#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.”

[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

[fieldsofwriting]

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!!

[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.

[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.

[alpaca-clouds]

Rural Living vs Capitalism

Something I find rather funny is this one thing that somehow left wing and right wing people will agree on: They kinda hate farmers and their protests and them wanting living wages - just for different reasons. Like, sure, there is a certain group of right wing traditionalists who idealize farmers, but pretty much everyone else just is angry with them in one way or another.

Among left wingers I usually make myself unpopular by looking at farmer protests and go: "Yeah, well, actually they are right?" Because most of the times the protesting farmers are the smaller and middle sized farms, who get fucked over by the big coorporate farms. And that is an issue. It is among the issues they are protesting about.

And this is a general thing when it comes to the rural communities.

See, a lot of times left wing people tend to be rather suspicious of rural folks, having this idea that everyone in rural areas is super conservative - not to say racist, misogynist and queerphobic. And... Like, we know that statistically speaking a lot more people with "conservative" ideas (if not outright rightwing) live in the rural areas, which has to do with folks in those areas generally being older. And if younger families move into rural areas, they often are better off and hence statistically also more likely to be right-leaning at the very least.

However, the fact is that nobody gets quite as fucked over by capitalism as people in the rural areas are - both farmers and people just living there. And there are always people living in rural areas for the other reason people might move there: The fact that living in rural areas is on the surface a lot cheaper. Homes are cheaper there at the very least.

But that is where it starts. Because rural folks get fucked over in so many way. Generally there is the fact that a lot of other stuff is more expensive in the rural areas. Often amenities might be more expensive. You want fast internet? Lol good luck finding someone offering it. The internet cables lying in your village are probably like 15 years old. You remember ISDN? You wanna go shopping? Well, you gotta drive 30-60 minutes to the next supermarket. Need new clothes? Well, it is a two hour drive now. Also, the supermarket might be more expensive than the one in the city. You cannot drive a car for some reason? Well, we have a bus that comes two times a day, if you miss it, you are fucked. The next train station is like an hour away. Mostly because for "small" rural communities it is just not payign under capitalism to put all those things into the villages. A big supermarket? Does not make enough money there. Fast internet? Costs too much to put down there. The same with everything else. And thus... Because capitalist companies want to make a profit, a lot of stuff is not available in rural areas. In the worst cases this leads to food deserts - large areas where no supermarkets and ways to get food (other than fast food joints) are avaialble.

Oh, and schools? At times the next school might be more than an hour away as well.

And if you are a farmer? Well, if you are a small farmer you are fucked as well. Because no way in hell are you able to work your farm as efficiently as a coorporate farm management company is able to, who underpay the farmers working for them. Those companies can afford for giant automated systems, too, that take care of a lot of the stuff. Things that a lot of smaller farmers just cannot pay for or need to go into dept for.

So, in so many ways... Yeah, people in rural areas get fucked over again and again. Both people living there - and the farmers. And... Well, yeah. Of course because in the rural areas people tend to be a lot more conservative - but in the end they might be fucked over more than anyone else by capitalism. And due to the lack of basically everything around them, they often lack access to the information of how and why they are fucked over.

Which is not to say, that there are not left wing organizations active in rural areas. And some people there start to see how they get fucked over.

But I just wished for left wing people to also realize that this really is a big issue. And have some sympathy for those people.

[readyforthegarden]

Yes, Chef

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

Synopsis: A sweet late night snack for yourself turns into one for Jake as well.

Warnings: Smut, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), food play (the classic eating whipped cream off someones body, licking up strawberry juice)

A/N: I've had this in the works since Bourbon and Beyond over a year ago, and suddenly got struck with inspiration. Enjoy!

WC: 3140

You weren’t sure how you ended up on the kitchen counter at 2am. Well, that was only half true. You knew incredibly well how you got there, stark naked, and whimpering while Jake took his time with you. All you wanted was to make a quick and sweet late night snack while you stayed up to finish your book. Jake was off somewhere else in the house, undoubtedly playing one of his many guitars, or recording something to show his brothers the next time he saw them.

But as soon as he heard you rustling in the kitchen, he was at your heels, suddenly craving a snack as well. You were taking a carton of strawberries out of the fridge, a can of whipped cream tucked in your arm and he grinned. You washed the berries in a colander, and began to place them in a bowl when he stopped you.

“Baby, let me,” Jake was never one to just toss a snack together. He took pride in his kitchen, and even simple snacks turned into decadent appetizers. He gently nudged you out of the way, getting a cutting board and knife, slicing up the strawberries.

“Jake, I’m happy to just eat them as is.” you protested softly, itching to get back to your book. “You don’t have to make it fancy.” he turned to you, lifting an eyebrow.

“Nothing but the best for my love,” he smirked. “Hand me the sugar?”

“Yes, Chef.” you rolled your eyes with a small giggle, turning to grab the small canister of sugar you kept on the counter by the stove and mixer. Jake’s knife stopped, and you turned to find him watching you. “What?”

“What did you say?”

“Yes Chef?” Jake watched you wide eyed for a moment, a small blaze behind them as he set the knife down. “Jake?”

“You know, in restaurants, whatever the head chef says goes, right?” he turned his body fully to you, crossing his arms over his chest. “That’s why when he commands something, the answer is ‘yes chef’.”

“Is that so?” your voice dropped to a murmur as he stalked closer to you, rolling up the sleeves of his tattered shirt to his elbows.

“It is,” Jake confirmed, once he was nose-to-nose with you. His eyes were looking at your lips for a few moments before they flickered up to yours, a playful, amorous look in them. “Would you like to play a little game?”

“I don’t know Jake,” you teased. “We’re both pretty sore losers, are you sure it’s a good idea?” Jake smirked, brushing his lips against yours.

“Darlin’, I can promise that both of us are going to end up very, very happy.” a small, excited shiver ran down your spine when his lips touched yours, and you found yourself nodding.

“What’s the game?” you breathed.

“When I tell you to do something, when I ask something of you, you answer ‘Yes Chef’.”

“And if I don’t want to do something?” you asked, testing your boundaries.

“‘No Chef,’” Jake gave you a soft smile, his reminder that he would never ask too much of you, always giving you an out and a safety net. “Do you want to play?”

“Yes, Chef.” Jake grinned, leaning down and wrapping his arms around you, letting them slide down the backs of your thighs until you were off the ground. He carried you over to the opposite counter, setting you down on the edge before making sure the cutting board and knife is far out of the way. He sauntered back over, holding the colander of strawberries in his hands. Setting it by your leg, he reached in, plucking a large one up by the leaves.

“You picked some really lovely berries at the farmers market this morning,” he murmured. “You always do. You find the ones that are so ripe and plump, so juicy.” he raised it to his nose, smelling the red fruit. He wasn’t lying, the fruit in his hand was almost ready to burst. Reaching out, he pointed the tip of the berry towards you. “You can feel it,” he let the strawberry touch the very edge of your bottom lip, tracing the shape of them. Jake watched the path as he traced it again. You waited for the moment he presented the berry to you to bite, yet it didn’t come. Watching him with an almost forlorn look, he brought the berry back to his own lips, biting into it.

The moan that rumbled from his chest as the juices cascaded over his tongue set you on fire. His eyes had closed as he took the bite, slowly opening them again as he pulled it away from his mouth, chewing slowly. You could see the shine of juice on his lips, and subconsciously licked your own.

“Would you like a taste?” you nodded quickly and Jake just chuckled with a devious smirk. “What do you say?”

“Yes Chef,” you expected the berry to be brought to your lips, but instead Jake stood between your legs, leaning up and pressing his lips to yours, his tongue skillfully sliding into your mouth and gently, slowly lapping against yours. The lingering flavor of the strawberry made you hum, melting as Jake’s gentle caresses relaxed you. He pulled away slowly, bringing the bitten berry to your lips and allowing you a full taste.

You savored the juiciness, the exact flavor you were looking to satisfy your late night craving with flooding your senses. A droplet of the berry’s juice dripped from your lip, landing on the old t-shirt you wore. The color soaked into the faded, off-white fabric and Jake tsked.

“Can’t keep your whites clean?” he sighed. “Take it off.” Your fingers found the hem of the t-shirt, raising it above your head and letting it drop to the floor. Your skin prickled at the coolness of the air, something Jake’s ever observant eyes honed in on. “Cold?”

“A little,” the words floated out in a sigh. Jake smiled, twirling the berry in his fingers. Without another word, he brought the bitten fruit to your left breast, teasing it. The berry was cool, its juices leaving a sticky sweet trail around your nipple as Jake traced it. You were almost transfixed watching his hand, eyes following the slow circles. He broke the trance when he leaned in, replacing the berry with his mouth. His tongue was just as slow as his hand, lapping up the drying trail of juice. Your head fell back, arms stretching out behind you with your palms flat to support yourself as the tip of his tongue flicked your hardened nipple. You fell into the feeling of Jake at your breast, the gentle tug of his teeth on the sensitive flesh. Your back arched, pressing the swell further into his mouth.

Registering a touch on your other nipple, you glanced down. Jake had raised the strawberry up to your other breast, rubbing the juices there. Your eyes trailed to his face, to find him looking up at you through his lashes, studying your reactions. Biting your bottom lip, you whimpered softly, your skin flushing as he trailed a wet kiss from your left breast to your right, lapping the juice there.

“Jake,” you sighed, reaching out a hand and tangling your fingers in his hair. If he heard your moan, he paid you no mind. Wrapping his lips around your right nipple he mimicked the movements he’d finished only a few moments earlier before letting go with a soft pop, and bringing his lips to yours again. When he pulled away, he stepped back, watching your flushed body move with your breathing.

Finishing the strawberry in his hand, he tossed the leaves and small stem to the sink. He moved slowly about the kitchen, going to the counter space next to where you sat, and moving a few items, clearing it off.

“Would you lay down for me?”

“Yes Chef,” your body was chilled again as you twisted on the smooth surface, laying back on the granite. Turning your head, you watched him as he picked up the can of whipped cream, shaking it in his hand rhythmically. He watched you shiver as your body adjusted to the cool granite while he used the pad of his thumb to pop off the cap to the can, letting it drop to the floor with a rattle.

“You know, I would prefer to make our own whipped cream instead of eating something out of the can.” he hummed, then as if it was a side note, “Open your mouth,” you did so without question, sticking out your tongue flat as he pressed his finger against the nozzle, squirting the creamy confection onto it. Before you could taste it, Jake leaned over, lapping it off your waiting tongue before closing his mouth around yours in a kiss. “Not enough flavor for me, but it will do for tonight.” Without another word, he moved the tip of the nozzle to the valley between your breasts, circling around your navel and to the waistband of your panties.

Setting the can up by your head with a soft clink, he leaned over your body, letting his tongue follow the path of the quickly warming cream. One of his hands was holding back his hair, keeping it from getting into the trial. The mustache he’d been growing in as of late tickled your skin, making you shudder. As he circled your belly button, you began to grow desperate, your body growing hot under his affections.

“Jake, I need you,” you yearned quietly. He raised his head, giving you a smarmy look as he rounded the edge of the counter, standing between your knees which hung over. He ran his hands up and down your thighs, teasing the skin at your hips where the hem of your panties rested.

“You need me?” Jake murmured, his fingertips following the round of your hips and taking hold of the waistband. You raised your hips the best you could, allowing him to slide the cotton down your legs and dispose of them with your stained shirt. One of his hands found your wrist, slipping the simple black hair tie that rested there onto his wrist before standing back and tying his hair in a low bun at the nape of his neck.

Jake’s hands were back on your thighs, sliding underneath them and holding tightly, dragging you down the counter until you were almost afraid you’d slide right off to the floor. Stepping away momentarily, he picked up another berry from the colander, taking his place between your legs again. “I wonder which is going to taste sweeter, this berry or you?” Jake leaned over your body, no doubt feeling the heat from between your legs on his abdomen. He brought the strawberry to your lips, and you took a bite, this one just as delicious as the last. A gasp escaped your throat when you felt two of his fingers slowly swipe a path up your slit. He leaned over again, and this time pressed his fingers to your lips.

Humming as you swirled your tongue around his fingers, you tasted yourself on them. There was no comparison to the sweet fruit, but you knew what Jake would choose. He withdrew his fingers from your mouth and wrapped his arms around your thighs, bending at the waist and attaching his mouth to your pussy. Long, languid licks, as if he were savoring your taste as much as he did the berry’s earlier, had you sighing out his name, fingernails scratching at the smooth surface beneath you. Your knees rested on the crook of his elbows, and you felt your legs twitch as the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit. Your heels dug into his sides of their own accord, as if you were ushering on a steed.

The wet sounds from his mouth lapping and sucking at your pussy echoed in the kitchen. True to his word, Jake was a messy eater, in every sense of the phrase. Your hips began to writhe under his touch, one of Jake’s hands coming and resting firmly on your pelvis, trying to hold you down, though you both knew he loved the feeling of you unraveling under him. He looked up at you, hair falling around his face from his bun. You could barely see his lips as you looked down at him, but you could feel them tugging into a smile against you. One of his arms hoisted your leg onto his shoulder, and you felt the two fingers he’d teased your earlier back at your core, coating themselves in your slick.

Jake’s tongue pressed rough circles around your clit as his fingers eased themselves in and out of you just as roughly. He shook his face against you when your hips thrust against his face, a low growl vibrating against you, causing you to cry out. Your walls began to clench around his fingers, coos of ecstasy falling from your lips as you reached your peak. He worked you through your orgasm, his touch more gentle. When your breathing began to steady, Jake stood up, lips and chin glistening as he began to pull your body towards him again.

Once your feet touched the floor, he wrapped an arm around your back, pressing you into his front. You tasted yourself on his lips and tongue as he kissed you. You gripped tightly to his shirt, legs feeling unsteady. When he pulled back, you could see how dark his eyes had gotten, causing your stomach to quiver.

“Tell me darlin’,” he drawled out lowly, his other hand coming to cup your face, keeping it close to his. “Would you like me to fuck you?”

“Mhm,” you nodded, almost dizzily. Jake shook his head, the tip of his nose brushing against yours as he laughed softly.

“This is twice now you’ve forgotten our game,” he reminded you. “Should we stop playing and go to bed?”

“No Chef!” you shook your head, getting back into the game. “No, please, I want you…I need you, please Chef.” Jake hushed your pleading with a soft kiss. You savored his softness, his easing of your nerves. And yet in a flash, you were turned, your front pressed against the edge of the counter. You heard his pants unzip and glanced over your shoulder to catch him stroking himself as you spread your legs out a bit. Jakes eyes were zeroed in on your pussy, and you could feel his hot gaze lingering as the cool air brushed over your skin.

One of Jake’s hands gripped your hip, tugging you back even further. You gasped as he slid the head of his cock through your folds, tapping roughly on your clit, causing you to jolt with every tap. Wiggling your hips, you felt him tease your entrance, bringing your whines to the point of begging as he let the head push in and out. The shallow movements had you slapping your palm against the counter.

“Dammit, Jake!” you cried. “Please!” with a hearty, sly chuckle Jake’s other hand grabbed your free hip, and used your own body as leverage as he slammed into you. The quick movement had the air rushing from your lungs. The slick push and pull of Jake’s cock was delicious, sending shivers down your spine and goosebumps to prickle your skin. Your hands gripped the edge of the counter, feeling the sharp corner dig into the skin under your breasts.

“Feel so good,” Jake grunted out from behind you, one of his hands leaving your hip and grabbing your shoulder, tugging you back roughly to meet the snap of his hips. The pants that were falling from behind his grit teeth were so sinfully delectable, you had to match them with your own. As his hips began to speed their motions, almost recklessly, his hand left your shoulder, sliding down to splay at the middle of your back. You could feel him pressing down on your spine, arching your body so your hips stuck out even more towards him. The pads of his fingers dug grooves into your skin, you were sure you’d be bruised as he cursed under his breath between praises.

You could feel another orgasm building, your toes curling against the floor, nearly slipping out from under you. His name fell from your lips as you reached out, grabbing every inch of the counter you could, trying to hold on to something as your stomach quivered, a feeling like you were melting from the inside out overtaking you.

“Jake!” your walls clenched around him, causing him to groan and buck his hips almost erratically. The slapping of skin rang out in the kitchen, nearly causing the pots and pans in the cupboard you were up against to rattle and echo back. You knew there would be red marks on your ass from where his hips were impacting, but you couldn’t care less, as the soreness was starting to set in, so was your orgasm.

“Oh fuck!” you cried out harshly, moaning loudly. You were clawing at the stone beneath you, sure that if it had been anything softer, your nails and fingertips would have easily ripped through it with the passion you were feeling spread throughout your body.

The slaps from Jake’s hips were stinging now as he found his own end, a guttural, stuttering moan emitting from his throat as he spilled himself inside you. He leaned against your back, his sweaty cheek meeting your own damp skin there. You could feel his breath gliding over your own sweaty skin, cooling and chilling it. Jake’s hands let go of your hips, encircling your waist and hugging you close in the bent position.

“So beautiful,” he mumbled. “So perfect, so amazing.” Jake pressed soft, lazy kisses to your spine as he caught his breath and praised you quietly. When you caught your breath, you turned your head slightly, doing your best to see him at your angle.

“So, did you find the answer?” you asked, causing him to look up at you, though he barely moved his tired head to do so.

“What answer?”

“Which tasted sweeter? The strawberry or me?” A glint shone in Jake’s dark eyes as he laughed, peeling his sticky skin from yours and straightening himself, withdrawing from you. You watched as he grabbed some paper towels, rinsing them under some water to soften them and came over to where you were still leaning against the counter. He helped clean you up before wiping himself off, and tossing the paper towels away.

Bringing the colander back towards you, he reached in and plucked another berry from it. He took a bite and grinned.

“Definitely you.”

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[pedroshotwifey]

To the Flame Chapter 1

Series masterlist

Pairing: Dark!Javier Peña x afab!reader

Word count: 2.5k

Chapter tags/warnings: not much yet, age gap, fluff, reader being horny (c'mon y'all it's me what do you expect), Javier being gorgeous, erotic novels honorable mention, mentions of cheating, stuff I'm probably forgetting

Chapter summary: You meet a beautiful stranger at the farmer's market. Is he what you need to get back on your feet?

A/N: Hey, y'all!! I'm so very excited about starting this series! I have so many plans, and I can't wait to share them with you! Please keep in mind that this story will get darker the more it progresses. Thank you for reading!

***

You’ve been back in your hometown for about three months now. Three miserable and exhausting months. 

You’ve been working on the family farm four days a week, ten hours a day, every week since you got back. You figure it wouldn’t be so bad if you got to have the other three days off, but no. Those days are spent at the local farmer’s market, sitting in a stiff plastic chair in the sticky Texan heat. 

It doesn’t even matter that you wear a tank top and shorts to the market, you feel like you’re going to melt every damn time you have to go. The same goes for working on the farm, only you’re less fortunate in that situation. You know it’s smarter to wear jeans out there, so most of the time you do.

You’re trying to be grateful to your parents, you really are. They just make it so damn hard sometimes. Sure, they gave you a job when you needed one, but they never stop talking about how they were right. And they were, as much as you didn’t want to admit it. 

Your mom and dad never approved of your boyfriend, and had told you as much. You chose to ignore that fact considering they said that about every boyfriend you ever had. How the hell were you supposed to know if they were actually concerned, or if they just didn’t want you to date?

They had warned you about him. Told you that he wasn’t genuine, that you need to be careful. They told you the same about your so-called “best friend”, who was the person you found your boyfriend balls deep inside of three months ago.

But, of course, despite their protest, you had moved out with him anyway. Spent your savings on renting an apartment that he put practically nothing into. In retrospect, you really should have known; there were so many signs. You were just too damn stubborn to see them. You never would have guessed that he would go as far as to cheat on you.

Your own poor choices are what ultimately landed you back here, getting out of your dad’s old truck to unload a creaky table to set up the stand at the farmer’s market. Again. You roll your eyes and pop your earbuds in, putting on your favorite playlist. 

You open the back of the truck and start to drag the plastic table out. It slides across the bed effortlessly thanks to the morning dew it’s been sitting out in. Unfortunately, that detail is another pain in the ass more than anything, because you end up getting half-soaked as you haul it into the giant tent that makes up the market.

You get it set up in an empty booth, smacking the rusted hinges to get it to stand without risk of collapse. After you lean on it to make sure it won’t fall, you return to the truck to start the endless trips of carrying produce to the stand. You usually make your younger sister help you with this part since she often tags along, but, being a senior in highschool, she couldn’t make it today. 

Once you have everything put together and displayed on various shelves, you take a seat in the foldable chair you had brought with you. You expect it will be a slow day, as Mondays usually are, so you brought a book to pass the time. 

You rarely sell anything on weekdays, you have no idea why your parents are so adamant about you coming all the way out here every monday since you got here. Maybe it’s just to get you out of the house—you wouldn’t put it past them.

You take one more look around the market to make sure there’s nobody approaching your stand before you open your book to the first page. It’s a newer, trashy romance. It’s a little embarrassing, sure, but you like what you like. 

Sometimes you swear your love life is awful or boring enough for you to actually wish to be in the place of the girls in your books. At least the fictional men seem genuine. Less likely to cheat on you with your best friend, you think bitterly. 

Less likely to manipulate into moving into an expensive apartment without helping, Less likely to treat you like shit. Plus, you probably wouldn’t mind the fact that they all seem to be absolute hunks and amazing in bed.

The sound of someone clearing their throat startles you from your spiraling thoughts, your cheeks reddening once you realize you have been staring blankly at the same page for a good few minutes. 

You have to steady yourself so you don’t drop your book on the dirt below you, which has you almost falling out of your chair in the process. 

You glance up at the stranger as you situate yourself, which doesn’t do much to help. The man is drop-dead fucking gorgeous. He’s staring down at you, clearly amused. His full lips are tugged up into a half-smirk. You think for a second that he looks familiar, but you would for sure remember seeing a man like this.

His hair is dark, a bit long and shaggy, but in the way that makes you want to run your fingers through it. He wears sunglasses, you notice with disappointment. You don’t know why you have such a strong urge to see what’s hidden under there. You’re guessing they’re brown. He seems to carry a kind aura, it’s a fitting idea that his eyes would be warm.

Even though you sense such a kindness emanating from him, there’s an annoying nagging from the back of your head that makes you uneasy. His stare is almost imposing, the way he carries himself adding so much to the effect. Your stomach bunches up in a frustrating way that signifies both anxiety and lust. You don’t really care much to figure out which is dominant at the moment. 

All you know is that you’re drawn to this man like a moth to a flame, and that after all you’ve been through, you deserve to admire him at the very least. It’s not often you come across such a good looking man. A fictional looking man. 

He cocks his head after you stare for what could probably be considered a second too long. Your face must be about the shade of a tomato at this point. The weight of an object in your hand quickly reminds you of the task at hand. 

This is a potential customer. You need to stop staring like a schoolgirl. Besides, he must be what… ten, fifteen years older than you? God, you can’t even tell. He looks mature, but somehow ageless at the same time. He has strong, masculine features, but a sort of boyish quality, too. If someone told you he was some kind of a god himself, you would have no trouble believing them.

“I-I’m so sorry, let me just put this down,” you say to the god, trying not to stumble over your own words after getting caught ogling. 

“No problem at all, sweetheart,” he says, clearly unbothered. Fuck, his voice. It’s deep and rich, and he has some sort of accent,  like he grew up speaking another language. Spanish? Probably spanish. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Down, girl.

You take a breath in through your nose, willing yourself to relax as you set your book down on the table in front of you. You resist the urge to shut your eyes out of embarrassment as he looks down at the erotic cover, and then back at you with an arched brow and an amused smile. You move quickly as you snatch the book back to flip it back-side-up.

“What can I get for you, sir?” you quietly attempt to move on from that interaction, trying to reign in some of your composure. He’s standing with one hand on his hip, which is jutted out just slightly. He licks his plush lips and stands up mostly straight before he speaks. He pulls a piece of paper out of his snug back pocket and starts to read off of it. 

Your face keeps a nice flush as he reads off of his list. Your core throbs every now and again as he talks, making it a bit hard for you to concentrate, but you’re pretty sure you got everything. 

You nod at him to let him know as much before you get up to collect everything. Who knows if your voice even works right now. You do your best to ignore the weight of his stare on your back as you move around.

“Haven’t seen you around before,” he says, obviously wanting to start a conversation. “You been here long?”

“No, not really,” you say, trying to level your voice as you place produce into bags. “Well, kind of. I grew up here but I moved away a few years ago. Only been back for a couple months now. I’m staying to help my parents for a bit before I can get back onto my feet,” you finish as you secure the last bag. 

You look up as you place the goods on the table, this time meeting the man’s uncovered eyes. Brown and expressive, just as you imagined. You smile absentmindedly, and he mirrors your action, making your stomach twist once again. What a fucking smile. 

“Well, welcome back, then,” he says. “I’m Javier. Prefer it if you would call me Javi, though.” 

“Javi it is,” you say, liking the feel of his name on your tongue. You tell him your name and he nods. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl.” 

Fuck this man, he has to know what he’s doing. 

“Thank you,” you say, trying to control the pitch of your voice. 

He watches you as you place his bags on the table in front of you, now full of his requested items. As you catch his gaze, everything around you seems to fade to black. No sounds, no movement. All you can focus on is the sudden electric current that is born between the two of you. 

A nervous flutter starts in your stomach, but you just can’t bring yourself to look away, as if the attraction would be broken and gone forever if you did. The two of you hold eye contact for what could be a minute or ten before someone walks past your stand, drawing your attention back to reality.

You both let out a breath you’ve been holding, yours probably more shaky than his. You shake your head and start to add up his total after wiping your sweaty palms on your shorts. He stands back on his heels, his hands shoved into his pockets as he watches you work.

It only takes a moment. You tell him his total and he slides his wallet out, handing you the exact cash. You both thank each other at the same time, making you giggle. He smiles wider at the sound. 

“You’ve got a nice laugh, sweetheart,” he complements warmly. 

“Thank you. I made it myself,” you joke. Javi chuckles to himself, almost like he’s surprised to hear you make a joke. “Sorry,” you say, laughter in your own voice. “That was kind of lame.” 

“No, that was pretty clever, actually,” he says through his smile. 

You let yourself get one more good look as you reciprocate the gesture, fully expecting him to part ways. He doesn’t though, instead he asks you the one question you had hoped that nobody would ask you. 

“What brought you back here?” 

Your smile drops slightly and you consider lying to him, telling him that your parents wanted your help and that’s all. You know you can’t, though. There’s no point in trying to hide the truth. Nothing stays hidden in this small town. 

So you don’t. You sum up every stupid, unfair thing that made you return home. There’s a flash of sympathy in his gaze that makes you want to shut up, but some sick part of you craves that sympathy at the same time. 

It only takes you a couple minutes to have everything out, but he stays quiet and patient the entire time. Never interrupting you once and nodding along at all the right parts to let you know he’s listening. 

You haven’t felt this seen in a long time, It feels good. It makes you want to wrap yourself up in this total stranger’s arms and beg him to hold you. Fuck, now you’re picturing that. You need to not picture that. Luckily you don’t have much of a chance to, because he’s responding to you only a few seconds after you finish. 

“Well, that’s a damn shame. Fuckin’ boys don’t even know how to treat a sweet girl anymore.” Javi says, making you blush once again. 

The attention he gives you feels the same as jumping into a cool pool after being in the sun all day. It’s unbelievably refreshing to hear something like that instead of the usual scolding and ‘I told you so’s.  

He seems to put thought into what comes out of his mouth, and it genuinely makes you feel like he cares. Like he wants to make sure you hear what you deserve to hear.

“What makes you so sure I’m sweet?” you ask playfully, trying to change the topic to ignore the craving for more kind words. Might as well flirt a little while you’re at it, you figure. What can it hurt?

“Just a hunch,” he says, his tone the same as yours as his smile crinkled eyes bore into yours. You nod a little, your adoring smile never wavering.

 You both notice the small line of people beginning to form behind Javi at the same time. He almost looks disappointed at the sight, like he doesn’t want to leave just yet. 

“Just one second, honey,” he says, digging the scrap of paper from before out of his pocket again. Once he has that laid against the table in front of him, he supplies a pen from the front pocket of his shirt. He uses it to scribble something down onto the paper. 

You crane your neck slightly to try to catch a peak, but you can’t tell with how fast he’s writing. When he’s done, he folds it once, slides it your way, and gives a singular nod. 

“See you around, sweetheart,” he says as he starts to leave. 

“Yeah. See you,” you mumble under your breath as you watch him stride away, bags of produce in hand.

A woman walks up to the table, and you quickly turn to her. 

“So sorry about that. How can I help you?” you ask quickly, eyeing the paper Javi left behind.

It only takes you a little while to get everyone who was in line checked out, but it feels like it could have been hours. As soon as the last customer starts to walk away, your hands are on the note, shakily unfolding it to reveal Javi’s (suitably) scratchy handwriting. 

You see what you can only assume to be his phone number, and above it, there’s a note. 

“I would love to see you again, sweet girl. Give me a call?” 

Your heart flutters as you bite your lip and read the note over again. There’s no way you’re not taking up that offer. 

***

Thank you so much for reading!! I would absolutely love any kind of feedback so I know where everyone's at on this!! I have a tag list open for this series if anybody would like to join <3

Series taglist: @corazondebeskar @yorksgirl @nerdieforpedro @axshadows @survivingandenduring @kewwrites (pls lmk if these tags worked!)