#farmers protest end

[runalongprincevaliant]

More updates 2/26/24

[liberty1776]

The FARMERS PROTESTS are INTENSIFYING

Support the Farmers! In USA lets all unite aginst Biden and the rich!

[aashiqvi]

Srk best use his fucking income from jawan to fund farmers and hospitals across the country 🤗

[clairenatural]

Dean doesn't like the word "boyfriend." He decides this the second time Cas says it–the first time it was new, shiny, exciting. The second time, he fights the urge to cringe.

It's not the "boy" part. It's not. It would have been, for a long time, but he's dug all that shit up and unpacked all the suitcases. They hold hands in public. They kiss goodbye in front of his coworkers at the garage.

It's just–not enough. Not nearly. Jack comes home from hanging out with his friends and fills Dean on the gossip and his boyfriend and her girlfriend and–that's not them. "Boyfriend" feels like a cheap mockery. Like how demons used to tease.

He's heard "partner." He's heard it from Sam, to Eileen, but he doesn't know how he can stomach it. He's said that word too many times. I'm Agent Tyler and this is my partner, Agent Perry. This is my partner, Agent Page. My partner, Agent Stills. All lies. Sam says he likes it, that he's making it mean something real. Besides, Eileen loves it.

Good for them, Dean thinks. It makes his skin crawl.

So he sticks with “boyfriend” and he shrugs off the funny urge to protest every time Cas says it. It makes him happy, and honestly, it’s not like he has an alternative.

It’s a Sunday when he realizes that somehow, Cas does. They’re at the farmer’s market, like Cas is every weekend, but Dean had picked up weekend shifts and missed the past few. Cas is excited the whole way there, telling Dean about how he’d manage to befriend the local honey vendor in his absence, how she’d invited him to a beginner’s apiarist group she helps run. They beeline (heh) to the honey booth as soon as they get there, and the woman--Judith? Janice?--smiles up at them both, hands Cas a jar of honey like she’d been expecting him, and says “Oh, this must be the husband! I’ve heard so much about you.”

Dean stares at Cas. Cas stares at the honey. Judith/Janice stares at both of them, smile fading as the silence goes on a beat too long. 

Dean clears his throat. “Uh, yeah. The husband, that’s me! Ha ha.” Beside him, Cas relaxes, just barely. In front of him, the woman breathes an audible sigh of relief. “Sorry,” Dean shifts. “Just didn’t, um. Realize I was such a hot topic.” 

The smile he gets is almost sympathetic. “Oh, only good things. Here,” she hands him a business card. “You should also come out to our meeting on Wednesday. Lots of people bring their partners.” She leans in, almost conspiratorial. “Beekeeping can be wonderful for couples.”

It’s at this point that Cas clears his throat and finally looks up from the honey in his hand, evidently giving up hope on escaping this conversation. “Thank you, Janet.” (oh. Janet.) “Dean works late on Wednesdays, but I’m very excited to see you all.” He’s pulling out money as he says this, apparently deciding to just go ahead and end the entire interaction. He hands her the bills, grabs Dean’s hand, and is already moving away from the booth by the time Janet calls “See you Wednesday!” after them.

Cas drags him all the way back to the car without stopping for tomatoes, or Sam's carrots, or the free-range eggs that are way too expensive but Cas buys anyway because you can taste when the hen is well cared-for, Dean (whatever that means). They slide into the car, still not talking, and sit in silence for several long seconds. Dean stares at Cas, who stares out the windshield at the parking lot.

"I can explain," Cas speaks, finally, right as Dean was about to open his mouth and say anything to break the silence.

Dean pauses. Can you? Cause I feel like I missed a few chapters, he thinks.

"I don't work late on Wednesdays," he says instead.

"Oh." Now it's Cas staring at Dean, and Dean staring out at the asphalt.

He turns the keys. He drives them home.

Later, making dinner, Dean rolls the word around in his head. Husband. He's making his husband pasta (It's missing the tomatoes. He's made more with less).

Husband doesn't feel like a costume, like an ill-fitting suit and scratchy tie. It doesn't feel like high school gossip, or a monster trying to hit him where it hurts. It settles in warm in his chest.

It's just the two of them that night, and they're eating in the comfortable silence of the bunker until Dean clears his throat and brings it up. "Why does Janet at the farmer's market think we're married?"

Cas pauses, fork of pasta halfway to his mouth. He puts the fork down and takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"I'm not mad," Dean hurries to clarify. "It's just that there's usually, uh. Steps, you know. Like a whole....thing."

"I'm aware." Cas sighs. "She assumed, seeing us around - the first time I spoke to her without you, she asked where my husband was. And I..."

"You didn't correct her?"

"...No. I, um." Cas is looking down at his plate again. He picks up the fork, still half-full of pasta, then puts it back down again. "I didn't want to?" He says the end of the sentence like a question but looks back up at Dean and squints just a bit, and Dean knows he's watching for a reaction.

"Uh huh."

"It felt trivial."

"To tell her we're not married?"

"To call you my boyfriend." For the first time, he stumbles over the word.

Dean blinks. "You--" he stops, brain processing too much information to finish that sentence. "Okay." He leans back in his chair. Sighs. Rubs a hand across his eyes and lets it drag down his face. "Okay, listen. I don't like boyfriend either, but we gotta...talk about it."

"We are talking about it. You don't like it either?" Cas leans forward as Dean slumps back, following him across the table.

Dean snorts. "No, man." He shakes his head. "It's been a decade. I've seen you die." Six times. But who's counting.

"I agree." Cas pauses, and then, as if it's the most natural conclusion in the world, "Will you marry me?"

Dean actually laughs at this. "You're asking me that now?"

Cas quirks an eyebrow at him. "I've grown quite fond of calling you my husband at the farmer's market. I'd like to continue."

Dean stares at him in disbelief. It's not how he'd pictured it going, but he also can't think of it going any other way. Slowly, he nods. "Yeah, okay. Let's be husbands."

Across the table, Cas grins at him.

"But we're getting rings," Dean points a finger at him, because something about this is going to be normal.

"If you'd like. Although I already told Janet that you can't wear a ring because of your work at the garage, and I don't wear mine in solidarity."

"Rings," Dean insists, and decides to overlook the rest of that sentence. For now. He stabs his fork into a pile of the pasta. "And let me stop for the damn tomatoes next time."

They get rings and wear them on chains around their necks. Cas puts a beehive on the hill, and there's a small ceremony in the summer - a "vow renewal" to Cas' beekeeping group, who all receive invites attached to little jars of honey. Janet gets the nicest one.

[swarvey]

Can you do bachelor hcs where farmer is like super hurt? Like blood gushing from their abdomen or smth?? Like basically life threatening

when they think you're not going to make it | sdv bachelors x gn!reader

summary -> how some of the boys react to seeing you come out of the mines unconscious with nearly fatal wounds. warnings -> blood and injuries, panic attacks, harsh language

a/n: basically a more severe version of this series lol, i hope you enjoy!!! <3 alex's is probs the longest bc i was inspired heh, i started with alex and shane, but lmk if y'all want more!

alex

feels like his throat is closing in on itself when he sees you all beaten up in harvey's clinic

harvey has to yell at linus to get him out of the room when he keeps trying to reach you

completely panics at the thought of losing you

he just doesn't want to be alone again

it was no secret alex hated hospitals, and harvey's small clinic was no exception. he always tried to leave his appointments with the doctor as soon as he could, and although he would accompany you to yours, he preferred to stand outside until you finished. everything about the environment was too much for him, too painful.

so when linus — the local homeless guy he never really cared to talk to — caught him on the street and practically begged him to go to the clinic, he wasn't entirely convinced. only when your name slipped off his tongue did his eyes widen, his feet moving before his mind could catch up.

alex hated hospitals, and now he had a reason to hate them even more.

"y/n?"

his voice was barely audible as the world around him began to fade, only focusing on your paled face and the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around your torso. his breath got stuck in his chest, and an all too familiar feeling began to swarm him —images of his poor mother laying in a cold hospital bed, monitors beeping rapidly as the doctors failed to save her.

not again. please, not again.

"get him out of here!" harvey demanded, pushing him away from your body. alex blinked, realizing he'd moved past the doctor and was desperately trying to hold onto you. "alex, you have to step away, or else i won't be able to help them."

"stop it, they need me! let me go," he loudly protested. he knew it was childish; he knew he sounded like the same kid he was all those years ago, begging to see his mom one last time, but he didn't care. this was you, and he couldn't lose you. he couldn't lose anyone else.

despite his efforts, alex was swiftly dragged away by linus's unexpected strength. before he knew it, he was standing outside the clinic in the cool evening air, chest heaving as he tried to breathe.

"take some deep breaths," the older man said, somehow sounding level-headed. "it'll be okay."

"the fuck do you know?" alex snapped, voice wavering. "you don't know anything about what it's like, do you? what it's like to lose someone? to watch someone die?" his voice hitched, tears beginning to well in his eyes before spilling down his cheeks. "i can't do this. i-i can't do this again, not again, not after last time — i can't—"

"hey." strong hands planted themselves on his shoulders, and his panicked gaze met linus's kind eyes. "this isn't the first time i've dragged people out of the mines, alright? trust me, i've seen worse. they'll be okay."

"you don't know that," alex replied weakly. "they might not make it."

"they're strong, you know that."

"she was strong, too. my mom was the strongest person on this planet." more tears blurred his vision. "look where she ended up."

linus sighed, dropping his arms. "she was," he agreed, and alex looked up in surprise, "but this is different, alex."

"how do you—"

"alex." he turned, meeting harvey's exhausted smile. "you can come in now." alex nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve and giving linus a a grateful look before walking in.

your face was still pale and you weren't awake, but it was clear you were much better than before. a new, clean bandage covered your abdomen, and an iv was attached to your arm.

alex let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "so, they'll be okay?" he asked, sitting on the chair beside you.

"yes, with some recovery, of course," harvey said, sounding just as relieved as alex felt. "though, i would strongly advise not letting them go to the mines for a while. an injury like this won't heal quicky, and it will likely scar. please talk to them after they wake."

"got it, doc. seriously, thank you so much." with another smile and a nod, harvey walked to another part of the clinic, leaving alex alone with you. he kept repeating the doctor's words in his head as he grabbed your limp hand, watching your chest fall up and down with each breath. "you'll be okay," he whispered, though it wasn't you he was trying to convince.

as alex drifted off to sleep next to you, he silently reminded himself to stop by linus's tent the following morning.

shane

he usually acts pissed at you whenever you get hurt, but it's only bc he knows you can handle yourself

usually you can, anyway, which is why he's worried when you don't come home when you said you would

he's quick to leave the house and immediately starts looking for you (tries to convince himself you're just running late)

in complete shock when he sees you in dr. harvey's arms as he rushes into the clinic with maru beside him

shane glanced at the clock for the fifth time in the last minute, frown deepening when you still didn't appear in the doorway. he could practically hear you chastising him for being too dramatic, but he didn't care — you'd never been this late before, and a tugging feeling in his gut told him there was something wrong.

swearing under his breath, he threw on his jacket and left the farm, telling himself that you probably just got caught up at the saloon, or maybe you stopped by the community center. then again, you had mentioned you wanted to get back into fishing—

"maru, get the door!"

a cold wave washed over shane's entire body, making him halt mid-step.

all he could focus on was your bloodied face hanging from harvey's arms as he rushed you into the clinic, maru hot on his tail.

for a second, time seemed to stop.

then, he was sprinting to catch the door and run in after them, panicked words spewing from his mouth before he could even process his thoughts.

"what the— what the fuck happened? where did you even—? are they going to be okay, oh shit, are they gonna wake up—"

"shane," harvey gritted out through his teeth, "you need to leave, now."

immediately, shane stood his ground, jaw clenched. "i'm not fuckin' going anywhere, not 'til they're awake."

"shane," the doctor repeated in a softer tone, eyes pleading with him, "i can't work on them with you in the room. this wound is deep — i need to operate, and you can't be here."

"please," maru added quietly, looking more distressed than shane had ever seen the typically laidback girl. "th-they might not make it."

harvey gave her a look, but didn't deny her words. shane felt his stomach drop.

then, wordlessly, he turned and slammed open the door into the waiting room, forcing himself into a seat as he bit back panicked tears. maru's words kept playing back in his head like a broken record, and suddenly, shane realized he might have to face a terrifying world without you in it.

"fuck," he cursed, letting his head fall into his hands to hide the hot tears streaming down his face. at first, he thought he was angry — he always told you to be careful, that you shouldn't be running around so damn carelessly all the time, you're not fuckin' invincible. you never listened, of course, always spewing something stupid about doing what's best for everyone. after hearing that phrase more than a handful of times, shane thought it was pretty reasonable for him to be a little pissed.

in that moment, though, who the hell was he kidding? he was nowhere near pissed; he was scared.

you couldn't die, not yet — not when he just got better, not when he still had so much left to say to you. the thought of never being able to see your smile again made him nauseous, and he wished he could rewind back to the morning so he could tug you back into bed with him. stay, he would say. you're not leaving my side today, alright?

he knew it wouldn't have worked. he would still try, though.

shane didn't realize how long he stayed in the same position until the waiting room doors creaked open, his head shooting up at the sound. harvey greeted him with a nod, which he returned stiffly as he stood up.

"d-did everything go okay?" he asked, swallowing in an attempt to soothe his rough voice. "are they—?"

"they're fine," harvey replied, a small smile upturning his lips at the sound of shane's relieved swears.

"thank fuck, i don't know what i would've— it doesn't matter, can i come in?" he barely waited for a response before slipping past the doctor and finding your bed.

he caught maru on her way out, giving her another nod. she smiled, wider than harvey's, before making her way to the other room.

shane hesitantly grabbed your hand as he sat down in the chair beside you, scared he might break you if he held you too roughly. when you didn't stir, he laced his fingers with yours and held them to his forehead, pressing a firm kiss to the back of your hand.

"you scared the shit out of me," he sighed, shaking his head. "god, i don't know what i would've done if you— if i couldn't—" he couldn't bring himself to finish his sentence, resorting to giving your hand another kiss. "you better wake up, you hear me? i'll fuckin' kill you if you don't." he half expected you to answer. he could hear your voice in his head telling him to stop acting so tough, that you could see right through him.

instead, the sound of your steady breaths filled the room, and even then, shane felt like that was your way of telling him everything would be okay.

[ronanlynchdefender]

The political stances of The Raven Cycle characters are so fascinating to me. You got Blue over here who is very much a progressive activist in the making. She recognizes things like misogyny and is not afraid to call those things out even when it concerns her closest friends. Because of that, I definitely see her as the type of activist who would be in the front lines at protests whether that be at the Capitol, college campuses, at the border, or as is the case in the dreamer trilogy, tied to a tree. She is the type of person who demands change in our current system and would demand it loudly and through acts of protest or civil disobedience.

Then you have Adam who displays no strong desire to change the system and whose only desire is to rise up in that system. He wants to climb the social ladder and assimilate to those of higher social status which is partially why he envies Gansey so much in the beginning because Gansey was born into it. Adam still tries to do this in the dreamer trilogy by essentially pretending to be a Gansey-like figure while at Harvard despite hating it. Eventually, Adam gives up on trying to belong within this higher social class and "climbing the ladder" but then strangely enough becomes a fed, which means just integrating into another form of hierarchy and power structure. And I feel like a more interesting arc would've been rejecting being a part of these societal systems altogether.

Which I suppose now leads us to Ronan who is a literal anarchist. He actually rejects all societal systems and rules and it permeates every aspect of his life. But actually, I shouldn't say all because there is one societal institution which he does enjoy partaking in: religion. With the exception of his catholicism, he does not engage in any other societal institution: education, law, politics. He hates it, in fact, It is antithetical to his being which is what makes his characterization so perfect because of course a gay farmer god would hate oppressive rules and structures (except for religion). That's not even mentioning that he is a canonical ecoterrorist that cost the US government a billion dollars. But what is really interesting about his character (and where his and Blue's political stances differ) is that because he rejects these systems he has no interest or stake in changing them. He'd sooner tear down the system than try to reform it.

And then there’s Gansey who doesn't seem to engage in politics and would rather spend his days reading his little Welsh books and going on his fun adventures. Of course, he is able to do this largely because he has the privilege to not worry about politics or social class. It seems that Blue's influence changes this as they are both chaining themselves to trees in protest during the dreamer trilogy. Other than that, I don't really have a lot to say about Gansey and his politics. But I find it very interesting that Maggie has created this close-knit group of characters with such varying relationships to how they view politics and social structures. I tried to draw out a 2-axis grid to show their differences, but I don't know if it really works because I feel like Gansey kinda screws it up but nevertheless I like how they each represent different ends of a spectrum sort of.

[revasserium]

hiii can i pls request zayne with prompt 60 “home”? also love ur writing btw and i look forward to reading more of ur works <333

send me one + a character and i'll write u a drabble

60. home

zayne; 2,264 words; fluff, fem!reader, no "y/n", whipped!zayne, implied sex, fade to black, zayne being a simp as per usual

summary: a friday afternoon

a/n: idk i just love writing dialogue for zayne he's so !!!!

The Hospital - Friday, 4:36PM

Linoleum floors and fluorescent lights; the smell of antiseptic, the rhythmic beeps and hums of heart rate monitors and nebulizer machines. He spends too much time here, knows the flow of the hospital like he knows the web of arteries and capillaries in the human body, the wards branching off of each other, the hustle and bustles of nurses and staff familiar, oppressive.

It is only in the quiet of his own office, with its big windows and even bigger piles of paperwork (be it virtual or physical), that he ever allows himself to relax. He glances at the vase of brightly colored tulips on his desk and allows himself a grin. He remembers the shape of you, can feel the weight of your hand in his as you’d tugged him around the farmer’s market on Sunday morning, pointing at the various vendors, asking to try a bite of this and a bit of that, until finally, you’d come across the flower seller — a middle-aged woman with a sweet smile and a gleeful glint in her eyes as she explained about the language of flowers.

“There’s sunshine in your smile,” you’d repeated, looking down at the yellow tulips before grinning up at Zayne.

“Perfect for you, isn’t it?”

He could hear the tease in your voice, see that familiar playful twinkle in your eyes and he’d raised an eyebrow before wordlessly handing over a few bills from his wallet.

And now the flowers sit, quiet save for all their brilliance, on his desk, in a simple vase filled with crystal-clear water. He stares at it for a second longer before pulling out his phone and swiping it open to your contact.

Coming home early today, he texts. Immediately, a typing bubble appears, and a second later, a short shoomp sound as your reply appears on his screen —

oh? dr. zayne leaving work early??? is the sun setting in the east today?

He chuckles to himself before dialing your line and a second later, your voice answers, a little hesitant.

“Hello?”

“If you’re going to be sarcastic, at least do it in person.”

Shuffling noises, and then — “Not my fault you’re never around for me to be mean to you in person.”

Zayne leans back in his chair with a sigh, “Hn. How’s shopping with Tara?”

“Fun! But my legs are getting tired…”

“I can meet you at the main shopping center around 5:30.”

A moment of quiet, and then “Ah… but that’s still an hour from now…”

Zayne scoffs, “I could stay till 7PM like I usually do —”

“No, no! That’s… that’s not what I meant — I’ll see you at 5:30, then? Don’t be late!”

You end the call before he can protest and for a second, Zayne stares at the screen, the picture of your smiling face fading after another few seconds as the phone screen darkens.

“Doctor? Your next patient is here,” the nurse calls through his closed door.

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Zayne glances once more at the yellow tulips on his desk before pushing himself up and adjusting his white coat. He’ll have to make a note to change the water soon.

City Center Shopping Mall - Friday, 5:38PM

“You made it!”

Zayne turns at the sound of your voice to find you slightly breathless as you jog up to him, coming to a stop a few steps away.

“You sound surprised.”

A blush dusts your cheeks as you avert your eyes, “I — I’m not! I just thought… you might be a bit later than this.”

Zayne keeps his expression neutral even as he reaches out to take your hand, casually lacing his fingers between yours. He feels you give him a small squeeze and contents himself with letting you take the lead as the pair of you start to wander through the mall, glancing at the window displays.

“Oh… that smells good!” you both pause as the smell of scallions and garlic warms the air. You close your eyes and take a deep breath, “I think it’s coming from that restaurant over there! Tara was telling me that it just opened a week ago and it’s already going viral online for their stuffed pancakes —”

“C’mon then.” Zayne starts off for the restaurant.

“W-wait! We don’t have a reservation! We’ll never get in!”

Zayne keeps walking, gently tugging you behind him till you both round the corner to see a truly impressive line outside the restaurant doors. He walks passed the massive line straight to the front where a smiling girl in a flowery apron stands at an electronic podium, taking down the names of the next party in line.

“Is Liam here?”

“O-oh! Uhm, I think so!” the girl blinks, surprised as she looks down at her reservation list, “May I ask who’s asking?”

“Zayne.”

The girl nods as she slips into the restaurant. Beside him, you look up, confused.

“Do you know someone here?”

Zayne nods but doesn’t explain any further as the smiling girl comes back and motions for you both to follow her.

“Right this way Dr. Zayne! Enjoy your meal!”

Zayne gives your hand a small tug as you stumble after him, the confusion on your face blossoming into something like surprise as the pair of you duck into the bustling restaurant to be greeted by an enthusiastic young man, around Zayne’s age, his sleeves rolled up, a bandana tied around his forehead.

“Zayne! You should’ve told me you were coming!”

“It was a last-minute decision,” Zayne supplies, shaking Liam’s hand firmly, pulling you into his side even as Liam’s eyes slide onto you.

“Oh… is this the girl you were always talking about back in —”

“I think we’ll take a booth in the back, thanks,” Zayne cuts him off with a loud cough, already making for the back of the restaurant. Liam laughs good-naturedly, leading you both to a booth tucked in the very corner, away from most of the noise and bustle.

You inch into the booth, casting Zayne a curious look.

“Is that the owner? How do you know him?”

Zayne doesn’t look up as he glances over the menu before pushing it towards you.

“We went to medical school together. Pick anything you want, it’s all very good.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “And he decided to become a chef instead?”

Zayne’s lips twitch, “Is that so unbelievable?”

You shrug, looking down at the menu at last, pursing your lips, “No… it’s just… did he drop out of med school then?”

Zayne shakes his head, “No, he was one of the best in our year.”

“Oh. Then…?”

Zayne taps the menu, “I thought you were hungry.”

You blush, looking down, “I am!”

It’s not till the middle of the meal that Zayne speaks again —

“He said it didn’t make him happy.”

You look up, your cheeks bulging with food. Zayne watches you swallow with a concerted effort, reaching out to wipe at your lips with an indulgent smile even as you swat at his hand.

“Liam? About… being a doctor?”

“Yes. And… in a way, I understood him. He said that the kitchen’s always felt more like home.”

You purse your lips, looking at your half-eaten stuffed pancake.

“Then… does the hospital feel like home? To you?”

Zayne chuckles, leaning forward to add some more veggies to your bowl with his chopsticks.

“No, it doesn’t.”

“Then…” you trail off, waiting for his answer. There’s a familiar color seeping into your cheeks as Zayne looks you over before his eyes flicker down to your bowl.

“Eat. Or else the veggies will go cold.”

Zayne’s Apartment - Friday, 7:01PM

“I’m so full!” you slump down onto his couch with a long sigh, patting your stomach.

“You were the one who wanted seconds of dessert,” Zayne says, hanging up his coat and turning to join you on the couch. You make a small noise as he lifts your legs and lays them across his lap, his thumbs absently digging into the backs of your calves.

“Ow…” you make to jerk your leg away as he hits a knot but he only grips your ankle and pulls it back with a soft tut.

“Hold still.”

You bury your face in one of the couch cushions as he continues to silently knead at your calf muscles.

“There, better?” his voice is soft now, tugging on the frayed ends of your subconscious as you turn your head to blink at him, a bit dazed.

“Yeah… lots better. Thanks.”

You make to get up but he loops an arm around your back and lifts you easily from the couch, bridal style.

“Zayne?”

“You’re staying the night, right?” he asks, even as he makes for the bedroom.

“I — I am?”

He glances down at your face as he sets you down on his bed.

“I can still drive you home if you want —” He makes to pull away.

“No! I — I can stay. I mean — I want to stay.” You reach up to tug at his shirt, fingers crumpling the material as he stills. You can feel your cheeks blazing as his gaze flickers over your face before settling on your lips.

“Alright then.”

There’s a breath’s pause before you give his shirt another tentative tug and he tips forward with the motion, leaning in to brush his lips against yours.

A soft groan bubbles out of you as Zayne presses you back and back and back, until he’s caged over you, trailing hot lips down the line of your neck, skimming his teeth along your collarbones.

“Mm — Z-Zayne…?”

He pulls back, his eyes a bit unfocused as he looks you over — you can feel the weight of his gaze as it flutters over the planes and ridges of your face, from the arch of your brows to the line of your nose. You can’t help blushing beneath this intense scrutiny, and you tug once more at his shirt, your fingers somehow having inched up to his collar, one of your fingers hooked into the top loop of his buttons.

He reaches up to cover your hand with his, fingers easily curling around your smaller hand.

“What is it?”

You lick your lips, stomach twisting, the base rumble of his voice sending shivers shaking through your body.

“Nothing just… I don’t remember you drinking at dinner so…”

He leans down to press a soft kiss to the back of your hand before dropping it back to his shirt collar.

“No, but… alcohol’s not the only thing that might cause someone to lose hold of their senses…”

You watch as his eyes darken at your intake of breath, the way his grip on your hand tightens ever so slightly.

“Then…” you swallow, eyes fluttering shut as you feel his lips trail back up your neck to your jaw.

“Are you going to make me say it?”

You let out a tiny whimper as he presses a leg up between yours, his breath now hot against the lobe of your ear.

“Say… what?”

Zayne pulls back just far enough to cock an eyebrow at you. And like this, you’ve never seen anything so alluring — the sight of him with his shirt tugged open, his eyes blown dark with desire, his hair slightly mussed from your eager fingers, his lips kissed pink, his cheeks warm with color.

“Hn. Is this my punishment then?”

“For what?”

“For being late to meet you.”

You fight back a grin, “Well… you did say I could be mean to you in person.”

Zayne lets out a sigh, “Alright then.”

You walk your fingers up his chest before pushing him back till you’re both sitting up again. He waits patiently for you to push him down and straddle his hips, slowly tugging open the buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie till it hangs undone around his neck. You lean in to press a soft kiss to his chest and revel in the way he hisses.

His fingers reach up for your hips and you catch them with a quick shake of your head.

“No touching… not till I say.”

Zayne stares at you for a second before relaxing and letting his hands fall back onto the sheets.

And it’s not until you lean down to kiss at his exposed abdomen that he groans, head tipping back. Then, a second later, you find yourself pinned beneath him, breathless, Zayne towering over you with parted lips, the moon casting stark shadows along the lines of his face.

“I said you could be mean… I didn’t say I wouldn’t retaliate.”

After, when the pair of you are curled into each other like pieces of jigsaw puzzle that’s finally found its missing parts, his breath warm along the nape of your neck, Zayne finds himself smiling.

“It’s always been you…” he murmurs, though he’s nearly certain you’re already asleep, your breathing sweet and level, your body pliant and perfect against his.

He laces his hands between yours and drops a soft kiss onto the skin of your bare shoulder.

“It doesn’t matter what I do… or where I do it… because my home has always been… you.”

[saltcxrcle]

late night talking ✤ s. winchester

summary: neither you nor sam are tired, so you guys stay up and talk; [a part of season of the witch verse!]

pairings: established! sam winchester x witch! reader, sam winchester x gn afab! reader

word count: 3.4K

warnings: none really, no use of 'y/n', fluff, whole bunch of fluff, mentions of dead parents, a little bit of angst, reader is given nickname 'jinx', kinda edited, the title is inspired by the song by harry styles

a/n: ahh first fic for season of the witch verse! im legit so excited for this little universe and so i hope you guys enjoy it! also this was inspired by a really old fic i had written a long time ago :)

enjoy the fic! please like, comment, and reblog! your feedback fuels me <3

[here's my taglist; read rules before sending in an ask]

𝘴𝘢𝘮 𝘸𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

You could feel the cold creep into the bunker as the leaves on the trees surrounding the bunker turned red and orange as they fell from the branches. You were practically jumping for joy as you got to indulge in the cooler temperatures, being able to wear warmer clothing, enjoying hot drinks, visiting pumpkin patches, and adoring the warm spices and scents that the autumn season brought for the coming months before the harshness of the winter weather Kansas had. 

You and Sam came back from a day filled with fall festivities. You guys went apple picking in the morning before you went to the local farmers market that the town would have bi-weekly and walked around for a while, holding hands as the two of you strolled down the stalls of the local business owners selling their products.  Some food trucks were set up around the perimeter of the market, and one of them was selling hot cider and other warm drinks; despite your protests of you paying for the drinks, Sam had ended up paying for the hot ciders you ordered for the both of you with a cheeky grin. 

The farmers market was hosted at the nearby park, so the two of you sat down on a bench and people-watched while you guys sipped on the hot ciders that warmed your insides while you drank it. Before you knew it, it was late afternoon, nearing evening, so the two of you decided to pick up some dinner. You went to the cozy diner in town, and once the two of you were done, you picked up some food and pie for Dean before heading back to the bunker. 

Dean thanked you with a grin when he looked inside the bag of food you had given him and retreated into the “Dean Cave,” where you believe he spent most of his day just watching Netflix.  You shook your head and smiled to yourself before heading to your room to get ready for bed. 

It wasn’t late when you and Sam got back home. But the chilly October air lingered and had settled in your skin, so you quickly gathered your pajamas, which consisted of a gray woolen sweater (that definitely was yours and not stolen from Sam), black sweats, and some fuzzy socks that you had bought as soon the weather started to cool down because you learned the hard way that the tiled floor of the bunker was not kind to bare feet in the colder months. You took a hot shower before changing into your pajamas and made your way into your shared room with Sam. 

You leaned on the doorway of the room and couldn’t help the smile that grew on your face when you saw Sam already in bed and sitting against the headboard, reading the book he kept on his nightstand. He didn’t seem to notice you yet, Sam being wholly enraptured in the tale he was pulled into. You didn’t dare disturb him, so you took the time to admire him from your spot in the doorway. 

Sam was wearing a simple black long-sleeve shirt, but you could see the initials of your name that you had embroidered on the left cuff of the sleeve. Your smile grew when you realized he was wearing the shirt (among many other shirts and pants) that you embroidered your initials on for his birthday. At first, he hadn’t noticed them until Dean pointed them out one day when one of them accidentally got mixed up in his laundry. You remembered how flustered he got when he asked you about it, but he still wore the garments that you had given him. 

Your eyes trailed down to see what he was wearing for pants, but his legs were covered by the duvet. You could imagine that he was either wearing a thin pair of sweats or just his boxers and socks since he was the living embodiment of a furnace.  Your gaze flicked back up when you saw Sam absent-mindedly tuck a strand of hair behind his ear. That was when he saw you out of the corner of his eye, and your eyes met his. 

Sam smiled at you, saved the page he was on with a bookmark, and closed his book. “Hey.” He said softly. 

“Hi.” You kicked off of the doorway and made your way to the bed. Sam set his book on the nightstand and held his hand out for you to take. 

“Such a gentleman, Sammy.” You couldn’t help but gently tease him as you took his warm hand. 

Sam chuckled as he shook his head. “Only for you honey.” His hand guided you as you climbed on the bed and sat in his lap. Sam let go of your hand to rest his on your thighs as your palms settled on his broad shoulders. 

“Have fun today?” He asked as his hands slid up from your legs and to your waist. He snuck underneath your (his) sweater to rub at your skin soothingly. 

You nodded. “Very. Feels like it’s been ages since we had a proper date without Dean involved.” 

As much as you love Dean, you’re sure that he was sick of third wheeling with you and his brother since monsters decided that it was primetime to cause murder and mayhem. So you were dragged all over the country for the past couple of weeks helping the boys research and kill monsters. It was only until the last hunt that involved some ghouls that the three of you made it back to the bunker, and it seemed that the monster activity had quieted. That was a little over a week ago, and trouble with the supernatural seemed to die down, so the two of you decided to have an impromptu date today after recuperating in the bunker for the past couple of days. 

Sam huffed a laugh through his nose. “Yeah, I’m sure he’s happy that he didn’t have to see us ‘canoodling.’” 

“But you have to admit that it’s funny to annoy him by acting like an obnoxious couple.” 

Sam pursed his lips, but you could tell he was trying to hold back a smile, the twitch of his lips becoming more evident. “It’s a little funny.” 

You shot him a cocky grin. “Told you.”

“Whatever.” Sam rolled his eyes at you, but a smile broke on his face. 

“Your words are telling one thing, but your face is telling me another Winchester.” You said as you poked one of his dimples when he smiled. 

You let out a giggle when he tried to swat your hand away from his face and missed it. 

“Why do you always do that?” 

You shrugged. “Because I want to. And I love your dimples.” 

Sam would never admit it, but a slight blush formed on his face at your admission. Sam wasn’t used to the amount of affection in his relationships. He ducked his head down slightly, making some of his hair fall in his face. Before he could tuck the wayward strands behind his ear, you beat him to it. You brushed the hair back and rested your hand on his cheek, feeling the slight prickle of the stubble beginning to grow against your palm. 

You sent him a soft smile before leaning in and pressing your lips against his. You could feel him smile into the kiss before slowly moving his lips against yours. Sam’s lips were soft and warm as the two of you shared a sweet kiss. The two of you pulled away gently, not straying too far, having rested your forehead against his. You and Sam were in your own bubble, content with sitting in silence as you took solace in each other’s presence.

After a few moments, you gave Sam a quick peck on the lips before you moved off of Sam and towards your side of the bed. He let go of you, letting you get settled under the covers, before pulling you towards him, Sam tucking you into his side. Your head was lying on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, and your arm was strewn across his chest while your legs tangled with his. 

Both of you let out satisfied sighs as you settled in each other’s embrace. You let Sam’s scent engulf you, and you nuzzled your head further into his chest. You could feel his hand resting on your arm and drawing random shapes on top of the sweater, trailing up and down as the two of you lay in bed together. 

“You know, my mom would have liked you.” Your voice felt deafening in the nearly silent room. 

You felt Sam’s hand stop on your arm, probably out of surprise that you brought her up. You didn’t talk about your mom, or your parents for that matter, often. 

“Really?” His voice was low, but you could hear the lingering curiosity in it. 

You shifted in Sam’s arms, propping your chin on his chest and looking up at Sam. You were immediately captured in Sam’s hazel gaze. They were a mix of emeralds and gold swimming together in the warm lighting provided by the lamp on Sam’s nightstand. 

You felt the corner of your lip twitch as you nodded at Sam. “Yeah, she was really picky with the partners I would bring home. She liked maybe two out of the ones she had officially met.”

“How many people did you bring home?” Sam’s brows furrowed, causing the tell-tale crease in between them when he got curious and asked questions. 

“Around five.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “Around five?” He parroted your words with a questioning tone, but a half-smile was on his face. You felt his hand on your back and traced up and down your spine. 

You huffed at him, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Sorry, she met five of my partners.” You rolled your eyes at him. “But, you would have been the sixth.” you murmured. 

His smile dimmed, Sam’s hand stilling on your back. “What would she have said to you if she met me?” 

You smiled at the thought of your mother and Sam meeting. “Well, she would have immediately commented on the fact that you’re too attractive for your own good.”

Sam rolled his eyes at you. “Right.” 

“I’m not joking!” You couldn’t help but laugh and sit up. “My mom was an honest woman, and she let people know what she thought.” Sam’s arm was wrapped around your waist as he looked up at you from his position, lying against his pillow. 

“Mhm, okay. What else would she have said?” 

You could tell that Sam didn’t exactly believe you, but you moved on. “She’d be able to see that you’re adorable, considerate, intelligent, and empathetic. Mom had this thing where she could tell if you had good intentions or not by a gut feeling.”

“Did you inherit this from your mom?” 

You couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “Maybe? It doesn’t work sometimes.” You thought back to your previous partners you had before dating Sam. 

“Well, let’s speculate. What do you think she’d think I’d have?” Sam sat up and rested his back against the headboard.

You purse your lips in thought before responding. “Mom would have said that you have only the best intentions when it comes to dating me.” 

Sam’s face softened. “I do.” 

“I know. That was the only time that it seemed to work for me.” You paused before the gentle smile that was on your face turned into a smirk. “But you would have lost brownie points by being a hunter.” 

“Yeah, can’t blame her.” Sam couldn’t help but agree with that notion, and he shook his head, chuckling. You let out a light laugh alongside his chuckling. You leaned back and tucked yourself underneath Sam’s arm. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder as you rested your head on his shoulder. 

There was a lull of silence that settled between the two of you. 

Sam leaned over and kissed the side of your head before laying his head against yours. “Tired yet?” He murmured. 

You glanced at the clock on your nightstand. “Not yet.” You answered back just as quietly. 

“Have any stories about your mom? I know you don’t talk about her often, but you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.” 

You shook your head as you reached over and grabbed Sam’s free hand. “It’s fine, I have plenty of stories about her.” You swallowed thickly. It had been years since she had died, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t hard to talk about her. 

“But, I remember when we had moved to California for a couple of months after Dad died, and she was able to rent out a beach house for the summer.” You smiled fondly as you began to remember your summer that year. 

“She refused to tell me how she was able to get a beach house, but we spent practically everyday outside and enjoying the ocean. Mom was even able to get us surfing lessons for the summer.” 

“Were you any good at it?” Sam asked. 

“Yeah, I got pretty good at it after a couple of lessons. But she was terrible at it.” You laughed, your mind flicking through all of the times your mom fell when trying to stand up on the surfboard when trying to ride a wave. 

“You would think a seasoned hunter like her would have great balance, but I guess it didn’t translate to the water.” You smirked sadly. 

Sam laughed lightly at your words, squeezing your hand that was in his. “That sounded like a lot of fun.” 

“Mhm, it was.” You sighed. “She was the best.” 

“She sounded like a wonderful woman. I wish I could have met her.” 

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked up at Sam to find that his gaze was already on you. “So do I.” You murmured. 

Sam sent you a sad smile before leaving a small kiss on your forehead. He shifted down on the bed, pulling you down with him, returning to the previous position that the two of you were in earlier. 

You felt the warmth emanating from Sam’s chest as your cheek rested against it. You hadn’t let go of his hand as the two of you went back to lying on your bed, which rested on his stomach. You could practically hear the questions rattling around Sam’s brain as his fingers traced circles on your back. His ministrations were soothing and slowly lulled you to sleep. Your eyes eventually fell closed as your breathing began to even out. 

“Do you ever think we’ll have a life outside of hunting?” Sam’s question was hushed, but it caught your attention as your eyes snapped open, and you took in a harsh breath as you thought about your words.

“Is that something you want?” You looked up at him to see him looking up at the ceiling, his face pensive. 

Sam frowned slightly as he gave you a half-hearted shrug. “I don’t know anymore. I’ve tried so many times, but hunting always seems to pull me back in.” Sam looked down at you with somber eyes, his once hazel eyes looking stormy and gray, his brain becoming a frenzy of thoughts filled with doubt and regret. 

“Stop.” You untangled your hand from his and took his chin in between your index and thumb. “I know what you’re thinking, and no it’s not your fault. I chose to come back into this life.”

Sam’s frown deepened. You knew that he blamed himself for pulling you into his world of crazy and despair. You huffed at him before getting out of his grip and straddling his lap once more. You grabbed his face and stared deep into his eyes. 

“You better listen closely Sam, because I’m only going to say this once. It is not your fault that I’m here and hunting. Yes, I was living a normal life, but let’s face it, being a witch doesn’t allow normalcy. I was going to get dragged back into the world of the supernatural one way or another.” You let one of your hands fall from his cheek to rest on his heart.  “It just so happened that you are a part of this world that had pulled me back in.” 

“But, I wouldn’t have it any other way. You’re stuck with me, Winchester, got it?” You sent him a toothy smile as you felt his heartbeat against your palm. 

Sam couldn’t help but also smile at the sight of yours. “Understood.”

“Good. And to answer your question. I’m on the side of optimism here, so I like to think that we will.” 

“Really?” Sam’s tone was filled with intrigue. It wasn’t every day that he saw you be optimistic, knowing that you had a realistic outlook on life. 

You nodded. “Mhm. I’m not a divination witch but, I have this feeling that there’s a light at the end of this tunnel and the two of us and Dean are going to get our happy endings. We just have to wait and see what happens.” 

Sam raised an eyebrow at you. “You think so?” 

“Call it a really intense gut feeling.” 

“So it’s a maybe.” Sam said sassily. 

You slapped Sam’s chest in retaliation as he chuckled. “Shut up, who’s the witch here?” 

“Hey, I was the one who had visions.” 

“Did you see that far into the future? Besides, where are those powers now?” You raised an eyebrow at Sam. 

Sam’s lips thinned before pressing them together. You smiled at him as he tried to think of a response, but you both knew that you had gotten him. 

“That’s what I thought.” You sent him a smug smile before pinching his cheek with the hand that was still resting on his face. 

Sam scowled at you before it turned into a mischievous smile. Before you knew it, Sam had flipped you on your back. You landed on the mattress with a sharp yelp leaving your lips as Sam hovered over you. You recognized the glint that was in his eyes, and before you could stop Sam, he started to tickle your sides, poking and prodding at them. You erupted into giggles as you tried to escape his hands. You were pushing at his hands as your legs flailed behind Sam’s giant form straddling you. 

Sam only stopped when you yelled out ‘Uncle’ and had the smuggest smile on his face as he pulled his hands away. 

“I hate you.” You breathed out, your chest heaving as you calmed down from getting attacked by Sam’s hands. 

“No you don’t.” Sam had moved to hover over you, now resting his forehead against yours. 

“Yeah, I do.” 

Sam let out a breathy chuckle. “You’re impossible.” 

“Me, impossible? Never.” You couldn’t help teasing as you bit your bottom lip and looked at Sam. 

Sam’s lips were brushing against yours as he spoke. “Right.” He drawled out in a low voice, and you could feel yourself melting at the sound of the deep timbre of his voice. 

Before you could make another snarky remark, Sam pressed his lips on yours in a languid kiss. Your hands flew to his shoulders and slid up to rest on the nape of his neck as he deepened the kiss. You felt his tongue swipe at the seam of your lips, and you all but let the taste of him flood your senses. You could faintly taste the mint of his toothpaste, but it was all purely Sam. He kept the kiss slow, but it was filled with passion as he licked at your mouth and how your tongues intertwined with one another. But you could vaguely feel your lungs start to burn at the lack of oxygen they were getting, so you pulled away from Sam. 

You didn’t stray far, letting him rest his forehead against his as the both of you caught your breath. There were mirrored smiles on either of your faces. They were filled with content and love as you gazed at each other. 

“I love you Jinx.” Sam whispered. 

“I love you, my heart.” You whispered back at him. 

Sam left a lingering kiss on your lips before moving off of you, and the two of you settled back into each other’s arms. Sam’s arms were wrapped around your shoulder and waist as your face was squished against his warm chest, letting your legs intertwine with each other once more, the two of you fitting together like two pieces of an unsolved puzzle. The two of you eventually drifted off, dreaming of each other and the future that awaited you and Sam. 

[dolliestfairy]

TW: Smut, Fluff, Breeding, Praising, Size Kink (?) lmk if i miss anything. Chubby Reader Fics with No Skintone of Reader Mentioned.

-Dividers from @v6que

can you imagine having a husband or boyfriend who is a farmer boy? like he's all buff, beefy, and strong and stuff.. and every time he gets home and opens the door, one thing he always does is that he will always look for you first, then he will carry you up to his room, and fucked you for the rest of the day. he's a boy who always fucked you like you're some kind of whore of his, but he somehow -- praise you like a princess. he use his dick to get you to your place, but on the other hand he also use his words to make your heart flutter by saying how good you're doing for him, how you're his woman, and how are you, sooner or later, that you will for sure, will gave births to his 'mini me'. and by the end of the day, you're gonna be nothing but his Pretty Woman.

🍡

one of the things about a farmer boy that i really like to thoughts about is the fact that since he's (so) beef and buffy, he really like to just carry you, scooping you, and bump you into his shoulder while his hand leaning on your back, ignoring your whining and protest about how you're a heavy woman and that you've also beg him to let you down while he was just saying "oh come on baby,, its not that bad. i promise i'll gave you a sweet treats."

𐙚 The Men That I'm Talking About Are : NANAMI KENTO, BOKUTO KOUTARO, HOSHIGAKI KISAME, RENGOKU, Shiva, Sugawara, Toji, TENGEN, Iwaizumi, Geto Suguru, KUROO TETSURO, Jason Voorhees, Vincent Sinclair, THOMAS HEWITT, Eren Yeager, Bakugo, Wakatoshi Ushijima, KAKUCHO, KIRISHIMA, Gyomei, Sanemi, DOUMA, Akaza, Miguel O'Hara, Sanzu, KONIG, Price, Dabi, Yuuji, Choso, SAWAMURA DAICHI, terushima, SENJU HASHIRAMA, ARATAKI ITTO, AONE TAKANOBU, Semi eita, Kou mukami, YUMA MUKAMI, Akiteru Tsukishima, JIRAIYA, lev haiba.

DID I FORGET ANYONE? INSERT YOUR FAV!

[spilledartery]

tied hands . . . ( kunikuzushi )

[ male reader, royalty ! au, angst, arranged marriage, implied sex, short. fujoshis, mlm fetishizers, dni. ]

gone are the days you two will sneak out to the palace gardens, to catch up, and enjoy each other’s presence, even if just for a few hours. gone are the days he will send you knowing stares and smirks, lingering touches and searing kisses in his study room, the library… gone are the days you’d climb up the palace walls to his room’s balcony, where you’d talk and gaze at the stars. “those stars,” you had said, “can never compare to your beauty.” then, he would blush, look down at his hands on the banisters, and bite the inside of his cheek to suppress a smile.

gone are the nights you’d spent next to each other in bed, sweaty, and naked under the covers. gone are those moments in which the two of you would bask in the afterglow of your lovemaking, his head on your chest, you holding him close to your side, just staring at nothing; comforted by the silence, but the beating of your hearts are just as loud – happy and content.

“i dream to start a family with you one day,” prince kunikuzushi had said, tracing circles upon your bare chest by his nimble fingers. “you know, just… little ones running around; i’d be papa, you’d be daddy…”

his ramblings had made you chuckle. “oh, what a dream.” you turned your head to kiss at the crown of his head. “i would love that, beloved.”

he hummed, tilting his head to look up at you to meet your lips in a passionate kiss.

it was, indeed, just a dream.

kunikuzushi, repressing all of his emotions, slowly walked down the aisle, wearing the most beautiful white attire you had said you’d love to see him in one day.

kunikuzushi is so beautiful in all aspect. his long, indigo hair was let down. but his eyes… his eyes were dim, and full of protests that went unsaid, for you are not the one at the end of the aisle.

“but… but i love you – not… not — !”

“my darling beloved,” you said, cupping his tearful cheeks delicately, “please don’t cry. i don’t deserve your tears.”

he sobbed, then. placing his hands on your chest to clench at the cheap fabric of your shirt. you could only gently place your hands on his waist to ground him. “w-why are you so unaffected by this?” asked kunikuzushi, his mind heading the wrong way. “why do you seem so calm?! i – i am to be married off, and here you are, effacing yourself!”

you had the mind to fight for him, to kneel at the queen’s feet just to wish for her son’s hand – for it to be you, instead. but you know that it would bring more trouble. the queen had already found out of kunikuzushi’s affair with a commoner; you. she didn’t approve. her son has to marry someone of the same status, of the same nobility – not some random farmer of the kingdom, no. she had higher plans for the prince.

“my love, from the start, i’ve always known that we are doomed. this is of no surprise to me,” you said, cradling his head gently as he continued to cry to your chest. “but do not, even for once, think that i do not care – that i am not affected. i love you dearly, and i would rather die than seeing you be in another’s arms, but i understand this, prince, and so should you.”

“let’s run away,” said kunikuzushi without second thoughts, looking up at you with a hopeful gaze. “w-we can escape this place, please.” his sobbing had gone uncontrollable now to the the point that he’s trembling violently in your arms because of the disapproving look you gave him. “please…”

“and risk us being hunted? i wouldn’t want to bring you in danger — ”

“fuck! just — ! just listen to me!” he sounded desperate now. “i love you… please…”

instead of replying to him, you had just leaned down and kissed his lips, which he returned fiercely and tearfully. you had spent your last night together, then. and when he wakes up in the morning due to the rapping of the maids at his door, ordering him to wake up because today is his wedding, you were gone.

that night, instead of spending his wedding night with his spouse, he stood at his room’s balcony, hoping that you’d climb up the walls; to kiss him and stargaze, like you always did.

but gone are those times.

kunikuzushi cried for the millionth time to himself, wishing that the circumstances had been different.

[thisonehere]

A Match Made In Hell

Cheating!Bi-Han x Reader

A/n: This was a lot more late than I wanted it to be but I'm glad I finally got it done. I love Bi-Han but this idea was just constantly in my head so I just had to write about it.

Edit: Part 2

Tags: MK 1, MK AU, cheating, drabble

C/w: Cheating, angst, mentions of sex, Y/n kinda snaps, sad ending

Today was the day, Bi-Han was finally coming home. You buzzed happily before your vanity, carefully analyzing every feature of your face. You admire the flowers that you delicately braided into your hair. They were from your garden, you planted them with the intention of wearing them the day Bi-Han finally returned to you.

Unbeknownst to Liu Kang, Bi-Han has been very active in building a place for the Lin Kuei in the new world. He has been leaving many times to create alliances, defeating enemies, collecting power for his clan to prosper. Bi-Han felt discontent with the role they had played for the longest, he once even said that they were basically Liu Kang's lap dogs.

The moment when he used his men as test dummies for those two farmers and an actor was the final straw for him. You remember how he was that night, he was in such a state of fury and devastation that you consoled him for hours. The next day he gathered up a small group of trusted Lin Kuei and went somewhere in secret. He then came back with allies and new resources. It's been like that ever since.

You hated it when he left, especially now, this is the longest he had been gone. You were alone many nights in your shared bed missing him, wondering if he was thinking about you like you were thinking about him, missing you like you missed him. Whenever he was gone, you would go to Kuai and Tomas for support. But no, He had taken them along as well, much to their protest.

You were so scared so many times, you feared that the last you would ever see him sad when he left, he dodged and planted a kiss on your forehead, promising to come back to you. It had been months since that day had passed, so many were you scared that you would receive news that something happened to him, that he had died. Out of respect to you, she had called you to her office to be the first to receive the news.

Thankfully that sooner ended when Sektor had announced that not only was Bi-Han alive, he had also successfully created a major alliance with a strange clan from the Netherrealm, the sisterhood of shadow led by someone known as Quan Chi. Bi-Han had sent her a letter describing it all, he specifically brought one of the members, a demoness known Sareena. He brought her up quite a few times, whenever he did he spoke adamantly about her, almost praising her, which was odd because that wasn't something Bi-Han ever really did.

But you didn't think about it much, you were so overjoyed to hear this, to know that your husband was safe and coming home. You bursted into tears of joy and relief right there, it was embarrassing but you couldn't care at that second. Ever since then you have been excitedly preparing for Bi-Han's I'd return. You acquired his favorite tea to serve him, you baked his favorite pastries to feed him, you pressed and ironed the dress you knew he loved. Now the day was here, you were practically shaking with excitement to see him again.

Once you were satisfied with how you looked, you leaned back into youu chair, rested your eyes, and fantasized about the moment Bi-Han would walk through the door. The way he takes you into his arms and kiss passionately, then you'd stay up all night so you could show him just how much you missed him. You could hardly wait.

You were soon snapped out of your daydreaming when you heard something outside, the deafening roar of thousands cheering. You knew that meant one thing: Bi-Han was finally here.

...

Thousands of Lin Kuei gathered around the main entrance to welcome Bi-Han. They roared deafening cheers as their Grandmasters led the procession of his group through the crowd. His heart swelled with pride and so many gathered to welcome him home. It was a welcome one too, this journey was the most periless one he has faced yet, but it was also the most rewarding. He acquired very powerful assets in this journey.

There’s one specifically that valued most of all.

He looked behind him to look for them, and he was met with the unhappy looks of disapproval painted his brothers face. Not much to Bi-Han’s surprise, his brothers have been against what he has been doing for the longest. They have fought and protested every step of the way. Venturing into the Netherrealm caused the worst one yet.

"This is Insanity!" He remembered Tomas protesting, they were standing before a portal to the Netherrealm. Kuai and Tomas were trying their hardest to convince not to do this. "No, this is necessary, for our clans future." Bi-Han said. He attempted to approach the ort but Kuai blocked his path. "Our future is with Liu Kang and serving Earthrealm. Not this, not joining hands with devils."

Bi-Han just stared at Kuai and shook his head disbelief, "Serve? The Lin Kuei aren't servants, we're warriors. Liu Kang squanders our potential, uses us to play his trivial games and puts us back on the shelf when he is done with us, forbidding us from growing, stifling our true potential. We must make a deal with demons to finally reach it...then so be it" It is so good for Bi-Han to finally say this, for so long he had kept his thoughts inside, but the past successes in obtaining allies emboldened him to speak freely.

Kuai stared at him in disbelief, he looked at his brother like he was a stranger. Bi-Han pushed past him and to the portal.

And now here they are, the mission was a success and now his warriors celebrated him. Bi-Han tried to look past his brothers for his special guest, but he did not see it, he turned forward to continue his walk with his men. He scanned the celebration about him. So many happy faces celebrating him, a slight smile spread across his face. But then notices some people in the crowd begin part as he passes, making way for someone so that they could though. Bi-Han's smile quickly fades who they were making way for...you.

You were standing in his favorite dress, your hair done just the way he likes with flowers in them. You smile at him, tears of joy begin to well up in your eyes. At that second, everything came back to Bi-Han, he remembered you, his marriage to you, how you adored him...how he betrayed you.

You looked so beautiful, it hurtled Bi-Han to look at you after all he has done while he was away.

So he didn't look at you, he avoided eye contact and sped up his pace. You were no doubt hurt by this, the image of your sad and confused face flashed in Bi-Han's head, causing him to go even faster. He drowned you out with sound the thousands cheering for him.

...

W-What was that?

As part of the celebration, a banquet was to be held in Bi-Han's honor this evening. They were all celebrating, drinking until they blacked out drunk and chattering until throats hurt, and you outside tried not to freak out. Bi-Han looked away from you like you were nothing, not his wife who has been by his side for years, but like just another one of his nameless Lin Kuei. You were pacing the floor, outside the entrance to the Banquet.

Were you just overreacting? Maybe, Bi-Han would never purposely ignore you or do anything to hurt you... r-right? You feel silly right now, every one is having a good time inside and you're here overthinking something that's not even that big of a deal. It just hurts though, you have spent so many nights alone, longing for him, missing him so much that it hurt, only for him to not even send you a loving smile then he comes home.

Maybe he's just tired, he did travel a long way after dealing with a long and stressful journey. That's right, he was tired you are just overreacting. That's what you are desperately trying to convince yourself, but deep down inside a feeling won't relent its protest. It's trying to tell you that something's wrong, deeper and deeper do you try to suppress. But it's still so loud.

Something's wrong... Something is very wrong.

"Y-Y/n?"

You hear a gentle voice behind you. Part of you wishes it was Bi-Han. But when you turn around you are met with Tomas's gentle smile. It's not Bi-Han, but you are happy to see his face nonetheless. "Welcome back, Tomi, I missed you" You warmly embrace Tomas, he returns your embrace with a similar joy. You and him were very close. Whenever Bi-Han was cold or too harsh to him, there you were with cookies and a loving smile. He was like a brother to you, seeing him makes you almost forget all about your worries. "Did you grow while you were away?" You jokingly ask, trying your best to mask the pain and worry. "Not at all...but I fear you might've shrunk." Tomas jokes back at you with a light chuckle. Seeing him brings you an ease that had evaded you for so long, you missed his smile, you missed his laugh, you missed... Bi-Han...

Suddenly all the pain and confusion washes over you again. "I noticed you weren't at the banquet, you were still out here, so I wanted to see if everything was alright." Tomas gave you a concerned yet knowing look, causing you fear that he somehow knew what you were going through. "I-I'm okay, I just-uh-had a few duties to attend to before I joined you." You lied, you forced a smile on your face. But you could just tell by the way Tomas looks at you that he knew that you weren't okay. Something flashes past his eyes, guilt. As if he knows something and hea feels sorry for keeping it this long. An uncomfortable silence passed between you two, it was like there was an elephant in the room that had yet to be addressed.

"So how was the trip." You finally say. "Well, I went to hell so.." you softly chuckled as you blush in embarrassment. "Right, sorry. How was hell? Wait, don't tell me, I don't want to know." Tomas paused as he thought for a second. "Imagine everything horrible you can think of, everything that scares you, your worst fears and insecurities...and multiply that by the highest number you can think of."

"Uh...okay, say no more. I'm happy that you're back."

Tomas smiles in agreement. Once again you notice a look on his face, like there's something he wanted to tell you but he didn't know how. "Y/n...there's something I need to tell you. Something that happened while we were away. It's about Bi-Han."

"There you two are." A drunk Kuai interrupted as he exited the banquet and ran up to hug you. He was warm like always, with a smile on his face as he greeted you. I smiled, it felt nice for them to be back. But you wanted to hear what Tomas was going to say. What happened with Bi-Han? Oh gods, did something happen to him? Did someone hurt him? But you don't have time to wonder as Kuai guides you inside. Tomas lowers his head in shame at not telling you.

...

The event was in full swing, Kuai guided you through the chaotic mass of Lin Kuei drinking conversing which created a meat deafening cacophony of crude jokes, gossiping, and cheering. After he got you past a drunk Sektor and Cyrax, you finally got to you table. The table with Bi-Han.

As grandmaster, his was the biggest of all of them, decked with precious ornaments and decoration made from the purest gold and decorated with diamonds. "Only the finest for our grandmaster." You all agreed when setting this all up. You remember how much care you put in placing every decoration and how you slaved away in the kitchen to make his favorite cake. Bi-Han often insisted that he hated cake, but he never hesitated in taking a slice whenever you baked it. You wanted this celebration to be special, you thought of him with every step of the way.

Now there he was, sitting at the center of the table, drinking the wine you chose just for hims . At the sight of him it felt like everything froze, you forgot Kuai was there, you forgot everyone in the room. You stared nervously at him as you approached. It's odd, after all these years the man still makes you feel butterflies in your stomach. "Husband." Bi-Han froze at the sound of your voice. He looks up to you, your heart nearly melts the sight of his dark eyes as he stares you down. You can't read if he is surprised to see you or it's dread

"Wife." He finally said, a hint of longing can be sensed in his voice as he rose to his feet. He gently places a hand in your cheek as he looks into your eyes. "I... I have missed you dearly." You fight as you feel the grandmaster's touch, it had been something you have been deprived of for so long. A few years begin to escape your eyes as your lips spread into a smile. "Bi-Han, I have missed you too. I missed you so much I-I" he shushes you and kisses your forehead. He then tales you into his arms and holds you. That's not something he usually does, especially in public, it was almost like he was feeling guilty of something. But you didn't care. Everything felt right right now, you forgot all about your ridiculous worries from earlier. Everything is fine now, everything is jus-

"Bi-Han?"

You hear an unfamiliar voice behind you. Bi-ha lets you go as quickly as this new voice immediately takes his attention. You turn to see who is speaking, and you are a strange woman with white streaks going down her black hair. She stares at Bi-Han that at you curiously. Her black eyes especially linger on you for some time, like she was trying to make sense of you. "Yes, Y/n, this is Sareena. Sareena, this is Y/n...my wife." You and Sareena's eyes meet for a second, you look her up and down and she looks you up and down. Neither of you know of what to make of the other.

Finally, you force a smile onto you face "Sareena...so you're the sareena that I've heard so much about." You say as you hug her, much to Bi-Han and her surprise. You take in her scent, it's something unearthly yet familiar... familiar as in you smelt it on Bi-Han as you hugged him. You release from your hug as you continue to smile, that small part of you started screaming louder and louder that something was wrong, and you began to listen to it more and more.

"It's so nice to meet the infamous Sareena, the devil that has captivated my husband so." you continue to smile, and Sareena smiles at you too. Bi-Han is quick to cut in between you two "Sareena has been a most valuable asset in my venture. She helped me travel through the Netherrealm and make my deal with Quan Chi. She has been by my side ever since." Bi-Han smiled at Sareena...He SMILED at Sareena! That's something he has hardly ever done. He has never smiled at you, in public at least. The more that you think of it actually, you don't ever really remember Bi-Han smiling that much at all. A ugly feeling arises inside of you, you can't describe it. It just feels so ugly hateful, but you continue to smile.

The night went, you didn't touch your plate, you didn't drink, all you could was sit there and stare blankly into the distance. Sometimes Kuai or Tomas would try to strike a conversation with you. You replied with short answers, quickly ending them. And Bi-Han? Your husband whom you thought you'd be smiling and laughing with all night? Oh, he was completely enthralled with his demon friend. He smiled at her, laughed with her,he seemed to be all over her. You sat there helplessly as you watched them, not sure exactly what to do. You just kept smiling.

...

Sareena arose from her chair, "I need to, um, relieve myself." She lied as she walked away. Before she left, she gave Bi-Han a certain look to follow her. Bi-Han waited a few moments. Finally, you seem to be distracted by Tomas so he arises from his seat and follows her.

He walked down the dark hallway until he saw her standing at the doorway, her arms crossed with a mischievous smirk on her face. "You know, for a demon, lying is not your strongest suite." Sareena grabs Bi-Han and pulls him into a room, and they begin to violently kiss. His hands tangled themselves in her hair as he pressed her against the wall.

While Bi-Han was in the Netherrealm, and Sareena met. He was in awe of her strength and her deadly beauty. He loved, he truly did, but he often saw you as...weak, too soft. Being with Sareena was something so different yet amazing at the same time. She shared his ambitions,was as vicious as him, murderous to the point that it was scary, but he loved it all. She was everything he ever dreamed of and more, how could he not desire her?

His brothers were furious over this newly found entanglement. "What about Y/n?" Kuai questioned. Bi-Han valued you as he always did, it was you who was always by his side no matter what. Your love for him was so pure and strong that he doubted anything would ever kill it. It would be a shame to damage that love by telling you, so he rationed that he would never let you find out.

But the moment Bi-Han laid eyes on again after being away from you for so long...guilt immediately began to eat at him. He remembered all those nights you were up consoling him, listening to his thoughts no matter how silly he thought they were. He remembered how you would take care of stitching his wounds, the loving yet concerned looks you would give him. You offered him comfort and solace that Sareena could never. He remembered how much you adored him, and he had betrayed you.

But Bi-Han tries to fight this guilt, he attempts to suppress it with every kiss he gives to Sareena. "Worried about your little bride?" Sareena says, somehow sending the guilt. Bi-Han just rolls his eyes as he begins to undo his shirt. "Never, She is the least of my worries. Right now...I need you" And with that, they begin to kiss more passionatly as they take each other's clothes off...not noticing you standing right there.

...

When you would read romance books, they always described heartbreak as being completely shattered, left in a state of screaming and tears. But you...you felt nothing inside. You felt cold and hollow, like you were dead. All you could do was stare at your husband and the demoness as they began to embrace, as he entered her. You often wondered what you'd do if you were ever in this situation. You always thought you would make a scene, scream as loud as possible and maybe throw something.

You stared at your husband and you just walked away. You descended the steps and entered your room and sat yourself down at your vanity. You took the flowers out of your hair as you stared blankly at your reflection. You looked down at your dress, no longer did you think it looked beautiful, in fact you thought it was the ugliest thing you ever saw. You take it off and throw it somewhere. Tears were falling down your face but you didn't even notice them you looked over at the bed, his side of it. So many nights you spent up worrying for him, praying for him...and he does this to you?

Finally, you begin to emote. You start to laugh. The tears don't stop falling but you don't stop laughing either. You laugh harder and harder and tears fall heavier and heavier as you stare blankly at you vanity.

...

When Bi-Han finished, he returned to the party, he expected to see you still there, laughing with Tomas and Kuai. He was hoping to see your sweet face after what he just did, perhaps it would make him feel better about what he did, or worse. But you weren't. You were gone and there was his brother's shooting him a disgusted look as if they knew what he had just done. Bi-Han ignores them and searches the area for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. He left the festivities to go search for you.

He went up the steps and entered your room and he found you sitting at you vanity, it's mirror shatter and if you threw something at it. But you didn't bother by this at all, you just gleamed at him with that sweet smile he knows you best for. "Husband" you smile as you rise up out of your seat and gracefully walk up to him. "You weren't at the banquet."

"And you came to check on me?"

He nods, he stares into your eyes and remembers just how much you mean to him. He reaches out and hugs you, much to your surprise. But you didn't resist him, you instead melted into his arms. "Did you enjoy the party?" You ask, sounding so sweet, so innocent. Bi-Han just responds with a nod and short "Mhmm" sound.

"Did you enjoy Sareena too?"

Your voice kept its sweet tone, you asked it like it was nothing that big. But Bi-Han froze at this, he releases you stared at you, a little bit of horror forms on his face. He looks into your eyes and notices that they're glazed just a little bit. "You're drunk." He says dismissive. You just stare back at him and shake your head slowly. It was at that second that Bi-Han noticed that you were holding something in your hands, bags, you were leaving.

You attempt to walk past him but he blocks your path. "What do you think you're doing?" The look he gives is a very stern one, but you've known him long enough to see fear in his eyes. "I'm leaving." You grip the bags tighter as you stare at the door, it hurts too much to look at him. "You will not." He says sternly like you were asking. "Why, you have Sareena now."

"I don't want Sareena...I want you."

"Yet you 'need' Sareena." You finally find the strength to look him in the eyes. Tears blurred your vision, you wanted so desperately to go out strong, yet you began to cry. "Why?" that is all you can bring yourself to say. "Why wasn't I good enough for you? What did I fail to do that a demon could? I-I love you, I'd kill for you, I'd die for you. Why wasn't I enough for you? You were enough for me... you're everything to me..." Your voice begins to crack, but you can't care anymore. You look into Bi-Han's eyes for answers, but he avoided your gaze.

He doesn't stop you from pushing past him and going out the door. A crowd had formed outside the Banquet hall, seems that the party had ended. You were a slobbering mess as you marched through the crowd, avoiding all their confused gazes. You saw Kuai and Tomas, they could tell what happened. They gave you a mournful yet understanding look as you passed. You saw Sareena, you both gave the other a cold glare as you passed.

You made your way to the nearest gate out of the Artika. You stared at the large structure, you hesitated slightly. You're leaving everything you built, everything you loved behind...you looked behind you and noticed that the crowd began to part as they made way for Bi-Han. He stared at you longing and you returned the look. Neither of you wanted this to end, neither of you wanted you to leave.

It was so painful to look at him, so you put it on the ground and you opened the large door and walked out into the cold night.

...

A/n: Well that was heavy. I'm gonna have to do a lot of fluffy stuff to make up for this lol.

Btw, should I like to do a part two where Y/n and Bi-Han get back together?

Edit: Part 2

[busybeewriting]

You don’t have to do it alone.

Summary: Based off this request. The farmer doesn’t know the meaning of a break- and everyone else in town starts to see that they need a break.

Warnings: General depictions of exhaustion and slight injuries

When you answered the call for a Farmer in Mistria, you didn’t think it be like this. You were constantly busy, running around the water your crops, clear your farm, help repair a bridge, general store, mill, streets, and more. But everyone here, they were so kind. They were so nice. You couldn’t help it, you had to help. You had to do it. Even if you didn’t want too.

And that’s how you ended up with Ryis today. He needed help fixing up some of the fencing around Mistria, so hammer in hand you two were cranking it out. But you couldn’t help but slow as more time wore on, the ache in your muscles starting to become more and more apparent. The sun beating down on your back, you could feel it just sucking the life out of you. And by the time you noticed the trajectory of the hammer- it was too late to move your hand. The tool slammed into your hand with a mighty wack- your might wack.

“Shit! Y/N, are you okay?” Ryis calls, rushing forward and kneeling down to take your hand and look it over. “It’s gonna been to be iced. But the swelling shouldn’t be too bad.” He smiles up at you gratefully.

You give him a weak smile back, trying to ignore the throbbing. “Ah, it should be fine. I’ll have Valen check it out later. Let’s finish these fences.” You nod at him. Ryis frowns, watching as you pick up the hammer again. He wants to protest, it looked pretty nasty…but if you’re fine…?

He sighs, but kept a watchful eye on you. Making sure there was no other mishaps. And as you were walking home, Reina saw you.

“Y/N!” She calls, rushing over. “Hey! I was wondering if you have any veggies for a soup I wanna try making!” She asks, ever so cheerie.

“Uh, yeah. I think so.” You nod, giving her a smile.

“Sweet! You wanna help me make it?” She asks, linking her arm through yours. Walking down to your farm with you.

In truth. No. No you did not. But here she was looking at you with those big ole eyes, and sweet smile. You couldn’t say no to her! Even if you just wanted to melt into bed. “Sure thing.” You say.

And so, you got her the crops she needed. And she chopped. You stirred the pot, that was until you put your hand down- hissing in pain as you looked at the opposite hand from what you just smashed with a hammer.

“Oh!” Reina gasps, quickly setting down her knife before taking you to the sink and rinising your hand under cold water. “Are you alright? Do you need Valen?”

You shake your head, “No, no. I’ll be okay.” You brush off her concern. “Just scared me more than anything.” You give her a smile to help ease the worries. Reina frowns, she wanted to make sure you were okay… but if you said you were fine…

And so, after leaving the Inn after some delicious soup, you headed up to the forge. You needed to fix a chip in your axe- as annoying as it was. You had already worked yourself to the bone, why not a little more?

As you approached the forge, March took you in. You looked wrecked, exhausting and he can see where you have a bandage on your hand from the burn, one of your fingernails starting to bruise. “No.” He says quickly, grabbing your axe.

“What- March stop I need to fix it!” You protest trying to grab it back from him.

“No, you need to go home and take a fucking nap. You look exhausted and the others might be dumb enough to ignore it but if you go near molten metal there is no way you’d walk out of here with your stupid cherrie smile.” He snaps at you, looking at the axe and frowning. “A chip this small isn’t worth your life.”

You blink. Was March- did he actually care? But before you can continue to protest, he looks behind him. “Yo, Ryis! Take Y/N home and do not let them leave.” He says shoving you toward him.

Ryis awkwardly catches your shoulders, frowning at March’s roughness. “You okay?”

And finally, you let out a defeated sigh. Leaning into Ryis, “I need a nap.”

Ryis chuckles, patting your back. “Okay, come on.” He says gently, helping you back home. The whole time he was surprisingly gentle. “Feel better in the morning yeah?”

You give him a sleepy smile. “Yeah.”

A/N: I’m so sorry this took me so long!! I kept trying to get it done but then I started working on an animation and i forgot 😔 but I hope you enjoyed!!

[molotovgirl45]

sdv Sebastian x Reader headcanons

This is my first Tumblr post, and I thought I could start off with some simple head canons for Sebastian in year 1. Honestly part of me could see an entirely different approach, and I'll honestly do multiple of these lol. Anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this as much as I did!♡

I feel like when he meets you for the first time, he's slightly dazed when looking at you. but he doesn't really know why. It takes him a while to even realize he's attracted to you, since he isn't the most experienced with handling his emotions.

Randomly in spring, he turns on the flower dance music and pretends as if hes dancing witn you. He does it infront of a mirror, continuing to become increasingly frustrated when he can't get it right

Days before the flower dance Abigail and Sam will be hanging out at Sam's place when they realize he has a crush on the farmer, so they end up teasing him and trying to convince him to ask the farmer to be his dance partner. As much as he protests, they still end up helping him get ready and everything. Including, Abigail showing him how to actually dance and how to compliment you without sounding condescending or perverted.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, he took hours getting ready before the dance, trying to look good for you. Robin notices him actually wanting to dress up this year and teases him thoroughly.

At the dance, when you arrive, Abigail and Sam hype him up to go talk to you as you talk with Pierre. As he walks up to you, he dusts the invisible dust of his shoulders and sees if his hair looks okay. And as he waits for your attention, he just looks absolutely breath taken. Like your beauty just blew the wind out of him.

When he asks you, he occasionally looks back at Abigail and Sam for reassurance. >///<

( this is a more game-based head canon ) You visit him so often, that in the mornings he starts to wait for you, hoping you will drop in that day. And also ends up not eating lunch in case you bring him a plate of sashimi like you usually do. When you dont it doesn't bother him that much, he just ends up missing you.

[urprettylildoe]

𝒩ℯ𝓌 𝓁𝒾𝒻ℯ, 𝓃ℯ𝓌 𝓎���𝓊.

In his opinion, you were looking through the wrong perspective.

♡︎

If you were from the city — let's just say, it's gonna take a lot for you to get used to Jer's lifestyle. Going from surrounded by skycrapers and blinding lights to an area miles away in the countryside with animals.

Whines could only leave your mouth, complaining about how you needed to go back home.

He could only smile as you looked so out of place with your fancy clothes amidst the farm. It was adorable how you made a face every time mud fell on your heel or if one of the pigs got a little too close to your liking.

Your phone? Accidentally fell into a bucket of water. Good thing there's an entertaining TV set up to your liking! Your designer clothes? Those would be better in the closet or else they'd get dirty. In fact, you'd be better off with cutesy ones of his preference.

A pout adorned your lips as he handed you a bunch of cleaning supplies despite you insisting you don't know how to clean.

"Oh, darlin', it's fine. With time, you will." He patted your head condescendingly, ruffling your hair in the process. With a gentle shove, you were pushed into the kitchen.

Silly girl. There ain't no maids here to clean up after you!

By the end of the day, you'd be exhausted from tidying up the house with no prior experience. Jeremy would come in to find you curled up on the bed, tuckered out.

The farmer won't forget to wake you up as soon the sun rises as well, tossing off the blankets which made you shrink back from the cold.

He tutted, "They really spoiled ya back in the city, didn't they? Well, m'hungry and I need ya to cook my breakfast."

"I don't even know how," you protested, only to be shushed by his coddling and reassurances that you will.

Jeremy didn't really understand those people in the urban areas, especially the rich ones. They needed to learn their lessons. (Except you, but you did need to learn a lesson, even if it was a more lentient one).

♡

Flailing your arms around in gestures, you exclaimed: "Jer, you promised we'd go visit in the summer!"

"'guess I did, didn't I?" He hummed, "well, we ain't goin'. Besides, what's wrong about stayin' here?"

Everything. You bit your tongue.

In his defence, he didn't want you around filthy, arrogant man. He already managed to shoo away anyone who tried to take you. And not just shooing away with words.

So used to getting everything you wanted like a brat, you ran out...only to be dragged back in and put inside to "clean and think about what ya did."

The whole time you grumbled as you tidied the whole house, bottom lip trembling as your tactic didn't work.

However, it was a matter of time before you got used to this. Before you became embracive and cooked pies along that.

Because a new life meant a new you.

♡

If u enjoyed this:

Yandere!prince (Alaric): part 1 - part 2.

𝒴ℴ𝓊𝓇𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓁𝓎

@yourprettylildoe

[syndrossi]

October Trick or Treat #7: Consummation babies

Aka "what if Rhea and Daemon had conceived the twins on their wedding night" aka "Regnal AU."

x~x~x

“I am pregnant.”

His lady wife had announced the news in the very tone she had used earlier in the day when issuing judgment on two squabbling farmers who’d brought a dispute before her, and she was looking at him now as though he were the farmer on the losing end of it.

Daemon could only stare at her. When he had been summoned to her solar by the maester, he had assumed it was for yet another narrow-eyed lecture on his conduct in town, where he had gotten riotously drunk last night in a desperate bid to stave off the boredom of life as the Lady of Runestone’s unwanted husband.

“You are certain?” he asked, recognizing the question as stupid the moment it left his mouth.

“I waited for the quickening,” she said, hand straying toward her stomach before she seemed to realize, pulling it back to rest at her side.

Daemon’s gaze dropped to her midsection, marking what might be a small bump beneath the fabric of a loose dress. They had lain together no more than thrice in their four moons of marriage, one of those their wedding night, and had happily kept to their personal bedchambers since. For her to be so far along already, the babe must have been conceived that very night.

“That is good,” he said stiffly, in part because she seemed to expect the opposite sentiment from him. “You have my congratulations, my lady.”

She did not frown at him for once, though neither did she smile. “Should not half the congratulations be yours?”

Nothing about this marriage is mine. Certainly not his choice. It had been his grandmother’s scheming and his grandfather’s command, carried out over his every protest. His own father had escorted him to the wedding ceremony at Runestone as though he were his aunt Saera being marched to join the Silent Sisters.

And the very moment Runestone had passed to Rhea at her father’s death, not a moon into their marriage, it had been made abundantly clear to him from every quarter that nothing about Runestone was his, either. She was the lady, he was her consort, and he was to entertain himself with mindless pursuits in a castle whose walls felt smaller by the day.

One year, he had told himself. He only had to endure for one year, long enough to put in a showing that his grandfather would accept, and then he would be free to return to King’s Landing, and fly off on Caraxes wherever he liked, and find someone to fuck who didn’t stare at him throughout with frigid disdain. It had been clear to him from the very beginning that he was nothing more than a duty to her, an inconvenience to be suffered.

A duty, as though he were not the son of the Prince of Dragonstone, the next ruler of the Iron Throne. A dragonrider of pure Valyrian descent, the blood of Aegon the Conqueror singing in his veins. Dark Sister moldered in her sheath, hungry for blood and glory, and he—

He had been just another marriage alliance to his grandfather, like Aemma’s mother before her. A political maneuver by House Targaryen to gain a powerful seat in the Vale through his eventual children, as though their house were not capable of seizing whatever they wished by force.

And now I am trapped.

A babe tied him fully to his wife, to this damp, miserable castle, because he could not abandon a child of his blood to suffer the cold and joyless fate he sought to flee.

For once, Daemon was grateful for every lesson of courtly etiquette that had been drilled into him. It allowed him to act on instinct, even as his mind was elsewhere. He gave his wife’s cheek a stilted kiss, murmured the appropriate words, and then begged leave to write to his family with the happy news.

It was Viserys who he addressed it to, fingers pinching the quill hard enough by the end to snap it, sending a spatter of ink from its tip across the parchment. He did not bother rewriting it, steps quick as he brought it to the rookery, to the raven he could have raced on Caraxes with the news if his grandfather’s command would have let him.

And with quicker steps still, he sought Caraxes and what little air he was permitted.

x~x~x

“Did our father send you?” Daemon murmured as he embraced his brother. It would not surprise him; he seemed to know them at least as well as they did themselves.

“He might have suggested it,” Viserys said, pulling back with a grin before moving to greet Rhea with a brotherly kiss to the cheek.

Daemon turned to Aemma, who held his young niece by the hand. Rhaenyra would be nearly three, and she gazed up at him shyly.

“Your company is most welcome,” Daemon said to his cousin as he kissed her cheek. “As is your experience in these matters.”

There was a teasing glint in her eyes as Aemma smiled at him. “And I am sure you will heed all offered advice, as always.”

Daemon rolled his eyes at her in response, then crouched down. “Are you excited for a baby cousin, Rhaenyra?”

“Maybe,” his niece said, which about summed up his own feelings on the matter.

He picked her up then and sprang to his feet, tossing her up—to an audible wince from Aemma—and catching her. His niece giggled with delight as she settled in his arm, where she spotted Dark Sister and turned her attention to the sword.

Daemon transferred her to his other side, well away from the hilt. “Let us not alarm your mother any further.”

“I shall believe it when I see it,” Aemma told him, standing on tiptoes to kiss his cheek in turn and steal her daughter back.

In truth, he was relieved at their presence, after six moons being surrounded by only Royce retainers and stern Valemen. It was no small distance from Runestone to King’s Landing, either—a week at least by ship, though at least the waters were calm in summer. It was but a two-day ride on dragonback, but Viserys had shown no interest in claiming a new mount since Balerion’s death by old age, which baffled Daemon to no end.

I shall have to take him up on Caraxes while he is here, so that he can be reminded of the thrill of dragonriding. There was a particular stretch of mountain he enjoyed flying over, near the Royce summer manse, that still had snow flecking the tops of the peaks, even this deep into summer.

Aemma greeted his wife warmly, and Daemon recalled that they had known one another as girls. His cousin had tried to reassure him before his departure for Runestone that Rhea Royce was a spirited, adventurous woman. Daemon had seen very little evidence of either, though he supposed a pregnancy was a fair enough reason to avoid adventure.

“You must take poor Fallow out hawking in my stead,” Rhea was saying to Aemma. “I was too sick the first few weeks, and too large now.”

She had grown considerably over the past two moons, and Rhaenyra stretched her arms upward to place them on his wife’s swollen belly. “It moved!” she exclaimed.

“Yes, the babe is quite active,” Rhea agreed, leaning to kiss Rhaenyra on the crown of her head, then straightening slowly, a hand to her back.

Daemon cleared his throat. “Shall we move to the solar?”

“An excellent idea,” Aemma said, her smile at him warm with approval. She took Rhea’s elbow and they started for the holdfast, with Rhaenyra grabbing for his wife’s other hand.

Viserys remained at the rear of the procession with Daemon. “What do you think?” his brother asked. “A son or a daughter?”

His voice was light-hearted, but Daemon could hear the strain beneath it. His brother’s quest for a son had been fruitless thus far, with Aemma suffering two miscarriages prior to Rhaenyra’s birth and two since. Their grandfather had sternly reminded Daemon of his own duty, and that misfortune could befall the king’s heir at any time, as their uncle’s death had painfully demonstrated. Their father was a second son, and now in line for the throne. If Viserys were to struggle to provide the realm with a son, and their own father refused to remarry, then it fell upon Daemon to produce the necessary spares.

Daemon’s gaze went to Rhaenyra’s small form at Rhea’s side, hand swinging as she walked with her, hair long and pale. He imagined a child of his own holding her hand, but the details shifted constantly. Long hair, then short. Light, then dark.

“I do not know,” he said.

“Rhaenyra will love any daughter of yours like a sister,” Viserys said confidently. “And if you should have a boy, then we may have a match in the future.”

Daemon grimaced. He had not even begun to think so far ahead as matches. The one consolation was that their grandfather would surely no longer be around to wrest the decision from him. Their father would not force an unhappy pairing, though he could not imagine his children and his brother’s not growing close.

“How long do you intend to stay?” Daemon asked.

“So eager to be rid of my company?” his brother teased. But then his voice grew serious. “For as long as you like. I am sorry that I could not attend the wedding.”

“Do not be. It was a grim affair.”

And Aemma had been recovering from her last miscarriage.

His brother slung an arm around his shoulder. “You do not seem quite as miserable as I feared from your letter. Are you warming to the thought of fatherhood?”

Daemon bit back a grimace, recalling the letter he had sent. The news had unbalanced him at the time, and he had poured far more into it than he had intended. If Viserys had shared his words with their father, it was no small wonder that he had urged Viserys to visit. He had likely sounded on the verge of fleeing in the night.

“Perhaps.”

He and Rhea had gone from wholly avoiding one another’s company to taking suppers together now in her solar. They had been stilted affairs at first, and he had felt like someone playing a part in a mummer’s show. The first conversations that had not been pure torture had pertained to preparations for the babe. Ensuring the nursery was ready, beginning the search for an experienced wetnurse. Daemon had taken one look at the rickety cradle that had last been used by Rhea’s younger half-sister, Elys, and demanded a new one, which she had deferred to him.

The duties had begun piling on after that. He had resented them initially, viewing them as more bars being added to the cage, or even demeaning—he, a prince of the realm and a dragonrider, seeing to tasks ordinarily left to a lord’s wife. Rather than filling his nights with revelry, however, he had found himself thinking beyond the present. Would his child be allowed an egg in the cradle? When would it be safe to make the journey on dragonback to King’s Landing to present their babe to king and court?

His saddle was already modified to seat two, but he would need something of his own to hold the babe secure. He’d spent more time speaking with the craftsmen of Runestone in the past moon than he had in the air on Caraxes. It was tradition for House Royce to present newborns with a bronze medallion etched with runes to protect them from illness and injury, and it had fallen to him to arrange that as well.

His wife’s castle was laden with history and tradition for her house, and he had none on hand for his own, so he had chanced a trip to Dragonstone, poring over the volumes there for any ancient customs that had fallen out of practice in his own family, finding one at last wherein damaged and shed dragon scales from the mounts of the infant’s parents were carved up and set into a bowl of silver or gold.

Caraxes had been willing enough to make a few donations to the intrigued smith who had forged the Royce medallion, and the end result reminded Daemon almost of a mosaic, with darker and lighter patches of red arranged in a pattern not unlike flame within the gold.

The smiths of Runestone, he was forced to admit, were quite skilled.

“Come,” Daemon said, suddenly eager to show it to his brother. “I have something for you to see.”

x~x~x

“It is too early,” Daemon repeated, mouth dry with fear as he stared at the door, listening to the moans of pain from within.

His father’s hand came down on his shoulder, pulling Daemon into his side. “It is not too early. Not every babe is willing to wait nine full moons in the womb, and it surprises me not at all that one of yours wishes to scream fury at the world sooner than late.”

Daemon leaned his head into his father’s shoulder, grateful that he had come nearly a full moon before the babe was due. Every nightmare scenario played in his mind, presented to him earlier by the maester. A dreaded breech birth. An ill-placed umbilical cord strangling his child. Unexpected trauma to mother or babe, killing one or both.

Rhea’s labor had started the better part of a day ago, and he had been in and out of the room as the maester allowed. His wife was a strong woman, he knew, loath to show weakness even among those she trusted, but she had long since stopped trying to mask her pain.

“It is taking too long,” Daemon said, his worry a wild thing, whipping from one fear to another.

“Shall we go back in?” his father asked.

He had been banished from her sight last time, but she barely seemed to notice their re-entry now. Since Daemon had been chided by the maester for hovering, he settled on the couch by the window, his father sitting beside him.

There were cloths upon cloths stained pink and red, buckets of water, implements he did not recognize. Daemon was grateful that the view was mostly shielded by the maester and his attendants, even as he agonized over their decision to have the birth here, rather than at the Red Keep, with the realm’s best maesters at their disposal.

He clutched the bronze medallion in his hand, thumb running over its runes. Rhea had insisted that he hold onto it, that it was for the babe and not her, but she and the babe were yet one and the same, and if it could afford either of them some protection—

Rhea cried out again, this one nearly a battle shout in volume, and the strain in it gave way at the end to something like relief. A second cry came, this one high in pitch, and Daemon stood up so fast he nearly collapsed, only his father’s steadying arm keeping him upright.

Past the maester, he glimpsed a pink, wriggling shape being handed to one of the maester’s assistants. There seemed to be no alarm as they worked on the babe, but he was waved back when he tried to approach.

“Not yet, my prince,” the maester said. “There is another.”

Another. Daemon stood a moment, uncomprehending of his words at first. Then— “Twins?”

“Yes, my prince.”

As Rhea panted, a sheen of sweat on her face, the first babe was cleaned, cord tied and then cut. Daemon was permitted to approach then, as the screaming babe was handed to her.

“A son, my lady, my prince. Small, but healthy.”

Daemon’s heart fluttered as he gazed upon the child in Rhea’s arms. He had a crown of dark hair, clearly taking after his mother, though with his eyes squeezed shut as he howled his fury, it was impossible to catch a glimpse of their color.

A son. A shout caught in his lungs, and he choked it back, because the birth was not yet over, but for now, his wife was alert if tired, coaxing their son to her breast. The wailing stopped once his mouth found the nipple, and Rhea’s head eased back into the pillow, eyes closing in obvious fatigue.

Daemon dared reach for her hand, and her eyelids fluttered open, gaze landing on him. She did not pull her hand back, and he squeezed lightly. They held one another’s stare for a time, then glanced as one at their son. Their firstborn.

The minutes slipped by, long enough for Daemon to wonder if something was wrong with the second babe, but Rhea tensed then, her grip tightening around his hand. Their son was taken from her breast and given to his father to hold as labor resumed.

The second birth was mercifully quick, the pain either lessened or dulled by all that had come before it. In less than half an hour, another small head emerged, then took to wailing, and Daemon felt himself relax at last at the sound.

The babe was cleaned, cord cut, and the second proclamation made. “Another healthy son, my lady.”

His firstborn was relinquished to him by his father, who had been gently rocking him on the couch, and Daemon in turn gave him to Rhea, who kissed his head, eyes bright with tears, and returned him to her breast. She reached eagerly for their second son, whose head was topped with tufts of pale silver, and he quickly latched onto her other breast.

Dark and light. The contrast as he looked between them felt right somehow. Two sons. I have two sons.

His firstborn, who had already suckled for nearly half an hour, pulled back, face scrunching up as though contemplating another wail, only for it to become a yawn. At Rhea’s nod, Daemon took him in his arms, staring into his face, taking in his impossibly delicate features. His hand wrapped around Daemon’s pinky finger, and he could see tiny fingernails.

His son was staring up at him, his eyes a purple-hued grey, everything about him perfect. His frown, his nose, his dark eyelashes—

Another yawn broke his son’s steady contemplation, and Daemon yawned with him. His father murmured congratulations to them, praising Rhea’s fortitude as Daemon probably would have thought to do if he weren’t so exhausted. He couldn’t imagine having been the one actually giving birth.

Their younger son had finished his own first feeding just in time for the afterbirth. While Rhea was cleaned and the bed linens changed, Daemon cradled him in his other arm, as perfect in every way as his twin. His son’s sleepy eyes blinked at Daemon, a pale lilac that took his breath away when he saw it.

“Aemon,” his father whispered beside him, voice cracking midway through.

They need names. But that was a battle for tomorrow, when they had all slept at last. His son’s face scrunched up as he continued to stare at Daemon, a whimper that became a howling wail that woke his brother, who immediately began fussing.

“Here,” his father said, taking his younger son from him. He rocked him gently, murmuring soothingly at him, and the babe calmed, gazing up at him in a fierce study that was just like Aemon’s. His father smiled at the babe with a joy Daemon he had not seen in years and kissed his tiny cheek.

Rhea eased back onto the now-clean linens of her bed, and Daemon carried their eldest over to her, placing him in her arms. “They are perfect,” he said, because it was truth. The sweat had been wiped from her face, though her hair was still damp. She looked pale and exhausted, but her smile as she gazed at their son was unexpectedly radiant. Daemon took her free hand, squeezing it once more. “I am glad you are well.”

She gave an answering squeeze, understanding his meaning, then gazed about the room. “Where is our other son?”

Daemon glanced behind at his father, whose back was to them as he faced the window, which he was holding their youngest near to catch the last rays of sun.

“We may have to ensure my father doesn’t steal him back to King’s Landing.”

x~x~x

“If he is to inherit Runestone, he should have a Vale name,” Rhea said stubbornly.

It was an old argument, but this time Daemon had his father, heir to the Iron Throne, present to influence the matter, though he was distracted with both babes currently, a small bundle in each arm.

Their size still kept Daemon awake at night, and he had found himself sleeping in the nursery for the past three, soothed by the sounds of them stirring in their cradle—which was large enough to hold them both for now. Still, the maester checked them every day, and assured him that they were in as fine health as could be hoped for such tiny babes.

“He is my father’s eldest grandson,” Daemon countered. “And he is a prince of House Targaryen. Should anything happen to my brother, he could very well be king himself someday! He cannot be named Rodrik or Hubert.”

Rhea glared at him. “Or Jon—”

“Jon!” he exclaimed, throwing his arms up. “You cannot be in earnest.”

“We have two sons. It would be a sign of unity between House Targaryen and the Vale to name one each in the fashion of both their houses.”

Daemon managed to hold back his instinctive sneer at the suggestion, contenting himself with a frown instead. It was already settled that their younger son would be Aemon. It was a fitting tribute to his uncle, and his father would not hear otherwise. Thus Rhea was scheming to get her way with their eldest’s name instead, using that as leverage.

“Perhaps we should seek the king’s opinion on the matter,” Daemon said. “I am sure he will have one.”

Let his grandfather’s overbearing nature be of some benefit for once. Judging by the endless stream of ravens into the rookery today, they could very well hear from him today. With four days passed since the birth, the responses from his family in King’s Landing would just be arriving.

The king’s would be effusive in its praise, he knew, with a tone of unbearable self-satisfaction at such an outcome less than a year after the wedding.

“You could let the babe decide,” his father said, earning Daemon’s glare. Whose side are you on, Father?

“Baelon and Aemon,” Daemon said, irritated that his father refused to take either the compliment or the bait. “They are twins. That is a bond they will have their whole lives. What better bond to honor than yours and Uncle Aemon’s?”

“I recall Viserys saying you favored Aegon.”

He had, but that had been when Daemon had been expecting a single son or daughter. A grand name, to herald a grand legacy. But two sons who had shared the womb, who already seemed upset to be parted for too long—

There was only one bond like it that Daemon had known.

His father glanced down at Jon, who had woken from a nap to peer at him. “What are your thoughts, little dragon? Do you favor Aegon?” His dark-haired son frowned, almost as though in response. “No? And what of Rodrik?” A whimper this time. “Hubert” was met with a screaming rage that Daemon had to take him in arm to calm, pleased at his son’s good taste, until “Jon” received an alert blink and an excited flailing of limbs.

“Baelon,” Daemon suggested quickly to take advantage of his son’s good mood. The suggestion was not received as poorly as the others, at least.

“That settles it, does it not?” Rhea said.

“It does not,” Daemon said through clenched teeth. Jon. The most plain of names imaginable. He could not believe that his father was willing to play along with this charade. “Let us ask Aemon his thoughts, if we are to be listening to infants.”

Aemon fussed at being taken from his father’s arms, and when his light purple eyes focused upon Daemon’s face, he fussed all the louder. “You were happy enough to be sung to last night,” Daemon reminded him, humming the tune of the lullaby until his son’s upset softened to light worry instead. “Is your brother a Jon?” He paused to give him a moment to respond, but his son continued to stare at him, as though awaiting something. “Or is he a Baelon?”

His son cooed softly, causing Daemon to turn to his wife in triumph.

“He is asking for his grandsire,” she said, her gaze withering.

[longliveblackness]

Paul Bogle led the last large scale armed Jamaican rebellion for voting rights and an end to legal discrimination and economic oppression against African Jamaicans.

Bogle owned a home in Stony Gut and had another house in Spring Garden as well as a 500 acre farm at Dunrobin making him one of the few African Jamaicans prosperous enough to pay the fee to vote.

Officially Jamaican slavery ended in 1833 after the Sam Sharpe Rebellion a year earlier. Yet from 1834 to 1838 former slaves served post-servitude “apprenticeships” to their former owners. They were also subject to a judicial system controlled by the Colonial government primarily for the benefit of the former slaveholders. They endured unemployment and taxes but low wages.

In August of 1865, Bogle led a 50 mile march of small farmers and former slaves to Spanish Town to meet with Governor Eyre to discuss their political grievances. They were denied an audience with the governor.

Two months after that attempted meeting, the Morant Bay Rebellion started, sparked by the arrest of a supporter of Bogle for protesting the conviction of another black Jamaican for trespassing on a long-abandoned plantation.

The Jamaicans, armed with sticks and stones, were protesting against injustice and widespread poverty. Most freedmen were prevented from voting by high poll taxes, and their living conditions had worsened following crop damage by floods, cholera and smallpox epidemics, and a long drought.

Bogle was captured, tried and convicted by the colonial government, and hanged on 24 October 1865 in the Morant Bay court house.

Because of his efforts Bogle was recognized as a national hero in Jamaica in 1969.

•••

Paul Bogle dirigió la última rebelión armada jamaiquina. Esta fue por el derecho al voto, el fin a la discriminación legal y la opresión económica contra los jamaiquinos africanos.

Bogle solía ser dueño de una casa en Stony Gut y tenía otra casa en Spring Garden, también una granja de quinientos acres en Dunrobin, lo que lo convertía en uno de los pocos jamaiquinos africanos lo suficientemente prósperos como para pagar la tarifa para votar.

La esclavitud en Jamaica terminó oficialmente en 1833 después de la rebelión de Sam Sharpe. Sin embargo, de 1834 a 1838, después de la servidumbre, los antiguos esclavos se convirtieron en “aprendices” de sus antiguos dueños. También estaban sujetos a un sistema judicial controlado por el gobierno colonial, el cual principalmente beneficiaba a los antiguos propietarios de esclavos. Sufrieron desempleo e impuestos.

En agosto de 1865, Bogle encabezó una marcha de cincuenta millas, tanto pequeños agricultores como ex esclavos fueron hasta Spanish Town para reunirse con el gobernador Eyre y discutir sobre las quejas políticas. Se les negó una audiencia con el gobernador.

Dos meses después de ese intento de reunión, comenzó la Rebelión de Morant Bay, provocada por el arresto de un partidario de Bogle, el cual se encontraba protestando en contra de la condena que se le había aplicado a otro jamaiquino negro por entrar ilegalmente a una plantación que había sido abandonada hace mucho tiempo.

Los jamaiquinos armados con palos y piedras, protestaron en contra de la injusticia y la pobreza generalizada. A la mayoría de las personas negras libres se les impidió votar debido a los elevados impuestos electorales, y sus condiciones de vida habían empeorado tras los daños a las cosechas causados ​​por inundaciones, epidemias de cólera y viruela, y una larga sequía.

Bogle fue capturado, juzgado y condenado por el gobierno colonial y ahorcado el 24 de octubre de 1865 en el juzgado de Morant Bay.

Gracias a sus esfuerzos, Bogle fue reconocido como héroe nacional de Jamaica en 1969.