#How Long Does It Take For A Grape Vine

[mwahmimi]

you could write a one shot where the reader (who is part of the bau) always acquits or does what Spencer says, letting him talk for hours and Do you also write down facts that you find interesting? I think that's a very nice thing. (also if there is some smut afterwards I don't complain somehow).

p.s. I love your stories<3

Pretty as a vine, sweet as a grape🍇

(Hi! I’m sorry I know I don’t usually add comments onto my fics anymore but I just needed to say that I loved writing this. This concept was so fun to write and I’m quite happy with how it came out.)

“How is everything you say somehow so profound but yet so socially inept?” You chuckle, shaking your head through your laughter as you look up at him. Spencer laughs along with you sarcastically, an unamused fake grin painted on his face. He takes a step closer to you, lifting the umbrella over your head, protecting you from the unforgiving Quantico rain. Spencer leads you forward, guiding you with his hand on your lower back as he rubs his palm against your damp jacket. “Back to my place?” You speak, looking up at him through your eyelashes. “We’ll get sick if we’re out in the rain too long Spence.” Accepting your offer he links his arm around yours and you begin to walk down the street together. “Sickness is not directly caused by rain, but being outside in rainy conditions could increase your exposure to airborne viruses that might be present.” Spencer explains in his trademark, matter of fact tone. Giggling, as you fiddle with your keys, searching for the right one to unlock your apartment door. He sneaks them out of your hand, inspecting the lock on your door and the keys in hand, picks out the correct key and unlocks the door with a timid smile. “Clean towels in the bathroom if you want to dry yourself off.” You recommend him the blue one, it’s new and fluffy and completely unused, knowing he’s more likely to feel comfortable with the knowledge that it’s new. You want him to feel nothing less than comfortable. Spencer nods his head and makes his way to the bathroom. At the loss of his presence you reach into your bag, pulling out your notebook and pen. Scribbling down some nonsense as a scrappy, badly written diary entry as quickly as you can. Your journals were the one thing that held every detail of your life, not even your social media pages held that much information on you. You dot your i’s and cross your t’s, swiftly closing the book and burrowing it inside your handbag again.

A few days pass and you’re not feeling up to scratch. With the pharmacy not filling your prescription, mixed with the depths of your unrelenting depressing you’re struggling to keep your head above water. The files of paperwork stack up higher than they should on your desk, coffee rings stain the wood on your desk as it wobbles under your writing. Each case seemed to be more emotionally demanding than the last. But there was Spencer. He stumbles over to you, clumsy and un-spatially aware as ever, placing a bag of baked goods in front of you. The smell of cinnamon hits you immediately and you melt into the back of your chair, your lips pin up into a beaming smile. The monster in your head silencing just for a moment under the soft, dulcet act of Reid. “You’ve- you’ve seemed down. I didn’t want to pry incase you didn’t want to share, but sugar stimulates feel-good endorphins associated with reward. So, cinnamon buns!” He announced, his voice airy and angelic as he scratches the back of his head with his left hand; his right fiddling with the buttons on the stomach of his cardigan. He needn’t say anything more, the smile on your face and your back finally resting against the chair, regaining posture, says all the gratitude he needs. Spencer simply taps the bag on your desk with a grin and returns to his desk. Not only did he leave you with a sugary treat, he left with you with more of off the top of his head statistics that you couldn’t get enough of. Each one of them showing he cares, he thinks of you. He puts thought into everything he says, whether or not his words land with the people he speaks to is irrelevant. He shows he cares in his own unique way and you simply cannot get enough of it, you find your journal once more, leaving todays page decorated with his facts about sugar. Reaching into the bag from the local bakery, you take out your bun, wrapping the base with the napkin. With your first bite, you grin. Even if it didn’t ‘stimulate your endorphins’ it still tasted like heaven.

Friday night rolled around eventually, this week had felt never-ending. Slotted next to Spencer on the jet, you reach out and poke his side, demanding his attention. He jerks back with a giggle, you always forget he never grew out of being ticklish. You smirk and tease, “Oh right… ticklish. I forget you’re a little baby.” His cheek gain a new pink blush that reaches all the way to the tips of his ears. “You can’t grow out of your nerve endings in your skin sending electrical signals to the somatosensory cortex. Plus- most adults are t-ticklish.” He stutters over his words, almost as if they are too shy to be spoken. His hands rise to protect himself as your fingers threaten to poke him again, he chuckles in anticipation. “Whatever you say genius, deny it all you want. It’s still adorable.” Your voice soft and teasing as you smirk at him again. “Movie night tomorrow?” You suggest, your hands moving back to your lap as he begins to re-adjust himself and relax. Spencer nods, “Can we watch Star Wars?” He asks, sounding like an excited puppy. You roll your eyes playfully and smile, “Fine. As long as its Revenge of the Sith.” Spence chuckles, shaking his head and rises from his seat, heading to the jet bathroom. As is your new routine, your diary finds its way to the table in front of you. Scrambling to write today’s entry before Spencer returns, you try to remember his every word as you write. As you hear the door unlock you practically throw the book behind you and sit in front of it. Praying that the man with the 187 IQ doesn’t notice, should be fine, right?

Settling the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table, you get the TV set up ready for Spencer’s arrival. Everything is perfect, you’d bought his favourite popcorn, salted obviously. You’d also brewed a pot of the tea you’d made him last time, it was just English Breakfast tea but he’d sworn it was mind-blowing. The door is knocked, three times, Spencer’s lucky number. “It’s open!” You bellow your voice and put your feet up onto the sofa. Spence walks in, lifting your legs and placing them down on his lap when he settles next to you. He places his bag down on the floor beside him, but something bashes against it. Reaching down to find the offending item, you find its your journal. “Hey, y/n. I think you left this book on the floor. Where does it live so I can put it back in its rightful home?” He questions, you feel the blood drain out of your face, you pale immediately. “No- its okay! Just gimmie.” You respond, but he notices your shaking hands reaching out to snatch it. Spencer pulls away, opening the first page. “What are these huh?” He teases uncharacteristically. “You writing little love letters?” He jokes, before looking down at the pages and blushing when he reads his own name. He reads at an alarming speed at the best of times, but when he’s transfixed on text, he can read even faster.

“You’re- you’re writing about me? I said every word here.” Spencer’s eyes widen, the hazel irises expanding as he turns the pages rapidly and skims the text. “Oh you just had to write that. Didn’t you?” He chuckles, reading your interactions from yesterday on the jet. “I. I just find you interesting Spencer. I know everyone teases you and interrupts you when you speak, I know they don’t appreciate you enough. They take your words for granted, even when they’re so profound.” Your pale face begins to blush, it was enough that Spencer had read your private diary, but having to admit your feelings that you’ve been trying to repress and ignore, it was seemingly impossible. “I want to remember the things you say because they’re important, and every time you say something personal to me, I want to treasure it. Bottle it and keep it forever, you know?”

Spencer, for once, is at a loss for words. His cheeks burning under the heat of his blush, he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. His brain searching for anything to say, its like he’s frantically looking through the filing cabinet of words in his head and still coming up empty. With no vocabulary on his tongue, he leans forward and crashes his lips into yours. They’re soft and ample, featherlight against your own. No concerns of the lip gloss smearing and decorating his lips. Pulling away with a confused expression, “Spencer?” Your one word question is all you can say as you run your fingers through his hair. Your nails scratching against the back of his head softly and he leans into your touch wanting more. “I can’t help myself. I’ll stop if you want, if you didn’t want that I apologise profusely and I take full responsibility of my actions and I’ll do anything to make it up to you…” He gets in his own head about the moment just gone. “No, I definitely wanted that. Definitely.” You smile cheekily, rubbing your thumb against his heated cheeks. Spencer leans in once more, gasping into your mouth trying to dig deeper and deeper into your soul. “You have no idea how much I’ve wanted this. I just don’t- I don’t know how to get here. You know?” He explains, his hands find the small of your back and pull you closer to him. Your index finger reaches up, shh-ing against his lips. Silencing him to keep him from rambling for the first time ever. You scramble up onto his lap, leaning over him playfully. “You’re perfect Spencer Reid. Without even knowing it you’ve taken care of me for years. Let me take care of you.”

You roll your hips slowly underneath him, smirking as he fiddles with the back of your bra strap. Even with an IQ of 187 he can’t figure out how to unbuckle a bra. You smirk and let out a giggle and he blushes, “So needy already?” You tease, your voice hoarse and desperate. He grips onto your hips as if he’s deprived, pushing into your lips, kissing you like a man starved. Spencer’s breath is shaky and weak, you take his chin into your thumb and forefinger, lifting it up, deepening the kiss. “I want you.” He speaks shakily, “I know. I want you too.” You say, holding his cheeks in the palms of your hands. Rutting your hips against his bulge again, he convulses underneath you. He gasps and rushes his hand over his mouth and you know what’s happened. Not wanting to embarrassed him, you slide off of him. Slotting yourself next to him on the couch, trying to figure out the social expectation is when your crush finishes in his boxers before you’ve even touched him. You settle on pulling him into a cuddle, rubbing your palm up and down his back, feeling his boney spine through his skin. He looks up at you, his eyes wide and full of adoration, looking like pools of honey. “I need a few minutes, and maybe some of your magic tea.” He chuckles and you sigh in relief at the self depreciating humour he responds to the situation with. “Of course pretty boy.” You press your lips on the top of his forehead softly, breathing in his shampoo and cologne. He smells like coconut and sweetness. You jokingly reach out for your journal. “Today Spencer ended up cumming in his boxers.” You giggle together, your bodies rising and falling with each breath and your legs intertwined. The next hour could take a lifetime to arrive and you’d be a-okay with that.

[holylulusworld]

Darkness and Sunshine

Summary: Bucky hurts you deeply.

@buckybarnesevents „Hot Bucky Summer 2024”: Week 10 “Shhhhhhhhh…”

Pairing: Mobster!Bucky Barnes x Sunshine!Reader

Warnings: angst, Bucky being a douche, unrequited feelings, BBF trope, unwanted touching (not Bucky), fluff

A/N: The story to this random thot & this poll.

Bucky's POV

She does it again. A quick glance at me, and back to her girly drink. I know she’s interested in being more than my friend’s sister to me, but this can never be.

Just like her drink, she’s too sweet for me.

You know you're bright as the morning, as soft as the rain Pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait Until that day I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

I’m the whiskey-neat kind of guy. Bitter and dark. Rough and violently. My soul is black, just like the coffee I drink.

She’s the sunshine, but I am the darkness. A beautiful but vulnerable flower like her could never grow in my shadow. She would wither away and die before she got the chance to bloom.

I don’t know when, or how I changed her mind about me. I was only ever the dangerous guy her brother met to get drunk, and punch people. How often she scolded her brother for being friends with me, I don’t know.

But somehow, over the years she changed her mind. Now she looks at me like a lovesick puppy, and I cannot bear it. Not because I do not wish for her to be mine. It’s the opposite. I cannot let her in. If I do, I’d paint a target on her back.

Damnit, she bites her sweet lips while stealing another glance at me. I sigh deeply and sip at my drink. Tonight, I must show her that a goody in two shoes can never be the woman by my side. As much as it pains me, it has to be done.

“Buck, what’s wrong with you?” Her brother asks, clueless as ever. He’s not the smartest when it comes to acknowledging love, or other people’s feelings. “Something wrong?”

It has to be done. I tell myself, repeating the words like a mantra. Steve, my best friend since childhood worriedly looks at her brother. He knows about Y/N’s feelings for me, and that I must extinguish the flame I ignited in her heart.

Sadly, this can only be done by crushing her heart.

“Bucky, maybe there’s another way?” Steve gets up when I do. He wraps his hand around my wrist, stopping me for a second. “You should reconsider your decision. Peggy is sweet too. Just give it a try.”

I think I'll take my whiskey neat My coffee black and my bed at three You're too sweet for me You're too sweet for me

“No—” I harshly free my metal wrist from Steve’s grasp. He means well, I know he does, but I cannot allow Y/N to fall for me even more. I’m a dangerous man, deadly even. I won’t steal her light nor let anyone hurt her even if I have to be the one breaking her heart.

The road to hell is paved with good intentions.

So, I turn away from my friend and his disappointed look. Away from her brother. Away from the future fate held for me to protect what could’ve been mine.

I nod at the girls I hired for tonight, and they immediately take my offered arms. I breathe in and out before walking in Y/N’s direction.

The girls begin to chat, and as I’m about to walk past Y/N I say, "Luckily I found you ladies. All the girls at this place are so plain and boring.” I look directly at Y/N and scrunch my nose up in disgust. “Some are only allowed at my club because their big brother begged me to let them come.”

My heart chatters as a pained wail leaves Y/N’s lips. Her eyes water and her lips tremble. Those soft lips I yearned to kiss for so long. Forsaken to me now.

Still, there’s something in her eyes. A sliver of hope I must kill.

“I can’t believe a wallflower like her believes she can be anything but a pity fuck to me. If it was up to me, I’d make sure she stays away from me,” I hate myself the moment she drops the glass in her hands to run out of my club. I shattered her world and broke her heart.

I watch the door slam shut, telling myself it’s for the best.

Your POV

You run, as fast as you can. It doesn’t matter that your brother drove you to the club, or that you forgot your jacket.

Bucky just confirmed your worst fear. He hates everything about you. From your plain outfit to your character. All the things he said, are true. You’re not like the girls hanging on his arms tonight.

All you had was a glimmer of hope that maybe, he sees more in a woman but a pretty face and good looks.

Your whole world got shattered when he said all those awful things.

You know now that James Buchanan Barnes is just like every other guy.

It’s almost two months later that Bucky sees you again. That day, you glance his way. Your eyes sadden and you immediately walk the other way. The flowers you wanted to buy long forgotten you almost run away from Bucky to not feel the hurting all over again.

His eyes follow you until you’re only a tiny dot in the distance. Bucky shakes his head and sighs deeply. This is not what he intended to do.

He not only lost a good friend that night but hurt you so deeply that you’re scared to even look his way.

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath when Steve steps out of the flower shop. He carries a huge bouquet of roses for Peggy.

“What’s wrong, Buck?” Steve follows his friend’s eyes, frowning. “What happened?”

“She ran away.” He shrugs, shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want her to be scared of me, Steve. Only to make sure she looks for someone better.”

Hiding in your bedroom you ignore your ringing phone once again. You assume it’s your brother, or maybe your friend Tasha trying to get you to go out.

No way you will go out there, facing the world ever again. Bucky embarrassed you in public, in front of your brother and all his friends. You’ll never recover from this.

Rolling to your side you grab your phone from the nightstand to silence it. For today, you will shut yourself out from the world.

Another month later Bucky is fuming. Not because of you, and your presence at his club. No, not at all. Your sweet smile, and the cute sundress you’re wearing make his heart flutter.

The person making his blood boil is your date. John Walker - the man trying to get under Bucky's skin for years. That bastard brought you here for a date. A date at Bucky’s club.

Walker did this on purpose. Bucky is sure about it. He doesn’t know how his concurrent found out that he likes you, but he did. Now you’re sitting at a table with Walker, looking at the untouched drink in your hands.

Vodka. Bucky knows you hate vodka when it’s neat. You like the sweet drinks, the girly drinks he laughs about.

“What’s wrong?” Steve regrets his question the moment John Walker dares to put his hand on your thigh.

You tense, and uncomfortable shift in your seat. Maybe this date wasn’t the best idea. You agreed to go out with John, and even willingly entered Bucky’s club to show the very man that you moved on. (At least you like to tell yourself so.)

“Relax, and smile for me,” John’s voice hardens. This is his chance to get back at Bucky Barnes, and he won’t miss it. “You look like you’re at a funeral. Smile, you’re having the honor to be my date.”

Biting your tongue, you look anywhere but at John. He’s not as nice as you believed he was. Tonight, he showed his true face.

His hand creeps higher and under your dress. You’re about to stop his hand from slipping between your legs when he’s suddenly gone.

John makes a gurgling noise because Bucky dragged him off his chair from behind. He struggles against Bucky’s iron grip. Bucky has his metal arm wrapped around John’s throat, choking your date.

“You don’t touch her ever again,” Bucky growls in John’s ear. “And she doesn’t drink vodka, you piece of shit.”

“Buck—” Steve laughs watching John tug at Bucky’s metal arm. “I see you’ve got it handled.” He holds out his hand for you, murmuring your name. “Come with me, Y/N. This is not for you to see.”

“She’s having a strawberry daiquiri and get her some chicken parmesan. I bet that bastard didn’t order food for her,” Bucky grunts while keeping John in a chokehold.

Your heart flutters. Bucky remembered your favorite drink and food. But wait. He hurt you and broke your heart. Why would he attack your date?

“I should go home,” you slip off the chair and grab your purse. “Never call me again John.” Your voice is barely a whisper, but John gives you an angry look.

“You’ll regret fucking with me, missy.”

“You wish she’d fuck with you, but she won’t,” Bucky slams John’s head onto the table, making you shriek. Steve brings you into his arms and presses your face into his chest.

“Let’s get you to the VIP area, Y/N. You don’t want to see what happens next…”

The moment you follow Steve, Bucky smirks. He leans over John, whispering in his ear.

““Shhhhhhhhh…, don't make a scene, Walker," Bucky snarls. "If you even look her way ever again, I’ll break every bone in your body. And then, I’ll put you back together only to break them again.”

“Why am I here?” You nervously glance at Bucky. He sits next to you, pointing at the food Steve got for you. “I should head home.”

“Doll.” You whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry…for tonight and the other night,” he grabs your hand, holding it tightly. “I tried to protect you from myself. You’re too sweet for me. A ray of sunshine and I’m…”

“A big grump,” you giggle. “I know you’re a grump.”

Bucky chuckles. You still don’t understand that he’s not a good man. He killed people, and his profession is far from legal. “Doll, you don’t understand. I got a gun and…”

Your eyes drop to his crotch. Bucky’s eyes widen when you lean closer to get a better look at his lap. “Why do you call your cock a gun?”

He laughs. Bucky wholeheartedly laughs for the first time in years.

“What I tried to tell you is that I’m a criminal with a gun. You’re a sweet girl, and too good for me. I wanted to keep you away from me, and said all those things.”

“So, you hurt me to make me leave?” You sniffle. “Why? If you don’t even like me.”

“I like you too much, doll,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath fanning over your skin. “That’s the problem.”

“You’re an idiot.”

Bucky laughs. Not even the toughest criminals dared to call James Buchanan Barnes an idiot. “You’ve got balls, Y/N. No one ever called me an idiot.”

“You deserve that much,” you pull away and cross your arms over your chest. “What kind of man does things like that? How could you do this to me? I didn’t leave my place for weeks, hiding in my bedroom.”

“I wanted to keep you safe, only for you to walk right into John Walker’s trap.” He huffs. “I guess to keep you safe, I must keep you around from now on…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[k4marina]

– iv. The Queen's Justice || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: after successfully fending off euron greyjoy and his ironborn fleet, daenerys, and her people, prepare for jon snows arrival.

warnings: little bit of angst (the girls are fightinggg 😬), game of thrones cannon violence and dialogue. based around the episode, the queen's justice [s7 ep3].

all dialogue in Valyrian is italicized

series masterlist

6.5k wrd count

game of thrones x modern!fem!reader

[gif found on pinterest]

“To Lady Vellarys, for your bravery and victory in battle.” Tyrion raises his wine filled glass in a toast. I appreciatively smiled and raised my own. He sat on the other sofa across from me. A pitcher of wine and snacks were laid out on the table between us and the candles were dimly lighting the room.

“Thank you, Lord Tyrion, but there’s no need for that. I was just doing what I had to.” 

“Oh, nonsense.” He reached over to pluck a grape off of the vine and plops it into his mouth. My eyes briefly glanced towards the scar that ran diagonally across his face. “A battle is a battle. You should be proud of yourself, not many would be able to do what you have done.” 

“Then to you, as well,” I raised my glass. “For defending King’s Landing from Stannis Baratheon's army at Blackwater Bay.” 

He raises his glass again and we both take a sip from our cups. 

“Now that we have Euron Greyjoy in our custody, Cersei no longer has anyone to command her fleet.” Tyrion hums. 

I nod. “One by one, the people around her will either fall or turn themselves towards Daenerys.” 

“Well not all of them,” he looks off, thinking of his brother. 

“Especially Jamie.” I caught him off guard. 

“You don’t know my brother as well as I do. He’s madly in love with her.” 

“That’s what he thinks, but times have changed.” I slowly swirled my glass. “All of his children are dead, and at the root cause is Cersei. It won’t be long until he realizes that and turns his back.”

“And you’re sure of this?” He sounds skeptical. 

“I am.” He doesn’t say much about it after that, letting the words settle in. I could see his mind moving a mile a minute; How will Jamie leave her? Why does he leave? When will he leave? Will he come join his brother's side? 

The air around us settles and he changes the subject.

“I’m sure you understand why I trust Varys so much.” He says, staring into his wine, his fingers dancing around the rip of his glass.

“Of course. He saved you from your execution and helped you into Daenerys’ good graces. But I’m sure you also understand why I don’t trust him.”

He purses his lips and lightly shakes his head. “I’m afraid I do not.”

I sighed. “Try. Look at what I’m seeing as an outsider, not as his friend.”

Tyrion swallows. “He’s an honorable man who serves the realm. Even before our friendship I’d always had respect for him.” 

I shake my head. “He’s a spider. He’ll pull you into his web with sweet words and wrap you up in his silk and before you know it he’s sunk his fangs into your neck and you're dead.” 

“Tell me, was Joffrey a good King?” I ask. 

Tyrion shakes his head. 

“Was he a good man?”

He shakes his head again.

“Then why did he serve him? He has the power to replace whoever is on the Iron Throne, we both know that. So why didn’t he?” I crossed my legs. “There was a time when he did serve the Realm, but now after everything, Aenys, Robert, Joffrey, it’s not wrong to question his motives.” 

Tyrion sat there taking in my harsh words, not knowing if to believe me or his friend. 

“He could have done it right, he had his opportunity to serve the realm.” I argued. “He could have helped Rhaegar peacefully take his fathers throne, but instead he whispered in Aenys’ ear and fed into his paranoia, knowing that the consequences would be deadly.” 

“But Rhaegar kidnapped Lyanna Stark and raped her surly that proves that he wasn’t fit to be King.” He countered. 

“Is that what you believe?” I looked into his eyes. “Or was that what you were told?” 

Tyrion frowns. “Are you saying that that is false? Rhaegar did not do those things?” 

I press my lips together. “There is a lot that you don’t know about. And in due time it’ll come out. But I need to know where your loyalties lie; Varys or Daenerys. Your friend may seem like he’s a team player, but we don’t really know that. When you bent the knee to Daenerys you did it because you believed in her and her vision of a new and better world, do not forget that.” 

–––

I quietly shut the door behind me. The castle hall was barren of anyone as they were all asleep. Deciding that I needed to cool off a bit I made a right, taking the longer way back to my room. The talk with Tyrion was difficult. I knew going in that it would be nearly impossible to fully convince him of dropping Varys. But as long as I could plant the seeds of doubt I knew my plan would work. 

During the final years of Daenerys’ campaign and life Tyrion had been slipping from his duties of her Hand all because of Varys whispering his venomous words into his ear. I just hoped that this would be enough for him to reevaluate his loyalties and come back to Daenerys’ side.

Turning into my room I stripped myself of my armor and down to my shift before crawling into bed. I stared up onto the stone ceiling, tracing the sharp edges with my eyes. I could only hope that tomorrow would be less action filled, but then again Jon Snow was coming. 

––

The next morning Daenerys had once again called an early Small Council meeting. And after last night's side mission, it was safe to say that I was exhausted. 

If only this era had energy drinks then I would be able to properly function. Despite my sleep deprivation it didn’t stop me from telling the servant brushing my hair of my new hairstyle. After all, I made Daenerys’ a promise. 

We met again in the Painted Chamber, sitting around a table (that wasn’t shaped like Westeros). I sat on the left side near Daenerys’ seat and Missandei sat to my right. Tyrion took a seat across from me, giving everyone polite nods, but avoiding eye contact with me. 

I leaned back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest and closing my eyes, sighing. 

“You look tired.” Missandei comments in Valyrian. “Did you sleep alright?”

I opened my eyes and tilted my head towards her. “As good as I can after riding a dragon all night. I was planning on sleeping as soon as I came back but I had to speak with someone.”

“Lord Hand?”

I nod. “By the time I went back to my room I was out like a light.”

She stays quiet for a moment, flickering her gaze to Tyrion and the empty seat for Varys next to him. “I take it that your conversation didn’t make much progress.” 

I lightly scoffed. “They’re friends. He saved him from being executed by his sister. He feels that he’s indebted to him. But he also knows where his loyalties should lie, or at least he does after last night.”

The doors open once more and Varys steps into the room, taking his seat next to Tyrion. Missandei and I exchange another look just as the doors open again and Daenerys steps in. Everyone raises as she makes her way to the head of the table. She briefly paused, glancing at my hair and smiling before sitting down with us a beat behind.

“Last night not only were we able to safely defend our allies, but we also took Euron Greyjoy as a prisoner and his fleet all thanks to Y/n’s insite.” Daenerys nods my way before locking eyes with Varys. “However, I wonder how my Master of Whispers had no knowledge of the ambush or how Cersei knew their whereabouts.” 

Varys bows his head. “I apologize, Your Grace. I was informed by my little birds by the time Lady Vellarys had arrived back.” Tyrion glanced over towards me before looking down at his folded hands atop the table. 

Daenerys keeps her eyes locked on Varys for another moment before looking away. “Regardless, my allies are safe and Cersei has one less.” She turned towards Tyrion, “have you heard from Jon Snow?”

“Yes, Your Grace. He’s left for Dragonstone and will be arriving by tomorrow late afternoon.” Tyrion replies. 

“And you’re sure that he will be an ally and not a threat?” 

“He’s a noble man. I’m sure once he meets you he will swear his loyalties to you.” Tyrion nods and I bite my tongue, if only they knew.

“Good,” she nods. “Then we’ll have the South, West, and North on our sides and Cersei will have no one.” 

“Not entirely.” I said. “It’s true she has fewer men than us, but not for long. She’ll be contacting the Golden Company for soldiers and cavalry.” 

“But the Lannisters are in debt,” Varys says. “Their gold is nearly gone.” 

“But the Tyrell’s aren’t.” 

“She’s going to ransack Highgarden?” Daenerys asks. 

I nod. “She needs money for her debts and army and, currently, the Tyrells are the richest family in Westeros.” 

Daenerys nods. “Send a raven to Highgarden informing them of Caersei’s attack.” 

Once the meeting had ended Daenerys dismissed everyone but me. I poured us both some wine, handing her a glass. 

“You’re smiling.”

“Your hair.” She replied. 

“I told you, once I’ve won you a battle I’ll wear a braid.” 

“How did you feel?” 

I shrugged. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think I had so much adrenaline in me that it numbed me.” 

She nodded, smiling but I could tell that something was going through her mind. 

“You’re distracted.” 

She looks down at her glass. “Yesterday when I spoke to Lady Olenna alone she told me that she was handing over Highgarden to me.” 

I nod. “She’s going to take her life. She’s the last of the Tyrells and she’s entrusted you with her home.” I watched her expression change. “But that’s not what you’re thinking about.” 

She hesitates. “I’m also the last of my house. I can’t bear any children. My bloodline ends with me.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“But Mirri Maz Durr said-” 

“Forget about her. That woman took Khal Drogo and your child's life, that’s all. You will have more children.”

“But if I can’t,” she reaches over, taking my hand in hers. “I want you first in my line of succession.” 

I sucked in a breath, shocked at what she was saying. She wanted me to do what?

“Promise me, that if I can’t have an heir that you will.” 

I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. Me, continue the Targaryen line through my children? I didn’t even know if I would stay long enough for that to happen. 

I placed my other hand on top of hers. “You will have children that will carry your and your house's name for generations to come, I promise you that.” 

–––––

Waves crashed against the rocks littered across Dragonstones beach. A group of men led by Tyrion and Missandei make their way up the stone pathway built into the island's cliff. A loud roar is heard from overhead and the group of men all dive down as Drogon and Viserion fly over them. They watch in a mix of shock and amazement and look back to Missandei and Tyrion standing. Tyrion helps one of the men up but he stops in his tracks making eye contact with someone standing above the steps on the stone landing. Tyrion and Missandei follow the man's gaze and watch as I step off the landing and walk down to them. 

“Meet Lady Y/n Vellarys, a close confidante of Queen Daenerys. Lady Vellarys, this is Jon Snow and Ser Davos Seaworth.” Tyrion says, motioning to the two men. 

“I apologize for the scare, they just had their afternoon nap and are quite energized.” I say to them. “Come,” I turned back towards the castle. “Their mother is waiting for you.” 

Jon and Davos exchange glances with one another and take one last look up at the sky seeing all three of the dragons flying before following behind. I look up to the cliffs and see Melisandre and Varys standing together, exchanging words of their own.

They’re led into the castle and the Dothraki guards open the door to the throne room. Daenerys sits on the throne, watching the King in the North and his men enter. Tyrion, Missandei, and I step up onto the dais and to our respective places as Missandei addressed the men. 

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains.” 

Jon turns to look at Davos, both looking underprepared. 

“This is Jon Snow.” Davos says. He nods and pauses. “He’s King in the North.” 

I could see Tyrion smirking in the corner of my eye and I have to stop myself from laughing.

“Thank you for traveling so far, My Lords. I hope the seas weren’t too rough.” Daenerys says. 

“The winds were kind, Your Grace,” Jon replies. 

“Apologies. I have a Flea Bottom accent, I know. But Jon Snow is King in the North, Your Grace. He's not a lord.” Ser Davos interrupts, confused.

“Forgive me,” Daenerys glances towards Tyrion for a name. 

“Your Grace, this is Ser Davos Seaworth.” 

“Forgive me, Ser Davos.” She continued and I could hear the slight annoyance in her voice. “I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?”

“I wasn’t there, Your Grace.” He replies bluntly.

“No. Of course not. But still, an oath is an oath. In perpetuity means – what does perpetuity mean, Lord Tyrion?” 

“Forever,” He says. 

“Forever.” She echos. “So I assume, My Lord, that you’re here to bend the knee.” 

“I am not.” Jon replied, unwavering. 

“Oh. Well, that is unfortunate. You've traveled all this way to break faith with House Targaryen?” Daenerys’ patients was waning thin and I feared that this meeting was all for nought. 

Jon could scoff. “Break faith? Your father burned my grandfather alive. He burned my uncle alive. He would have burned the Seven Kingdoms.” 

“My father was an evil man.” Daenerys began. “On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom's ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Jon Snow. Honor the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name you Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

Jon nods. “You're right. You're not guilty of your father's crime.” I let out a sigh of relief thinking that he had come around. “And I'm not beholden to my ancestor's vows.”

I looked over at Tyrion who was annoyed. After all, he had vouched for Jon and it all seemed to backfire on him.

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys narrows her gaze at Jon. 

He takes a moment to answer. “Because I need your help and you need mine.” He sounds somewhat desperate, but also scared and it dawns on me.

Daenerys looks at Tyrion and then back to Jon. “Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?” 

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?” 

“They’re hard to miss.” 

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys could almost laugh. 

“Not to defeat Cersei. You could storm King’s Landing tomorrow and the city would fall. Hell, we almost took it and we didn’t have dragons.” Ser Davos says, remembering the Battle of Blackwater Bay. 

“Almost.” Tyrion reminds. 

“But you haven't stormed King's Landing. Why not?” Jon says. “The only reason I can see is you don't want to kill thousands of innocent people. It's the fastest way to win the war but you won't do it. Which means at the very least you're better than Cersei.”

“Still, that doesn’t explain why I need your help.”

“Because right now you and I and Cersei and everyone else, we’re children playing at a game screaming that rules aren’t fair.” Jon says bluntly. 

Daenerys turns towards Tyrion, annoyance clearly written on her face. “You told me you liked this man.” 

“I do.” 

“In the time since he’s met me he’s refused to call me queen, he’s refused to bow and now he’s calling me a child.” 

“I believe he’s calling all of us children. Figure of speech.” Tyrion tries to clarify. 

“Your Grace,” Jon speaks up, getting her attention. “Everyone you know will die before winter is over if we don’t defeat the enemy to the north.” 

“As far as I can see, you are the enemy to the north.” Daenerys accuses.

“I am not your enemy.” Jon shakes his head. “The dead are the enemy.” 

My heart drops and Daenerys turns to me. I let out a shaky breath and turned towards Daenerys with a grim look and nod.

“Listen to him.” I say. 

“The Army of the Dead is on the march.” Jon explains.

“The Army of the Dead?” Tyrion repeats. 

“You don’t know me well, My Lord, but do you think I am a liar or a madman?” 

Tyrion shakes his head. “No. I don’t think you're either of those things.”

“The Army of the Dead is real. The White Walkers are real. The Night King is real. I’ve seen them. If they get past the wall and we’re squabbling amongst ourselves–,” Jon steps closer to the throne and the Dothraki guards step towards him. “–we’re finished.”

Everyone waits for Daenerys to say something. “I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it.” She stands up and walks down the steps towards Jon. “We fled before Robert's assassins could find us. Robert was your father's best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don't remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled. Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile? Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn't seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn't crossed the sea, any sea.” 

She stops walking, face to face with Jon Snow. “They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms.” 

I held my breath, waiting for Jon’s response. 

“You’ll be ruling over a graveyard if we don’t defeat the Night King.” 

Tyrion steps up to stand next to Daenerys. “The war against my sister has already begun. You can't expect us to halt hostilities and join you in fighting… whatever you saw beyond the wall.”

Ser Davos decides to speak up. “You don’t believe him. I understand that, It sounds like nonsense.” 

Jon nods in agreement as Ser Davos continues. “But if destiny has brought Daenerys Targaryen back to our shores, it has also made Jon Snow King in the North. You were the first to bring Dothraki to Westeros” 

The older man tries to reason with Daenerys so she can see their point of view. “He was the first to make allies with Wildlings and northmen. He was named Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. He was named King in the North. Not because of his birthright. He has no birthright. He's a damn bastard. All those hard sons of bitches chose him as their leader because they believe in him.”

Daenerys turns her attention towards Jon as Ser Davos sang his praises. “All those things you don't believe in, he faced those things. He fought those things for the good of his people. He risked his life for his people. He took a knife in the heart for his people. He gave his own–” Jon gives Davos a look to stop talking, catching Daenerys and Tyrions attention. Davos spoke more calmly, taking a breath.“If we don't put aside our enmities and band together we will die. And then it doesn't matter whose skeleton sits on the Iron Throne.”

“If it doesn’t matter you might as well kneel.” Tyrion says. Jon shakes his head and Tyrion continues to rationalize with him. “Swear your allegiance to Queen Daenerys. Help her to defeat my sister and together our armies will protect the north.” 

“There’s no time for that.” Jon replies, almost solemnly. “There’s no time for any of this. While we stand here debating–”

“It takes no time to bend the knee. Pledge your sword to her cause.” Tyrion interjects. 

“And why would I do that?” Jon snaps. He turns to speak to Daenerys. “I mean no offense, Your Grace, but I don't know you. As far as I can tell your claim to the throne rests entirely on your father's name. And my own father fought to overthrow the Mad King. The lords of the north placed their trust in me to lead them. And I will continue to do so as well as I can.”

“That's fair.” Daenerys notes. “It's also fair to point out that I'm the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring yourself king of the northernmost kingdom, you are in open rebellion.”

Seeing that this “meeting” wasn’t going anywhere I stepped towards Daenerys. “Your Grace, I think it would be wise for us to take a break and resume at a later time, when we’re all a bit more level-headed.” 

Daenerys clenches her jaw before regaining her composure. “You must forgive my manners. You both must be tired after your long journey. We'll have baths drawn for you and supper sent to your rooms.”

She turns to her guards and instructs them in Dothraki to take them up to the guest rooms and to keep an eye on them. Before he leaves Jon asks her a question. 

“Am I your prisoner?” 

“Not yet.” 

As Jon and Ser Davos are led out the throne room Daenerys turns to walk back to the throne. There’s a pregnant pause in the air as all eyes are on Daenerys.

“Everyone except for Y/n leave.” 

Tyrion and Missandei look at one another and then towards me, concerned. I let out a sigh, raising my head and giving the two a reassuring nod. They both walk past me and I catch Varys looking a bit smug as he’s the last to leave. The stone doors shut close, leaving Daenerys and I alone. She turns back to me, seething. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” She steps closer. 

“Daenerys..” I hesitated, not knowing what to say. “I didn’t think that they’d be so quick– I thought we had enough time to prepare.” 

Truthfully, it had taken a lot longer for the Army of the Dead to start marching towards the Wall. Could my arrival have changed events?

“Then what? When were you going to tell me? When this Night King is at our shores?” She takes a deep breath. “You said you’d tell me everything I needed to know. Clearly, that was a lie.” 

I shook my head, “no it’s not.” I stepped closer to her. “Yes it’s true there are things that I’m not telling you in full. But it’s for your own good. There are some things you need to learn on your own.” 

I took her hand in mine. “I swear to you, I will never betray you. You’re all I have in this world. You’re my only friend, my sister. Everything that I’m doing is for you, Daenerys” 

I held my breath and watched as she debated my words. After what felt like years, Daenerys nodded. “Alight.” 

She leans in, pressing her forehead against mine. “When I awoke this morning I thought I would have another ally, but it seems that I’ve made another enemy.”

I shook my head. “No. We need Jon. Not just for the Army of the Dead, but also for Cersei. Dany,” I leaned my head back. “Try to get to know him. To him, and the rest of Westeros, you’re an outsider. It doesn't matter that you were born here and that for hundreds of years your family have been every bit Westerosi as they are. You need to share your stories and see past this Targaryen-Stark nonsense. The people of Westeros– especially the north, look at Jon as the most honorable man, just like Ned Stark. If you can get him on your side, then you can get everyone else.” 

–––– 

I walked around the stone pathway around the castle, clearing my head. I needed to devise a new plan. One that would secure the North and bring a better light to Daenerys. 

In the past, or the future, whichever it is, Jon and Daenerys gradually get closer. It’s not after the death, and later resurrection, of Viserion do the pair really get close. They made a good pair, both romantically but as well as politically. Even after Jon’s true parentage was revealed, he stuck by Dany and reiterated his loyalty to her. If there was one thing that would solidify them together, protect Dany’s claim, and ally the North to us it’s–

“Oh, how the mighty have fallen.” 

I turned back to see Varys with the same smug smile he had when he left the throne room. 

“Fallen? Don’t make me laugh, Varys.” 

“But it’s true. You’ve failed Daenerys and soon she’ll find that she has no use for you and cast you aside.” 

I tried my best not to laugh. “If you really think that, then you’ve lost your damn mind.” I stepped closer to Varys, “I’m not going anywhere. And you can try to push me away, but know that it’s only going to end with you staring up at Drogon and Daenerys saying that one magical word.” 

I stepped to the side and walked past Varys, letting my shoulder hit his. “Watch your back, Spider.” 

I followed the northern path further up the cliffs where I spotted Theon Greyjoy looking out into the ocean. 

“Lord Theon,” I addressed the man. “I thought you had sailed back to the Iron Islands by now.” 

He bowed, surprised that I had found him. We made eye contact for a brief moment before he looked away. “No, My Lady. We needed more supplies and to repair our ship.”

“I see.” 

An awkward silence hung between us as Theon would periodically look up towards me before shying away. 

“Is something the matter?” My question seemed to have caught him a bit off guard. 

“Thank you, My Lady.” 

“You don’t have to thank me. We’re allies, we’re supposed to support and protect one another.” I replied. 

He lightly shakes his head. “No.” He purses his lips together. “When the ambush happened.. Yara was held hostage by Euron. He.. He was going to kill her. I got scared.. but your words, they helped me save my sister.” 

Oh. 

“Again, there’s no need to thank me.” I smiled. “You saved your sister, not my words. It took courage to fight for her and you found it. Don’t let what others say change that.” 

He gives me a small smile, letting my words sink in deep and I wondered if anyone had said anything nice to him since his capture and torture. His eyes shift past me and his smile wavers. I turn back to see Tyrion and Jon Snow staring daggers at Theon. 

“Oh fuck.” I mutter, watching the two men step towards each other. 

“Jon, is Sansa alright?” Theon genuinely asks. 

Jon grabs him by his armor's leather straps. “Don’t you dare say her name. You think that what you did for her would save you?”

“Stop it. Let him go.” I said, but he didn’t listen. Theon held onto Jons wrist but made no effort to push him away, seemingly accepting his fate. Jon’s face contorted with anger and grief and was close to plowing Theon’s face in. Tyrion looked at the two young lords wondering if there was going to be some brawl, or rather just Jon beating Theon to the ground.

“Stop at once!” I raised my voice. “This is Dragonstone and as long as you’re standing on this island you will conduct yourself accordingly. If you want to fight like children then fight in the ocean. Now, let go of him, Jon Snow.” 

Begrudgingly, Jon let go to Theon, giving him a push as he did so. Theon looked down as he straightened himself while Jon took a step back, staring daggers at him.

“We’re all allies here, regardless of what happened.”

“But my brother–” Jon tried to reason. 

“Is safe.” I reassured. “Bran is safe and alive. He was north of the wall, but he should be back in Winterfell soon.” 

Jon’s face was a mix of shock and disbelief. “How can you be so sure?”

“I just am. Your brother will be home soon, My Lord. But fighting amongst ourselves won’t help us in the slightest, especially for what's to come.” 

There’s a moment of silence between all of us before Jon nods and backs down. Without a word he turns back to the castle. Theon also left shortly leaving only Tyrion and I. 

“I believe that was the first time I’ve ever seen you raise your voice, My Lady.” He places his hands behind his back.

“If they keep squabbling like this then it won’t be the last.” I grumbled. 

Tyrion doesn’t say anything in return, only staring at the ground. 

“You have something to say?” 

Tyrion glances up, “how do you know that Bran Stark is alive?”

“Like I said, I just know.” I turned to face him fully. “Now, has Jon spoken to you about the Dragonglass?”

Tyrion’s taken aback. “How- right, you just know. Yes, he has. We were headed to speak to Daenerys before, well, all of this.”

“Good,” I nod. “Let's go.”

–––––

“Dragonglass?” Daenerys asks.

“Yes. Volcanic glass, obsidian.” Tyrion says. “He says you have a tremendous amount of it here.”

She turns to me for confirmation. I give her a nod, sitting back in my chair. “It’s down in the caves.” 

“And what does the King in the North want with Dragonglass?” She turns back to Tyrion. 

“Apparently it can be turned into weapons that can kill White Walkers and their foot soldiers, or stop them, destroy them. I’m unsure of the nomenclature.” 

“Only Dragonglass and Valyrian steel can kill White Walkers,” I clarified. “The caves below Dragonstone are filled with Dragonglass.” 

“It’s our only way to kill them.” Tyrion says. 

“And what do you think of this Army of the Dead and White Walkers and Night King?” Daenerys asks Tyrion.

“I’d very much like to believe that Jon Snow is wrong, but a wise man once said that you should never believe a thing simply because you want to believe it.” 

“Which wise man said this?” Daenerys raises a brow. 

“I don’t remember,” Tyrion replied innocently. 

“Are you trying to present your own statements as ancient wisdom?” Daenerys says. 

“I would never do that...to you.” He replies, bashfully. “The reason I believe Jon Snow is because he's here. All of his advisors would have told him not to come. I would have told him not to come, yet he's here anyway. You don't have to believe him. Let him mine the Dragonglass. If he's wrong it's worthless. You didn't even know it was here. It's nothing to you. Give him something by giving him nothing. Take a step toward a more productive relationship with a possible ally. Keep him occupied while we focus on the task at hand.”

Daenerys turns towards me. “What was that Ser Davos said about taking a ‘knife in the heart for his people’? Did you notice that?” 

I shrugged, “not my place, you know that.” 

A servant enters the chambers holding out a raven's scroll. I grabbed it, reading the contents before handing it off to Daenerys. 

“We should go.”

–––

The wind blew around us as Daenerys and I got ready for our departure. Not too long ago we had received a raven from the Unsullied and from the scouts we had sent over to Bitter Bridge to inform us of Lannister movement. As planned, Jamie was leading half of the Lannister forces from Casterly Rock to Highgarden.

“The fight to take the Rock will be easy,” I say climbing up onto Viserion. “With the new armor and weapons and the fact that they outnumber the Lannister force it will be an easy fight. 

“By the time the Unsullied captures the castle we will have reached Highgarden.” Daenerys says, sitting atop Drogon. Knowing what was to come we ordered our dragons to fly into the sky. 

The wind ripped past us, blowing my hair back. My hands gripped tighter to Viserions spikes, hunching down even further. I looked to my left seeing Daenerys and Drogon flying next to me, both looking determined as ever. The plan was simple; Daenerys and Drogon ambushes the Lannister force head on while Viserion and I sneak into the castle and help Olenna out to safety before I join the fight, and as a added measure, Tyrion and a few Dothraki would be with us to help in the fight. 

Drogon and Viserion dived down, the clouds parting away and revealing Highgarden. Even from up above we could see the soldiers on the ground. Daenerys and Drogon split off from Viserion and I. With a loud scratch and a burst of dragonfire, Drogon easily captures the attention of the enemy while Viserion flies to the back of the castle. He lands on the wall, the limestone crumbling beneath his talons. 

“Stay low and calm. I’ll be back soon.” I jumped off of Viserion. I watch as he flies down from the wall and hides from the enemy force. 

Carefully, I made my way into the interior of the castle. I drew out my sword ready for any surprise attacks. The halls were barren, safe for a few torches and tapestry that hung on the walls. I came down a set of stairs when I heard the sound of footsteps, a set of two. There's a muffled voice and then a set of footsteps walking away while the other set of footsteps came towards me. I hid behind a corner when I came face to face with a Lannister soldier. I took a step back and he lunged forward, aiming for my head. I side stepped, using the side of my sword to nudge him to the side and delivering a blow to his left. The steel easily cuts the small bit of him that wasn’t protected by his Lannister armor. He lets out a growl, growing more enraged. 

“Arg! You Targaryen bitch!” He plunges forward again with more force. He swings his sword towards me, but I’m quick to block it. He pushes against my own sword walking me backwards. My back hits the wall and he uses his full weight to try and pin me down.

The man gives a sickening smile, watching me struggle against him. “Once I’ve killed you ‘m gonna kill your fuckin’ dragons and then ‘m gonna fuck the Queen.” 

I recoil back into the wall feeling his rancid breath on my face. Quickly, I bring my leg up, using all my force and kneeing him in the groin. He jolts back, hunches over in pain and I quickly grab the back of his head, bringing his face down to my knee. There’s a loud crunch as his nose breaks against my armored knee. I push him back and plunge the sword into his neck, a loud and garbled scream ripped out of him. His wide eyes watched me pull the sword out of his neck, blood oozing and gushing out.

His body collapses against the stone floor with a thud. My chest plate raises and falls as I try to catch my breath. My entire body was on fire as I stared down at his body. I’d just killed a man. Technically speaking, he wasn’t the first I’d killed. I’d killed dozens of Eurons men, but that was up in the sky and by Dragonfire, not in a castle hallway with a sword. 

Once I had regained my breathing, I pushed his body back so it was out of view and quietly made my way further to where Olenna would have been. Right as I reach the doors, I hear a female and male voice, the same one that I had heard before I came across the Lannister soldier. I looked around for a place to hide, opting to hide between a pillar and a large stone planter. I hunched down to the ground as the oak doors opened and a man in Lannister gold stepped out, but what caught my eye was the golden hand. 

Jamie Lannister. 

Once his footsteps faded away I snuck into the room that he’d just come out of. An empty vile sat on the table and Olenna stood by the window, looking out at the gardens. 

“Came back to finish me off yourself?” 

“No, My Lady.” I replied. She turns around, surprised to see me. I pull out a blue vile of antidote towards her. “Quickly, take the antidote.”��

She shakes her head, “it’s too late for me now, my child.” She walks over to me, “tell your sister my time is now. I’ve already informed everyone in Highgarden to follow Daenerys’ command.”

I shook my head. “You can’t give up. Your house still needs you.” 

“My house is gone,” she squeezes my hands. “My children and grandchildren are gone. My dear Margery was all I had and that wretched Cersei took her from me. I have no one else.” 

“But don’t you want to get your revenge? Watch as Cersei loses the only thing she loved and succumbs to Dany’s dragonfire for all her crimes?” I pleaded. She shook her head again, patting my hand like a loving grandmother would. 

“My time is over, dear. If only my Margery had someone like you by her side she could have lived.” She turns back and sits down at the table. “Come, sit with me.”

I walk over to the table, sitting across from me. “Promise me that Cersei will suffer.” 

“I promise.” 

She places her hands on top of mine as we sit there waiting for the end.

a/n: so we're back :))

fun fact, actually, I've written up all the way to the Long Night lol, but I still need to refine and rewrite somethings.

how was this? how did we like the girlies fighting?

lmk ur thoughts !

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia

[mediumgayitalian]

The satellite dish at Camp Half-Blood would be better suited as a cereal bowl.

It hardly works. It catches a grand total of nineteen channels, twelve of which are news stations, and the final seven almost never have anything playing that’s actually worth watching. But the DVD player only ever works every third month, and the strawberry plants have to be watered, so on rainy days, the sixteen of them cram into the rec room of the Big House, organised, fight-reduction seating for as long as Nyssa can tiredly maintain it, and squabble over the remote.

“It’s my turn! Give it to me!”

“Quit whining you little twerp —”

“Will! Make her give me the remote!”

“Snitch! Snitch! Sherman, beat him up —”

Nico narrowly dodges Kayla’s dirty sneaker, sniggering to himself as Will and Sherman share, for perhaps the first time in either of their lives, an identical sigh of endless suffering, each grabbing one sibling and yanking backwards. They’ve really dug their claws in, so it takes a couple tries.

“Kayla,” Will warns, both hands clamped around her ankles, “if you don’t let go in three damn seconds —”

“Ellis sucks at picking channels!”

“Everybody sucks at picking channels! We got maybe four to choose from!”

“Seven,” correct several people at once.

Will rolls his eyes. “Forgive me. I forgot about the three toddler channels the rest of y’all babies are so enthralled by.”

“As if you don’t watch Sesame Street with as much childlike glee as the rest of us, Solace.”

“Can it, Diaz. Kayla, remove your nails from his face!”

A hand tugs on his sleeve. Nico glances over to find Austin’s big, pleading eyes, and since he is a massively weak loser, apparently, he sighs, mouth twitching when Austin wiggles happily, and plunges his hand into the nearest shadow.

He digs around for a second, trying to orient himself, and smirks when he sees his hand reappear across the couch, right in between Kayla and Ellis’ heads. He waits, watching for a break. Austin watches carefully next to him, hands still around his other wrist, and when the timing is right — a twitch in Kayla’s knee indicating an oncoming kick that even Will won’t be able to stop — he squeezes. Nico darts between them, snatching the remote for himself. He passes it to Austin with a wink. Austin points it to the TV immediately, clicking it to what everyone has aptly named the ‘Grandma Channel’ — twenty-four-seven footage of gardening set to quit jazz.

Thirteen groans — one cheer by Miranda, their lone ally — sound at once.

“You’re weak as all hell, di Angelo,” Billie informs him, obviously a fake gardener. Shame.

He makes a face at her.

Despite their troubles, the peace of the Grandma Channel does not last. In what can only be a coordinated attack, Nico and Austin are lulled into a false sense of security, entranced by a particularly satisfying timelapse of a grape vine, and when their guards are down, they are ambushed. With a deafening war cry, Harley is flung bodily on top of the two of them, landing with two gleeful elbows to Nico’s shoulder and Austin’s ribs, rendering them breathless and perhaps even close to death.

“No maiming,” Austin protests, wheezing.

“I’m telling Chiron,” Nico agrees, similarly struggling to reinflate his lungs. He glances at his medic boyfriend, also known as Judas, who only shrugs, smirking. His thumb is notably smeared with grease, a consequence of touching Harley no matter how many times Nyssa forces him to shower. Traitor. “No maiming is, like, the only rule here.”

Harley climbs off of them, elbows once again violating the rule on the way off. Nico actually feels his spleen compress into the size of an atom.

“Tough!”

The little twerp hands his prize to his big sister, who points it at the screen gracefully, as if she did not just use said brother as a weapon against two innocent people. Constantly innovative, those Hephaestus children.

Nyssa, on account of having hands like steel wires and a right hook that could make Muhammad Ali fall crying to his knees, is left peacefully alone with the remote. Nico glares at her, as he often does, with equal amount of hatred and awe. His emotions are widely replicated across the overstuffed couches.

She clicks rapidly through the channels, as she always does, fast enough that the sound echoes like static along with the rain.

breaking — jump! — traffic — learn — George — crayon — soil — sale —

She hardly rests in a channel for more than a second, cutting in the middle of sentences and even words, images flashing rapidly across the screen, swirling colour and skipping melodies, steadied by the roll of thunder, the patter of raindrops, the roar of wind and away of bending trees.

kids! — buy — gun — bridge — add — spade — colour — nine — east —

Austin sighs from beside him, sinking into the couch. Nico breaks away from the hypnosis for a moment to glance at the rest of the room and finds everyone else similarly entranced; eyes half-lidded and unfocused against the still-swirling TV, heads tilted back, curled into each other, limbs slow, fingers tapping quietly.

run — neat — rose — pasta — schools — closure — Sola — bumper —

“Wait,” Will murmurs.

gym — roll — climb — bush — accident — bud —

The old couches creak as Will shifts, Kayla pushed gently to the side as he moves forward.

“Nyssa, wait. Go back.”

The rain seems to mute itself. Nico is aware, quite suddenly, of the stiff set to Will’s spine, the odd quality of his voice. Nyssa, too, must recognize it, because she glances over at him, then slowly back to the TV, pressing the channel button once and setting the remote carefully on the coffee table in front of her.

No one grabs it.

“— terrible tragedy,” says a news anchor. “Unbelievably, really, Barbara, and something so sudden —”

“No,” Will says.

“Yes, Dave, always something you read about in old newspapers but never remember happens in real life —”

“No. No.”

He reaches for the remote but misses the first time, patting blindly on the table, and the second time, too, eyes glued to the bright screen. His hand scrabbles, nails digging on the old wood, increasingly desperately, but his eyes won’t move, face won’t pivot. Nico swallows, pushing back the sting of bile crawling slowly up his throat, the dullness in his ear, muffled like his ear is turned to a soundproofed wall. The hands he tells to reach over and hand the remote to Will don’t work.

“— almost makes me think of James Dean. That’s Naomi Solace, for those just tuning in, currently in critical condition from a head-on collision with a semi in Savannah, Georgia —”

Nico’s ears white out completely.

Will’s knees hit the floor.

———

next

[silk-fl0wers]

"Moments with them"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Characters: Kaeya, Diluc, Albedo, Zhongli, Tartaglia, Kazuha, Thoma, Arataki Itto, Tighnari, Al-Haitham

Warning(s): None

Genre: Fluff

Summary: What kind of random moments happen with the men?

> GnReader!

❅ ᴋᴀᴇʏᴀ

: ̗̀➛ If horses were still a thing in Mondtadt, he would've loved to take you horse riding in Whispering forest and near the shore lines of Windrise. You could have your own horse to ride on but he would like it much better if you rode with him instead - he wants to feel your arms around his waist and your face leaning on his shoulder - to keep you safe incase of any random ambush, the cavalry captain has to make sure no harm happens to his significant other otherwise his title would be of no point to have.

: ̗̀➛ There's just some days where he just wants to be genuine with you like showing a smile that goes all the way to his cheeks and to the point where they end up hurting a lot or either it being where he spills out his emotions and feelings little by little. It's not a lot but it's a sign to show that he trusts and loves you a lot to let you know these little secrets of his that he doesn't tell anyone.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ᴅɪʟᴜᴄ

: ̗̀➛ Whenever the grapes are ready to be plucked from thier vines for wine making, you convince him to let you join even though in reality he would never decline you of helping as long as there's nothing that can harm you. Adelinde and Elzer will also be out giving a hand so if you feel like going back inside just give them a heads up, they'll also throw you a warm bath if you want one too.

: ̗̀➛ His body suddenly feels warmer knowing that you tend to wait for him at the front doors of the mansion whenever he's out doing his duty to protect Mondstadt at night. He doesn't wish for you to stay up really late at night knowing how long you've been waiting and that you should've gone to bed without him but it generally warms him up how you have chosen yourself to patiently wait for him to come back to know that he's at least okay.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴀʟʙᴇᴅᴏ

: ̗̀➛ Taking notes of his observations - studies of abyssal mobs, primordial Albedo, Durin, the traveller, the known and the unknown - hung up on the boards in his lab all soon to be the known if he can solve them. You find his viewings and studies engrossing. If you find them interesting then he wouldn't mind to tell you about them and what he had conjered up so far. Doing this also starts to have an effect on him, he now feels a warm sensation inside knowing that his significant other loves to hear him chat on about his studies, more different to when he tells them to Sucrose or Timaeus.

: ̗̀➛ Due to his habbits of staying up at the latest of times to continue with his work, you would have some candy prepared in a small box and gift it to him before leaving his lab. He stated it himself at the start of the relationship that they help to give him an energy boost for when he feels like he’s starting to go off track so he’s very thankful and happy that you have gifted these to him.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴛᴀʀᴛᴀɢʟɪᴀ

: ̗̀➛ Helping him with babysitting Tucer if he ever comes for a visit in Liyue. He feels bad that he has to dump his responsibility of his brother on to you for some time but he wants to keep his real job a secret from him, at least when he's older enough to understand this he'll stop doing this but at the end of the day it does come with a reward for compensation of having you babysit such as having late night talks, hugs, kisses, cuddles or dinner. He even slips out a little apology his actions.

: ̗̀➛ If you're good at weapons, mainly the bow, he'd be pleading you to help him and to teach some techniques of yours to help him really master the art of the bow. You'd help him with his posture and aiming, doing the thing where your hands are over his and guiding his arms to a better position to get a more precise shot of the training dummy in front of you two.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴢʜᴏɴɢʟɪ

: ̗̀➛ Gives you some of Liyue's specialities, more so of the Cor Lapis. Whenever he gifts them to you on a date or on any special occasion, he likes to tell you the backstory about that speciality and give little facts. He probably knows himself about how much he does talk during these so forgive him if he does end up talking your ear off too much, he can't help it and genuinely wants to share off his knowledge to you. His beloved significant other.

: ̗̀➛He finds it entertaining how you also try to get along with his other friends and cared ones like Ganyu, Cloud Retainer, Mountain Shaper, Moon Carver, Madame Ping and Xiao. Few of them are harder to befriend and will take some time but for ones like Ganyu and Madame Ping the three of you have become good acquaintances and will every so often invite you to have some tea and food over a relaxing chat. Zhongli very much loves you a lot, it wasn't required to friend them just because he has some relation to them but you chose to so it makes him really delighted.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴋᴀᴢᴜʜᴀ

: ̗̀➛Accompanying him to go on a walk near the shores of Guyun Stone Forest for a break while Beidou and the other Crux members party on the Alcor. The walk is breezy, cheering and laughter is heard throughout the forest from the Alcor, light sounds of the birds calling to each other from above and the rustles of the vines and bushes against each other. The two of you sitting next to each other, his hands in yours, chatting about whatever you want to.

: ̗̀➛ When stopping by at Inazuma, he always goes to the spot north-east of the Grand Narukami Shrine to pay his respects to his long-term friend Tomo and to the cat that would always be inside of his kimono. Whether you know him or not but still pays your respect to his old friend Kazuha cannot help but show a small smile on to his face. He also may have sometimes came here without you and talk to the blade stuck in stone all about you, how you met and how wonderful you are. He knows Tomo would've liked you a lot if he was still here.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴛʜᴏᴍᴀ

: ̗̀➛He catches you on a late night enjoying the company of the animals around the city and feeding them little treats. He hasn't moved from his spot yet because he's admiring you from just behind a tree, he doesn't mean to look like a creep but he wants to take some time to allow for his brain to keep this moment before joining you in your late night activity, that is if you don't mind of course.

: ̗̀➛If you do happen to know how to knit or crochet then you can imagine yourself already making some small sweaters and toys for the tamed animals around the main city. Just the two of you enjoying your favourite drinks and sinking into the pleasure and cosiness of the room and the chat the two of you have between yourselves. It's not a lot but Thoma really enjoys this, just him and his love making things for animals, what else could he wish for?

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴀʀᴀᴛᴀᴋɪ ɪᴛᴛᴏ

: ̗̀➛ The one and oni allows for you to paint and polish his horns, paint it any colour you wish for cause he doesn't mind it one bit since he loves the care and attention you have on his horns. Later on he's already running to the gang and Shinobu about his horn colour and how you were the one who did this masterpeice.

: ̗̀➛ Speaking about the gang, he also loves how you treat them. The citizens of Inazuma do treat his gang members quite more better than they do to himself but seeing you also get along with them and their little escapades he can't help but to be very ecstatic and very chirpy, almost as if he was walking on clouds kinds feel.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴛɪɢʜɴᴀʀɪ

: ̗̀➛ Listening to his lectures about the native floral and mushrooms of Sumeru. He appretiates it alot that you really take note of them and put the information to use; being you telling offt the other forest trainess for eating a poisinous mushroom or genuinely because you want to chatter on about the different kinds.

: ̗̀➛When you get the permission to brush out his tail and maybe his ears if he's not dotting down notes into his book. He always seems to go into some serene like state whenever you do brush his fox features, you can see it on his face too whenever you peek over that's he's dozing off and lightly jolts up upon realising he has fallen asleep not knowing himself. Sometimes he really does go into slumber and doesn't wake up from it so you take it as your cue to carefully turn off any light sources and place a blanket on the both of you before going to join him in a peaceful slumber too.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

❅ ᴀʟ-ʜᴀɪᴛʜᴀᴍ

: ̗̀➛Despite him being reserved and closed off to most people he's quite different when it comes to you. He still has the same facial expression but his actions towards you contrasted ones he displays to others such as waving to him and he waves back or when greeting him with a wave he copies your exact motions, to a point where the others in the Sumeru gang finds it amusing that he only waves back at you only.

: ̗̀➛He also doesn't mind at all when you climb into his lap whenever he's reading and just looking at the books pages as well. He doesn't make any move or sound to show that he doesn't want you off of him so you continue to stay up until you've fallen asleep. During this, you cannot fully make it out but some weight goes on to your waist and wraps around it. You can only smile a little after guessing what he really did do was correct to your amusement.

────────── 〔✿〕──────────

[quirkwizard]

I'm in the middle of writing about the ending of MHA. I wanted to include a bit where I talk about the updates the characters have had to their looks and costumes, but felt that it was too long of a diatribe. Instead, I'm throwing it out here. That may be difficult considering how crowded the final shot is and how there is no official colored version out, but I can do my best.

Mineta: Also barely changed barring the little grape vine on his head and a similar design around his writs and he does his waist. It's more cohesive, I guess, but it's still whatever.

Sato: I honestly thought that Sato only had a pair of gloves as his new costume. Still though, I miss the mask as a part of his look. I would say more, but Sato's design has never been interesting, so I'm not disappointed.

Hagkaure: She has the biggest downgrade. Poor girl lost half of her costume during the time skip. She doesn't even have access to shoes anymore. That or she secretly has the best costume and the lighting was wrong.

Sero: Barely anything changed here. His helmet is sharper, which I could take or leave but do prefer the older one, and he's our first example of characters getting wrist bands. Not the more prominent trend, but one I noticed.

Mina: There isn't any notable changes to her costume, except more wrist bands which you think would just be melted by her acid, but I like the longer hair and horns. Even if the fact that her horns seemingly changed positions and shapes bugs the life out of me.

Kirishima: I don't even think there is anything different about Kirishina's costume. Maybe more pronounced teeth on the mask and making his gears more jagged, but that's about it. At least he has the best hair designs out of the new looks.

Ojiro: I like the changes. He got rid of the silly one sided fur on his neck in favor of a full one. He traded out the white gi for a black one, showing he evolved further in his martial prowess. And again, he has the headpiece like a few of the other characters.

Jiro: She exchanged the leather jacket for the vest. It's a fine trade, giver her more of a proper punk rocker look. Once again though, she is the part of the odd trend of giving characters wrist bands, seemingly loosing her arm speakers.

Koda: The character done the most dirty for design. In both panels he's in, his entire costume is covered by text boxes. At least his lost the mask, both showing him being more open and because it was basically useless now.

Shoji: Odd how one of the few students with their own panels has pretty much nothing changed about their look. And his may be a hot take, but I don't like Shoji with longer hair. I just think it looks really weird on him.

Tsuyu: A very minor change to how her headpiece looks, but I like it. It looks like a cute little summer cap instead of hulking headpiece she had before. The lenses looking like frog eyes were certainly a nice touch and adds to the "cute and friendly" look.

Tokoyami: The only change seems to be that Tokoyami now has a scarf on top of his cloak. I don't really get it. It doesn't look good and doesn't have any particular benefits. Was he really taking tips from Square Enix with wanting more cloaks?

Shinso: Shinso grew out his hair. That's about it. I'm mixed on this. It's not a bad design, but it can make Shinso feel more and more like a clone of Aizawa. So much of his design is already based on Aizawa. Could we maybe do something a bit diffident?

Iida: More of a sidegrade with this one. The extra muffles around his head look silly. I like the more cap shaped helmet, more resembling his brother's costume and looking similar to the cap the Greek god Hermes would wear for neat little visual reference.

Aoyama: I'm conflicted. One the one hand, Aoyama's costume does look a more practical with the removal of things like the cape and sliming down the design, but it loses a lot of the personality. Plus his pants are really dumb. I don't care how they are colored, they just look silly.

Denki: He may just have the most improved costume. His disk launcher has been broken down into a smaller version of it, seemingly with darts instead. The lightning patterns on his pants are nice as well to give his look more flavor. And the headphones work with his design.

Uraraka: I miss the space visor. It really brought the whole them of the costume together. Instead we get another pair of headphones. I do like the little bits of Izuku's costume in the look, such as the metal around her neck and the launchers around her arm looking like his gloves.

Momo: Momo has a proper shirt now. I do wish it has some more design to it. Maybe some white accidents around it reminiscent of her old look to make more like an evolution. Maybe she could have taken some visual ques from Midnight's or Magic's costume to show respect to her former mentors.

Shoto. Not a lot changed here, surprisingly. The most there is Shoto having designs similar to Enji on his chest. Which I do hope has more of the red and white as part of it. It'd be a neat way to represent how Shoto is still Enji's kid who incorporated everything he learned from him, but is more then his own person at this point that can be free of the shadow that Endeavor cast over his life.

Bakugou: I don't much care for this new design. While I like how they intergrade more of his winter costume into his standard look, it loses on a lot of personality that the old costume had. Things like the blast shaped mask and grenade bracers were great additions and it really needs more of that orange and green to break up all the black. The little fuse tassels are nice though.

Izuku: Out of the all the characters here, I find myself the most reserved about Izuku's new look. Because it depends so much on the coloring. The look itself I think is fine. A natural final conclusion to his costume. But the colors have always been an issue for me. I'm just hoping the cape and highlights are plain white as opposed to the clashing orange and yellow of his last look.

[ki-yomii]

i'm thinking about you | myg

➥ pairing | min yoongi x f!reader

➥ word count | 2.2k

➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; dirty talk, sugadaddy!yoongi, sugarbaby!reader, mild daddy kink, teasing, against the window, confessions, begging, pet names, gentle dom!yoongi, feelings

➥ summary | “You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

➥ notes | 🫡 i too would like to sue min yoongi. i left this pretty ambiguous as to what it is yoongi does for a living so imagine whatever you like (canon, ceo, etc).

💚 masterlist | inbox | AO3 💚

Tucked away in a Seoul high rise, you stand before a wall of windows and watch the bustling nightlife down below; the hazy glimmer of neon lights entrancing as people move from bar to bar in dense groups.

So high up, nearly touching the clouds themselves, it feels like a completely different world. The ground below so small and insignificant as your thoughts drown in nostalgia and fancy French wine (from a brand you can’t even pronounce).

You tried the robust blend several months ago on an outing to one of the exclusive restaurants around town, and promptly fallen in love with its sweetness.

You figured it would be a once in a lifetime try - one you’d remember fondly years later - only to be surprised as Yoongi bought out the winery as a belated birthday present.

Now there’s always a bottle ready and waiting in his apartment for whenever you visit. In fact, Yoongi plans on taking you to visit the French countryside sometime soon, take you on a tour of the vineyards and let you sample the lush grapes straight from the vine for yourself…

All because you mentioned liking it in passing when he asked.

He certainly knows how to make you feel special - money no object when compared to your heart’s desire.

When you first started this relationship, you were only expecting it to last for a few months, just long enough to catch up on your debts.

Now it’s going on two years and you couldn’t be happier albeit slightly disappointed it hasn’t progressed to more. But you’ll take what you can get.

After all, Yoongi’s been so good to you - for you.

“So this is where you’ve been hiding.”

You hum, taking another slow sip of your wine as broad palms slide over your hips. Fingertips brush the tops of your thighs, tease at the silk of your dress.

“I wasn’t hiding, you’re just bad at looking,” you say with a grin, “think you might need to get your eyes checked, Grandpa.”

Yoongi snorts, his breath puffing across the sensitive skin of your throat. “You’re such a brat sometimes, you know that?” He drags his nose along the curve of your shoulder, inhaling deep. “Fuck, you smell good. The Valentino?”

“Mhm,” you reply, hiding your smile behind the rim of your wine glass. “And it’s okay, isn’t it? Because I’m your brat.”

Before he can snark back, you offer up more of your neck and grind back into his hips, luxuriating in the low moan that vibrates through his chest, and the twitch of his cock against the soft fat of your ass. 

Hands clamp down on your waist, tugging you more firmly against his chest and Yoongi growls. You shiver from the sting of his teeth nipping at your earlobe.

“Careful, baby,” he warns, voice full of smoke and whiskey, “Don’t start something if you can’t keep up.”

“Don’t you like it though?”

You pout, rolling your head back onto his shoulder to gaze at the sharp lines of his profile. Your eyes greedily track the flutter of his lashes, the swipe of his tongue across his plush lips.

“I thought you would.”

Yoongi chuckles, the sound low and husky where its smothered in the curve of your shoulder. “Such a smart girl. You’re right,” he peppers kisses up the side of your throat, “I do love it.”

You hum, eyes closing as the world spins softly.

Your head is pleasantly fuzzy, the expensive scent of his cologne pleasant and clouding your thoughts with every inhale. The stem of the wine glass rolls between your fingers, the glass long since empty.

“Hn, now that’s interesting. What’s this, baby?”

Broad palms inch the hem of your dress up until the fabric pulls taut around your hips, cool air teasing over the soaked lace between your thighs. The lingerie you chose for tonight is on full display, tiny and sheer; barely covering your mound. 

“You got all dressed up and pretty for me? Fuck, you’re such a good girl.”

“Yes,” you breathe, “all for you.”

Teeth nip at the corner of your jaw as Yoongi grabs the empty glass from you, and sets it on the table. You watch in the glass as the dark blur of his reflection shifts behind you, before a strong forearm hooks over your hip and a broad hand dips down between your thighs.

“Mhm, that’s right. You’re my gorgeous girl,” Yoongi says, his voice rumbling against your ear. “Aren’t you?”

Fingertips sneak beneath the lace, the back of his hand stretching out the waistband as he slips into your panties and brushes over the hood of your swollen clit.

You’re so wet, he glides over the top of your slit nice and smooth, the callouses providing rough friction to slippery, delicate flesh.

Pleasure hooks behind your navel, and your gut clenches hotly. You shudder, your shoulders curling in on yourself as you whine, “Y-Yoongi!”

He tsks, using the ball of his thumb to grind down on your clit harshly, “You know better than that. What do you call me when we’re like this, baby?”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, your hips trying to jerk away from the uncomfortable pressure.

“’m sorry,” you mumble, nibbling at your bottom lip, “’m sorry, Daddy.”

Yoongi rumbles in approval, his touch softening until he’s gently stroking back the hood and gliding down to rub along your folds. “Good girl.”

The praise shoots through you, makes you widen your stance and rock back against his growing erection. Your ass cradles his cock, and you feel him twitch as the soft cut of his suit drags over your bare skin.

“Shit, you’re so wet already.”

There’s no doubt you’re leaving a damp patch on the crotch of Yoongi’s expensive slacks, but between the talented flicks of his fingers and the rolling thrusts of his hips, you’re beyond the point of caring.

If anything, you know the evidence of how soaked he gets you riles him up even more. He loves when you’re wet and messy.

“So fucking perfect for me,” Yoongi husks, “Can’t wait to feel this pretty little pussy gushing around my cock.”

You squirm, arch your back. “Please,” you say, “Want it so bad.” It’d be a lie if you said you haven’t been wet for hours, thinking of all the wicked things you’d do tonight. Yoongi’s been on a trip overseas, and video calls can only satisfy you so much. You’ve missed being with him in person, being pampered and loved so sweetly.

Not even several months ago, you were surviving on a diet of ramen, and string cheese. You lived in a shitty apartment with three other girls, and nearly all of your money went towards bills.

Living paycheck to paycheck, you were surviving - and barely at that. Everything you did revolved around how much it cost, if you could afford it, if you wanted food or fun.

More often than not… you couldn’t, so you went without.

Now finances are an abstract concept.

There’s new designer dresses for every day of the week, shopping trips to Myeong-dong, tiny entrees that cost more than a month’s rent, and a beautiful Seoul apartment you share with a man that utterly loves to dote on you.

Min Yoongi is, without a doubt, one of the most selfless, magnetic people you’ve ever met. And you adore him for all those reasons and a million more.

“Please.”

The pleasure all at once too much and not enough. Your pussy aches, swollen and tender. You’ve gotten so used to cumming on Yoongi’s cock that without it, it’s hopeless to try - left clinging to the edge by your fingernails.

“I need - I can’t -”

“Shh, it’s alright.” A chuckle, low and dark with satisfaction sounds close to your ear. “I never said you couldn’t cum, so go ahead.”

“No, I can’t! Need you, Daddy.”

“Mm, I didn’t hear you. Come on, tell me what you need, pretty girl.”

“H-hah, want your cock. Shit, please, please, please. Give it to me.”

At your response, Yoongi retreats.

The loss cuts through you, your pussy throbbing in time with your heartbeat. Slick soaks your shaking thighs, and your knees wobble. You wouldn’t be surprised if you’re making a mess on the hardwood. Normally, you can’t control yourselves once you get your hands on each other. Whether it’s because of the time you were apart or something else, this teasing is exquisite torture.

You don’t know how to handle it - have never had to before. Yoongi’s very giving, and while he’s made you work for it before, he’s never made you beg - not like this. ”No, no, no!” You protest, squirming in the arms caging you against the window, trying to wiggle him back to where you want him. “Please…”

“Are you saying my fingers aren’t enough for you?”

You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yoongi - Daddy - please,” you grab one of his hands and shove it between your thighs, “feel how wet you make me. I love your fingers but I wanna cum on your cock. It’s been so long...”

Groaning, the man presses a kiss to your temple, “Shit, I missed this. Missed the way your sloppy little pussy feels around my cock.” Before you can share the sentiment, his hands disappear and the sound of a zipper comes from behind. Anticipation swells, stoking the embers of your desire.

A palm plants itself between your shoulders. It presses down, and you go with the movement, cheek coming to rest against the chilly glass of the window as Yoongi bends you over.

He rubs a thumb along the length of your neck, peppering the exposed skin with kisses. You shiver, the points of contact prickling with awareness.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathes, “and I’m gonna show you just how much I missed you. Ready baby?”

You nod, not trusting your ability to speak, and then your panties are tucked to the side once more.

He’s suddenly right there and you lose your ability to breathe. He works the fat head of his cock into you inch by inch until he’s seated deep inside.

You both release held breathes with a moan.

Your hands slap the glass, fingers scrabbling for purchase, weak-kneed. You’re so full of him. The burn of the stretch adds to the pleasure coursing through you.

Yoongi’s no better.

Hands knead your ass as his body shakes with restraint. He does his best to give you time to reacquaint yourself with his size but even he can’t stop the tiny flexes of his hips.

A bitten off, wounded sounds escapes him when you unconsciously clench down, walls milking his shaft.

“Fuck baby, you can’t do that, I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“Daddy, please, I want it,” you whine, tentatively rocking back into the cradle of his body. “I can take it. Promise.”

Yoongi closes his eyes and grits his teeth. “Baby…”

“Come on, Daddy, give it to me.”

Another clench has his restraint snapping. He kicks your feet apart. Hands like steel bands lock around your hips, strong fingers grabbing hold and jerking you back onto his cock.

He sinks deeper into you with the movement, every possible inch buried inside.

He groans, low and filthy.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you whimper.

“Just remember you asked for it, baby,” he grunts. “Now hold on cause I’m not stopping even if you cry.”

He sets a brutal pace, hips rutting forward without mercy. All you can do is hold on for the ride, trapped between the hardness of his body and the smooth glass that’s quickly becoming foggy and smeared with condensation.

The lights of the city glitter like stars in your eyes as Yoongi takes you apart piece by piece, the sloppy sound of him fucking you fast and hard, his deep moans and your breathy sighs echoing through the apartment.

“Hng, not gonna last long,” he says through a grunt, his head dropping between your shoulders with a pant. Even so, his hips never miss a beat. “Gonna cum.”

“M-Me too.”

Every throb has your toes curling. Your head goes fuzzy, the insides of your thighs wet with slick. You’re in a tailspin, headed right for the peak.

Yoongi groans, “Fuck, I love you.”

The confession has your eyes snapping open and cumming unexpectedly hard. You shatter, body tensing up, mind going blank.

The revelation of Yoongi’s words float at the edge of your consciousness. You’re vaguely aware of a blooming warmth, and cum dripping down the backs of your thighs when he pulls out. The world is hazy as you slump against the window like a doll whose strings have been cut, forehead resting against the cool surface.

Yoongi is plastered against your back, chin hooked over your shoulder. His breath fogs up the glass beside your face.

“You don’t have to say it back..” He presses a kiss to the jut of your cheekbone. “I don’t want you to say it unless you mean it.”

Your eyes crack open, and you meet his gaze in the reflection. A small smile curves up the corners of your lips, and you stroke the likeness of his cheek in the glass.

Your gaze is fond when you reply, “Love you too, Yoongi.”

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAU Drabble - Moonbloom

Time for Nightmare to finish up some loose ends! Don't worry :3 it is a good one in my opinion <3

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

We good? Lets go! (also be ready because it is a long one.)

*------------------*

Nightmare looks around their garden but still can't spot Killer. Maybe he went to their nest? Seems weird as Nightmare thought he would be working on the grapes at the moment.

Still. Best search there. He walks back towards the house as he weaves between the grapes and vines growing. The first layer is looking amazing and beautiful!

He gets to the set of stairs and walks back into the house. Finding Killer is easy as he is laying in their nest watching something on the TV. A fan aimed at him to help keep him cool in the summer heat.

Killer blinks and grins "OUr little nightlight!" and Nightmare gets grabbed and snuggled close. Nightmare hums happily as he leans into the snuggles for a moment.

Killer grins as he lounges "Come watch westerns with me! It iwll be fun." and he grins.

Nightmare glances at the tv for a moment, it shows a cowboy on the back of a horse with the show having this yellowish colour over it. Nightmare hums "later?"

Killer grins "Sure. What do you want to do now?"

Nightmare rubs his hands before muttering "can... can you do soemthing for me?"

Killer nods "sure! what is it?"

Nightmare smiles as he leans against Killer before he asks his request. It had been on his mind for a while now and with him fixing Dani and Ellie's tree farm... He thinks this may actually work.

--------

Grillby cleans the bar and sighs. Another long night after an even longer day.

His club is profitable and it keeps others safe but he does not enjoy owning it. Grillby had always wanted to own his own business but not like this.

Sadly this is where their fate had let them.

He finishes with the bar and goes about checking the seating area and dancing area. Finding some very dubious stains. A deeper sigh but he gets to work.

He tries not to let his mind wander as he works. It is better to focus or the ever present heat that is now just a part of life.

He finally finishes up his normal round as he leaves his building. His flame flickering a bit brighter at the sight of Sans.

Sans notices him and grins "Sup Grills!"

Grillby is very lucky that even after everything and how everyone spoke about hi that Sans still speaks to him. He knows this.

They walk together as the move to waterfall. Sans takes out the umbrella and hands it to him wordlessly. Grillby takes it and the two continue walking "Thank you again for coming with me."

Sans grins at him "Hey no worries. I always love hanging out with you~" and he gives a wink and sweet smile.

It is ruined by someone whistling loudly "Hey Sans! Down to fuck later? I can show you a real boner!!" loud laughter after.

Sans just shoots them a look and glances up and down before smiling a bit sharper but still oh so sweet "Hon I don't think you have the stamina to keep it up or do anything near pleasing~ Maybe best practise a few rounds first." and the walk pass them.

No real conversation after that as the peaceful mood had been ruined.

Grillby misses Sans. Sans used to go to his club and dance there. Spend time there. It had been something Grillby honestly enjoyed. The heat that went through him felt more real when it was focused and about Sans. It had been honest as Grillby had always felt that way.

Sans had throw his whole mindset into dancing and other work at his club when the experiment failed. Sans sadly took the burn of most of that failure even if there had been more scientists at work on an artificial heat to help their reproduction.

Sadly Sans had been the best known among everyone and so ended up being the black sheep of it all.

Grillby had just been happy to have Sans near even when everything changed drastically... Eventually his inaction got to much and Sans left after one too many comments.

Girllby still misses him daily.

Maybe another reason why he had tried so hard to do right for that tiny child. A tiny skeleton looking so young. Grillby tried to not let it interfer but it had been so hard. He had just wanted to do right and something for once.

He still wonders how that tiny child is doing. He hadn't told another soul. Too afraid what some heat affected monsters would do.

"Grillby? Is something wrong?"

Grillby looks back at Sans and sees those pink eye lights watch him. Grillby always gets lost in that face and those eyes.

Grillby had come close to confessing what happened that night to Sans. So close. but he is afraid that Sans will just be disappointed in him. For not getting the child to a safe location. to hide it from him for so long. Grillby thinks this underground will actually be hell if Sans stopped talking to him.

A loud whistle and Grillby and Sans both look over annoyed. Only for Sans to freeze and Grillby can only assume it is shock. BEfore that is another skeleton. yet they are dressed strange.

Well strange for them.

They are in constant heat after all. Meaning everyone feels hot and too hot all the time. Everyone loves wearing and showing off their bodies. It is why Grillby is wearing his minimal outfit. It is why Sans is wearing the shortest shorts possible and that little top as he keeps his coat low and barely on.

This skeleton? Is wearing shorts but they cover his legs until his knees. he is wearing sneakers to finish that side up. Upwards? A black turtle neck, a sweater version at that.

Another very strange thing about them? The black tar like tears streaming down their cheeks. The completely empty sockets. and well, the out and proud soul is a very bold choice. Even for the monsters who like to attract all the attention. They are grinning widely at them.

Grillby blinks but suddenly feels Sans grab his hand and pull him back. Sans has yet to look away from the other skeleton but... but that look? That... that is fear... What? Who?

Grillby frowns "Sans?"

Sans shoots him an anxious look before glancing around at all the water. he pushes the umbrella fully in his arms "You need to go grillby." their is desperation in his voice.

Grillby does not feel the need to go. in matter of fact. if this person freaks Sans out of all mosnters? That means this person is dangerous and Grillby is not leaving his friend alone. He instead looks at the other skeleton.

Who is just... standing there? Grinning widely as they.... swing? They lean back and forth as they swing their arms slightly to keep the motion going. moving their weight from the toes of their feet to the very back. completely relaxed.

Sans glares at him and hisses "I am serious. Go."

Grillby just looks at the other and shakes his head "no."

Sans opens his mouth to speak again but the other speaks up "You two love birds done? Like. I can wait but i kinda got places to be and stuff." they grin as they lean on their fist. Almost like a thinking position but instead of the fist under the chin they lean against it with their cheek.

Sans glares "Why are you here?"

Grillby frowns at his friend "Sans who is this?"

Sans glances at him unsure before glaring back at the other.

This seems to have been a sign the other was waiting for as they just, bounce and skip over. The thrust out their hand "The name is Killer!"

Grillby stands frozen. Because he feels it. What the other sends out. This... this monster...

Grillby can't help it and sends a check.

The information just makes it worse.

This monster has a lot of LOVE.

Killer pouts "Tough crowd." he pulls his arm back and crosses his arms.

Sans glares at him and hisses "You are not allowed to be here. Leave."

Grillby has no doubt that Sans knows just how dangerous Killer is, Sans seems to actually know this guy but... but how?

Killer snorts and waves Sans off "Oh calm down I am not even causing trouble. Anyway. I kinda am here for a thing so cool your jets."

Sans just crosses his arms "I will ends a message to the Stars. I got an emergency vial and I will break it."

Killer raises a brow and smirks sharper "Then I won't be able to complete my job here Lavender..." then he leans closer "Or should I say... Ace?" and he winks "Must suck to have such conflicting needs."

Grillby doesn't think as he pulls Sans behind him. That... that is a very private secret. A soft admission that Sans once entrusted to Grillby. Why Sans hates this heat so much. How he doesn't even desire sex or want it. Yet this heat makes him need and crave it. It messes with his mind.

Grillby glares at Killer and Killer grins as he shrugs "eh. Not my fault he can't take what he dishes out." he grins wider "You know! Becuase he fucks people even when he doesn't desire people- wow!" Killer dodges the fireball Grillby shot at him.

Killer looks at where Grillby's magic attack his the ground "Man! Is it good I picked this spot to search you out! Could have been a hazard if a fire spread in an underground." he looks over "Anyway. I came with a message."

Grillby is about to say he doesn't care when Killer speaks the next sentence.

"From your little friend in the alleyway."

Grillby freezes again. Sans asks him what the other meant but Grillby can't. He can't believe it.

Killer nods with an understanding look "Ah yes. What do you mean? How could that be? In that case. Just so you know. While he liked the pulled beef a lot his favourite of the selection was the pork." and he grins.

The food. He had given the other food. And aparently the little one actually ate it all. his arm slowly falls to his side.

Killer grins and nods "I know right? anyway. I am here because of that." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns "What have you guys been doing here?!"

Killer sighs "calm down lavender. This doesn't actually concern you you know? You are just part of this conversation because you were near him at the time." and he shrugs.

Sans frowns and looks to the side for a moment "I... heard some stuff... from Dream-"

Killer pulls out a knife and aims it at Sans. Sans freezes and Killer grins. Girllby frowns but then sees the drop of blood on the knife edge and the very small cut on Sans's cheek.

Killer grins sharply "None of that now Lavender. I am here with a small mission. No need to include either the gang or the stars. This is a matter of repaying something owned. Calm now? Eithr you stay quiet or... well." he grins sharper "You want to test out how quickly a reset happens to fix a... missing link?"

Sans freezes as he shoots Grillby a nervous glance. Grillby is just very confused. what are these two talking about "Sans?" or Lavender? Why does Killer keep calling Sans that?

Killer stares for a while longer and Sans evneutally sighs and nods. Going silent but not leaving his side.

Killer hums and smiles brightly again. the threatening and freezing air around them disappears "That is what i thought!" is this what LOVE does to a monster? Grillby knew it was dangerous but this is on another level.

Killer sighs "Anyway. your alleyway friend wanted to thank you for your assistance. Which is why I am here. To repay that favour."

Grillby can't keep it in anymore "is he safe? Is he with his family again?" he remembers the poor child saying his mother was gone "With his dad? other parent?"

This is when Sans stares at him in shock and mutters a "what?"

Grillby looks anxiously at Killer but Killer just raises s brow and makes the 'go ahead' motion.

Grillby thinks it over before finally saying it "A long while ago. More than a year..." almost a year and a half honestly "I... i had a very curious visitor. a tiny monster dressed in a large hoody. but... it turned out to be a child... a skeleton one."

Sans gasps and thinks for a moment before shooting Killer a look of disbelieve.

Killer just grins and makes the 'zip it' motion.

Sans shallows "you mean those rumours..."

Killer glares as he crosses his arms "people need to learn to keep their large mouths shut." he turns back to Grillby himself "As to answer your question. he is fine. he is back at home with his parents. perfectly safe and healthy."

Grillby feels a deep relieve and lets out a sigh "Thank you... I ahd been worried... I assume you... you got him home?"

Killer blinks at him before shrugging as he stuffs his hands into his pockets "euh. pretty much."

Grillby can't help but smile. Maybe... maybe this monster isn't that bad? he cared enough to bring a child home to his family. he cared enough to help get the child a message back to Grillby. That must mean something. Sans must have made the same conclusion as he grins and crosses his arms. "Didn't realise that you guys now did babysitting."

Killer shoots him a glare "Don't test your luck Lavender." he sighs louder "anyway! Can we now finally get to the point i have been trying to get to?! The present?" and he waits.

Grillby and Sans share a look and both nod.

Killer huffs "finally! Anyway!" he messes with his pocked and out comes a full flower. it is a very pale purple with four petals. the petals are kinda cresent shaped and point upwards. It is small but nice enough.

Killer nods and marches over "Okay. here you go. Yes you can safely touch it as long as you don't want to burn it." Girllby carefully takes the flower over. That is when it hits him. the flower is the same colour as the small child's eyes had been.

Sans looks at it curiously and tilts his skull "that is... new?"

Killer waves it off "Yeah he is sitll workshopping the name. anyway. hold i got a list for this shit." he makes a victorious noise as he pulls out a piece of paper and reads "okay. okay... lets see. growing and spreading. As long as there is room and the flower is unbothered it will grow copies of itself. so it doens't need water."

Killer snorts as he looks up "Goot news you don't need to handle water for this flower. but yeah just kinda. I dunno. find a spot no one visits and plant sit if you want a shit load of them.but if you don't care about spreading it a lot lot you can just kinda put it in a pot or something."

Grillby looks down at the small flower and smiles. He is so thankful for this wonderful gift. a reminder that he at least managed to help one person.

Killer keeps looking at his little list "okay! So. One petal a person is enough but takes a few days to take effect. For instant but temporary effects just make tea."

Sans blinks "what is the effect?"

Killer opens his mouth. frowns and closes it. looks abck at his list. then shrugs at them "I was not told. I knew we were forgetting something. but. euh." he shrugs again "can you blame him? He is six."

Sans makes a small noice as he looks excited as he glances at Grillby "You saw a six year old babybones?"

Grillby nods and Sans sighs wishfully "I am so jealous. so so jealous."

Killer grins and shrugs "bet. anyway. lets see. oh the last point. The flowers will regrow the petals but can't grow more flowers if they are healing. so if you want a lot of petals you will need to grow flowers first." he grins at them "and that is it. with that done. bye!" he waves nad turns around. He walks back into the shadows and Girllby is left with a small flower in his hands. so fragile and small but beautiful.

Sans looks at him curiously "Want to get a nice large pot and plant the little plant? get more started?"

Grillby nods and they go in a slightly different direction. They get the right supplies and quickly go back to Grillby's house.

Grillby watches as Sans plants the flower for him. Grillby still worried his flames may harm to tiny plant. He just didn't wish to risk it. it takes very little time and they sit on the couch together for a moment.

Grillby can't sotp it anymore "Who even was that?"

Sans frowns as he srhugs "jsut... someone i know...."

Grillby frowns more as he feels that Sans isn't telling him what is wrong "Why did he keep calling you Lavender?" that is a new name. Sans has been called lust by others before, partly as insult because snas play in making the ever present heat. but also as comment on his looks and how desired he was.

Sans shrugs and mutters "I dunno... prefered that over the alternative..."

Grillby frowns "Sans... what..." he deosn't even know what he wants to ask.

Sans just shakes his skull "it... it doesnt matter at the moment... I am sorry you got so close to being hurt..." he rubs his arm and looks away with guilt.

Grillby hums "not your fault." and lets it go for now. his sight finds the flower. curiousity gets the best of him "Want to test those petals with me?"

Sans laughs before glancing at the flower "sure... petal or tea?"

Grillby hums and stares at the flower. feeling a bit reckless "lets just do a whole petal. That way it is done and no need to question it anymore."

Sans looks thoughtful before nodding. Sans pulls off two petals with care before handing one of grillby.

Grillby feels the petal. it is soft and seems fragile but it doesn't even seem to notice his flames. Sans grins and winks at him before both of them just eat the petal.

It tastes strange... slightly of grapes of all flavours. Grillby doesn't taste any of the drugs he is familiar with and he made sure to test those when he was safe. Just to make srue which flavours to not include in food and drinks. make sure nothing can get masked by his things.

They sit together but nothing happens.

Sans hums "the note of the kid did mention that it would take a while. Talking about that." he turns to him adn smiles "kid?"

Grillby chuckles but happily, and finally, shares the story of that day. How sweet the young child had looked but how afraid he had been.

It is nice.

-------

Grillby wakes up the same as always. he makes breakfast as he always does. But then he realises it. what he feels.

or better said. what he doesn't feel.

Grillby is in such shock that he actually drops the plate he had been holding.

It is gone.

the heat within his soul.

It is gone.

He doesn't think as he rushes out of his house. He throws open the door and gets hit by the cold of the air.

It is cold!

Also it is VERY cold!

He grabs his jacket before rushing to Sans's house. He gets there and knocks on the door. loudly.

a grumble and a disgruntled Papyrus opens the door. Papyrus shoots him a look. tired and slightly knowing "Sans is asleep after working last night." he gives him a pointed look.

Grillby still isn't sure how Papyrus figured out about Grillby's interest, but it may have to do something with Grillby always giving Sans the center stage and best hours and let sans keep most of the tips he earned. Now that Grillby thinks about it he was rather obvious.

Grillby shakes his head "It is nothing like that. I need to talk to him. I know it is very early and i apologise."

Papyrus looks annoyed but lets him in wiht a loud sigh. Papyrus orders him to wait there for a moment before moving upstairs to Sans's room.

Grillby waits as he tries to ignore the very pointed decoration. his soul still blissfully cool towards it all. even if he can smell the familiar scent of Sans's perfume.

It doens't take long for Papyrus and Sans to walk downstairs. Sans looks adorable disheveled as he joins him on the couch. Sans is still so pretty even without all the make up and short cut clothes.

Ppayrus sends Grillby another look before loudly proclaiming that he will be making breakfast.

Sans shoots him a tired look "Not that i don't enjoy visits... but we don't really have the same working hours anymore Grills."

Grillby shakes his head and tries to focus on the now "Sans. please. focus and tlel me I am not the only one here."

Sans frowns at him as he tilts his skull.

Grillby keeps staring at him "Notice anything gone? something... burning that is no longer burning?"

Sans stares at him before snorting "Is this the set up for a pun? I mean i love a good pun but you didn't need to wake me up-" he stops mid sentence. sockets wide as one hand slowly raises up to touch his sternum "it is gone."

They share a look and Sans rushes to his room "Give me a moment to get dressed!"

Grillby nods before quickly shouting after him "Make sure to grab a jacket!"

Papyrus shoots them a weird look from his kitchen and Grillby has no way to explain it just quite yet.

Sans rushes back downstairs, with a jacket on thank everything. They quickly say goodbye to Papyrus and rush out together. They run back to Grillby's house as Sans speaks "The flower?"

Grillby answers immediantly "I think it had to be! That is the only thing different about us compared to everyone."

They get back and find the garden pot they had planted the flower in four days ago. It took almost two days for the flower to recover fully from the picked petals but over the next two days the one flower had grown into four.

Sans stares at him in shcok "this... this can fix everything..."

Grillby nods before frowning at his tiny pot "We can maybe plant three of these four somewhere else. with more room to really let them spread. I can keep the last one safe just in case."

Sans nods as he takes out the garden tools he had left here last time and gets to work "great idea. I remember a cavern in the forest which no one really visits. we can plant them there and let them spread in peace."

Grillby nods as he watches Sans work. this could fix everything.

----

Killer strokes the small skull leaning against his sternum as he watches tv. the western is nearing its conclusion as the hero talks about needing to go as the open fields call to him. the main lady is heartbroken and begs him to stay. usual stuff.

Killer looks at Nightmare "What was the flower anyway?"

Nightmare yawns and shoots him a look "should fix the issue there." and he snuggles close.

Killer grins and holds the baby close. euh. whatever. Not his problem. his problem is just making sure the baby is happy and content.

*-----------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

Remember how Nightmare is now the god of restoration? You can push that concept VERY far :3

If Fate finds out Nightmare is messing with universes and stuff like this she/he/they will be pissed.

Anyway!!

Baby repayed his debt!

[vxperorchist]

Helloo, I'm the one who requested the best friends headcanons. Sorry I disappeared but *cough exams *cough. Anyway if it's still ok I would like to send in another request inspired by the last one as I mentioned before.

So please picture me this: Nilou's fem best friend is in love with Cyno because he's amazing *dreamy sigh, anyway she's a shy, introverted and timid type of person and isn't exactly beautiful or smart and Cyno is like high profile, insanely attractive so she believes he's way out of her league and doesn't intend to make a move. Sooo Nilou takes matters into her own hands and becomes a wingwoman.

Um this turned out lengthy, feel free to ignore it. Anyway please remember to take care of yourself and have a lovely day.

Wingwoman! (Cyno x Fem! Reader)

Scenario: Nilou plays matchmaker/wingwoman for her best friend, setting then up with Cyno!

Genre: Fluff

I'm SO SORRY this took absolutely FOREVER to get out. I died internally and came back SO SO SORRY.

THIS IS SUCH AN AWESOME REQUEST. I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS. And bro I feel you on disappearances I'm trying to be active and I'll be like "eh I'll post tmrw" and there goes 2 weeks like help

Ok anyways freaking love this request and had so much fun writing this!!

If you're wondering yes I did Google the joke Cyno made thanks

Nilou's show was today. A show all of Sumeru was bound to attend. You were looking forward to her show of course, as she was your best friend, but you were almost more excited for the debrief you would have afterwards.

After every event, one of you would go to the others place, talking about everything, who was at the show, who was with who, who didn't show up, and so on. It's what best friend do!

You helped her get ready for her show, finding her makeup and touching up her hair where it was needed. You sent her off and she gave you a pre-performance hug as she ran off. You took your place in the crowd, settling yourself between the many people of Sumeru, who came from all over to watch her performance.

She was stunning, her hair glistening so perfectly in the Sumeran sun. You spotted a few familiar faces in the crowd, those who attended frequently, including Kaveh, Collei, (who dragged Tighnari along) and even Faruzan were all recognized.

You couldn't help but notice somebody familiar, but unfamiliar at Nilous shows. White hair and eyes that could kill, the general

Mahamatra stood confidently. You knew him of course, everybody did, but you had never seen him at one of Nilous performances.

You had to admit to yourself, he was attractive. The way he watched everything so carefully and was observant of everything made you want to decode him. It made you want to tear down his mysterious demeanor and get to know him. You caught yourself staring for too long and flicked your attention back to Nilou.

Her performance ended gracefully, and you caught up with her soon after. The two of you quickly made a line for her house where you two could finally have some quiet, away from the paparazzi, interviews, and flashing lights.

The two of you gathered on her couch, snacks and drinks surrounding you. You complimented her performance, telling her how in awe the crows was, including yourself.

"Thank you so much!" She said genuinely, every time. "It means a lot to me, it truly does." She swung giddily, she then turned excitedly to you. "Tell me, who all did you see?" She asked quickly.

"The usuals, a few new faces too." You bit a grape off a vine, putting the fruit back down. "Did you know the General Mahamatra was there?"

You were unaware as to why she was giggling. "I noticed; you were watching him for quite some time." She smiled; she had definitely caught on.

"You should talk to him!" She suggested excitedly, unaware of your lack of self-confidence, especially when it came to talking to someone so significant to both the nation, and you.

"I don't know about that." You replied nervously. "He doesn't seem like the type of person to indulge in relationships, and I don't think he'd be interested in me." You didn't think, you knew, deep down.

"You'll never know until you try!" She clasped her hands; you could see her scheming behind her bright eyes. "I think he was there for you, Nilou." She laughed a little harder. "No silly, he was there for security measures. We knew it would be a large turnout, and his group was called in just in case something was to go down regarding eremites. It was strictly business. However, being on stage I did see how he looked at you when you weren't looking." She grinned largely.

You couldn't tell if she was joking or not, but you felt your face heat up at the thought.

"I only know a little bit about him, I heard he likes playing cards." She admitted, trying to give you a lead on him.

With that information given, Nilou tried her hardest to get you to talk to him or reach out. It ended in utter failure as you didn't try, uncertain of what the future would hold if you did.

You could be content with your situation now, instead of worrying about rejection.

Nilou however, had other plans. She would not be content with your situation and was tired of the eye contact she would see the two of you lock without any further advancement.

It was obvious to any third party that each of you had some feelings or interest in each other, but the two of you were too dense to act on it or see it in general.

"He's into you, I'm telling you!" Nilou exclaimed after another show, you brushed her off each time. There was absolutely no way he was, and Nilou was trying to embed wishful thinking into your brain.

You continued to ignore your growing feelings, as not acting on them would do no harm.

You wouldn't act out on them, but who was to say your best friend wouldn't work her own magic?

"Y/n! They want me to perform at an event a the Bazaar this weekend, the most exciting part is they'll be hosting a TCG tournament at this event, alongside food, drinks, and other activities. You can't tell me that wouldn't make an awesome date!" Nilou ran up to you excitedly, practically jumping with joy.

"And who are you trying to go on a date with?" You asked her, head tilted with a mischievous grin. "No one! However, I'm sure Cyno will be there, this is your chance!"

You sighed as she was still yet to give up on her idea, even though her performance that sparked this whole situation was over a month ago.

"Nilou, he's not into me, I promise you that."

"Please, just come to this event. For me?" You'd do anything for her, she was your best friend. "I'll do it for you, but that's it." She smiled and you grew instantly worried.

Nilou had various connections around Sumeru, and it wouldn't have surprised you if she rigged something to her benefit. (Not in a selfish way.)

Thats exactly what she did too. Like she said, Cyno was present at the event, with a focus of becoming the Sumeru City TCG champion. You couldn't help but laugh to yourself, however nothing was funny when you realized you were entered, with a match against said Cyno.

You swore to hide Nilous hairspray or shrink her next show dress. She definitely did this. You sat across from Cyno at a small table, surrounded by the crowds of Sumeran people walking throughout the event, nobody paying any mind to either of you.

"I recognize you. You're one of Nilous friends, right? I always see the two of you together." He said, skipping a greeting.

"Yeah, I've been friends with Nilou for many years, we've been mistaken for sisters a few times." You laughed it off.

"The difference is A-parent." He joked.

You tried to laugh, you really did, but ended up feeling all the blood rush to your face for no particular reason.

"Do you get it? The difference between you two is apparent, however there is also a parental difference between you two."

You understood the joke fine and couldn't help but laugh. Not at the joke, but the way it caught you off guard.

"I get it, it was good." You admitted. He smiled lightly, light enough for just you to catch it. You watched as his eyes lit up too. "Really? I guess I'll have to use it another time if it was that good."

The two of you began to play cards, you watched as someone so powerful moved his hands with such gentleness, and you got to witness someone so distant, up close.

He ended up beating you, that was no surprise, and you had fun playing which was the best part. You thanked him for playing and began to walk off. You wanted to go tell Nilou everything while kicking your feet in her bed.

"Would you like to watch Nilous performance with me?" He said lowly, almost nervously.

"I'd love to." You smiled, walking over to the stage with him. You talked about many things as the two of you waited for the performance to start. You learned that it wasn't very hard to get past the cold demeanor, and all someone had to give him was a chance.

Nilou's performance started, and you waved to her from the middle of the crowd. As your hand went up, it brushed Cynos. He pulled back for a second on instinct, and let it relax again.

Nilou acknowledged the two of you, waving back before she started.

You watched Nilou as you did every time, focusing on the parts she talked about frequently. Furthermore, you couldn't help but also watch Cyno, who was dangerously close to you.

So close you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

He shuffled as the crowd shifted, shifting you two closer together. "Sorry, there isn't much space." You apologized for the proximity; one side of your body practically pressed up against his.

Your arm brushed him as somebody in the crowd bumped into you. He wasn't slow on noticing the disruption beside you, and wrapped an arm around your back, moving you away from the pushing. He did it out of protection, you knew, but couldn't help your stomach that was doing cartwheels.

His arm lingered loosely, just barely resting on your own arm. He looked over at you, trying to check your reaction, you smiled over at him, nodding a thank you.

No words were exchanged, but the two of you collectively enjoyed the others presence, even if you were pressed up against each other by force.

Nilous performance ended, alongside the night which was slowly coming to an end. "Thank you for tonight, it really was great." You tripped over your words a few times, hoping he would ignore it.

"I enjoyed it too, and I'd like to beat you in TCG again sometime. I'll catch you again for food sometime. Get home safely, and alert me if anything is wrong. Tell Nilou I said thank you as well." He said his goodbyes, and you were sent back home, too caught up in bliss to realize the last part of his goodbye.

Thank Nilou for what??

You met up with Nilou for breakfast the next morning, she looked guiltier than anything, but was so extremely proud of yourself.

"Last night went well." She giggled happily. You couldn't be upset, there was no possible way.

"He says thank you by the way." You told her and she smiled again.

"He's thanking me for setting the night up with you."

[lady-daydream]

Our Life Headcanons/Imagine: How They Deal With Being Sick.

Cove Holden:

Due to both Cliff’s, and then retroactively, Cove’s active lifestyle as well as Cliff’s habit of cooking from scratch plus adding that they live close to the coast. Cove doesn’t get sick very often. Or if he does, he doesn’t react noticeably to it. This means that when he gets ill. It’s normally a pretty strong illness. Cove has a pretty high pain tolerance, and he is the type of person to say ‘ow’ more out of shock than out of pain when he bumped or hits something. As such aches and pains he finds more annoying than difficult. However, he hates the groggy feeling of cloudiness he gets when ill. Normally he will try and sweat it out with spicy food or exercise. But most of the people in Cove’s life normally end up suggesting, or if it is Elizabeth or Kyra it becomes pressuring him to rest. If Cove is being stubborn, they find out that booking a fun activity somewhere for when he felt better normally distracted him long enough for him to forget he shouldn’t be doing anything. He likes cuddles when he’s ill and sometimes forgets that this can cause M/C to be ill as well. So, it normally ends up with both of them getting sick at the same time.

If M/C falls ill however and he’s not sick. He doesn’t like not being able to help so isn’t great verbally at soothing further than ‘I’m sorry – I know this sucks, I’m here for you’. But he shows he cares by distracting them. Or setting up a video call if M/C is in a social mood with friends and family if they are far away so they don’t feel so lonely. He doesn’t mind giving supportive hugs and a few sneaky kisses to M/C, (Much to M/C’s protest at the risk of getting sick), but he just argues he could get sick anyway so why not get a few kisses out of it before he does. If Cliff catches ear that M/C was sick, he normally sends a check-up text, and if he is close enough to be able to do so – he will send food over. If he doesnt hear from the grape-vine, he normally ends up hearing from Cove himself since he is the first-person Cove texts if he’s uncertain if something is wrong or if something M/C does while sick is something to worry about, or if it’s just a side effect of the bug. And if M/C ever needs to go to a GP or The doctors,he never judges if M/C is stressed or scared or needed him there to support, he’s happily holding M/C hand the whole way or waiting outside even if the doctors makes him slightly anxious himself due to the accident that happened when he was younger. 

Derek Suarez:

Derek got sick a lot as a kid. Not intentionally, but due to his two brothers all going to different schools and being in different years, if one person in the household got sick. Everyone got sick. He hates being sick cause he gets fidgety and bored from the lack of energy and ability to move about or being able to do much really. But he doesn’t like seeing other people ill also. This meant he was the first to organise a group activity for Jorge and Nico if all three of them were sick to cheer them up, as well as helping his parents when he could see them slightly stressed from looking after three ill kids. This however led to Derek hiding his illness unless he physically couldn’t from his perceptive parents. So, when he is ill, he may not ask for help, feeling guilty for getting ill. However, as he got older he found his immune system was quite strong so he didn’t find himself ill often. He is always touched when M/C offers to help or look after him when he is ill, even if he takes some persuading from the people that care about him to let them help him get better. His parents like to joke that the brother must be linked because no matter how far apart, the three brothers always seem to get ill around the same time. This leads to a lot of joking phone calls trying to find out which brother is to blame for ‘getting them all sick’.

If M/C ever got ill, he is the first person to notice and is quick to offer help. From the mix of his sports experience, getting sick a lot while young, as well as suffering through rather bad growing pains after he hit 14 till turning 18, he always seems to have painkillers around as well as heating pads or hot water bottles. His strength lay in actually helping cure the sickness and its side effects. He generally isn’t that queasy around vomit, leading to him with either a bowl/bucket or if not a supportive back rub if M/C has a particularly nasty bug or illness as well as being strong enough to offer to piggyback or carry them to bed if its needed. But that doesn’t mean he wouldn’t be the first person to offer mental and emotional support alongside it. He normally ends up joking with you throughout the whole period M/C is ill if they are in the mood to stomach it. If not, he is always happy to give hugs not caring if he gets ill, saying he’s too buff to get ill, forcing a laugh or smile from M/C with a strongman pose. If they aren’t too sensitive to light or noise, he will offer to put on whatever M/C would like to watch, if M/C doesn’t pick something and lets him decide he will pick a movie he knows M/C likes regardless, asking them questions when they seem interested above the movie in order to distract M/C into info-dumping about it. However, due to his vigilance at helping M/C, if things start looking like they are getting worse he normally ends up anxiously double-checking M/C’s temperature or making sure they are intaking enough fluids and food. He is more than willing to take M/C to a GP or the Doctors the minute things are looking bad. If M/C is stubborn he is not beyond carrying them to the car and driving them or just using bribery. He’d rather have M/C be mad at him than them getting seriously sick. But he does always follow up on his bribery so M/C, though mad, does normally end up getting whatever food or treat they want afterward.

Baxter Ward:

If there is one thing Baxter doesn’t like. It’s not being able to work. As such, he hates more than anything being sick. The problem that peoples face with Baxter being sick is that he will hide it until it’s impossible to hide it anymore. He will do anything to continue going on like normal. Tired? down some coffee or work from home. Headache? Wear some sunglasses and listen to some white noise. Sneezing or coughing? Downplay it as a simple cold or hay fever. So, M/C has to be just as sneaky. If they are snuggling and he falls asleep, M/C will test his forehead for a temperature and always carry cough sweets, hay fever tablets, and sunglasses just in case to see if he reacts. After some investigation, and a lot of downplaying on Baxter’s end, he normally comes clean and states he’s a ‘light unwell’. Then comes the next battle. This being actually looking after him. He hates feeling like Mc is ‘wasting’ their time or going out of their way. Constantly apologizing no matter how small the act is that M/C does. However, he appreciates its immensely. He feels ashamed that he isn’t able to deal with the sickness alone, arguing in his own head that adults can look after themselves. M/C reminding them that their Mum’s look after each other whenever they are ill, detailing a time M/C remembers their Mom made chicken soup, homemade orange juice for their Ma when they came home from work with tonsillitis. Normally retelling this makes Baxter chuckle, making him mutter something about ‘some orange juice might be nice, and maybe some comfort would help him get back to work quicker’. But once Baxter starts feeling comfortable and lets up his stubborn walls, he admits that he enjoys M/C comfort. M/C is more than happy to offer head massages, getting as many cold compresses as possible when he needs them, getting him food and just making sure he was taking his medication when he needed.

Meanwhile, though he ignores his own illnesses. If anyone he cares about someone. He will go above and beyond to help them. When they were younger, he would normally find out either from Cove or from knocking on M/C door to have their parents explain that M/C is ill. It would take him long to make his way to town after asking M/C parents if they need anything and picking more than enough supplies to find something to cheer them up. Normally if the illness is bad enough that the M/C cannot text or move about, he will just leave a note with the supplies. Then when they see them later on in the week, he will always ask how they are normally with M/C smiling at their cute note.

However, as Baxter got older, though he became a bit more isolated he still did check in on his co-workers. If he notices someone has been gone for a couple of days, he’ll text them a kind message to see how they are. If they are ill, he will find a small gift – either tea, coffee, or a small snack to leave on their desk with a ‘hope you are well’. If when M/C mentions they are not well, Baxter is happy to take some time off, if possible, to look after them if they would like. If M/C is unwell enough that they are stuck in bed, Baker would recall the story M/C shared about their Mum’s, and a drowsy M/C might walk into the kitchen to find Baxter shirt sleeves rolled up, a YouTube video playing at the lowest volume as to not waking M/C up, all while a tasty soup cooking on the stove.

[astronautforhalloween]

Charon's Obol

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: Gator Tillman x Reader

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: You really didn't want to cover a shift at your new job. But when an old familiar face walks through the door, the night yields some unexpected results. Some more welcome than others.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Gator. Some hints to his misogyny, blood, canonical death. Not proofread, not written with the reader's gender specifically expressed but it is implied to be female (Gator refers to them as 'princess'). Gator does refer to reader as 'little bird', but it isn't a reference to height or body type. It's more so condescending.

ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ: 7.9k words. Might do a pt. 2? (If so, there will be some changes to Gator's character) The story takes place during the end of episode 2 but diverges at the end. Banner by @saradika

It had been a bit of a surprise when you watched him walk in through the taped up front door, glaring at Andy - someone whom you've learned to be a frequent regular - like the man had personally affronted him with his mere existence; his lip was curled in a sneer and there was a scoff waiting to be released from his chest while he stared the older customer down with an incredulous scowl. The same scowl that he's had since high school - looks like all that much hasn't changed. And you expected some sort of conflict, a quick shove to Andy's chest or a smart quip, though thankfully the interaction ended with Gator slipping past the regular. But not without roving a scathing glance across his body from head to toe as the man dipped out of the doorway. 

He didn't even notice you behind the counter as he immediately set off in the direction of the restrooms, and a part of you was relieved for it. Sure, when you had been making plans to move back down here to assist your mother, you had briefly entertained that Gator was still living in Lehigh, even though your old childhood town was about a seventy-eight-mile drive from where she was living now. Before the move she used to give you all the local gossip during your daily phone call, and Gator had been a frequent focal point in the scoop of the day, with his bad behavior and quick temper. It seems that being on the police force has done nothing to teach him manners. If anything, from what you've heard, it's only amplified his complete lack of boundaries. 

He had been passionate about football for a time, but then there had been that accident in mid-August back in senior year which left him favoring his right leg with a slight limp. From what you had heard through the grape vine way back when, he had also wanted to be a sheriff. To follow in his father's footsteps and protect Stark County like the previous men of his heritage had. 

And if the big, white bold letters printed on his vest was any indication, it looked like he was working his way up to doing just that. 

You had been taking shifts here at the gas station for about a week now. Had moved boxes packed full of your belongings from a U-Haul and into your room inside of your mother's new trailer home a week before that. But for some reason seeing him again seemed to solidify that you were actually back here in North Dakota after you had worked so hard to get out. It was like being shoved into a time machine and forced to a point in your life that you didn't want to return to. There isn't necessarily wrong with this state or the people who live here. It's just quiet, tight-knit, and everyone knows everyone. Secrets are difficult to keep here and evading bored, curious eyes can be difficult, if not impossible at times. 

There wasn't anything here for someone your age, who had dreams and longed for something more than church potlucks and being barefoot and pregnant. 

But now here you were. Reaching for the broom propped in the corner to sweep up a cluster of glass shards peeking out from underneath the bottom of the counter into a small pile. They seemed to be everywhere, no matter how hard you scanned the floor while you cleaned, more and more glass just seemed to pop up as soon as you thought you had gotten it all. You had even found a piece in the cash register when you were counting out a customer's change, and you nearly sliced your thumb on the damned thing. How it had it had managed to find its way in the till, you aren't sure. Though as frustrating as those little slivers are, you actually find yourself being thankful for them. It gives you an excuse to at least look busy instead of just awkwardly standing around, uncomfortably hyperaware that Gator Tillman is in the store. 

You aren't even sure why you're so nervous about the thing. Yes, you and Gator had never been particularly close, and the interactions that you had were few and far between, mostly due to forced proximity because of your position on the cheer squad. But apart from the after-school activity that both of you participated in, you mostly had your own circles that you kept to, the two of them hardly ever merging. Based off of what you'd seen of him back then, he wasn't all that impressive. He was abrasive and cocky. A bully, to put it lightly, that liked to slam other kids against locker doors as he passed. 

You didn't think much of him then. Just a guy who like to flaunt underneath his father's shadow and abuse the privileges of being the sheriff's son to taunt others. And you don't think much of him now, so you aren't sure why your gut is sinking like a nervous pit. 

It isn't odd that he's here. Sure, the gas station is a short drive outside of Beulah which happens to be about an hour's drive from Lehigh. You suppose that it isn't completely wild to see him outside of his county, but for some reason it still catches you off guard, even if it was just a matter of time before you crossed paths. Whether that had been while you were out having dinner at one of the local restaurants or him walking in on one of your shifts. Though the kicker is, is that this isn't technically your shift. It was meant for Derreck, but he was unable to show up because he's no longer one of the living. You don't want to speak ill of the dead, especially one so recently passed, but you can't exactly say that you're all that surprised. Even with just your short interactions to base off of, he didn't seem exactly like he was the sharpest. 

And when Miles called you just the night before, fretful over the state that the gas station was left in after a particularly horrendous break-in, explaining that Derreck was gone, that he had tried to scare an armed perpetrator with an airhorn of all things and got a chest full of bullets in response, you were horrified and regretful but not exactly shocked. 

He had also mentioned something about an attempted kidnapping in between his worried rambling before he zigzagged back to the point of the call, which was trying to cover some of Derreck's shifts that had been left vacant due to his murder. Apparently, no one else was willing or able to cover them and that had left you as his last resort. You nearly said no. You weren't usually one to work the graveyard shift. You liked the peace that came with it, but your mother, despite her wanning health found old habits hard to break and was typically an early riser. Doing chores as early as 7 am; vacuuming and doing laundry or poking around in the garden behind the house. Which is roughly around the time that the nightshift ends. You knew that it would make falling asleep a task with how thin the walls are, but you couldn't find it in yourself to say no. Not even with your own fears of being shot while standing behind the register gripping you like a chill. And not with money so tight.  

You could just picture him in your head, pacing around in his office underneath the oily glow of his desk lamp and you could hear that click-click of his teeth gnawing on his nails through the other end of the call. An anxious tick of his. And then there was the medical bills and the torn open envelopes declaring that bills were past due splayed out over the kitchen table. You had just been able to put some good money aside for those but there was still an intimidating amount that was owed and every bit of cash counts. Even with the pressures of debt and financial insecurity hanging down over you with an unbearable pressure, you hadn't been exactly psyched about accepting a solo nightshift at a recently burglarized (and that's putting it lightly) gas station. But you couldn't refuse. You hadn't told your mother about the tragedy that had taken place here. She never would have allowed you to leave the house for work this evening if she had.  But it's just a matter of time before all the gossip finally reaches her ears; nothing ever remains a secret or quiet for long in small, sleepy towns. But fortunately, by the time she becomes to date the crime, you'll already be on your way home to take a shower and fall asleep in your bed. 

The sound of one of the freezer doors slamming shut has you pausing to look up from the pile of glass and dirt on the linoleum and over to the back of the shared chip and candy aisle where Gator now shuffles around. You can just hardly make him out from behind the other shelves full of microwavable mac and cheese and Campbell's soup, but he appears to be idly scanning the rack of junk food with a bottle of pop in his good hand. The other, you've just noticed, seems to be fixed inside a cast and blue gauze bandaging. You wonder how he managed to get that injury. 

Your curious little inspection doesn't stop there. You let your eyes sweep over him from his cap to his knees (which is about as far as you can see of him from the angle), and on their way down you take notice of the holster secured to his thigh. And for whatever reason your focus seems to settle there and just stay for a good breath or two. It looks good, those black straps wrapped and pulled tight around his thigh.  In fact, he wears the entire uniform in way that you shouldn't find appealing. The weight of his vest seems to pronounce the slimness of his waist and the fatigues that mold around his hips are doing him nothing but favors. It's almost stupid. It's jarring. You have to tighten your grip on the broom handle, forcing yourself to look away to pin your gaze down on one of those solar powered bobble heads placed between the register and a mini shelf stocked full of Bic cigarette lighters. 

But it's facing the wrong way. Instead, it's turned towards you. It's supposed to be cheery. A Christmas themed orange cat peeking out of a stocking with its head still steadily wobbling despite the fact that it's been sundown for more than a few hours now. Its cartoon smile feels judgmental. Like its criticizing your shameful ogling. 

Seriously, since when have you ever checked out Gator Tillman? 

Sure, a part of you had found him cute in the past. A surface level sort of attraction, with his pretty, round brown eyes. But it was never really enough to compensate for how crude he was. All packed full of harsh comments, inflamed bravado and plastic charisma; always searching for an excuse to fight. If anything, it garnered nothing pity from you. An awful aching sorrow. Especially whenever you could see something soft peeking out from underneath that boastful, sarcastic exterior of his. The potential to be kind. Sweet even, if it had been nurtured enough in him. But Roy Tillman was anything but nurturing. 

The entire town had known how harsh the Tillman patriarch was on Gator, even though they all kept their mouths shut tight, in fear that he might raise his hand down against them instead. All of the split lips, black eyes and pulled muscles that were all conveniently filed away as mishaps caused by a wayward cow during a roundup on branding season. 

Of course, your only excuse for not outright speaking out had been that you were hardly more than a child, busy saving up for your first car and writing out college admission essays. And the harsh, whispered warnings of your mother telling you to keep your nose out of things that aren't your business never helped. Not that you have ever been particularly well at heeding her advice. You had tried once, to reach out to him and let him know that he wasn't alone, one evening near the bleachers before graduation. Maybe you should have kept to yourself like everyone else had warned you to. To not get involved. But it was hard when Gator showed up to school one day with his right cheek swollen red and purple, the molted shades of plum and a nasty vermillion dotting up around the corner of his eye like a crescent.  Seeing Gator banged up with a new cut or scrape wasn't a new development by any means. But all the excuses were getting old; wore you down even though they shouldn't have impacted you personally. 

His cover for the swollen cheek was that he had gotten it during practice the evening before. But that was bullshit. He hadn't left the field swearing like he usually did whenever he got hurt during training. When Gator got hurt it was something that everyone would become uncomfortably aware of; usually by a string of loudly exclaimed expletives that could be heard reaching across the expanse of the field.  There had been none of that. He didn't leave campus with an icepack clutched against his cheek the day before. He got that bruise when he went home that night. And you would have put good money on it that the one that did the damage was his father. 

And despite all the warnings you told yourself that you would speak to him about it. That you'd try to at least. Your friends must have noticed the moment you decided to go and talk to Gator. Maybe they'd seen the glint of it in your eyes. And they had all told you not to. That it wasn't your place. That you'd best stay out of it. But you couldn't listen. 

It took you the entire school day to build up the courage to approach him. To calm your nerves. You remember vividly how awkward the air around you had felt when you asked him to meet you behind the bleachers. It didn't escape you how flirtatious the invitation could have been construed as and you're sure that he was expecting some sort of sloppy make out underneath the grandstands and not an intervention. You're sure you had completely blindsided him when you had opened up the conversation with words of sympathy and not some flirty spiel. You had tried to be delicate about the whole thing. After all, for the most part the both of you were hardly more than acquaintances. You did your best to be gentle when you had offered to be someone that he could talk to if he ever felt like he didn't have anyone at home to confide in. But he had turned you down then with clear irritation in his eyes when he told you that he didn't need your help. That he didn't want it, and that was that. 

Your eyes flicker back up to him from the bobbing fake cat, and he's moving down the aisle now, still browsing but apparently uninterested in the available chips and assorted junk foods. But he does reach for a bag of jerky from the cardboard display on the end of one of the shelves and his eyebrows perk up when he inspects the packaging, and he nods his head to himself like he's intrigued or pleased with what he's seeing.  

You wonder if he'll even recognize you at all after all of the years. You suppose that it wouldn't be all that bad or unexpected if he didn't. It has been a while. The last time you've crossed paths since now had been a little after graduation, before you scrounged all of the money that you had saved by serving at Patty's Diner over the summer together and piled all of your stuff into your shitbox of a car and set off for the state line. 

You finally allow yourself to let go of the broom, reluctant to release your little lifeline in preparation to scan his items, propping it against the wall behind you. But what you hadn't expected for him to do was to quite literally toss his bag of beef jerky at the counter. The throw seemed lazy, but regardless of that, the jerky almost goes flying off the countertop entirely and rushes towards the edge. You have to scramble to catch it, mostly out of reflex, grabbing at the packaging with clumsy hands before it could land on the pale, dirty tiles and next your feet. 

Even with unease prickling at the nape of your neck you can't curb the displeased scowl from making an appearance. And the look that you pin him with is entirely unimpressed. He, on the other hand, doesn't look apologetic in the slightest. In fact, there's a smile curling at the edges of his mouth and his eyes are sparkling underneath the fluorescents with unrestrained mirth. "Oh, sorry there, " he says with the hint of a laugh on his words. "I forget my strength sometimes, ya know."   

You should have let it fall. 

You don't bother entertaining his joke. You just flip the package of Jack Links over so that you can scan the bar code while he sets his drink down on the counter. You've interacted for less than five seconds and you're already remembering why you didn't care for him all that much in high school. But luckily for you, he hasn't seemed to recognize you and all you have to do is cash him out and he'll be on his merry little way. 

You can smell his cologne once he's up against the counter. It's woody, a sort of musk and there's hints of something warm with a few notes of vanilla. It seems he's graduated from layering his body with Axe body spray, thank God for small favors. He used to wear that cologne like it was a repellant. "You can smell him before you see him," your mother had noted once, after he had walked past the both of you one afternoon during a communal chili festival. And she hadn't been wrong. But now you can also pick up something artificial and sweet coming from him too. Like berries or some other kind of fruit. Watermelon, maybe? 

"Eight dollars and thirty-eight cents." You supply after ringing in his bottle of pop, leaning your weight on your hands. And thankfully, he already has his wallet out and is thumbing through the bills, but his attention keeps jumping from between his cash and back up to you like he's trying to piece something together. And you're hoping that he isn't trying to place you. That the memories are too vague, that he didn't care enough to remember you. That this interaction won't have to be any longer than necessarily. 

His eyes brows are pinched, and he almost looks studious when he hands you a ten. "Do I know you from somewhere?" 

"I don't think so, " you respond quickly, punching the given amount into the register and counting out his change as soon as the till pops open. 

But he doesn't seem to be deterred. He even shakes his head just a bit, unconvinced and squints at you like it might help him take in your features better. "Nah, I know ya from somewhere." 

"I'm not so sure, " you say and hold your hand out, offering his money, but he doesn't take it and just continues to stare at you silently. It's awkward. Tense for no reason. Suddenly, the music playing over the speakers is too loud. Some old country song with warbling vocals and a gentle guitar but it does nothing to ease the weird energy that's dipped over the room. You can hear the fluorescents too. Buzzing above you in a steady, pulsing thrum. 

"I'm sure. " He replies, voice low with concentration and his eyes dance over your face. The shape of your chin, tracing the curve of your lips, roving over the swell of your cheeks before settling on your own gaze. You can see the exact moment that he recognizes you. Something seems to spark in his stare. The elation that comes with recalling something that's been on the forefront of your mind but eludes you at every turn, and he exclaims your name with a sort of surprise and maybe even wonder. "I never forget a face! C'mon, don't tell me you don't recognize me." 

He settles down against the counter, crossing his arms to lean his weight against its surface like moving in closer might help you recall him better, toeing the line of almost closing in too close to your personal space. You briefly entertain the idea of continuing on with your ruse. Of playing dumb, even if it's just to frustrate him. But really, you'd rather this little impromptu meeting only be as long as it has to be, and you find yourself nodding. Feigning a sort of awe, pretending to a put a name to a long-buried memory. 

 "Oh, yeah. " You nearly gasp in faux surprise. "Gator! Gator Tillman."

He smiles in a pleased way, rapping his knuckles against the counter. "What the hell are you doin' here? I heard you ran off to uh . . . which was it?" He snaps his fingers together like it'll help him recall the information better, or tries to, but his fingertips sort of just slip against each other uselessly from around the obstruction of the cast. " Arkansas?"  

"Arizona, " you correct. And you give up, placing his change on the counter in front of him for him to pick up whenever he decides to take it. 

'That's the one. " He agrees. "So, what brings you back? Got tired of all the dirt and heat, huh?" 

"Uh, no, I'm just here to help my mom." You say and reach for a stack of sticky notes to absentmindedly flick through. "Do you need a bag?" 

"Oh, yeah, how is she doin'?" He asks, completely ignoring or unhearing your question. You'll take that as a no then. "I haven't seen her in a bit. Not since she moved." 

"She's . . . doing okay." You shrug, glancing off in a random direction, hopeful that training your focus on something else other than him might make you feel less exposed. Less examined. It doesn't. "Could be better, could be worse." 

He hums in agreement and for a moment falls silent. And you think that maybe the conversation has fallen out. Run its course and he's grown bored past the temporary marvel of reconnecting with a familiar face from the past. But that'd be too easy. "It's been about, what? Nine years, give or take since we've last seen each other." 

Dammit. 

"Yeah, that sounds about right." It's a simple response. And you let it settle at that, just wishing that he'll take the hint and leave. He has to be somewhere to be, right? Patrolling or whatever. He's probably on his way back to his county, surely, he doesn't plan on standing here all night, chatting you up. But to be fair, he's never been particularly adept at reading basic social cues. 

"To be honest, I'm surprised they got you workin' this shift. " He nods his head towards the front doors; covered up with cardboard and a plastic sheet as a temporary means to keep it sealed until it could get properly repaired. "Ya know, with the break-in an' all." 

"Yeah, well no one else volunteered, so I agreed to come in." 

"A little bird like yourself, here all alone." He says it casually. Probably doesn't really mean anything behind it, but knowing Gator, maybe he does. But regardless of his intent, the comment does make you bristle. The sentiment wasn't necessarily harmful. Feeling worried for someone being on their own to work a shift at a business in the middle of nowhere is normal. Understandable. Especially considering that the said business had just been the scene of gruesome crime, but the air with how it was said rubbed you the wrong way. Granted he's never been one to have tact.

It seems that he really hasn't changed all that much since you've left. Except for maybe growing an inch or so taller, but that could be due to the boots. And the planes of his face have slimmed a bit more, having officially lost what little bit of baby fat was clinging to his cheeks. Still, that condescending air that he used to carry himself with has seemed to survive his younger years, not like you were expecting it not to. 

"You must be pretty scared being here all on your own. "  He wasn't wrong, per se. There was something intimidating about being here with the horror of what had taken place still fresh in the back of your mind. You hadn't seen the aftermath and all of the smeared blood and shattered glass; you hadn't been here with Miles to meet the cleanup crew. In a twisted sort of way, it almost seems worse that you didn't walk in on this place when it was still stained with viscera and signs of struggle. Seeing the store all taped up with shotty repairs to try and regain normalcy left too much to the imagination. Everywhere you looked your brain tried to fill in the pieces. You couldn't bear to clean up the restroom. Not without thinking about how a man had died in there. Slipped and split his head open on the toilet. There was still a sense of paranoia that latched its claws down your back and has yet to let go. It even has you looking at some of your customers funny - even the regulars, the people who you talk to almost daily. It was even worse when you reminded yourself that Derreck had died in the very spot where you're currently standing. 

"No, not really. " You lie easily. 

Gator laughs. Almost scoffs, really. Dipping his head low and for a moment the brim of his baseball hat blocks half of his face from your view before he tips his head back up to look at you. He rocks back on the heels of his shoes. "Well, I just gotta say, it doesn't sit right with me." 

What? 

 He's worried? Why would he even care? 

"I'm sure I'll be fine."

He doesn't seem to be persuaded or assured, and he sits up from his leaned over position, straightening to his full height. He doesn't break eye contact once, and for some reason you feel like you couldn't look away from him, even if you gave it some real effort. The dark brown of his eyes is a rich shade, even from underneath the blunt glow of the fluorescents, and you swear you can see delicate flecks of a honeyed amber. 

" That may be, but I'm not a man to take chances." And he reaches into one of his front pockets to retrieve a lime green vape for him to lift to his lips. When he nonchalantly exhales the smoke in the middle of the store, the scent of something syrupy and sweet reaches your nose. That explains that bit of watermelon that you had smelt on him earlier. "I mean, anyone could be a threat. Even that fella that was just in here." 

Your eyebrows raise at the comment and for a moment you just stare at him while you wrack your brain. "Do you mean, Andy?" You ask, thinking back on the outright rude way that Gator had glared at the regular. "No, he's fine. Possibly in need of an AA meeting, but he's always nice. Sometimes he brings his girls in for a drink . . . a fountain drink. Not . . . alcohol. " 

"Those are the ones you gotta watch out for the most." He presses, taking one more drag from his vape before stuffing back into his front pocket. "It's always the one's ya know." 

You aren't sure how to respond to this. How to reciprocate the conversation now that this is the direction that it's taken. You aren't sure where this apparent desire to keep you safe has come from. It's certainly something that you've never experienced before. Or fully witnessed. Even the protectiveness that he had shown his teammates back in high school seemed to come from a place of ego. It always came off that he had some sort of point to prove; that he could take a hit or get even if need be. That he saw his friends as an extension of himself, and by taunting or harming one of them was as good as personally offending him. And he couldn't stand for that. But you'd like to believe that it came from somewhere genuine at least. 

"You should take my number. " 

He says it so casually that it throws you off more than the previous statement did, except this time your outright gawking at him. There's only one reason why Gator Tillman would want your number, but you can't for the life of you figure out why he would be trying to flirt with you. You aren't even sure how to feel about the situation. You never would have assumed that he, of all people would have an interest in you. Yes, in the past you had caught him giving you intrigued glances when he thought you weren't paying attention. Especially whenever you had been in your cheerleading uniform, but you had never put much stock in it; usually equating his wandering eyes on him just being an obnoxious teenage boy. "Is this your way of asking me out?" 

He shrugs lightly at that and raises a hand to grip onto the shoulder of his tactical vest. "I just want to make sure you have someone to call in case anyone gives you a hard time, that's all." 

Sure, bud. That might be one of the lamest excuses you've heard in a while. And that's saying a lot considering the last time a man tried to flirt with you he had unironically used one of the worst pickup lines you may have ever heard, something along the lines of; "kiss me if I'm wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?" And Gator's apparent inability to upfront about his intentions makes you want to mess with him a bit. 

"Wait . . . don't I already have your number?" 

He looks confused, face twisting up dumbly and the pinched, clueless furrow between his brows is almost adorable. You can see his fingers already twitching, reaching for the vape stashed in his pocket out of habit. Like the nicotine might help him think better and you can see the gears in his mind turning, but you can tell that he's coming up empty. 

You tilt your head, propping your chin up in the cradle of your hand. "It's 911, right?" 

The realization that you're playing with him finally clicks into place, and he glances away from you with a small scoff. His clear frustration just amuses you further and he takes notice of your obvious enjoyment if the way that his frown deepens is anything to go by. 

"Besides, aren't I a little out of your jurisdiction?" You ask and start to fiddle around with the bottle of unattended Mtn Dew, rotating the carbonated drink around within the cradle of your palm with the push of your fingertips. 

"Jurisdiction, " he echos the word with a sort of repulsion, before he fixes you with an oddly intense look that feels like its burrowing into you. "I am the law; I do whatever the fuck I want." 

Like most things during this little conversation of yours, you aren't entirely sure how take that remark. The passion and utter belief that he said it with was more than a little concerning. The way that he truly seemed to think that he was above the laws that he was meant to enforce. It was a dangerous mindset to have. Especially in his profession, with all the power that he held as an officer, even while he was within the confines of such a small county. Well, not small in terms of size or milage, but it's not like he's a cop in some big city. But who knows, maybe that just makes him even more dangerous. Everything about him was the clear-cut definition of a walking red flag, so you don't even understand why you're sitting here entertaining his bullshit.

At least you're getting paid for it. 

"What do you really want with my number, Gator?" You know why, of course, as odd and confusing as it all is, but you want to hear it from him. 

And just as you expected, he falls silent. Having some sort of internal debate and struggle. And you wait for him to get annoyed and leave, throwing some sort of scathing remark over his shoulder as he goes, but he doesn't do that. Something in the way he holds himself relaxes, and it seems like some half-assed way to come off as unaffected. Probably a way for him to psyche himself out mentally and project self-assuredness. He steps closer to the counter until his hips are brushing against the edge and there's an impish kind of gleam in his eyes. Something about the dynamic seems to shift; you can feel it move and click into place and it makes you feel untethered. Like you're walking on rocky, unexplored terrain. And you aren't sure if you like it. 

"Surely you know, " he says with the hint of playful but if not cocky smile on his lips. And now it's your turn to look up at him in confusion. "I'm a bit embarrassed to admit it, but I've always harbored a bit of a crush for ya." 

Well, that's something that you wouldn't have guessed. You never would have successfully gathered that on your own, that's for certain. And it threw you off even more, considering that for the last leg of senior year, he was a part of an on-again-off-again relationship with Rebecca Mallory. Granted their relationship had always seemed to be in a constant state of a crisis with the way that they had always butted heads. Mostly because Rebecca was a rigid, set-in-her-ways Christian who was often displeased with Gator's penchant for violence and swearing. Not that she was necessarily wrong for her frustrations. Even with his own father being a preacher with an iron fist, Gator never been the most forgiving or restrained person and you figured that being around him for more than an hour would probably be quick to grate on your nerves, too. 

"I, uh, no, I didn't know that." You manage, unsure how to navigate this newfound revelation. In all honesty, you had figured that his previous request for your number had just been an attempt to ease his boredom. A way to enjoy the excitement of meeting up with an old acquaintance - and knowing him - assuming that he might get lucky in the process. 

"It always bugged me that I never grew the balls to make a move in the past." He confesses, and he leans over the counter again. And with the way that you're also propped up on your elbows it leaves only a few inches separating the two of you. You swear you could feel the heat radiating off of his body brushing against your own skin. The sudden proximity seems to vacuum all of the air out of the room, and your mind scrambles to catch up. He can see the way that you're floundering underneath his stare. You can see the amusement twinkling in the dark brown of his eyes from underneath the bright, pale splash of the long florescent bulbs. "And then you went and moved out after graduation. Up in a hurry to leave this little shithole - not that I blame ya, mind you; but it always left me wondering how you would have responded if I had asked you out on a date." 

The quiet that follows is stifling. For a moment it's just the both of you alone, in a grimy busted up gas station in the middle of nowhere with an upbeat Beach Boys song playing over the sound system. It feels laughably too energetic for the still but charged atmosphere that surrounds you and stalls your lungs. That keeps your focus pinned to his with the pleasant musk of his cologne wafting over you; sweetened by the sugary notes of vape smoke. 

"I think I would have said no, " you say truthfully. You can see the way his shoulders go slack. The movement is so minute that you probably wouldn't have noticed if you weren't so close to him. His head tilts back like he means to pull away and for some reason your stomach flips with disappointment at the thought, but you don't bother trying to unpack that feeling right now. "But . . . " 

He pauses, attention zeroing in on you and you swear you might actually see something akin to hope somewhere in his expression. "But, what?" He asks when you don't immediately respond. 

"Convince me." 

"Excuse me?" 

"You heard me." 

He stares at you like he doesn't know what to think. His mouth is hanging open just a bit and he laughs, though it comes out as more as a disbelieving puff of air. And you can see him going through the motions of it in his head, like he's trying to solve something. But he seems to come to some sort of conclusion. His shoulders square up like he's accepting it as a sort of challenge. " Alright, " he agrees, and settles back against the counter. "I'll treat ya real good; take you out the dinner. You ever been to Twister's?" 

"No, " you answer, and the look he gives you is pitying, but one that's lively and not mean-spirited. It throws you for a loop to see him so carefree and relaxed. Typically, the jokes that come from him are underhanded barbs, meant to make someone uncomfortable or angry rather than a means to actually get a laugh. But you like it. It's as pleasant as it is unexpected and all of that initial unease and irritation that you had previously felt towards his presence begins to thaw. 

"The best food in North Dakota." He praises and you hum in interest and nod, quietly ushering him to continue, even though the gesture is a little condescending it's also playful. 

"One of the guys at the station said they got a new drive-thru theater over in Bismarck. They show old classics mostly- shitty B movies and low budget horror flicks, but I think they're plann' on playin' one of those old stop motion films; Nightmare Before Christmas, I think. For Halloween, probably."  

Admittedly, it doesn't sound like a bad date. And as cliche as the idea of a theater may have been, it has your interest piqued. Especially the drive-thru part. It's been on your bucket list for a while now, and the prospect of going is more than a little enticing. Especially with how stagnant and stressful life has been as of late. It would be nice to go out again and get away from the monotony of life at home and work. And truthfully, a part of you is a little intrigued to get to know Gator again after all the time away. To see if maybe he has changed and matured a bit as a person. But you also don't want to give in too soon. Admittedly, you do like to string him along, as wrong as it may be. 

"Then afterwards, we could maybe go ice skating, " he offers. "It's been a few years since I've worn a pair of skates, so I might be a little rusty. But I figure it's gotta be like riding a bike." 

"Sounds tempting, " you say with a smile that you couldn't help. "And after that?" 

It takes him a second, but he quickly seems to catch on to what you're implying. His gaze seems to darken, that honeyed brown turning russet and warm. He tips in closer to you; you nearly feel the bill of his cap brush against your forehead. "Well, that depends on you, princess. " 

You don't say anything, letting him stew in the potential of rejection. And you reach over to your left, plucking a Sharpie from an old, chipped mug that's used to store miscellaneous pens and highlighters; there was even an old cherry flavored lollipop that's been in there since you've started working here, and you've got the feeling that it's probably been in there for more than a few years.  He tracts the movement with open curiosity but raises his focus to you when you reach for his injured arm with your free hand, though he doesn't fight or question you when you pull it over across the counter towards your chest, careful not to accidentally put any strain on it. 

And when you pop the cap off with your thumb and raise the point of the marker to his cast it suddenly feels like you're being put under a microscope again. You can feel his attention searing into with an intensity that should be uncomfortable. But you find that you don't completely mind it. Not even with that bobble headed plastic cat awkwardly bouncing in the corner while you write out your phone number on the inside of his wrist. 

"I'm free on Saturday. " You say, capping the marker and plopping it back inside the mug. 

He's outright smiling now. It's a little smug, pleased, but there's also something content about it. "Sounds like a plan, " he replies, and reaches for his jerky and drink, stepping away from the counter without turning away from you. Walking backwards towards the exit. "How's five o'clock sound?" 

"Works for me." You return his smile, unable to fight it off. And there's a sappy, fuzzy feeling inside of your chest that's going to mean nothing but trouble for you in the future. 

"I guess I'll see ya then." He's nudging the door open with his back and pauses almost like he's reluctant to leave but then he's slipping out the door with a quick, "g'night!" tossed over his shoulder. You barely get to return your own before the door swings shut behind him, blocking you from seeing him with the cardboard plastered over in place of glass. And now that he's left, the store feels all too quiet with only the old, tired speakers to keep you company and the ragged hum of the wall freezers in the back of the store. 

You glance around the room boredly, stepping back from the counter while you mentally go down the to-do list. Finding that you've already done most of your tasks. The delivery truck wasn't due for a few more days, and you finished up all of the necessary stocking a few hours ago. And you've already squeegeed the remaining windows clean and organized the shelves. But you hadn't cleaned the restroom yet. 

You suck in a ragged breath. You were less than enthused to clean the toilet on a regular day, but now that it had been the scene of a crime and a literal death you were more than unhappy with prospect. But unfortunately, it was a part of the job description. And it's an absentminded glance downward that you notice the change that Gator had left discarded on the counter. A crumpled dollar and some change. Just a measly dollar and thirty-two cents. He probably forgot about it, and even if he hadn't it was such a small amount that it wouldn't be missed. But you figured that there isn't any harm and giving it back to him. If you go now, he might still be parked outside. 

And that was enough for you to scoop up the change in your palm and run around the length of the front desk, crossing the expanse of the floor quickly and shoving the door open to cross outside. The cold night air that rushes across your skin surprises you for a moment after spending the last few hours underneath the heat of the store, but it doesn't deter you. And a quick glance to the passenger side lets you know that the cab of police cruiser is empty, and you stare at it dumbly for a second before you notice Gator standing off to the left, near the rear end of the truck. 

And you don't even notice the fact that his gun is drawn, that his body is pulled taut; clearly on edge while he stares down at the ground with wide eyes. 

"Hey, Gator!" You call, stepping forward with a smile on your face. His head snaps up when he hears you, and there's a wild sort of glint in his eyes that jerks something deep in your chest, jostles free a heavy, chilling sort of concern and worry. 

"No, no - don't come over here!" He shouts with a horrific sense of panic that you feel in your bones. But it's already too late. You've come too close, and when you walk past the rear end of the truck to step towards him you notice some strange lump lying on the ground from out of your peripheral vision. And in a kneejerk reaction it seizes your attention, pulls your focus to it like it's being tugged by a string. It's the blood you notice first. Pooled across the dirt and glittering a rich red from oily shine of lights on the ceiling of the gas pump canopy. It's pouring from a slice in the body's neck. But what's more is a piece of cardboard pinned to his chest, notched in place by a thick hunting knife. Your mind sort of just goes quiet. Unable to grapple with what it's actually seeing even while you can't look away. 

You can smell the blood. It's a thick, nauseating scent, like sucking on pennies and rust and you want to gag. You want to vomit. Or scream. Or anything. 

But you can't manage to make yourself move. You're stuck frozen; forced to stare. The change in your hand feels damp with sweat and you're clutching it so tightly that you can feel that coins burrowing painfully into the palm of your hand. Even from where you stand you can make out the messy writing written on the cardboard in an ominous, messy scrawl: 

You owe me 

And finally. Blessedly, you're able to tear your gaze away from the body. Stiffly turning your head from the carnage and over towards Gator who looks just as shaken as you. His gun is still drawn, clasped with both hands but his attention is on you. He just looks confused. Unsure and worried. For a while neither of you say a single word. You just sit still in the chilly night air, with the scent of blood choking you and fear in your eyes. And then Gator seems to be able to collect himself, holstering his gun and fixes you with a look that you can't discern. That you aren't able to. And then he utters one word with complete defeat and a little exhaustion too: 

"Shit." 

[r0-boat]

Stardew Valley Submas

They live and run the train station near the mountain for travelers coming in and out of Pelican town from places like Zuzu City. ( though they haven't gotten many visitors)

Although they spend most of their time at the train station you do see them walk around Pelican town.

Their birthdays are the 18th of autumn .

They may look similar but their likes and dislikes are verrrry different.

One of the twins tell you, with the help with Clint they're the ones that actually built the Minecarts. And they broke down not too long ago they're disappointed to see them in this state but haven't had time to fix them.

After you fix the Minecarts they expressed their thankfulness.

Emmet

Best gifts: Coffee, Battery packs, Oranges, Pizza

Likes: all Universal likes, coffee beans, and iron bars

Dislikes: mayonnaise, Algae soup, green tea, jade

Needs the battery packs for his Joltik he asked you to visit next time and maybe you could meet her.

He likes the snack on the orange slices while he works, and coffee for obvious reasons, lol.

Emmet likes to walk around town on his break he doesn't like staying cooped up inside. He especially spends most of his time at the ocean. Adores pelican town for its quiet, peaceful atmosphere.

Similar to Shane most of his conversations when you first meet him will be very short (tho not mean)

Although disappointed for the lack of train appreciation.

In his two heart event, you find is missing Joltik and he expresses his appreciation.

After hitting four hearts, Ingo expresses his Delight at how close his brother is with you, telling you that Emmet isn't too fond of strangers, even though Emmet does stay cordial and professional, his brother does wish he would interact with the community more.

Emmet does in fact, want to have friends in Pelican town. Ingo was all he had when he grew up; Emmet expresses worry bc he doesn't do well in conversations. Maybe you can bring him out of his shell?

In the end Sebastian expresses that he wants to get to know Emmet more, bc they seem similar, and enjoys Emmet's more competitive nature.

The villagers especially the mothers of the town's opinion of Emmet is that they wish they could get to know him more but I meant usually is so distant.

Emmet tells you that Clint gives him bad vibes, and he doesn't like him, he'll work with him, but that doesn't mean he likes him... even if he does like trains.

Ingo

Best gifts: green tea, Jade, Pancakes, truffle oil, blackberry cobbler

Likes: all Universal likes and sweets, and iron bars

Dislikes: Coffee, Oranges, Pickles, triple shot espresso,

He uses oil to maintain the tracks cook, and for his little litwick friend. Ingo usually is buried in work. He enjoys his job, but sometimes he deserves a break; he usually hangs around the mountain, sometimes going to town.

When you greet him his eyes light up expressing joy that they rarely get visitors.

Emmet expresses worry of how much his brother works. He's very grateful of how helpful his brother is and how important he is to him.

Ingo expresses how important self-care is yet he doesn't do it himself. Harvey as the doctor has seen eye bags under his eyes he expresses that sleep is essential, and he is worried if Ingo gets enough sleep.

Emmet in one of his lines tells you that, Ingo has a sweet tooth put something sweet in front of him and he can't say no. Though he hasn't had the luxury of having it every often.

Emily and Abigail adore Ingo's more out going nature and louder voice yet gentle and polite mannerisms. (Usually drag him into their antics)

Morris says that he wants to hire Ingo because he has heard from the grape vine that Ingo rarely takes breaks and works diligently night an day. If only he had him for an employee lol( obviously an unpopular opinion)

Ingo after a couple of hearts ends up getting extremely ill from overworking practically collapsing on the ground. You put your foot down telling him he has to rest for at least a week and he agrees Emmet promises him to take good care of the station while he rests.

After that he expresses that is incredibly thank you and promises you he'll be more careful going forward telling you that even though he loves his job he understands that he has to take a step back and rest sometimes.

---

Possibly maybe a special event that allows you to marry both of them?

Where you have to be already dating the both of them and then you get a special cutscene where your character is shaking when they both enter a room but then Express their happiness on your acceptance to your confusion.

[freakassfemme]

too sweet (slightly nsfw drabble) - yara greyjoy x f! reader

Summary: a lyric-inspired drabble about being Yara's crewmate and lover <3

Word Counting: 952

Warnings: slight nsfw

You know you're bright as the morning,

On mornings like this one, Yara loves being on land.

If you had been on a boat and not in her chambers, Yara would've woken hours before this, planning and preparing and delegating for the day to come. She would've missed the warmth of the sunshine wrapping your embraced bodies even closer, and she wouldn't have been able to crawl back into your arms.

Although the sea is her home, she is always happy to retire within your presence, relieving herself of her duties for just a morning or so.

As soft as the rain,

You're Ironborn, just as Yara is, yet she wishes you weren't.

Your recklessness kills her inside just as much as it turns her on. The way you dive head first into danger leaves her heart and her core throbbing, face growing hot for mixed reasons.

You've always been competent in battle, and you've taken down just as many (if not more) men than her. You've always followed closely behind her, watching her back and being the difference between her seeing the sun or not many more times than she could count.

Yara tries not to let herself get too comfortable with your capability, as every time she does, you return to her in shambles, coughing up your own blood with the remains of another person on your hands and sword. Every time, she shakes you, screams at you, curses you and herself, and she's reminded of the anchor she's dropped in you and how vulnerable it makes her.

Despite this, despite the way she slaps you and yells and acts as if she herself is dying, you always laugh up at her through pained winces. You let her carry you back to safety, let her stitch you up yourself and frighten away anyone with actual training, let her soothe her storm through you.

Pretty as a vine,

You stomp around the Black Wind like you were born to take on the water. You look just as roughed up, just as dirty and just as unkempt as any other crewmate on board, but Yara can't help but find the way you wear it particularly easy on the eye.

To any man, the dirty beneath your fingernails is disgusting, but Yara saw the way you lifted barrels over your shoulder like they were nothing. Your hair is unwashed now, but Yara knows what you look like when it's just the two of you naked in a sparkling lake. Your hands are rough, but Yara has seen you scale entire masts without any support, and gods does that stir something within her.

As sweet as a grape.

Yara's never been a huge fan of wine. She'd much rather prefer a bitter or hearty drink, but your dripping cunt is an exception.

It's a delicacy she'd greedily swallow, taking every drop you'd give her until your thighs are shaking around her head and you're clawing at her back and begging for relief.

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe I'll wait until that day.

And gods below, if you could just wait long enough for her to claim that throne, long enough for her to make things right and make things possible, Yara would marry you in a heartbeat, forsake every other lover in the entire world for you if you would take her as your own.

Not as any salt wife, either, but as a rock wife, binding herself to you for the rest of her days.

She'd hammer some iron into a ring for you herself and wear a matching one around her neck. She'd carve your name into the hilt of her sword, carry a lock of your hair inside her armor, have you braid her hair before a reaving only for her to return with the updo still in place.

If you could wait, she would carry you with her until the rest of her days.

I take my whiskey neat,

You've never complained to her about the way she eyes other women when she's drunk. It's never been in your nature to say anything, but she can always feel your cold stare. If it weren't for the booze, it would eat her alive, the way she can feel your territorial nature radiating from across entire buildings and ships, so she drowns herself in liquor and cider until she's free from the burden of attachment, until she's too fucked out of it to remember her own name. All the while, you never say a word.

You sip your ale, watching her from across the room with narrowed eyes, letting her flirt and fondle and fuck to her heart's desire. And at the end of the night, when Yara's had her fill, when she's washed out the suffocation of having feelings, you guide her back to her quarter's and wait for sobriety to revive her of empathy.

My coffee black and my bed at three,

It's almost routine at this point, the way you slide next to her on the deck and hand her a cup of something invigorating. Your watches are always immediately after hers, yet you have always sat with her throughout her entire shift, and you never complain when she retires early before a long day.

Yara always accepts the cup gratefully, sipping on it and sighing. She would pinch the bridge of her nose and you would wrap your arm around her, letting her head fall to your shoulder. At this time of night, all of the men are asleep, and in between your exhausted banter, the waves and gentle rocking of the boat lure you two into your peaceful rhythm.

You're too sweet for me.

[apollomes-supremacy]

LO Dionysus design 🍇🎭

| Apollo | Persephone | Hermes | Ares | Artemis | Ganymede | Aphrodite | Eros | Zeus |

This will be a long post since Dionysus isn’t a character yet so I had to create him from 0.

The beginning of Dionysus’ introduction started on EP 93 (with Semele, Dionysus’ mother), but it has been more than 100 episodes and we got absolutely nothing from that plot, which is bad considering that other gods get involved in the og myth (Zeus, Hera and Hermes, mainly), but none of them (before and after the time skip) display any knowledge or memory of the event, especially Zeus, who is the one who accidentally kills Semele in the first place.

I already talked about it here, but im 100% sure that the child mentioned in episode 218 is Dionysus. He should be 10 yo right now and he’s the only character (vaguely) introduced who is around that age. Not to mention, Dionysus does have some connections with the Underworld. My main theory is that he will be adopted by HxP and will remain a child for the rest of the series (probably skipping the majority of Dionysus’ myths). And that’s honestly such a waste of potential. So I decided to give my take on him if he was in LO, like the redesigns I did with many other characters.

Design

My main inspo was 60′s and 70′s Hippie fashion, with a lot of patterns, accessories (crystals, evil eyes, beads, rings, etc), loose clothes and a more lazy/cozy look. He’s two shades of purple that split his face, which is meant to represent his duality as the god of parties and joy & god of wrathful madness. Hermes gave him nymph ears to use as a disguise when he was young, but he doesnt want to change them back because he grew up and feels comfortable with them. He has a very androgynous/feminine look, which leads to a lot of people thinking he’s an actual nymph.

In his true form (which can come out voluntarily, but usually happens when the god gets so mad that they are unable to control themselves) he can get really big. Leafs and grapes sprout everywhere, he gets another pair of arms made of plants’ stems and his eyes go full neon green.

Story

His story is very similar to the og myths, with just some small differences. He is born from Zeus’ thighs and goes to live with Demeter and Persephone as one of their nymphs to escape Hera’s wrath. There he starts to question a lot about himself, like his gender and his origins (he doesn’t know he is not an actual nymph), and when puberty hits, his body and his powers go crazy. Its also around that time when he meets and falls in love with Ampelos (and you know how that story ends).

When the wine he creates starts growing in popularity and Dionysus starts getting worshipped by some cities, Zeus decides that there’s no reason to hide him from Hera anymore, so he brings Dionysus to Olympus and reveals the truth, inviting him to become an Olympian. Dionysus says yes without thinking twice, so he moves in and starts to get prepared for his ceremony and his new life.

But there’s a problem. The Olympus lifestyle is way too different from Dionysus’. People are sophisticated, modern and even mean-spirited, while he is the complete opposite. It’s hard for him to fit in and he just wants to go home with the nymphs and satyrs, and he eventually does... illegally.

Personality & relationships

Dionysus is very outgoing and funny. He’s kind to everyone around him (not discriminating against nymphs, satyrs or mortals), but he can get very emotional very fast. He gets easily annoyed, which will prob just result in some unwanted vines around the house and a grumpy look, but the moment he gets mad is when everything falls apart (wrath form). Anger issues + no control over powers = no good.

He sees Demeter as a mother and Persephone and the nymphs as older sisters, while Silenus and the other satyrs served as fathers. His favorite brother is Hermes who kept an eye on him during his entire childhood and still cares deeply for him. He also has an interesting relationship with Apollo, he is very scared and intimidated by him (I understand why lol) but wants to start a friendship. Except for the fact that Apollo already has a soft spot for him, Dionysus is just oblivious to it. Ares is also scary and kinda mean, but he likes Dionysus and cares for him. He’s very indifferent towards Zeus, Hera hates him (he hates her too) and everyone else is pretty neutral, considering he doesnt know a lot of people outside of the nymphs and satyrs.

Powers

Dionysus is a fertility god (which in this universe doesnt mean that much), this means he has powers over vegetation (like Demeter) and mortals’ desires (like Aphrodite). Being the god of madness also means that he can make people so mad to the point of committing atrocities and completely losing their minds. In his true form, simply looking at him can lower your sanity. He also has the powers all the other gods have, like changing forms, cursing and blessing people, being summoned by mortals, etc. 

That’s all I have the energy to write rn. I tried to replicate the LO art style, and honestly I really liked the result! Hope you guys liked it too <3

(Also, Dionysus would be around his 20′s when the story takes place. He is Pansexual and is still confused about his gender but he’s fine with any pronouns).

[thewildnopeboat]

Guardian, rating people in the Tower on what they eat:

Mom Ikora eats nothing but protein bars and smoothies, cause she's the information backbone.

Dad Zavala, I think chicken nuggets, but like home made. That or he would make himself dinner, get so wrapped up in his stuff and forget to eat it. He also can't stand spice.

Crow likes earth fruits. I've seen him sneak apples on the Helm. I've asked about the spice issue, and he swears its not an Awokenthing, but he likes sweets over spice.

Cayde-6, may the light bless his bytes, was only one(1) Ramen shop. He put their kids through college.

Drifter will eat the tiles off the floor if he is hungry enough.

Sweeper bot eats oil.

Both Rahool and Tess drink exclusively Champagne and also Vodka. One for the pleasure, the other to conceal the pain.

Banshee-44 is too busy keeping Telesto under wraps long enough to stop it tearing a hole in reality to eat much, but I have a feeling it's Chinese take out.

Uncle Shaxx? The man eats his weight in Bar food and drinks half of it in Ale, or at least that's what I've heard.

Hawthorne... oh! Bird lady with a crazy kill count. Chili dogs and she gets straps of chicken for the bird. I've almost hit that thing Twice coming into the hanger.

Eva Levante only shows up to decorate for events, which is a shame I don't see Space Grandma more. I have only seen her drink Tea, but I bet she loves the cookies from the blue tin.

Finally, Ada-1. She strikes me as one who would love fancy food, but due to her forges being underfunded, settles for fancy ramen instead. She still is a wine snob.

Ghost, looking over their shoulder: Why are you doing this?

Guardian: I heard a couple of Hunters talking and were a bit taken back by how wrong they were.

Ghost, blinks: but these are also your opinion... And you missed a couple!

Guardian, counting the list: 1,2,3... oh RIGHT! *continues writting*

Lord Saladin... I don't interact much with him on principle, but I have heard through the grape vine, *ahem* drifter *ahem*, that he does grill out like a father wanting to impress the neighbors. The Cabal seem to enjoy it so who am I to judge.

Ghost: at least tell me he calls it Grilling instead of Barbecuing.

Guardian: He will, but only if you get mad at him. He gets a good laugh out of it.

Last, Pigeon Lord!

Ghost: Don't write that!

Guardian, backspacing their post: Fine fine, Saint-14, He's Vegan.

Ghost: No way.

Guardian: He is!

[turtlesandfrogs]

So one of the Things I'm Trying To Do is to develop a less adversarial approach to dealing with invasive species.

Partially because losing to a plant is kinda embarrassing.

But also because of the readings and talks from people with a different perspective, which ends up making a lot of sense (especially the part where you ask why is this species thriving here instead of a native species? Or what can we learn from this species, which has been a pain in our behinds?)

And also because even with only a quarter acre to take care of, since I have more than full-time employment, I'm losing the war on hedge bindweed (see how silly that sounds?).

And bindweed is the major problem left- I've gotten Himalayan blackberries, English Ivy, and Vinca all subdued. So anyway, I was doing some more reading, and some more observations,

So here's what I've put together:

Bindweed excels at taking over disturbed areas (like when I dug out all the Himalayan blackberry crowns...)

Bindweed loves full sun.

Bindweed does not thrive in deep shade, and in fact in a Doug Fir forest I was recently weeding (yes, really. Mostly taking out Vinca minor and some non-native grasses), it was barely holding on. Weak, flimsy little vines that were a mere two feet long.

Add to this that our region has been getting heatwave after heatwave, and I would like to have a shady-ass yard to help mitigate that, and I've got an idea.

What if, in the areas that don't already have trees planted, I build a hexagonal grid of trellises to grow hardy kiwis, fuzzy kiwis, and grapes on? What if I just make my entire yard be extremely shady, while only doing what disturbance is necessary to keep the kiwis and grapes free from bindweed? Or rather, ensure that the kiwis and grapes will eventually win the race?

On top of that, some of my favorite native species do very well in deep shade, so I could have this ceiling of fruiting vines with a carpet of wood sorrel, false lily of the valley, bleeding hearts, etc below. That just sounds lovely.