunning as always and the pink peonies were definitely the way to go. You look sickening.” His sing-song voice complimented as he weaved the fresh flowers into her caramel blonde hair. He dropped the braid and pulled it apart, spraying a generous amount of instant freeze hairspray, the smell mingled with the aroma of the caramel latte he brought her.

“Thanks, Brad,” she said, taking a deep gulp of the latte, savoring the flavor she had missed for so long. She hadn’t had good coffee like this since she arrived in the town and after over a month, it felt like heaven. It felt like home.

The past few weeks had gone by and her farm was still intact by some miracle. The parsnips she had planted were growing and with her excitement taking hold, she planted a lot more crops while the season was still in full swing. Her chicks, on the other hand, were something she had gotten more used to. To put it lightly, she could bear to feed them. Whenever she tried to pet them, they would chirp and bounce over to her. She was still uneasy and didn’t want to pick them up, but she found that ruffling the soft yellow down feathers wasn’t so bad.

She cringed to think of what would happen when they grow older. Larger claws and more anger, she guessed. For now, she was content and had even named a few. Stinky was her favorite chick, but Abe Lincoln was growing on her.

The bathroom door swung open and Haley bounced in, her already completed half up half down hair style was finished and her eyeshadow sparkled in the warm light of the bathroom mirror. She tapped her foot and looked at her phone.

“Are you finishing up? I wanna get there early to practice my dancing and get a few solo shots. You’ll practice with me, won’t you?” she asked, her voice carried her words swift. Jennifer sighed and looked to Brad, who tsked and held a mirror behind her. As usual, the style was perfect and looked picturesque. She admired Brad’s skill and she was stunned by how much he had improved since he insisted on doing her hair in highschool.

“Uh-huh,” Jen responded, admiring her braid and the placement of the pink blossoms. “I’ll definitely need to practice. Maybe we can get a picture under the cherry blossom tree?”

“That would be lovely. I’m no professional, but I can take the photo so you can get the whole group.” Brad offered, pulling the mirror up to his own face as he flicked at his own hair. The white-blonde style was always cut and crisp. Catching Brad looking messy was a rare sight and usually meant he was either way past his drinking limit or upset.

“That’s perfect.” Haley exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She had gotten glitter on her fingers from her dress and heels, the brilliant white made her look as if she were going to walk down the aisle.

Jennifer stood from the kitchen chair that they had to bring in and smoothed out the light blue ballroom style gown that Brad had brought for her. Truly, he was her savior most of the time when he wasn’t getting her into trouble.

Taking the cue, Haley, led both her and Brad from the restroom and began to gather her camera and such for the day. She and Brad waited and she inspected her whole look, smiling to herself.

“Oh Jen, you’re going to have to visit me every month. I can’t let you fall out of touch just because you have this farm. Besides, those stick on nails are no luxury for you. Don’t let this farming gig make a manicurist weep.” he said and bumped her chin up with his knuckle. “You’re better than that so take care of yourself okay?” he said with a smile, but she knew he was concerned.

This was one of the things she had tried not to let slip away from her, something that was as much a part of her as her skin was. She couldn’t let anything mess with her appearance or her style. Yes, she was going to pull weeds and look stunning doing it. She owed that to herself and her friends. It was what set her apart and she was determined to keep it up until she was too old to stand.

“Yes, stick on nails aren’t my style.”

His fingers twitched, desperately resisting the urge to pull the flask from his suit pocket. No, instead, he had a wet wipe in hand and was looking around in the sea of white dresses and blue pantsuits.

Shane didn’t know what he was doing dressed up and he swore he would never, ever come to this dance without the intention of grabbing a plate of free food and leaving immediately. He didn’t know how he was convinced to have a clean shave so early in the morning and fix his hair with gel that he hadn’t touched in years. He had no clue as to how one little girl could bat her eyes and tug at his leg and make him come out, dressed and polished, which he almost forgot how to do.

Yet, here he was.

And the little girl responsible was running around excitedly, covered in a chocolate cupcake that she was offered. Jas had not shut up about the Flower Dance in weeks and he half blamed Marnie for showing her an abundance of period dramas set in the victorian era. Tea parties, dances, and writing with a dip pen were on Jas’s mind and she wouldn’t let up. If all he could do was dress her up and bring her to a useless town dance, then he hoped she would be content with it. Hell, he hoped giving her a chicken feather as a makeshift quill pen would be enough but she had gotten upset with how bad it was at writing. Maybe this would make up for it.

With each second that he scanned the small but surprisingly dense crowd of dresses, he felt more and more inclined to pull that flask out. He wasn’t sure if it was for the best, but he soon spotted her standing next to a familiar blonde farmer.

Her blue, flowing dress almost brushed the grass and her hair was braided with some kind of pink flower. The petals had begun to fall from the flowers and were caught in her hair and gripped the back of her low cut dress.

She was as pretty as usual and perhaps now even more unapproachable. He didn’t want to say that he had taken a liking ot her, but she wasn’t as unbearable to be around as before. Every so often, she would come into the saloon, order a pizza, and then bring him half. The first few times, he had told her to get lost and to stop, but she never listened. She would simply ignore him, slide the plate to him, and tell him to have a good evening before she would leave. He had gotten to the point that he would no longer argue and just accepted that she would never learn to leave him alone.

Instead of telling her to get lost, he would mutter a thanks and she would be off. It didn’t matter, the result was the same. She would still give him pizza and she would still leave immediately afterward. He wondered if it was the thought of bothering him that had her leave promptly, but the smarter half of him knew that it was probably pity. She would give him pizza to “help him” as some kind of meaningless charity, and then when she felt better about her good deed of the day, she would leave. She didn’t want to talk to him and she didn’t want to stay.

Besides, there was no telling what her new buddies had shared about him. She probably knew better than to place hope in him at this point.

Mentally steeling himself, he trudged over to were Jas was happily talking to her, her sugar rush giving her a surge of friendliness. Her grin was punctuated with chocolate icing like dimples.

“You look just like a princess! I wanna look like you when I grow up!” Jas giggled and swayed from side to side, her hands clasped in front of her. He flower crown hung loosely and threatened to fall to the grass.

“Like me? I’m no princess. You’re the one with the crown, miss thing!” she said in mock shock, her hand placed humbly over her heart as if taken back by the child’s beauty.

“My uncle is going to dance with me! Are you dancing with anyone?” She asked, and Jennifer nodded.

“Your uncle? How nice!” She gave and pointed over to Haley, who was practicing her footwork a few feet away. “My friend there is going to show me how to dance. I’m not any good, but I’m sure you’re great!” she said and Jas beamed.

“Oh, I can show you, miss. I watched a docu-documemory about it!”Jas bragged and reached for Jennifer’s pristine, blue skirt, her chocolate covered fingers promising a stain. He didn’t want to be responsible for that argument.

“Woah there, pumpkin!” he interjected, reaching down in the knick of time to capture her hand. Jennifer jumped a bit in surprise, surely not expecting someone to swing in and grab the child she was talking to. He ignored her and wiped the chocolate from Jas’s fingers clumsily.

“Uncle Shane!” she whined and gave a looked of disgust when he leaned down to wipe her face with the scented wet wipe.

“Just a second, kiddo. Can’t be messing up the lady’s dress.” He explained and Jas gave a look of realization at her now clean hand, as if she hadn’t thought of the possibility of getting anything dirty. A small voice shouted out about something in the background and Jas’s eyes lit up as she looked around the clearing.

“Vincent is here! Please let me go, dear sir!” she pleaded, taking the language from her period dramas. He sighed and studied his clean up job. Good enough. He released his loose grip on her arm.

“Alright, but no more cupcakes. I don’t want you getting-” and she was already gone. He straightened up “-sick…” He stood in silence for a moment and only realized that Jennifer was still watching when she spoke up.

“What a cutie pie. Looks like you have your hands full.” She joked and then gestured at him. “I hardly recognized you, all cleaned up.” She admitted.

He shrugged and looked at the ground, pulling at his sleeve.

“Yeah… She wanted a dance partner for the dance and I couldn’t say no. She’s a handful but she’s a cute little squirt.” He said and paused. Why was he telling her that? Before the blonde could respond, a white haired, froo-froo looking guy in a ritzy tracksuit bounced up and pulled at her bare shoulder.

“Jen, picture time! Let’s go!” he sung and the dark blonde gave Shane a quick look.

“I’m sorry. I have to go. Have fun with the little one, uncle Shane!” she dismissed and was gone in a few seconds. He looked at his feet and mentally cursed himself. Why did he try to talk to her? It wasn’t as if he was going to be her friend and it certainly wasn’t like he wanted to hang around her.

No, the sooner she was gone, the better.

Shane was sure she knew that and that she would go back to the city where she belonged. She didn’t belong here and her farm was a joke. Besides, she didn’t even fit in and even now that was apparent. Her dress was blue when it was supposed to be white.

Closing his eyes, he turned back and looked around for Jas. She was with Vincent, who was holding up a cricket that he found in the grass. Jas wasn’t scared of the bug and leaned in the get a closer look, her eyes wide. A better time than ever to mess around with her.

“Scared of that little cricket?” he asked and she shook her head. Vincent gave Shane a smile. He was a well-behaved kid and he was glad that Jas had him to play with.

“Nope! A lady is never scared!” she proclaimed, mocking a british accent like in the dramas. Shane crouched down and pointed at the cricket.

“You’re not scared of this thing? For real?” he asked, and she once again shook her head, this time accompanied by crossed arms.

“You should be,” he began, making it up as he went, “These crickets are even more mean to little girls who aren’t afraid. They get ya when you don’t expect it.” Jas dropped her guard and gave a wary look at the cricket, Vincent had resorted to holding it farther from him.

“No they don’t. You’re just messing with me like last time, right?” she half asked, her disbelief waned. Shane stood back up and gave her a short laugh.

“Right, kiddo. Just messing with ya.”

She giggled in response and was gestured away by Vincent, who wanted to show her something. Shane looked over to the table that gleamed like a beacon to him. It was covered in casserole dishes and plates of sweets and finger foods.

Making himself comfortable, he made his way over to it and began to fix himself a plate, ignoring what he was certain was a glare from a passerby that he hadn’t bothered to look up at. Plate in hand, he looked over his shoulder into the mass of practicing dancers and onlookers. He wasn’t sure what had made him curious.

Practicing in the far corner, Haley and Jennifer held each other close, their dressing swaying with each step. They both adorned smiles and their lips moved with words that he couldn’t hear as Jennifer stumbled a bit.

His mood soured, and instead of being drawn to his plate, his hand quickly found the flask tucked away in his pocket.

CH1 CH2 CH3 CH4 CH5

[putterpen]

My Three Raditz x OC kids. I'll have to draw their mother soon.

From Left to Right:  Vaster(like Harvest), Sniparri(like Parsnip), and Bay(like the herb).

two-thirds Saiyan, one-third Rohu (A made up alien race based on dogs). Born to Radiz and Perilla

Vaster- The most intellectual and vocal of the group. Vaster is technically the first born but only by a few minutes as Bay is his twin sister. He is a bit of a know it all preferring to exercise his mind over his muscles, though his siblings, especially Bay, won't let him have a break. Vaster would rather think through a problem than fight through it and this has the unfortunate reaction of causing his siblings (and sometimes also Goten and Trunks) to pile onto him and make choices faster than he's comfortable. Thankfully his patience is saint-like...unless you make a jab at his hair color. Then problems will start.

Vaster has an irrational crush on Bulma, he loves her for her mind. He wants to become a top researcher at Capsule Corp. Vaster has a natural talent to run complex calculations in his head.

Bay- Bay is a quiet and sweet lover of nature. She'd much rather sleep outside under the stars than in a bed and often does just that. While Vaster can be uptight and over analytical, Bay is the opposite, very easy going but quick to action, as in her head she already has fairly concrete ideas of right and wrong. Because life in space after the death of Freiza was chaotic, and due to the semi-nomadic lifestyle of her parents, Bay was affected the most by the idea of nothing being permanent, so she keeps as few wordly possessions as possible, though she has intense love an affection for family, there are times when she prefers to be alone. When she grows up, Bay will become a drifter in the universe, coming and going as she pleases.

Sniparri- Youngest child of Raditz and Peril, he's affectionately known as the heel biter. Sniparri is a boundless ball of energy and mischief who doesn't mean any harm, though he isn't aware of his own strength. Being the youngest, Snips is the most affectionate child, because he was born on earth, and never experienced the issues of the universe at large. Typical of saiyans, Sniparri seems to have a healthy (ravenous) appetite, but he is helpful with food preparation and seems to take a big interest in cooking. Sniparri can often be seen hanging with Goten as his "sidekick" in those instances where Goten isn't being Trunk's sidekick, they get along rather well since Goten likes having someone who looks up to him for a change, and Sniparri thinks everyone within running distance is his best friend.

Patreon- patreon. com/ deejablue

Ko-fi- ko-fi. com/ deejablue

Deviantart- fav. me/ dds6u75

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

Oh these sound fun!

For my oc x canon ships

•Parsnip x Custard

•Honeycomb Tea x Financier

•Dahila x Light Cream

•Rosemary x Pure Vanilla

•Oyster Pearl x Captain Caviar

•Sugar Flower x Clotted Cream

•Bittersweet Mocha x Espresso

Pls send some so I can get out of writers block

three word prompts ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🐚 ꒱

— "come to bed."

— "i love you."

— "one chance. please."

— "are you hurt?!"

— "i missed you."

— "things have changed."

— "what's going on?"

— "are you okay?"

— "please don't cry."

— "you're my home."

— "you're the best."

— "i'm not okay."

— "you look amazing!"

— "you're my person."

— "please, i'm begging."

[kaytebeans]

The Seasons of Woods Chpt. 1

Stardew Valley fanfic

Ships: Harvey x Female Farmer

Angst, past abuse, OC has a secret, slow burn, friends to lovers, main character with depression.

Please let me know if you’d like to be tagged in the future.

Summary: Chloe Woods is running from a past life that's far darker than she lets on.  While it is only spring in Stardew Valley, Chloe is facing the winter of her life.  Chloe faces challenges of farm life during the year's seasons.  All the while, she meets new people and becomes close to the town's doctor. You don’t have to have played Stardew Valley to read, but you should man.  It’s a good game.

Welcome to Stardew

The smell of earth surrounded Chloe Woods and she could only partially listen in on Lewis and Robin’s conversation.  It would have been a peaceful moment if she couldn’t smell those damn wild onions. Her belly rumbled and she salivated at the aroma.  She would give anything for access to an all-you-can-eat buffet, instead, she chewed on her lip and planned her next meal.

Robin’s laughter snapped Chloe back to reality and she smiled half-heartedly at the woman.  If they could see where she used to call home, they wouldn’t be joking about the condition of the cabin.  A cabin that was Chloe’s salvation.

It was surreal gazing upon her grandfather’s old home.  Woods’ Farm was carved into ornate letters above the door’s frame.  The wooden porch still looked fairly sturdy, with firewood resting at the side of the cabin. Old, rotten, and useless probably.  Thankfully it was spring and she’d have plenty of time to worry about managing the fireplace. The cabin’s red door was in need of a fresh coat of paint, but Chloe hardly cared how pretty the door was as long as it could shut behind her and shield her from the rest of the world. 

She thanked the two before starting up the steps with her suitcase in hand.

“Oh- let me help ya there, Miss Chloe.”  Lewis chimed in.

Before Chloe could even think to protest, the bag was gently taken from her hands.  The old Mayor opened her door then nodded. Chloe supposed that meant, ‘ladies first.’  Not really a concept she’d ever been privy to in the city.

“Thank you, Lewis.”  Chloe smiled and raked dull, oily brown hair out of her face.  She chewed on the raw skin of her bottom lip and took in her surroundings.

“Pierre’s is open today- well every day except Wednesdays.  Ya might visit if you need anything before the rest of your stuff gets in.”  Lewis eyed the single bag and looked back at her with a friendly grin.

“That’d be good.  Thank you,” Chloe lied.  The bag was it. All of it.  The only belongings she had in the world.  That and whatever was inside of the old house.  She was certain that included critters if tiny droppings by the rusty fridge were to indicate anything.

Chloe gave another rigid smile as Lewis made his way to the exit.  When the door opened, there was that smell again, crashing into her and bringing with it another reminder of her stomach’s emptiness.  

Before Chloe could say ‘goodbye’, Lewis turned back to her, snapping his finger.  “Shoot, almost forgot.” He pulled a crumpled envelope from his pocket. “Here’s something to help get you started.  Parsnips. They’re pretty easy to grow from what I understand.”

Chloe’s brow furrowed for a moment before she realized he was handing her seeds, and she was, supposedly, a farmer.  “Oh- oh! Yes, uh- thank you. I appreciate it.” She extended her hand and took the seeds from him.

After saying their goodbyes, Chloe watched out the window as Lewis’ form got smaller and smaller.  When she was sure he wouldn’t return, she took a deep breath and sighed. Throwing the parsnip seeds on the kitchen counter, she hurried to the sink and turned on the water.  The faucet gurgled until brown water finally gushed into the sink and down the drain.

“Shit.”  Chloe hissed.  Should have known.

She left the water running while she searched the contents of her suitcase.  Chloe shuffled through her clothing until she found it, an envelope stuffed full of cash.  She stared hard at the money, hating herself for how she’d acquired it. It didn’t matter now though.  It was there. It was there and she was hungry. No, she was starving.

Chloe’s eyes wandered back to the running water.  It was clearer now. Not perfect, but it didn’t look like swamp water anymore at least.  Her tired sea green eyes turned back to the dirty money, much dirtier than the water running in her kitchen sink.  For a moment she felt a vice grip tighten, pinching her chest so hard she couldn’t breathe.

Suck it up, you dumbass.  

She shook her head, grabbed the money, and turned the water off all before going back outside again.  And there was that damned smell.

-

Joja Mart, at its best, was a place of convenience.  Food was affordable and it had about anything you could think to buy.  At its worst? Well, Chloe was a testament to Joja Mart at its worst.

Until the day before traveling to Stardew Valley, Chloe had been a hard-working employee.  She always at work on time, and always doing as she was told. In return, Joja Mart provided her barely enough money for shelter and food.  Emergencies were off the table, and living paycheck to paycheck wasn’t exactly living.

That’s why stepping into the damned store for food was like a slap in the face.  But she was sure there was no way she could afford anything from Pierre's. Local shops weren’t exactly ‘poor friendly’.  

Chloe maneuvered her buggy through the aisles, tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth and belly growling.  Cereal, bread, milk…  Her mental checklist was cut short when her cart crashed into something.  When she snapped her head forward she was mortified to see she’d run straight into a Joja Mart worker.  He gave her an irritated look, and she couldn’t say she blamed him.

“I’m so, so sorry.”  Chloe shrunk in on herself.

The worker, ‘Shane’ according to his name tag, simply huffed and turned back to his work stocking the shelf.  

The rest of her grocery shopping was done in haste.  

-

The walk back to her new home was the longest she’d ever made.  Her hunger was now more than just an annoying ache, but a sharp pain.  She longed for her stomach to be sufficiently filled, and let her hand rest on her belly.  The way she’d taken was supposedly a short-cut, but now she was beginning to wonder. It didn’t help that she was expending all of her energy walking up a steep hill.  

Her quiet walk came to a halt as she came face to face with an old man who looked as though he’d come from the wild.  The man was foraging berries, stuffing the ripened fruit into an old tattered Joja Mart bag, one of those cloth bags from when it was trendy to bring your own bag to the store.  Trendy, but not quite convenient enough for shoppers who soon abandoned the fad.

Chloe’s eyes darted away from him before she realized it was rude.  Slowly looking back, she nodded at the white haired man and made her way on up the hill.  His home finally came into view. A tent. Chloe sighed, at least he has berries.  

She grit her teeth and walked on, not daring to look back his way.  If she looked back, she’d give up her only food.

-

Finally, back in the security of her home, Chloe didn’t even wait to put up the food before opening up a package of hotdogs and scarfing a couple down.  After at least something was in her belly, she put away the rest of her food, rinsed off a dusty plate and pulled out a couple more hotdogs.  Chloe inspected the brown microwave, truly a blast from the past. She turned its knobs and held her breath. By some miracle, the ancient device worked. Chloe placed the hotdogs on grandpa’s apple print plate to heat up the rest of her meal.  

She turned back to the kitchen sink and let the water run yet again.  Still not crystal clear, but it would have to do. Her lips touched the stream of water and she gulped as hard as she could.  Chloe’s throat thanked her, finally feeling soothed. Her chapped lips, on the other hand, stung at first contact. She drank without a thought and only pulled up when she heard a dissonant buzzing that indicated her hotdogs were sufficiently nuked.  

Chloe stood up and liquid sloshed in her full belly.  She felt the rolling in her stomach and groaned. “I’m such an idiot.”  She felt as though she actually needed to hear the words, or else she might repeat such a mistake.   Not that it’d been her first mistake, and it certainly wouldn’t be her last.

Her first night at Woods’ Farm wasn’t a red letter one, but she was full, and she was warm, and she had a door.  It was enough.

[plaidstiel-wormstache]

Winter Wonderland

This is for my Christmas Challenge. This one was requested by @captainemwinchester with the song Walking In A Winter Wonderland and Dean.

AN: This is a little neither here nor there. I had a flood of ideas, and bits of them all came through, but nothing really vivid stuck. I do apologise. I did try and stick to certain bits and pieces of this song. Word Count: 1107 Characters: Dean x Reader, OC Lollie (daughter), Sam

“Lollie, wake up.” Dean hushed, propped up on one elbow, watching over his two girls, while his other hand was splayed over his daughters chest, shaking her gently. His fingers almost spanned her ribcage, in that moment she looked so tiny and precious. Her eyes peaked open and her little fists grabbed at the sheets to help her climb towards him and lie over his chest. “Know what day it is?” He asked, sitting up in the bed and positioning her in his lap. “Kiss-mass?” She asked, giggling when Dean dove for her stomach and made sloppy kissing noises against it.

“No, Daddy!” She pushed his face away, holding his cheeks between her small palms. “Oh! Christmas!” Dean moved his lips dramatically, smiling when she copied him. “Yeah, with Sandy?” “Santa comes tonight, baby. It’s Christmas Eve.” “No peasants?” She asked, trying to make him nod his face with her hands that were still on his cheeks. “Maybe, but we gotta wake Mommy first.” Dean whispered, nodding at YN who was the only person who valued a sleep-in more than Dean. “Mommy!” Lollie roared, leaping from her father’s lap to her mother’s side. YN, with a well practised move, she hooked an arm around her daughter and pulled her into her side, rolling over and covering most of Lollie with her own body. “Mommy monstah!” The little girl squealed, trying to push YN off her. “Shh, precious, or I’ll eat you.” YN warned, pulling her daughter further into her arms.

“Hunky Sammy!” Lollie shrieked from her room where YN was trying to put a top on her. The little girl escaped her mother’s clutches and ran down the hall towards the front door. “Who is this naked gremlin?” Sam laughed as Lollie ran into his arms and he lifted her high into the air. “Sam? You got that rascal?” YN called through the house to him. “This thing?” Sam called back, having locked Lollie under his arm like a shopping bag. “Hey Sam,” YN greeted, kissing his cheek before taking her daughter back from him. “Dean’s in the kitchen.” “Hey,” Sam greeted his brother in the kitchen, making a beeline for the coffee. “You ready for today?” Dean asked from doing the washing up at the sink. “After this,” Sam said, raising his mug full of freshly brewed coffee, “Sure am!”

Lollie was in awe as they walked through the snow arch to begin their day at Winter Wonderland. “Look at the Sleigh’s, sweetheart.” Dean bounced her on his hip, walking ahead of YN and Sam, taking her to pat the horses. “Any cases?” YN asked Sam as they walked among the thin crowd. “How did I know you were gonna be the first to ask?” Sam chuckled, scratching at his head through his beanie. “Of course I was, look at that.” YN nodded towards Dean and Lollie, broad smiles stretching their faces as they flicked the bells on the sleigh. “So?” “Nothing too crazy. If it was, I woulda called.” “Uhuh, just like you told me about the shifters?” “Wha-- how?” Sam asked, his eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. “Come on, Sam, I gave up the life, not the friends.” I sent him a look I thought I’d only use on Lollie. “Okay, so I should’ve-- I’m sorry, YN. I just didn’t think you’d wanna be near a shifter. If things--” I opened my mouth but Sam continued on, knowing the exact argument I’d try, “If things didn’t go well, I didn’t think you’d want a shifter having your body, even your mind in its repertoire.” Sam pulled me under his arm as he saw the thought sink in.

“Lollie, you wanna build a snowman?” Sam asked, waddling along next to her as she insisted on walking and holding her Uncle’s hand. “Parsnip’s Brown.” She said excitedly, looking to YN to see that she got it right. “Parson Brown, sweetie.” YN corrected. “What?” Sam asked, looking between his brother and friend. “They’ve been listening to Walking in a Winter Wonderland on repeat.” Dean announced, not even trying to hold back the eyeroll. “Of course,” Sam said with a smile, crouching down to Lollie’s height, which was a comical sight to see a man of well over six foot trying to make himself the height of a four year old. “Shall we make Parson Brown?” “A clown!” Lollie giggled when Sam physically recoiled.

“Well, this one’s done for the day.” YN announced, handing Lollie over to Dean. “It was fun, thanks for having me along.” Sam said as they reached the parking lot. “Of course. You’re coming back for Christmas, yeah?” Dean asked his brother, leaning back out of the car he was currently buckling Lollie into. “Yeah, umm, I got something I gotta take care of but, yeah, I’ll be there before she wakes up.” “What’s the something?” YN asked, her ears almost visibly pricked up. “Something that doesn’t concern you.” Dean answered, closing the car door quietly and reaching for YN. “But-” “But nothing. If I can do it, so can you.” He chastised, steering her towards the door he was now opening for her. “See you tomorrow.” Dean said to Sam. Sam waved, watching them climb into the car, a hushed argument beginning between the two.

“I was thinking,” YN said, coming back into the living room after putting Lollie to bed. The christmas tree in the corner twinkled from the lights on the tinsel. The fire crackled and the flames licked at the chimney well. YN ran her fingers along Dean’s back as he placed the last present to be wrapped, under the tree. “You were thinking.” Dean pressed, leaning back against the couch, taking YN’s hand in his, kissing the back of it. “Should we have another one?” YN asked, glancing back towards Lollie’s room. Dean didn’t follow her gaze, instead he focused on her. Her YEC eyes that gleamed in the light of the fire and tree, the faint freckles, the smooth skin over her jaw, the light lines next to her eyes. He was so in love with this woman. He’d given up hunting as soon as she’d said she was pregnant. But he could see she was restless. And in hopes of helping her settle a little more, he let go of her hand and reached under the tree and picked out a small box. “A present without Lollie?” YN asked, a faint smile and cocked eyebrow was waiting for him when he turned back. Instead of replying with words, Dean pressed the box into her hand and watched as she ripped away the wrapping. “Dean.” YN breathed as she opened the box to reveal a dainty ring. It was gold, thin and had one small diamond in it. “I was thinking… bout time we got married.”

If you liked it reblog, comment, let me know how you feel! Thanks for reading!

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

Cookie Run OC x Canon Ships:

•Parsnip Cookie x Custard Cookie

•Oyster Pearl Cookie x Captain Caviar Cookie

•Dahila Cookie x Light Cream Cookie

•Honeycomb Tea Cookie x Financier Cookie

•Coffee Choco Cookie x Dark Cacao Cookie

• Sakura Eclair Cookie x Clotted Cream Cookie

•Moonflower Cookie x White Lily Cookie

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

So made my oc x canon kids on Gacha and I’m happy with the results

Strawberry Cream Cookie (Parsnip x Custard fan kid)

Blue Seal Cookie (Captain Caviar x Oyster Pearl fan kid)

Kashmir Rose Cookie (Dahila x Light Cream kid)

*Reason why Kashmir Rose hair is red, it’s from Dahila’s side of the family since his dad had red hair*

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

Can we have a list of your oc x canon ships?

Of course! :)

1) Shadow Milk Cookie x Lily Orchid Cookie

2) Shadow Milk Cookie x Ivory Slik Cookie

3) Ananas Dragon Cookie x Sheep Cookie

4) Longan Dragon Cookie x Moonflower Cookie

5) Elder Faerie Cookie x Pure Sunlight Cookie

6) Royal Margarine Cookie x Parsnip Cookie

7) Captain Caviar Cookie x Oyster Pearl Cookie

[pure-vanilla-lilies]

What are your OC x Canons again? You have so many ocs (THATS NOT AN INSULT BTW/gen)

1) Shadow Milk x Lily Orchid

2) Ananas Dragon x Sheep

3) Shadow Milk x Ivory Silk

4) Longan Dragon x Moonflower

5) Royal Margarine x Parsnip