#After Arrow Verse

[birdonawiresara]

Continued from here:

@inhumanhacker

It made sense that Sara was having a nightmare about death. Her whole life seemed to revolve around it since her own resurrection. First Laurel was killed. Then her father. And now Oliver. It was constantly on her mind, she was constantly trying to rework things that couldn’t be reworked, that couldn’t be changed, and yet it occupied her every thought. Her every day. It inhabited her. So of course when she fell asleep after days without it, she put herself back in the place where her soul had been trapped when her body had initially been resurrected without it. A mock Lazarus Pit with mottled limbs that pulled at her from every direction, and she cried out, and it didn’t matter how hard she fought, she always drowned. And then the whole thing started again. Which was why when she felt someone shaking her arm, her eyes flashed open, and she went for the neck. Despite knowing how it would end, despite knowing she would drown for what seemed like an eternity until Laurel and Oliver pulled her out (they were dead they were dead they were dead), she would keep fighting.

[birdonawiresara]

Sara’s smile grew as she pointed out, “Notice how you talked about the Avengers not calling you in for another mission, but you didn’t deny the fact that you have a long drive home. Or that you have people waiting for you.” She then added with a shake of her head, “It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me about home, or presumably your family, but... I’m glad you have that. I’m not exactly big on trusting people, especially mid-mission - which I’m sure comes as a huge surprise to you - but someone as good and kind as you pretty much made it impossible not to. It also makes it impossible for you not to have people waiting for you, not to have people who miss you. ...I know I don’t have to say it, but I’m going to anyways: Don’t ever take it for granted. It can disappear in an instant.”

No one’s waiting for me… That made Scott rather sad on her behalf. Which only made him all the more likely to not give in.

“Hey,” he waved dismissively, “I’m not worried about rest just yet. If anything I can rest here until you’re ready to go. And honestly, since I haven’t heard anything yet from the others, there’s no other mission right now for me. I’ll be fine.”

He smirked and shrugged. “You might as well just let yourself rest because I’m not going anywhere until I get you to your bike safe and sound.”

[clemsharmony]

have you ever had one specific part of a song fit a character so perfectly while the rest of it couldn't have anything less to do with them? yeah. the last three verses of that unwanted animal by the amazing devil httyd book 11 snotlouts death

[kitkatt0430]

Talk Shop Tuesday: What's one goal that you're working towards and what steps are you taking to try to achieve that goal? Why is this goal something you want to achieve? <3 -@fieldsofview

So my main goal this year is to have fewer Works In progress - both on the small level of unpublished fics/chapters and the bigger level of chaptered fics/series.

This is to a.) clean up my WiP folder(s) on my computer, try to move stuff that's been sitting there for a long time into the done pile and b.) to close out some of my unfinished works on Ao3 so that I can celebrate them being done!!! Or at least having made progress on them, which is still worth celebrating. I've got a number of WiPs right now and a strong desire to cut down on them, so that's why I set this goal.

The new Arrow Redux series that I started this year has actually been in service of this goal despite technically being a new series on Ao3. It's a WiP that's been sitting in my folders for several years now so it's been good to actually not only make progress on it but to be three fics in posting-wise with a bit written for the fourth fic. This is one that I had a lot of scattered notes for in addition to random scenes written for it (though not all actually work anymore) but it's definitely nice to get that sense of accomplishment at finishing pieces of this series instead of the "meh" feeling of closing the document unfinished once more.

It is admittedly a bit of a vague goal in many ways since I'm not specifying specific WiPs and series, but sometimes if I push too hard on one thing then I wind up burning out fast because I'm trying too hard. But considering I finally got the third part of Thaw completed (thus finally closing out the series) and made progress on two other open series, I think I'm doing pretty good at achieving my overall goal for the year.

Steps I'm taking towards this goal are

trying not to start new WiPs that I know I can't finish in a week or two which I've been surprisingly successful at

I don't open my fic files with the goal of completing them, just at adding to them. Often if I approach it with the 'i just want a little progress, don't have to finish yet' attitude then I wind up getting back into the groove of things more easily after re-reading what's there so far. And then it does wind up finished after all.

I do want to make progress on my older unfinished fics/series the most, so I'm also re-reading what I have so far. It's the best way to remind myself of what happened and where it's been headed... and sometimes also to realize that maybe it needs to move in a new direction. Once I've refreshed myself on what's there, it's a lot easier to move forward on what isn't.

[secondpersonpoetry]

HI!!!!! whilst eating dinner i watched the “once an otter always an otter” number retirement video on youtube and thought “ooh. cool. let me see what people are saying”. opened tumblr. saw your most recent reblog, pressed play. saw DYLAN STROME say the word “davo” and immediately had to pause it lol. put my fork down to boot. like…..flabbergasted. genuinely. man oh man. my goodness. unpaused. the past tense “it was (WAS!!!!) an honor to be your friend” (😧) and the “and hopefully we can make some more [memories] in the future” and the fade to black. SHUT UPPPPPPPPP. OH MY GOD…………….i don’t have anything of substance to add just im sick!!! im sickened!!!!!! it’s never overrrrrrrrrr. absolutely unbelievable!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! frank ocean ivy trust and believe you WILL be looped for the foreseeable future……..they’ll never be those kids again!!!!! and the game’s in a week and a half!!!!!!! gahhhhhhh. nuts crazy bonkers etc etc. going to have an absolutely exceedingly normal one about it for sure!!!!!! hope you have a good one!!!!!!!

also! just for future reference: do you prefer asks of this nature sent to this blog or your hockey one? thank you!!

"Centaur over Tomer Butte" [amended, abridged], Robert Wrigley

you know. i don't think i actually ever registered dylan saying "davo". i think my ears just decided i didn't need to hear that, for the good of my brain to continue functioning. who up having their present haunted by the ghosts of the past who are less like ghosts and more like someone you keep forgetting walked out of the next room but also aren't quite sure if they came back and you've only just worked up the courage to call out to them. schrödinger's best friend who might or might not be there in your future to make more memories with. but at least this time you opened the door and left it cracked for him to crawl back through.

[birdonawiresara]

This was, obviously, a serious situation, and Sara was treating it as one. She wanted to help the little girl find her mom before the situation escalated - before too much time had passed - and they had to call the police in for help; it would only upset both the mother and the girl, and could even get the mother into trouble when it seemed like the girl was perfectly happy and healthy. They just happened to get separated. Still, a tiny little smirk tugged at her lips when the little girl led her inside as opposed to most children who would wait for the adult to do it. She reminded her so much of herself of that age, always ready to take charge, and she followed after her before stopping to point over at the food section, silently asking: Did your mom bring you out to go shopping for food?

Oaklynn watches Sara carefully, trying to pull together meaning from the gestures she made. She sort of understands this one, though she does so more as “should we check inside?” It doesn’t seem like a bad idea. Maybe Mommy and Aydan did go inside the building.

Her answer comes as a nod and another tug of her hand as she moves to lead Sara inside.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Imperator

Also on AO3

Pairing: Lucius Verus Aurelius x Fem!Reader

WC: 6.7k words

Summary: Once, you only had the memory of the curious barbarian poet, entertaining guests at a party with both violence and verse. But it's not until you see him again, now as emperor, that you get to know the man underneath the titles.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, power imbalance (emperor/servant to freedwoman), mutual pining, slow-ish burn, sort of forbidden love?, lots and lots of fluff good lord, some jealousy, some angst, lovey dovey smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), maybe some historical inaccuracies lol (I care a lot okay), and iii think that's it but lmk if anything else!

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

"Love will enter cloaked in friendship's name."

– Ovid.

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

“The gates of hell are open night and day. Smooth the descent, and easy is the way. But to return, and view the cheerful skies, In this the task and mighty labor lies.”

That was the first time you had ever heard him speak, the deep timbre of his voice riddled with contempt. Moments before, he had killed another gladiator, his blood spattered on him like a gruesome adornment. But there was no savagery in his fierce eyes, no mere bloodthirst in the sneer directed at Emperor Geta, your Dominus. His glare was even, like a cold, blue flame that promised not just violence, but retribution as well.

You’d recognized the poem immediately, just as taken aback as everyone else. Nobody moved, the room’s collective breath held in anticipation of the inevitable repercussions of such an offense. Emperor Geta made the slightest move to raise his sword and you gripped the decanter of wine tighter, but your face remained impassive.

“Virgil,” supplied Macrinus, trying to placate him with a broad smile. “He was taught poetry just to amuse you, Imperators.”

There was another momentary pause in which neither twin was sure if they should believe him. But then, Caracalla snorted, standing up to clap the taller man’s shoulder.

“A poet,” He said, laughing. “That’s genius, Macrinus.”

“Yes, certainly very amusing,” Geta said begrudgingly, his jaw clenched. 

He and the gladiator had not stopped staring at each other for one moment, like two vipers poised to strike. 

“Good, I thought you’d like that,” Macrinus said, approaching his fighter to grasp his shoulder, perhaps in warning. “We live to serve you both.”

“Well, I look forward to seeing your poet at the upcoming games in the Colosseum,” he spits out, throwing the sword aside with a loud clatter. “Let’s see how his verses work for him then.”

Macrinus nodded at his steward to take the gladiator away. He was smiling, seemingly amused, as the steward approached him. As he was being shoved back to the atrium, his eyes took one last baleful look around the room. For the briefest second, you thought his eyes met yours, striking you like a piercing arrow, but then he was gone. 

You had no time to dwell on it though, as Emperor Geta returned to his seat and raised his glass to be refilled. But that didn’t mean you would forget so easily, even if your paths might never cross again. All you could do was offer a prayer to the Gods for him. 

—--------------------------

The next time you saw him, he was no longer a barbarian gladiator hailed from a distant land, but the new – and rightful – Emperor of Rome. His name was not Hanno, but Lucius Verus Aurelius, and he was the son of the recently passed Queen Lucilla, whom Rome still mourned. 

He was not cruel like the twins had been, rarely raising his voice, much less his hand. His demeanor was usually calm, but sometimes he stalked the halls restlessly, as if unsure what he should be doing. He still rose with the sun and trained for a couple of hours in the morning, already used to the routine he’d had as a gladiator, but after that, it was all politics. Endless scrolls of parchment to pore over, meetings to hold with the senate, and lending a patient ear to the populace’s needs. The weight of an empire was on his shoulders, and yet he didn’t bow under it. 

During the day, you served his wine and silently hovered around for anything else he might need. At night, you drew his baths, kept his torches lit, and prepared his bed. You would have helped him disrobe too, already used to it from your days of serving Geta, but he chose to do so himself. He was not quite used to his every need being attended to, self-sufficiency deeply ingrained in his being. Mostly, he waved away other servants, leaving you instead to care for him personally. 

There were times when you caught him looking at you as if you seemed vaguely familiar, a furrow in his brow when he couldn’t place you. You couldn’t fault him for not remembering you from Senator Thraex’s party, but there was a certain thrill at having piqued his curiosity regardless. Still, you kept your head down and offered no hints, as was your place. 

Until one night, while he watched you add aromatic oils and test the bath’s temperature, he finally asked the question that had been on his mind for days.

“What is your name?”

You were startled at first, not having expected him to address you at all. You told him your given Roman name, Domicia, and bowed your head respectfully. He pushed himself off the doorway and stepped into the bathroom, humming thoughtfully.

“Of the home,” he said, referring to the name’s meaning. “Are you Roman? Is that your real name?”

You shook your head in answer to both questions. “I have been in Rome for many years now, though.”

“I have not,” he said, a note of melancholy in his voice. “Yet I grew up here, in these very halls…”

He trailed off, looking around absently, lost in his memories. You could not begin to imagine what he had been through, what he had seen. You had heard of his being sent away as a child, with absolutely no choice in the matter, and could empathize with him. 

All you had ever known was a humble life in your native country, until you were stripped of your freedom and brought to the capital of Rome. Neither place felt like home, just the past and the present, and perhaps he was viewing things the same way. You could imagine, even understand, the bittersweetness of returning to a place one thought they might never see again. 

“We are honored and grateful to have you back, Dominus,” you said. “I hope things have been to your satisfaction.”

“I have no complaints,” he said, yet he sighed. “Though becoming accustomed to being here, in my current position, is going to take some more time.”

“If there is anything I can do to make it easier for you, please let me know.”

He inclined his head gratefully, your eyes meeting for a moment. “Thank you, Domicia.”

He had the barest of smiles on his handsome face, but you could tell it was genuine. You felt one corner of your lips tugging upwards, but you looked away out of propriety. Even if you were in the same room, you were leagues apart, and it would do you no good to try to imagine otherwise.

You stood up, grabbing the decanter from a nearby table to have it refilled. “Your bath is ready now. Would you like refreshments other than wine?”

He nodded and you bowed, making your way out. By the time you returned with more wine and a platter of olives, bread, and cheese, he was already in the bathtub, leaning back with his eyes closed. Your feet padded softly on the mosaic floor to avoid  disturbing him, and you left his refreshments on the table near the tub.

You settled at one side of the room just in case he might need anything, staring off into the middle distance and letting your mind drift. He glanced at you sidelong, his curiosity having only grown after your brief conversation. He still had that nagging feeling that he had seen you somewhere before, but he didn’t want to ask outright.

You felt his gaze on you but pretended not to, keeping your eyes averted. You thought again of the poem he’d recited, how different his demeanor had been then. You wondered what other verses he’d been taught, and if you might ever hear him recite anything again. He had a voice for poetry, somehow turning the words into a sort of enchantment, keeping one entranced.

“Doesn’t it feel… strange sometimes?” he said suddenly, staring up at the ceiling. “When things settle and you realize how far you have come? How much you’ve had to sacrifice for it?”

You hummed in agreement, waiting for him to say more. 

“Sometimes, I even wonder if it was all worth it.”

Still lost in a haze of verses, you spoke before you could even think it through.

“Fortunate is he whose mind has the power to probe the causes of things and trample underfoot all terrors and inexorable fate.”

He sat up, surprised. “You know Virgil.” Recognition finally dawned on him. “You were at that party, weren’t you?”

You nodded. “Your words then were just as sharp as your blade.”

He huffed, leaning against the edge of the tub as he remembered his barely contained hatred. “Were you taught poetry to amuse, as well?”

“No, I used to read it with my mother when I was younger.”

“Who else have you read?”

“Ovid, Sappho, Horace…” You became a little flustered as he raised his eyebrows. “My mother was a bit of a romantic.”

“And you?”

It was your turn to huff with amusement, looking down at your hands. “I don’t believe I inherited that trait, no.”

The truth was that in a place such as Rome, love was quite hard to come by. You didn’t actively search for it, its ephemeral nature making you less inclined to, but you were no complete stranger to it. You’d never let it take root, though, for it was not something you could afford to have. 

“What about you, Dominus?”

“Me?” he said. “I suppose… I’m not entirely sure anymore. I used to be, at one point.”

His haunted expression told you not to press him for details, so you just nodded sympathetically. The two of you lapsed into silence, the weight of tragedy hanging between you. You’d had a lot more time to become numb to your circumstances, but it was clear the pain he was experiencing was still fresh. 

“I will be forced to remarry eventually.” He sighed heavily. “Produce heirs to carry out the lineage, show Rome a unified front.”

“Well, whoever you marry shall be the most fortunate woman in the empire.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle, looking over at you. “You really believe so? You’re not just flattering me?”

“Of course,” you said, giving him a cryptic smile that made him laugh again. “I’m perfectly serious.”

“Oh, I am sure you are.”

After some time, he rose with a small splash, prompting you to immediately approach with an outstretched towel. His nudity barely registered in your mind, having already glimpsed him a few times. You wouldn’t dare to look at him directly, even if you were more than a little curious. You tensed as his fingers barely brushed yours in the exchange, but you quickly stepped back to give him more room.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, water dripping down his sculpted arms and chest. You went to start tidying up, studiously keeping your eyes on your task. He watched as you picked up the refreshments to take to the main chamber, a part of him wishing you would look at him instead. 

“One more thing,” he said and you immediately turned around. “Please, I want you to call me Lucius.”

Your face heated up at the mere thought of it. “I could never be so bold…”

“I insist,” he said, holding up a hand as you began to stammer again. “Perhaps only when it is just the two of us, if you’d prefer.”

“I will certainly try my best,” you said with an awkward grin, trying to keep your composure.

He chuckled. “Good enough for me.”

—-----------------

Weeks passed, and while Lucius still hadn’t managed to get you to call him by name, he had certainly gotten you to open up more. In the evenings, the two of you swapped more poetry, often sharing your own interpretations of the verses. At some point, he even had scrolls fetched from the library for you to read to him. He enjoyed the mellifluous sound of your voice, so at odds with your serious expression when you were concentrating. To have him as your sole audience was already titillating,  but the fact that he paid close attention was even more of a rush.

During the day, you anxiously looked forward to those handful of hours in which everything else disappeared. No speak of Rome, politics, or bitter memories, content with being each other’s brief escape. You still held yourself at a certain distance, though, always aware of the chasm between you. Yet he never made you feel inferior, often encouraging you to share your thoughts and opinions with him despite your reticence. You would even dare to say he cared, or at least that’s what you wanted to believe.

You wouldn’t necessarily say you were getting attached, for that would be too unrealistic of a fantasy, but you could not deny the butterflies in your stomach that often appeared while around him. His easy, handsome smile, the kindness in his eyes, his patient indulgence when listening to you, and the effort he put into making you laugh…

But the spell was abruptly broken the day he received a visit from his friend Ravi, who had brought someone for him to meet – a respectable Roman lady. A widow, as it happened, just like Lucius. Her hair was perfectly styled, falling in ringlets that framed her lovely face. She wore a lavender-colored dress with a matching veil, much fancier than anything you’d ever owned, and was adorned with golden jewelry. More importantly, she was freeborn, and thus a perfectly good candidate for marriage.

You swallowed hard, otherwise keeping your expression neutral. You hadn’t thought he would start meeting potential brides so soon, and you certainly hadn’t expected how it would make you feel. At least, Lucius also seemed surprised, not expecting his friend to try to set him up without consulting him first. Still, he assumed the role of gracious host and welcomed them warmly, leading them out to the gardens. He glanced over his shoulder at you as you silently trailed behind them, but you didn’t meet his gaze.

The three of them reclined on the couches of the outdoor dining area, shaded by a wooden pergola. It was a beautiful sunny day, the birds singing accompanied by the gurgle of the large fountain at the center of the garden. A gentle breeze stirred the foliage, carrying the faint, sweet smell of a dozen different flowers. 

You served them wine and hovered close by as another servant brought them food to snack on. Lucius had deliberately sat across from where you stood just so he could keep an eye on you. You’d withdrawn into yourself, trying your hardest to remain indifferent instead of worrying about whether the meeting went well or not. If it did, then you had to be happy for him, but if it didn’t… Well, at least that would buy you a little more time, if nothing else.

“Such a lovely garden,” the lady, Ilaria, said as she looked around. “One could never tire of such a view.”

Lucius nodded absently but said nothing, as if he hadn’t heard her.

“I could see you fitting in perfectly with all the other flowers here,” Ravi cut in, smiling with as much charm as he could muster to make up for it.

Ilaria inclined her head, modestly waving off the compliment. “Oh, you flatter me, Ravi.”

He gave Lucius a subtle, pointed look to encourage him to follow his lead. Lucius sat up and cleared his throat, only just focusing on the conversation. He had been trying to get your attention as subtly as possible, but he hadn’t been successful. 

“Er, yes, it’s always a treat to spend time out here. Certainly helps to clear the mind.”

Ravi shook his head a little and tried not to snort with amusement, thinking he was a lost case. Ilaria smiled, unbothered, taking a handful of grapes from a platter and popping one into her mouth. 

“I’d wager there is much on your plate, Imperator,” she said. “And having to manage the household staff on top of everything else… Must be a little overwhelming for you, no?”

“Well, I am a very busy man, yes, but it hasn’t been all that bad,” Lucius said. “I’ve certainly had a great deal of support to see me through.”

His words managed to reach you, softening you up infinitesimally. This time, when he glanced at you, you finally looked back. The ghost of a smile was on your face, but you quickly looked away before it could actually manifest.

“I see. Well, I’m very glad to hear that,” Ilaria said, sharing a curious glance with Ravi, who looked slightly apologetic. “Though perhaps you have considered that having someone run the house for you would take a big burden off your shoulders. I would be more than happy to lend a hand if you’d consider it.”

His eyebrows raised slightly at her boldness, not missing the eagerness in her gaze, poorly concealed behind her innocently helpful demeanor. He certainly did not want to get her hopes up, but he smiled graciously to soften the blow.

“Ah, perhaps in the future, when I have more time to worry about such things,” he said, politely noncommittal. “But I appreciate the offer.”

Her smile wavered and then froze, not wanting to seem too disappointed. “Of course, Imperator.”

For the remainder of their visit, Lucius let them do most of the talking, any remarks he made were studiously polite and yet still a little aloof. Finally, after a few hours, he excused himself, needing to return to his duties. Ravi seemed hesitant, like he wanted to stay behind and speak to him privately, but he would have to wait for another day. He escorted them both out, thanking them for visiting, but he did not exactly invite Ilaria to return to the palace. Her disappointment was more palpable then, but she hid it with as much grace as she could muster.

When they were gone, he turned to you with a shake of his head and a sigh, grinning with bewilderment.

“I do not enjoy being ambushed,” he said as if he felt the need to explain himself. “Decent enough as she seemed.”

You bowed your head in agreement, more relieved than you would like to admit. You had no real reason to have been upset earlier, given that there was nothing between you except for a certain kinship. Even so, it was clear he had not wanted you to be hurt, and you were very thankful for that. You offered him a small smile and some tension seemed to leave his shoulders.

He inclined his head towards the eastern hallway leading to his study. “Come, I would like you to read some documents to me. I can get work done faster that way.”

The tablinum was spacious but cozy, with a door to one side that led to a smaller patio. Before, the twin emperors had never used the room, but now it seemed well lived in. There was a mess of scrolls and wax tablets all over his desk that he still hadn’t let you organize. On the wall behind, there was a recently completed fresco of a gladiator riding a chariot pulled by two horses. For another wall, he had commissioned a portrait of Vesta, goddess of the home and the hearth, but it was still a work in progress. He was particularly proud of that one, an unspoken gift for you, his muse.

You lit the oil lamps in their alcoves, bathing the room in warm light. Lucius sat at his desk with a heavy exhale and scanned his notes to remember where he had left off the previous day. You sat on a stool beside him, unfurling the scroll he handed you and resting it on your knees. The texts you read didn’t always make sense to you, but you understood their importance. The fact that he was entrusting you with such work was an honor you did not take for granted.

“Start in that middle section. There is some stuff I would like to revisit,” he said, taking up his stylus. 

You nodded, finding what he was referring to and starting right away. You read to him for the next couple of hours, only stopping if he needed you to repeat something or in case he needed more time to make his notes. A few times during the latter, you glanced up to take in the focused furrow of his brow, a muscle in his jaw ticking as he pondered. You wondered what he might be thinking about, wishing he would impart some more knowledge on you. 

Outside, the sun was beginning to set, shadows deepening in the corners of the room. Another servant brought him dinner, but he didn’t seem too hungry yet. He handed you his cup of water when he heard you clear your throat a few times, insisting when you were reluctant to take it. 

When he was done for the day, he stretched his arms over his head with a groan and slumped in his seat. You neatly rolled the parchment back up and stood so you could stretch your legs. 

“I hope I haven’t tired you too much,” he said, folding his hands behind his head and leaning back. “You can take the rest of the evening off from reading if you’d like, but I would still appreciate some company.”

“Well, I still need to draw your bath and…”

“Somebody else can take care of it,” he cut in with a shrug, not preoccupied.

You hesitated. “What would you have me do instead, then?”

“Just sit back down, relax for a moment,” he said, getting up. “Here, you can have my chair. Much more comfortable.”

You were about to protest, but he gave you a look that said it was not up for discussion. You pursed your lips, uncomfortable at the idea of being idle, especially while taking up his seat. Still, you obeyed and sat down, hands folded on your lap. Feeling a little bold, you looked at him as if to say ‘satisfied?’ and he huffed in amusement.

“Wait, stay still,” he murmured suddenly, leaning down.

You froze as his face hovered mere inches away from yours, his breath fanning over your cupid’s bow. Delicately, he removed a stray eyelash that had been resting on your cheekbone, and he pulled back a little so you could see it on the pad of his finger.

“Make a wish,” he said.

All you could do was stare at him for another breathless moment that seemed to stretch on infinitely. You licked your lips nervously, drawing his eyes there before they returned to hold your gaze. Your heart was like a nervous bird fluttering wildly in your ribcage. Your mind was mostly blank, but the one thought that popped up was ‘I wish he would close the distance right now.’

You gently blew the eyelash away, your wish scattering into the air alongside it. The Gods must have decided to grant it immediately, for he did not pull away, instead slowly leaning in. His lips brushed yours tentatively and you closed your eyes, rejoicing for the barest second before you forced your face to turn away.

“We shouldn’t…” you murmured, the words hard to utter when a desperate want clung to your throat like honey.

“Why not?” He whispered.

“It’s not– I’m not…” You vaguely gestured towards yourself, unsure of what the right words were. 

He pulled back to look at you better. “Was I too presumptuous?”

You shook your head. “Not at all.”

“Then what is it?” He pressed.

“Dominus, please.”

“Lucius,” he pleaded, loathing the title. “Say it, please.”

“Lucius,” you said finally, though your eyes still spelled defiance when you glanced at him. “Is it not obvious? We both know it’s impossible.” Your lower lip trembled slightly. “I have a heart, too, you know? I don’t want it to be broken.”

“I know that, of course I know that!” He said, placing his hands on your shoulders and crouching in front of you. “I have no intention of breaking your heart.”

“Surely you understand where I am coming from, though.” You sniffed, keeping tears at bay. “I am not wife material, like the lady Ilaria. I have nothing to offer, no dowry, no family name, or even an inkling of Patrician blood. ”

“I do not care for such things. I would never demand them of you. Even if we cannot marry, I will not marry anyone else that isn’t you,” he said with a firm, determined shake of his head. “But I can still give you my name, along with your freedom. That’s all that matters to me.”

You gasped, the shock of his words akin to a bucket of ice water being dumped over you. Now you let the tears spill over, like a dam had finally burst. He kissed them away, his hands cupping your face gently.

“I have been thinking of nothing else since I met you. I’ve already made the arrangements… I suppose I just didn’t want to ruin the surprise.”

“You honor me,” you said, smiling despite the tears. “You always have.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” He asked. “You have given me more than you think. You brought me the peace I have been so desperately seeking for a long time.”

“I-I don’t even know how to thank you.” You placed a hand over his. “If you desire to give me your name, then I shall give you mine in return.”

You told him your name, the real one, which you had been hiding ever since your Roman name was given to you. He had never asked you for it, knowing that one’s name was the only thing one could truly own in this world. And now for you to give it freely… He repeated it, testing its shape on his tongue, and smiled radiantly.

“Pairs rather well with Lucia Veria, if I do say so myself,” he said with a proud chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “If you’ll have it, that is.”

You knew by the disarming earnestness in his eyes he wasn’t just offering the name, but himself, as well. His whole heart in the palm of your hand, should you choose to care for it. You felt as if you had already made that choice a while ago, when you first recited Virgil back to him.

“I will,” you said with an elated chuckle. “Of course I will.”

He took your hands in his, kissing both of them. “Then first thing tomorrow, we will make it official.”

More tears flowed as a result of an overwhelming rush of both gratitude and love. You had tried to ignore your feelings, not uprooting them but instead silently letting them grow unacknowledged. For once, it had seemed worth the risk of heartbreak. After all, the love hadn’t stemmed from something as fleeting as lust, but a mutual understanding and respect. It was more than you could ever ask for, and yet everything you desired.

You leaned your forehead against his, your noses brushing as he tilted his head back. This time, it was you who brought your lips to his with a tentative sort of tenderness, propriety still at the back of your mind. He responded in kind, letting you set the pace so as not to scare you off. If you weren’t shaking so much, you might have noticed he was shaking, too. 

In that kiss, there was the promise of mutual devotion, sweet and sincere. You were still holding each other’s hands, as if afraid you might drift apart if you let go. You understood then why odes were written about this feeling, as all-consuming as the churning waves of the sea. All those verses had never resonated with you more. 

Perhaps you had inherited the romanticism, after all. 

—------------------

The air smelled of night-blooming jasmine, the fresh sweetness of it bringing you a sense of tranquility. You leaned against the windowsill, looking up at the stars and trying to piece together constellations. The world seemed drastically different now that you had your freedom, so vivid, so open, so alive. You even noticed it in your posture and the lightness with which you walked, as if you were floating. Lucius had said you were radiant with it.

He’d insisted on taking care of you the same way you’d cared for him, eager to show you his gratitude. You had been hesitant at first, but at his unwavering conviction, you relented, curious how it might feel to be spoiled. All that day, he had served you reverently, taking time off from his duties to focus solely on you.

You couldn’t help getting flustered at all the attention, his ardent gaze like a caress every time it met yours. His touch had so far been entirely chaste, but even the smallest, most innocuous contact was heightened with anticipation. The brush of his fingers over yours when he handed you something, a guiding hand on your lower back, even a touch on your shoulder to make you aware of his presence.

There were a few sneaked kisses in both the garden and the tablinum, each one of them leaving an undercurrent of warmth under your skin that promised more. It was like a slow, drawn-out game of chase, neither of you in a rush to reach its conclusion. If anything, it only made you want each other more. 

After the sun had set, when the two of you drifted along as if in a drunken stupor, Lucius went to prepare a bath for you in his chambers. You were nervous and exhilarated, every moment spent waiting for him to be done an exquisite agony. Until finally, he poked his head around the bathroom door.

“It’s ready now,” he said, beckoning you with a smile.

You followed him into the bathroom, hands wringing anxiously. Flower petals were scattered on the mosaic floor, leading towards the steaming tub. Flickering candles bathed the room in a warm glow, making your shadows dance on the wall. You looked at each other, both knowing what the next step was but hesitant to initiate it. He averted his gaze first, gesturing towards the door.

“Would you like me to give you some privacy?”

You shook your head, desire making you a little more brave. “I… I would love some help undressing, though.”

His spine straightened, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard. “With pleasure.”

He crouched to slowly pull the hem of your long tunic upwards, rising with it. You lifted your arms so he could get it over your head, the fabric falling to the floor unceremoniously. Your eyes were fixed on his face, drinking in his expression as he took a step back to get a better look at you. The bare expanse of your skin robbed him of breath, his eyes roaming over every curve and plane of your figure. He wanted to sink to his knees again and lay his forehead at your feet in worship, but he stood still, his fingers twitching at his sides.

“The evening star is the most beautiful of all stars,”  he said in a low voice, quoting Sappho.

Warmth spread from your chest to your face, and you smiled coyly as another verse came to mind. “Come to me once more, and abate my torment…”

You offered him your hand, which he took, and he led you to the tub. You daintily stepped in, sighing contentedly as you sank into the water’s enveloping warmth. He knelt next to the tub, leaning against it with one arm propped on the edge. 

“Have I told you enough times that you are beautiful?” He said. “I don’t think it has been enough.”

You huffed with amusement, looking down as you fought a geeky grin. “Well, about a hundred times with just your eyes. A few times out loud, though.”

He chuckled. “I suppose I’ll have to show you in other ways, too… If I may.”

You nodded, silently granting him permission. He leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on your lips before standing up. He took it upon himself to bathe you, starting out by scrubbing your scalp. You leaned into his touch, eyes closing in bliss. He smiled at your soft, pleasured hum, and vowed to elicit as many more as he could. 

Things took on an almost ritualistic quality, with him focused entirely on his task. You were loose limbed, letting him move you about as he used a cloth to scrub your skin. He didn’t try anything that might be deemed unsavory, though you let his tender, reverential touch reach places no one had touched in a very, very long time. But he didn’t linger, to your slight frustration, not wanting to jump into things too quickly. The flames of your desire were stoked slowly, warmth running through you like sweet wine. 

When he was done, he helped you step out of the tub and immediately got to drying you off with a towel. You caught his eye for a moment, his pupils blown wide with equally fervent desire. You stopped yourself from clutching his arm, wanting to anchor yourself to him, but he could still tell you were growing restless. He kissed your shoulder, tapping the tip of your nose playfully with his finger.

“Not done quite yet,” he murmured, not missing the way you involuntarily pressed your thighs together. “You’ve always been very patient.”

“For the first time, I fear it might be running thin…” you said, to which he smiled. 

He grabbed a small glass bottle of rose oil and lathered some in his hands. He anointed your body with it, the heady scent of one of Venus’s favorite flowers permeating the air. As he reached your chest, you took hold of his wrist and brought his palm to rest over your heart. He felt it beating rapidly, your chest rising and falling with each panting breath.

His eyes fell to your lips, slightly parted with want. He grasped your chin with his free hand, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I have been thinking about this for a long time,” he said, leaning in to brush his nose against yours. “But I hadn’t wanted to touch you until now, when you actually felt like you had a choice in the matter.”

You clutched his wrist tighter, his thoughtfulness only making you want him more. All those hours he must have spent yearning, unaware that you were stuck thinking of him too. As emperor, he had the right to take whatever he wanted, but having previously been a gladiator, he understood the monumental importance of bodily autonomy. Very few people in Rome had such a privilege and he couldn’t bear the thought of being the one to rob you of it. 

You kissed him in response, much fiercer, hungrier, than all the other kisses you had shared so far. A desperate sound escaped his throat and he clasped you against him tightly. Swiftly, he scooped you up into his strong arms and carried you out to the bedchamber as he would a bride.

Gently, he set you down on the bed and pulled away to remove his tunic. This time, you were not meek about his nakedness. You brazenly stared at him, eyes mapping out the lines of his muscles, the pink, raised skin of his scars, and the soft trail of hair on his abdomen that seemed to suggestively point downwards. 

His shoulders were squared with pride at your ogling, a sly smile on his face. He’d had an inkling before of your attraction, but to see it on full display was narcotic, and he felt himself pulse with an aching need.

“Come closer,” you said softly.

He did, climbing over you, his warmth immediately enveloping you. You hid your face on the junction between his neck and shoulder, embarrassed at all the thoughts rushing through your mind.

“What is it?” He asked, raising an eyebrow with amusement.

“Nothing,” you said, voice muffled against his skin. “I just… I do not think you realize how badly I wanted this, too. I-I don’t want to ever stop.”

He chuckled indulgently, nudging your head so you’d look at him. “Neither do I.”

He kissed you again, and again, and again. You were so close to him that the lines of your bodies became indivisible, but it still didn’t seem like enough. Your knees hiked up to his hips in a silent plea, but he did not give in quite yet, wanting to prolong things for as long as he could.

Still, unable to resist a little bit of mutual torment, he slid upwards until his hips were aligned with yours. You gasped as you felt the velvety underside of his erection against your slick folds, each small movement making you tremble. Your brows furrowed and your lips parted in a wanton expression, your eyes shiny and half lidded as you looked at him.

“Lucius,” you whimpered. 

“I know,” he murmured soothingly, kissing your neck. “I know.”

Neither of you were willing to break apart from your embrace, so there wasn’t actually much of a preamble. Feverish, he sank into you slowly, your nails digging into his biceps as he stretched you open. That first round was frantic, almost animalistic, all the pent up longing finally being released. His body rolled over yours with the power of the sea’s waves, leaving you awash in ecstasy.

Neither of you lasted very long, but it didn’t matter, as you were nowhere near spent. Lucius, still in the afterglow of his orgasm, lazily began to kiss you all over, wanting to discover every mole and freckle, every tender spot that made you squirm, and every other little detail that made you you. 

He settled between your thighs, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive bundle of nerves. You tried to prop yourself up on your elbows to look at him, but he wrapped his arms around your thighs and pulled you closer. 

“What are you– Oh,” you gasped at the first flick of his tongue, the entirely new sensation disarming you. 

He tasted his essence mixed with yours, a groan rumbling in his chest. You tightly grasped the sheets under you, arching against his face. You bit your lip to stop yourself from making the most undignified sounds, but it was hard to focus, especially as his fingers were added into the mix. Your body burned brighter than any brazier, his arms pinning you down as he conquered you with his mouth. You shattered once more, crying out as he helped you ride it all the way through. 

After, you lied side by side, facing each other. You’d still not had your fill of him, but you needed to gather your strength for the long night ahead. You shared a breathy chuckle, as if still in disbelief it had finally happened, and he kissed your sweat-slick forehead.

“Now that was poetry,” you said jokingly, making him laugh again. 

“You put every verse to shame, my love,” he said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

You kissed his palm, adoring, and tangled your legs with his. A swell of emotion unlike anything you had ever felt rose within you. It was as if he had awakened a new part of you that you hadn’t known was dormant, bringing you back from an existence that consisted solely of drifting through days that blended into one another.

He was just as grateful to have found you, his peace, his solace, the woman who would always guard his heart. He murmured your name reverently, a reminder that you were his, and he was yours. You drew closer to him, like a moth to flame, and pushed him onto his back, straddling him. His hands came to rest on your hips and your eyes were full of mirth as you held his gaze.

“As it happens, I find myself compelled to compose some more with you.” You grinned playfully, hands sliding up his chest. 

He mirrored your grin, not minding the idea one bit. “Relentless, just like the great muse Calliope.”

“Well, when inspiration strikes… It can’t be helped, can it?”

“No,” he said. “Not when it comes to you.”

------

[sleepingdiaryzzz]

Y! Young Justice (the og) x villain! reader

You twist, defiant even now, and they feel it—their adversary, their ghost, the one who slipped from their grasp with a laugh on the wind, now held tight. Tonight, the uncatchable is caught, and their silent victory thrums like a heartbeat in the air around you.

Kaldur’s water binds hold fast, yet there’s a strange gentleness as he looks at you, eyes deep as the sea he commands. His grip is sure but reverent, each ripple around your wrists a silent hymn to the dance you’ve led him through, chase after chase, like a lover drawn to shore by the moon. His eyes are an ocean, quiet and unfathomable, but tonight there’s no mistaking the longing within them—a soft, undulating desire to hold what he’s finally claimed.

Wally stands close, not taunting but transfixed, his smirk softer than usual, as though he’s taken his place beside you at last. You’ve always been the thrill, the pulse in his veins, the rush of the wind at his back. The quicksilver desire he’s buried comes to the surface, flickering like light itself as he watches you now. There’s something poetic in his gaze, like a line of verse held just for you, words spinning in the silence as his fingers twitch, yearning to trace every inch of the face he’s only seen in blurs of speed.

Robin moves with precision, binding you with a care that’s more art than security. His eyes linger on every knot, every inch of skin beneath his gloved fingers, crafting his hold as if sculpting something sacred, every tie a testament to the chase that brought you to this point. He’s not simply holding you down; he’s committing you to memory, carving his mark into every second. The vigilante has become a poet, each knot in his rope a line in the unspoken sonnet he’s woven around you.

Conner watches with an intensity that goes beyond duty, his protective instincts woven with the depth of a soul that’s finally found something worth holding. His admiration is fierce, a silent ode to the strength you’ve shown against him time and again. The quiet in his gaze is the chorus he’s always sung for you—a promise etched in steel, a love wrapped in the strength he wields, silent but unbreakable. He’d turn worlds to dust before letting you slip away again.

Above, M’gann floats with a gentle, boundless reverence, her empathy a quiet lullaby echoing through your mind. There’s a depth to her gaze, a wish to hold you safe, to shield you from every shadow. Her presence wraps around you, the warmth of a song without words, each glance a silent lyric, a promise she wants to whisper only for you. Her thoughts spill over, her devotion filling every corner of your mind like a quiet symphony, promising to keep you safe, her heart’s song bound to you.

And Artemis, fierce and unwavering, watches from the edge, her gaze sharper than any arrow she’s ever shot. The smirk that once mocked you has softened into something reverent. She’s a huntress who’s caught her elusive prey, but there’s no more need for the chase. She wants to keep you close, to pull you into her orbit as if you were a star meant to be drawn to her. Her pride for you is fierce, unbending; her eyes drink you in like an anthem she’s claimed for herself.

Each of them stands close, a circle drawn tight, their poetry woven around you, their gazes fierce and unbreakable. You’re no longer simply their rival—you’re a muse, their song, the obsession they’ve crafted verse by verse in their minds. They’ve turned the chase into a masterpiece, and now, their poem is complete: you’re here, captured by verses only they can write, bound to them in a love that echoes like a heartbeat.

(A/n: when will I make a real story? I think never)

[birdonawiresara]

Closed starter for @inhumanhacker

Sara was nervous.

It had been years since she’d been on a date, years since she’d actually been willing to open herself up to someone new. To feel. There had been, of course, a lot of familial feelings, and feelings with her friends, and grief. More grief than she ever thought she could handle. But this was different. This was a choice, not to mention she had to meet Jon at the Armani-level of hotness that she knew would be showing up to this date, so she went on autopilot. She’d been good at this a long time ago; hell, it had practically been a sport for her. So before she knew it, she was wearing a simple yet elegant black dress with one strap on her right shoulder, and a giant slit up her left leg. Her hair was piled up into an elegant yet messy bun on top of her head, all of her jewelry as well as her makeup simple and yet elevating the entire look. Which was why, with her clutch in one hand, she knocked on Jon’s door with the other, simply saying with a smirk, “I’ll give you a minute to take it all in.”

[birdonawiresara]

“Oh, why, does yours have the best view? Because then I might have to kick you out of it, and you can go sleep in your Batmobile,” Sara shot back with a real grin now, but at his request for her to go and explore and take things slow for a change, it disappeared. “Yeah, I don’t do slow - especially now. Too much time to think. Besides, are you saying you don’t have time to give me a tour? And to show me where all of your weapons are hidden because I don’t believe for a second that every room doesn’t have at least one weapon in it.”

Bruce smiles softly at the memory of their friend then nods his head. "Oh you don't want me to pick a room, I might pick my own" he teases her playfully before waving a hand to dismiss her slightly. "Go. Explore. Take your time, you travel through it enough, you should appreciate going slow for a change."

[sinofwriting]

Conversations - Max Verstappen (I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Words: 614 Summary: Direct follow up to ‘Protective’ (Part of the I ❤️ MILFS verse)

Masterlist | Support Me! | I ❤️ MILFS verse

Max has always taken care of how he approaches certain conversations with Pan. Not just because he cared for her, but because she is a mom and that brings a whole host of other conversations he himself had never imagined having to have before seeing her for the first time.

But this isn’t a conversation he’s taking much care with. There is an anger burning in him, a fury, and perhaps he should take a bit more care, but he knows that as soon as he speaks his tone will be gentle, words more gentle than they have to be, but he can’t ease into it, find a segue.

“You never told me.” He normally would wrap his arms around her, bring her close before pressing kisses all over her face, delighting in the smile it gets him. This time he just gives her a small kiss.

She frowns, “about being called a whore?”

Max winces at the word, at the word being applied to her. “Yes.”

“Oh,” her brows furrowed together and once again it hits Max how despite her being older, having a kid, that he’s the more experienced one when it comes to relationships.

“Could we talk about it?” He asks, guiding her over to the couch where they both sit once she nods.

“When was the first time?”

“I was eighteen. I had gotten called other things before that, especially with Logan being around, calling me mom, but it wasn’t until after I adopted him that I actually got called a whore.” She smiles, but it’s small, barely there. “It was actually me getting him into karting. Some parents thought that I had slept around, y’know. And then father’s of some other kids, team principal’s and owners when I wouldn’t put out would also call me a whore. Funny how that works.” She laughs.

He hears the laugh, but his brain is focusing on the team owners and principals.

He knew all the team’s that Logan had been a part of. Knew a good majority of their team leadership either by name or from having met them. And more than one, more than a few had tried to start something with her and then when she of course rejected them, they called her a whore.

“Which ones?”

“What?”

“The teams, which ones?”

She sighs, leaning forward a bit. “Max, y’know I can’t tell you that. It wasn’t anyone from Ricky Flynn though or Carlin or Prema.”

“That leaves about eight other teams.”

They stare at each other, unwavering and after a moment she sighs again. “The one that was really a problem was the team owner for the first karting team Logan was in, ITN.”

“They aren’t a thing anymore.” “No. They didn’t want to continue after they lost the championship in 2017 to a team that had cheated and didn’t get banned.”

Max raises an eyebrow.

She shrugs, “I stay caught up. The owner now has a small stake in McLaren.”

“Arrow?”

“Both. All.” She shrugs again, “I didn’t look that deep into it, just saw the news. I’ve seen him in the paddock though.”

“You’ve seen him in the paddock.” he repeats, blinking slowly. “Okay.”

He smiles at her, leaning forward. “Thank you for telling me.”

She smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for listening.”

As he pulls her into his arms to cuddle, she doesn’t notice the clench of his jaw, his eyebrows drawing together, as he thinks about what he’ll be bringing up and doing in tomorrow’s meeting. There were a few more things Red Bull as a team could do than just no longer allowing Sky Sports to interview and talk to them.

[apricot-blossomss]

hihi!! may i please request an apollo x reader where he pleads for them to take them back after a minor argument, and apollo, in the heat of the moment and feeling petty, breaks up with reader

☛ apollo broke up with you over a stupid argument and begs you to take him back

☛ sfw, angsty, fluffy ending; tw: self deprecating thoughts; thank you for 100 followers!

He messed up. Badly.

His hand shook over the paper but he couldn't think of another verse. Or rather: there were so many swirling around in his mind, expressing regret, loathing himself, worshipping you and asking for forgiveness, that he couldn't find one to write down. With a frustrated groan, he buried his head in his hands.

"Lord Apollo?"

"Hm?" He said, begrudgingly looking up from his miserable laments and at the Muse Clio. She, as well as her sisters, had free access to the god's sacred gardens, though he would have preferred solitude right now. And he could not bear her pitiful looks, even though it was Clio's standard expression.

"I was sent by your high father," she said and came closer to the bench were the god had sprawled out all the heartbreak and breakup songs he had written in the last forty-eight hours.

"Sit," he said without putting away his pen. Instead, he started writing, but even though his words would have brought the highest poets to shame over the mediocrity of their verses, it still didn't feel enough for you. If he wanted to get you back, he'd have to do it properly, with the most masterful piece he had ever written.

Clio sat down on the small part of the bench that wasn't covered in music and lyric sheets, letting her eyes scan over them. Jeez. Whoever you were, you had to have done quite the number on the god. When she looked at him, he was feverishly scribbling on a fresh paper, looking like a madman. "Your father," she began carefully. "urges you to leave these gardens to tend to your godly duties."

"Tell him to shove his urges up his ass," Apollo grumbled and earned a skeptical look. "Come on. I'm sure you'll find a nice way of expressing the same sentiment."

"I have another message, from your sister," she added and he grimaced, a bitter feeling at the back of his throat. "Tell her I won't have her mockery." The muse fell silent, sad, worried eyes tracing his features.

"You can leave now," the god said in a monotone voice and without another word, Clio was gone. As so often in the last fort-eight hours, Apollo felt the tears sting in his eyes once more and leaned back to drape an arm over his face. But the darkness only brought the image of the fight back.

How could he have been so stupid, so hurtful and petty? It was an argument about a fucking a/c unit. It hadn't even been an argument initially. Just harmless banter, until he had overstepped and said something hurtful. And when you snapped back, he had felt hurt and lashed out. Stupid. He was so stupid. The whole thing started spiraling out of control until he had shouted back the fateful words.

"If you can't take a joke, maybe we're not right for each other"

The guilt ate him up from the inside. The image of your widened, teary eyes was burned into his brain, he saw it every time he closed his eyes, and every time he did, his heart squeezed so painfully that he wished someone would take mercy on him and shoot him with his own arrow. And no ink in the world would draw the pain out. Only one thing could- you.

You scrubbed aggressively at your kitchen sink, even though it really was not to blame for your current situation. "Stupid," you muttered to yourself as you forcefully scoured at a stain at the side of the sink. But it wouldn't wash away a bit. "Fucking thing," you muttered, scrubbing even harder. Finally, you gave up and took a deep breath through your nose. "Fucking shit"

Your doorbell rang and you ignored it. Like the last two days, you would self isolate and obsessively clean your house- that was how you coped with having the most stupid, petty idiot of a god as a boyfriend- now ex-boyfriend. The thought stung. And even more so, because as much as you would like to pretend it was, this wasn't all on him. The bell rung again, and you sighed, throwing your towel in the sink and opening the door with a little more vigor the necessary.

"Can I help y-" The words died on your tongue. Cool, silver eyes had you forgetting how to articulate a single word as the woman in front of you looked you up and down. She was gorgeous, in a wild way. Dark hair braided and of truly majestic posture, in a flowing dress and a bow over her shoulder. You felt your whole being shiver at the sheer might of her presence- something you only felt with Apollo, only that it felt much warmer and exciting with him. Your mouth knew before your brain registered her appearance. "Lady Artemis"

"You," she said, and the tone of her voice had you stiffen up, as if she had shouted. Her scrutinizing stare had you sweat and you dug your fingers into the palms of your hands nervously. "I've heard a lot about you."

"Th-thank you," you stammered, too panicked to think of anything else to say. Was she here to take revenge on you? Apollo would never allow that, that you were sure of. But who knew whether they cooperated?

"Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation," she said coldly, but it didn't sound like an insult. The goddess studied your expression and sighed, a hint of exhaustion in her tone. "It must be something else about you then. Something that warrants this level of drama."

"I was hardly the one who started it," you bit back and regretted the words the second they left your mouth. Biting down on your tongue, you winced at your stupidity. "Please forgive me, that was out of line." Great. Insulting her brother in front of Artemis was surely the best move.

"He thinks the same." You looked up at her and were surprised to find her smiling a very slim smile. "You should see him, he's an absolute mess, drowning in his guilt."

"Oh," you said, without a hint of worry or remorse. Instead, you felt a sense of relief. He cared. He felt guilty. He was drowning in his misery. Artemis lifted her brow at your neutral expression and you shrugged. "It's nice to be appreciated."

"You are appreciated, alright," the goddess said under her breath as she remembered the tortured sappy breakup songs her brother had been bothering everyone with. Sickeningly enough, he was really good at those, so everyone was getting depressed. Even though Artemis tended to spend her time away from Olympus, she herself could feel the effects of this misery. And she was sure many gods would breathe a sigh of relief once the whole mess was settled.

"Look," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose as if she was having a migraine, which of course wasn't possible for gods. "Can you just take him back, mortal? He's awfully broken up and making everyone miserable."

"I'm not asking him to take me back," you said stubbornly. You may have had your part in the argument, but he was the one who ended things and your pride didn't allow for you to crawl back to him. "If he wants me back, he can tell me himself, I'm very sorry."

There was a short but noticeable silence. Then: "I understand." The goddess smiled. You were starting to live up to her expectations. "But he's just as stubborn as you and he won't get his ass down here until he has crafted 'the perfect song' to ask for your forgiveness." The thought did make your insides flutter. "How about a deal? I'll take you to my temple and make him fix this on the spot."

Not daring to refuse the proposal, you nodded and her hand got a hold of your upper arm. "Close your eyes" Instinctively, you followed her instructions. Even though you felt nothing, not even a hush of air, when you opened your eyes, you were in the most magnificent hall you had ever seen. Marble all around, with a high, open ceiling and trees invading it through the windows. A mix of ancient monument and forest.

When you turned around to ask the goddess whether this was Olympus, she was gone. You were alone, as small as an ant between the towering walls. They were so monumental it was almost claustrophobic- or rather, the opposite. Just as terrifying. The space made you feel tiny and insignificant and with those feelings came an unexpected dread:

What if he didn't want you back?

Why would he? He was a god, he could have his pick of hundreds of millions of people, people that were prettier than you, smarter than you, more exciting than you. It was like the walls were threatening to crumble, your breathing picked up and you tried to breathe through your mouth slowly, but not getting enough air only accelerated your sudden panic. What if he came in here and told you to go, that he didn't need you, didn't want you? That you couldn't even take a joke and you shouldn't be with one another? The scrutinizing look in her eyes as Artemis had looked you up and down was burned into your memory. Your appearance doesn't live up to your reputation.

He wrote you songs, you tried to remind yourself. He was being petty, that why he broke things off. Artemis says he regrets it, she said he wants you back. But you couldn't believe it- not really, no matter how often you tried to tell it to yourself. He wants you. But why would he? He loves you. Why you? There was no clock in the temple, of course, but it had been some time already . Would he even show up?

The tall stone doors were opened with such force they met the walls in a loud bang. Flinching hard, you shot around and saw him standing there, in between the doors that were creaking in protest of being handled with such force. You met his eyes and in that moment you knew you had already forgiven him. If a gods eyes could be bloodshot, his were. His usually effortlessly perfect hair was disheveled and his hands covered in ink. They hung powerlessly at his sides, as if they didn't know what else but the door to use their strength on. He looked like shit, and you felt love swell in your chest.

But you couldn't let him know. Pressing your hands to your hips, you lifted your chin. "I knew you'd come back" Liar "I just wouldn't have thought it would be this quickly," you said, sounding much more self assured than you had ever been in your life, much less now.

The god walked towards you, as if he were dream walking, raising a hand like he was about to caress your cheeks but slumped down in front of you instead, kneeling before you on the marble floor. "I am a fool."

"Yes," you said, nodding and gulping down the burning in the corners of your eyes. Because you couldn't stand the self loathing in his features, you studied a blooming cherry tree that was waving through one of the tall windows. When you felt hands on your hips, your own hands shot down but when they met his, your fingers curled around his and he let out a long breath.

"I am such a stupid, stupid moron," he emphasized and you finally managed to look down at him. The genuine regret in his eyes took your breath right out of your lungs. "Please... my love..." His hands closed around your smaller ones and he brought them to his face to put his head in his hands. You let him. "Please, forgive me. I was so stupid, please, take me back. Love?"

"Hm?"

"I'm so so sorry"

Not trusting your voice, you started caressing his cheeks and he sighed into your ministrations, kissing the palm of your hand softly. Teary eyes shone up at you and you looked back. Just when you opened your mouth to formulate an answer, he tightened his hold on you, while simultaneously reaching behind himself to grab a stack of scribbled-on paper out of nowhere and pushing it into your hands. "I tried to make the perfect one for you, but I failed. I'm sorry, my love."

As you read through the words, your heart started beating loudly in your chest. In disbelief, you read them through as the god still clung to your body. "Are these ... about me?" you whispered as your eyes skimmed over words of adoration and love, of appreciation and utter devotion, of little things you did that you had never noticed, or you had thought mundane- but he hadn't.

"Yes," he breathed. He didn't make a sound when he rose to his feet, though still hunched over in shame. His warm hands massaged your waist as they were carefully scanning your expression for your reaction. "Do you like them?" You had to like them, or he would lock himself in tarterus and throw away the key.

"I-" you stammered, voice hoarse. All your doubts, all your anxiety of being good enough... as you read through the words, they slowly erased them bit by bit. Your fingers were shaking so hard the paper trembled in your hands and you could feel the tears well up in your eyes. "Love?" He sounded worried, and you had to make yourself look up from the beautiful words to smile at him. "Yes, I like them. They're beautiful."

Thank god. "I'll make it all up to you, I swear," he said gravely, taking your face into his hands. "I will compose and sing operas to your magnificence, I will grant you every wish, I will never make you cry again, I promise"

"You just did," you laughed through your tears and pressed the stack of paper to your chest. "Can I uh- can I keep them?"

"Of course, silly. They are yours," he hummed, looking into your eyes with a look in his eyes you couldn't quite place. Maybe longing. Desperation. "Please, my love, take me back and I shall never make you suffer again."

"Alright," you said, smiling up at him and wiping away the saltine wetness on your cheeks. "And- I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have snapped at you like that, you didn't mean it like that and I was just being stupid and overthinking and- I'm sorry."

Vehemently, Apollo shook his head and shushed down your apologies. "No no no, love, this was on me, just on me. I hurt you, I made you cry and I ... I can't get that out of my head." His voice sounded strained.

"Apollo?" Now, it was his eyes threatening to overflow with tears. "Why did you come back?" He looked at you as if you had just said the most bewildering thing ever. "I mean... you could have just left me. But you didn't." A small, bitter laugh escaped you. "I lied, you know? I didn't know if you would come back, I thought you might just not care that much."

"How could you ever think that?" he asked, as if he really couldn't believe it, and you laughed. "Because I hate myself?" It was meant to be a joke, but your puffy eyes and sniffs didn't do a lot of convincing on that end, you feared. The pained look in his eyes almost made you cry again, not even for your sake, but for his, because how could someone look this tortured and not break apart.

"You are the most amazing woman- the most amazing person- I have ever had the privilege of loving," he confesses. "I love you."

The genuinity in his words took your breath away, and you didn't get a chance to get it back because his lips crashed onto yours in a heated, desperate attempt to convince you of his words. Your arms wrapped around his neck and you kissed him back feverishly as relief flooded your whole body and you started relaxing in his arms. He could feel you slumping against him and chuckled into your heated kiss, angling your head just right for him to deepen the kiss, holding you securely and dipping you down. You giggled, fully entrusting him with yourself, and he smiled through the kiss.

"You are divine," he groaned, placing kiss after kiss on your swollen lips and you laughed lightly before the way of it was swallowed by his loving ministrations. "Says the literal god."

"APOLLO!"

Flinching, you broke away from the kiss just enough to see a very pissed off Artemis standing in the doors of her temple and glaring at her brother who frowned right back. "You're interrupting, sister."

"You are in my temple! How dare you do this in my temple you little shit?" When she whipped her head around to you, you buried your fingers in Apollo's tunic, already seeing your life flashing before your eyes, but against all expectations, she gave you a genuine smile. "If you don't want to take him back, I might still have a spot for you under my followers, you could join my huntresses, dear."

"That is a very gracious offer, but I fear I have to decline it, I'm sorry," you apologized and she tutted, though she didn't seem resentful.

"Ha!" Apollo grinned and she smacked him. He let her, grinning boyishly and hositing you up into his arms. You didn't protest, you were too dazzled by his unbelievably bright smile that had your heart explode into a thousand bubbles that popped all over your stomach, tingling. "Love, how do you feel about getting out of here?"

Waving at Artemis, you couldn't help your own smile. "Bye! And thank you, my lady!" She gave you a small smile and exchanged a look with Apollo that was more firm. Smiling at her, he glanced down at you and tightened his hold. "I know."

"Go!" his sister told him, shoving his shoulder, and in the flash of a second, you were surrounded by trees and flowers and sweet smells. A garden. Unmistakably divine, because no mortal place could be of such beauty.

Apollo set you down on a golden bench and sat down himself, pulling you into his warm arms. A long sigh left your mouth as you smiled at him, at his beauty, his smile, his shiny eyes. It felt so intimate, the way he was smiling back and pressed a kiss to your temple, huffing out a warm breath against your skin that was slowly warmed up by the sun. "Where are we?" you finally asked.

"My gardens," he answered, caressing your face with trails of sweet kisses. "Do you like them?" You nodded, admiring the colors as he was worshipping your face with his lips.

"Do you want to have them?"

"What?" you laughed, turning to look at him and fully convinced that he must be making a joke. But the expression on his face was undoubtedly honest. "N-no thanks," you mumbled and rested your hand on his shoulder. Your fingers interlaced with his.

"Do you know what Artemis told me before she happened to mention you were waiting for me at her temple?" Shaking your head, you started playing with his fingers when his captured your ring finger and his lips ghosted over your ear in a way that had you shiver in spite of the warmth of his sunny gardens. "She told me if I wanted you back forever, and if I loved you as much as I said, I should just put a ring on it."

"What?" you laughed instinctively, because you had built a wall around the topic for the both of you. What you had with Apollo wasn't permanent- it couldn't be, because you weren't permanent. What was he even talking about?

"I mean it," he said, so earnestly that the laughter died on your tongue. He brought your hand up to his lips and pressed his lips to your knuckles, your ring finger. "I would drag myself through eternal suffering for a life you. If you preferred a mortal life, I'd leave Olympus for you. I would kill anyone who hurt you, anyone ever made you feel small. I'd do everything for you, and I don't want to regret anything more."

Breathlessly, you searched his features for deception. "Apollo... you had thousands of lovers before me. Why me?"

He looked thoughtful and absentmindedly drew circles on your thigh. "You're right. I have loved plenty, and I have loved deeply every time. But even though it was genuine, it was never long, and that always worked for me, in some way." You felt the caress of his adoring eyes on you as you stared at your hands, trying to process his words. "It wouldn't work with you, never. And I would never be okay with it. I want you forever- or at least for as long as possible, as long as you want to."

There was a downside to dating Apollo, and it was the fact that your stammered confession and your attempts at wooing him with loving words crippled pathetically next to his flawless love poetry, his sure words and articulation. You really didn't know how to possibly give him an answer, other than leaning up and kissing him, as gently as the summer breeze, and thinking: if you could have this forever, what more could you need?

When you broke the sweet little kiss, you couldn't suppress a giggle and he raised an eyebrow at you. "It's just..." you grimaced. "I can't believe we broke up over an a/c unit."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

[cyberskulzzz]

Hey! I had a request for Rodrick, I was thinking about a one shot where he and Greg are fighting, and maybe Rodricks takes it a bit too far and hides Greg's diary or something. And since Greg is so upset he takes revenge on his brother. In this scenario reader is Greg's babysitter and Rodrick has a huuuge crush on her. Sooo I was thinking about how Greg would use that and make a plan to get back at him by embarrasing him in front of reader. And every time, Rodricks is trying to maybe defend himself? I can't actually think of the things he would do to make Rodrick embarrased but maybe you could come up with some and write it :) either way, thanks for reading!

Rodrick Heffley Blurb (not proofread)

Content warning:Idk bad poetry

Youre Greg’s babysitter,and you have been for quite the while,however you and Rodrick had always taken interest in eachother,and with you two being home alone a lot one thing led to another. 

It had all started a few weeks ago when Greg accidentally walked in on you and Rodrick right before he could get to second base. Although Rodrick had previously threatened Greg that if he’d ruin Rodrick’s chance with you he’d end Greg. However that was exactly what happened,Greg marched in,yapping about something that had happened with Holly,Rodrick immediately getting off of you and shoving Greg outside,however as soon as he turned around again you already had your bag in hand,needing to be home on time.  

Right after the front door closed and you left the porch it got messy,Susan‘s sure Rodrick would’ve murdered Greg if she didn’t interfere. 

The next day when Greg got home from school the door to Rodrick‘s room was wide open,which was odd.Greg walked slowly,aspecting some kind of attack however Rodrick was calmly sitting in front of his pc with Greg‘s diary next to him,the email of a few pages opened on his pc,but before Greg could even open his mouth they were already send out,what seemed worst of all to him was the fact Holly would surely see it too. 

You went to Rodrick’s again the next weekend,mostly just hanging around his room.When Rodrick left you upstairs for band practice for a second it didn’t take long for Greg to appear in the doorway way. 

"Rodrick!“,he pretends to call out,knowing damn well he isnt in his room,"you left your text book downstairs again-",Greg stumbled,his finger between the page he had deemed most embarrassing,the text book falling right in front of your feet.Greg almost wanted to yell in triumph when he noticed the book had landed right.

"Woah- you okay there?“,you asked giving Greg a hand,who got up without any trouble,causing you to pick up the text book next.Your eyes wandered across the page shortly,subconsciously reading till you noticed your name,taking it back quickly. You know you shouldnt,its an invasion of privacy,but then again it was so painfully obvious Greg wanted you to see this,and that its related to you. 

~Oh, girl who sits upon my couch, Your presence makes me scream, "Ouch!" For Cupid's arrow struck my heart, And now my brain can't even start.

Your hair shines brighter than the sun, Your laugh's a song,it's number one. When you walk in,I lose my cool, (Though Greg still calls me a fool.)

Your eyes,whatever color,they’re divine.  Like sparkling soda,straight from the vine. I’d sing to you with my sick riffs, But I can’t risk you thinking, “What ifs.” You’re my muse, my crush, my greatest song.  But confessing feels... so very wrong.~

You smiled slightly,letting out a slight chuckle as your eyes followed the words,however your amusement was quickly interrupted by Rodrick running up the stairs,Greg seeing his chance and running before it‘d be too late.

"Sorry I took a bit longer,Ben couldn’t get the first verse-I- did Greg give that to you?",he froze gesturing to the textbook. 

"Its not the best- you werent supposed to-",he stutters,trying to make this less embarrassing for himself till you interrupted him.

"I think its really sweet,the fact that you took the time to write for me",you reassure,"I know youre into me,you dont think you’ve made it quite obvious the last few times I was here?“

Rodrick’s eyes,followed yours gesturing to the bed you guys had been making out on just a few minutes ago.However your train of thought was then quickly interrupted by Rodrick wrapping his arms around your waist in awe,kissing you passionately his,hand placed on your cheek while slamming the door shut with his foot,making sure Greg stays out this time. 

@lockettesstage

[birdonawiresara]

“Hey, when you just need a drink... Any whiskey will do...” Sara murmured with a tired smirk. “But if I’m dead, I expect you to go all out.” As for his comment about there being zero bodies left in this building when all was said and done, it was hopeful thinking - thinking she wished she could still indulge in. But she’d been fighting for too long. She’d gone through too much. She knew better. He then told her the car was right outside, asking her if she could walk, and she quietly replied, “Might as well be half a world away.” A beat passed before she added, “I can’t feel anything. Isaiah, I’ve been here before. Believe it or not, I know what it’s like to die. And I’m not talking about near-death experiences, I’m talking about dead. For over a year. The whole world gets further and further away... people get further and further away... You end up alone... I feel alone...”

"You get the good stuff. I'll take what tastes like gasoline. Like that questionable whiskey we dug up last time." Isaiah focuses his ability on stopping blood from profusely pouring out. Fuck. Isaiah regrets how cowardly he keeps running from his telekinesis. If he gained full control of it like his other powers, maybe he could heal Sara. Best he can do now is stop the severe bleeding, and prevent debris from crashing down on them. "And there's only gonna be zero bodies here." Anyone in their world of violence knows there's risk when it comes to caring about people. High chance that you'll lose them. But Isaiah doesn't give a fuck how many more people he needs to kill along the way of getting Sara out of here. "Car's right outside that way. Think you can walk?"

[magicalqueennightmare]

Talk to Me

Daryl Dixon x Reader

After the prison falls you're on your own, until you find Daryl with a group. When things happen he carries the guilt for it all until you find the safety of Alexandria and force a confrontation

Warnings: talk of violence, cursing, forced sexual acts? The claimers were sickos(italics are flashbacks)

Same verse as Back Me so Reader was Shane's adopted sister

The day the prison fell was chaos. A blur of fighting, both humans and walkers. When you realized it was useless you'd heard yelling over the commotion. Maggie's voice was screaming for evacuation, Sasha too but you couldn't find anyone. You found an opening in the mass of walkers and ran, praying you'd find them on the other side as you sliced through the dead.

So much had happened since that day. If you stopped and let yourself ever actually think about it you were afraid you'd sink down into that hole and never find your way out. First it was Terminus, then Gabriel's church then the storm in the barn. The day Aaron had approached with photos and a story of a town that was guarded by a wall and willing for new residents all of you had rightfully been hesitant but now? You'd settled. It was slowly becoming home, you just wished things between you and Daryl could ever be fixed.

You sat on the porch of the home most of you were still sharing. Aaron had been adamant about the fact that there was plenty of room for you to spread out and you were slowly doing such but the group was tight-knit and felt better being closer. Maggie and Glenn had taken the house directly across the street, Rosita and Abraham were next door while you were planning to eventually move in with Carol and whoever else joined the two of you in the house she'd taken when offered.

You would've asked Rick if you could stayed with him, Michonne and the kids but that would also take explaining just why you felt uncomfortable moving into one of the other houses. You didn't want to see that look in Rick's eyes or to pull him into whatever was going on between you and Daryl. They were best friends, Rick claimed you as a little sister especially after Shane's death. It wouldn't have been fair to Rick.

You leaned your head back against the banister of the porch, fiddling with one of the arrows from your bow and watching a few residents of Alexandria. Poor bastards, the look on their faces the first time they'd gotten a look at your group had damn near been comical.

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

"Stay close and stay alert" Rick warned in a low voice, his eyes connecting with yours then Daryl's then Michonne's. Each of you gave a sharp nod. When the gate rolled open your group tightened up to walk in together. Your shoudler brushed against Rosita's on one side and Glenn's on the other. Ok maybe not that close. All of you adjusted slightly to give each other enough room to pull weapons if need be.

Aaron was leading your group in, looking part tour guide and part ring leader. A crowd quickly gathered, gawking like all of you were some sort of side show freaks. It hit you how normal this place looked. Untouched. You looked around at your friends, your family. Blood and mud caked most of you. Rick's beard was thick enough to hide a damn family of squirrels in, all of the women in your group save for michonne and Carol looked like you'd never heard of a brush and Daryl looked like he was nothing short of feral. You wanted to hate this community, for not being put through the hell all of you had, for not facing the shit storm outside this gate but you pitied them. How could they have survived this long? What would happen if the gate failed? If a walker got in? If another group attacked? Your people didn't need them, they needed you.

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

"Walsh!" You were broke out of your own thoughts by Abraham's deep voice calling you. You jerked up and shot him a glare "That's a good way to catch an arrow Ford" he grinned and nodded to the bow sitting next to you "Might be if that thing was in your hand"

You rolled your eyes but could help a small smile before adding the arrow you'd been fiddling with to your bow and standing "What do you want anyways?" "You seen Rosita?" He asked and you nodded "bout an hour ago. She was headed to med with Tara. Why?"

He shrugged "Just wondering" he started to walk away but stopped and looked back "you alright kid? You looked a little out of it" you nodded "Yeah I'm good. This whole having time to catch your breath is new and taking some getting used to" his laughter echoed down the street "I hear ya on that. I'll catch you later" you watched him walk off and shook your head. If Abraham was starting to notice you needed to do something different. He barely knew you like that. It wouldn't be long before someone else said something.

"So what's the deal with you and her?" Carol's voice came from behind Daryl. He glanced over his shoulder to see her walking up to him. He was hoping hiding out on the outskirts of Alexandria meant fewer people but of course Carol would manage to sniff him out.

"Me and who?" He knew who the hell she meant, he wasn't that much of a dumbass but he wasn't gonna admit it. He couldn't face you, not after what had happened. She rolled her eyes "You and Miss America. Y/N. Who else! You and her have been damn near inseparable since the camp at the quarry then the prison falls and we all find each other again and I've yet to hear a word get passed between the two of you except for on your right or look out"

He shrugged, going back to working on the pile of arrows in his hand "We ain't gotta talk every day. We're here now. She's safe, ain't she?"

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

Carol knew him better than that, she knew when something was wrong. She sat down next to him "What happened out there? Before you and her found Rick and Michonne?" She watched him as she asked the question and saw his gaze flick from the arrows to her then down to the dirt underneath his boots "Nothing"

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

Daryl had joined the claimers just to have better chances of finding some of the group, a better chance against the dead. They were following the railroad tracks, supposedly going after some guy they had issue with that had killed one of their people. He didn't really care. He kept moving in hopes to find a trace of someone, anyone.

He'd been at the back of the group when he heard one of them let out a low whistle "Well look what we got here boys" then he felt his blood boil when he heard your voice, trying so damn hard to hold steady but he could hear the trace of fear in it "Let me go you son of a bitch before I fucking gut you"

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

"That look tells me something happened" Carol pushed and he shook his head "Nothing happened" she sighed "Ok but if something did and you need to talk or need help talking to her, I'm around" he muttered a thanks as she stood and walked away.

What was he supposed to say to you? He fucking missed you. You were the first person that had ever really had his back, to not judge him. He'd been there for you through Shane and you were there for him through Merle but now he didn't know if you could forgive him and even if you could, did he deserve it?

He stood up and grabbed the arrows and his bow. He needed to get out the walls for a while, get some air without everyone around. He'd go tell Rick he was gonna go hunting. That way he was helping at the same time and not just running.

"I'm not comfortable with you going out alone" Rick told you and you were trying desperately to not sound like a teenager begging to go out on a Saturday night and failing. There was only a couple years difference between you and Rick but now? It very much felt like when you were a teenager and him and Shane would happen to "Show up" wherever you were at.

You glanced over at Michonne who was watching the two of you with a hint of amusement. "Help?" She shook her head "No way. You're practically brother and sister. Not my job to intervene"

You rolled your eyes then turned back to Rick "I survived on my own after the prison fell before I found Daryl, do you really think I can't handle the woods around here? How long did Michonne survive alone? How long did Carol when you banished her from the prison? C'mon Rick, please?"

He tilted his head slightly, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Fine. Find someone to go with for my sake. I know you're capable but if you get a deer you can't carry it back on your own, can you?" You nodded "Thank you!" You grinned at Michonne and stooped to plant a kiss on Judith's head before rushing out the door.

You walked towards the gate and spotted Glenn on the guard tower and waved. "You heading out?" You nodded "Rick cleared it. He said I could go hunt" Glenn looked sceptical "On your own?"

Of course Rick didn't say you could go on your own but you hadn't found anyone to go with you. Carl was spending time with Enid, Maggie wasn't in the shape, you couldn't find Abraham and you were sure if Rosita or Tara was up to go hunting and Sasha had night guard duty so she was sleeping.

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

Before you could open your mouth to respond you heard Rick's voice behind you "Wait up" you turned on your heel to see Rick and Daryl walking towards you and Glenn. Daryl wouldn't make eye contact with you but you'd gotten used to that.

"Yeah?" You asked Rick so he motioned to Daryl "Carol said you struck out on everyone you asked to go with you and Daryl was headed out anyway. You two have always worked good together so I figured that solves both problems"

You weren't going to get into this now, not with Rick and Glenn here and not in broad daylight with anyone else nearby as an audience so you just cut your eyes at Daryl "Good with you Dixon?" He nodded "Fine by me" you looked back at Rick "Wish us luck. Hopefully we'll come back dragging a deer or two"

Rick smiled and patted your shoulder then looked at Daryl "Stay safe and keep her safe" "Yeah man, always" Daryl muttered as the gate slid open and you quickly walked out forcing him to half jog to catch up with you before you reached the patch of woods just outside the gates that would lead the two of you deeper into the surrounding area and hopefully onto some tracks so silence would be forced.

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

Yours and Daryl's footsteps were near silent as you moved in tandem through the woods. The last few years of hunting side by side had built a routine and familiarity that even the recently acquired distance between the two of you couldn't change.

You could feel his eyes on you every now and then but chose to ignore it. He hadn't wanted to come out here with you any more than you'd wanted to come out here with him. You had an idea that Carol had masterminded the whole thing in an attempt to force you two to be in the same area for more than a few minutes.

A twig cracking made both of you spin around, bows raised only to be met with one stray walker stumbling through the bush. You groaned in frustration, hoping it'd been a deer for a quick hunt as Daryl shot it. He cut his eyes at you "you good?" You half laughed "Be better if we found a damn deer for some meat"

He nodded before snatching his arrow out the walker and cleaning it off on the bandana he had in his hip pocket "Takes longer than thirty minutes" you knew that but you could feel how tense he was every time he looked at you. You rotated your neck in a tight circle then motioned to the woods in front of you "Well we're wasting daylight. Let's get on it"

You and Daryl hadn't traded more than five words past that but you did get two does. Daryl carried the heaviest of the two back so you heaved the lightest across your shoulders and followed his careful footsteps back the way you'd came. The pace you were going you should manage to be able to get back and dress the deer before the sun set good.

You could see the walls of Alexandria just up ahead and laughed when you heard Abraham's voice boom out "Well look what the cat dragged in. Dixon and Walsh done got us some Venison" you shook your head and followed Daryl into the gate. The two of you headed for the back of the food storage area where it'd been set up to strip animals after hunting trips.

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

Daryl barely glanced at you as the two of you worked to dress the deer, separating the meat. The skin and even some of the bones could be used as well. You were focusing on your task at hand, wiping the sweat off your forehead with your arm to avoid smearing blood on yourself.

You'd gotten pretty good at all this. He could remember when he'd had to teach you where to cut and how to pull the skin off to not ruin it. You cut your eyes up at him and smiled slightly but that was all it took for that flood of guilt to wash over him.

---------

Daryl felt his heart drop when he saw one of the claimers, Kilan with his hand buried in your hair, the barrel of his gun digging into your temple. You were still fighting, that was something he'd always loved about you. You refused to roll over and die.

You'd hadn't seen him yet but he knew these assholes rules so before anyone could speak he made sure his voice carried over them all "She's claimed" every one of the claimers eyes turned towards him and he saw the moment his voice hit your ears because your shoulders released just a little.

Joe nodded to Kilan and he released you causing you to stumble. The group stepped back and you practically dove into his arms. "Daryl! You're alive!" He'd never had anyone so damn happy to see him still breathing. He held you close to his chest "I'm alright darlin. Are you ok?" You nodded, glancing back at Kilan "Except for losing a handful of hair to the asshole over there"

Kilan took a step towards you but Joe stopped him with a hand on his chest before smiling wickedly "Well damn Dixon, introduce us" you turned to face the claimers, tucking yourself as close as you could to his side without inhibiting a draw of his bow. "Leave her be man" Joe tsk tsked "If she's claimed then claim her" Daryl felt his stomach drop at the look in Joe's eyes. Every claimer's hand inched toward their weapon. The two of you were outmanned and outgunned.

He shook his head before clearing his throat "I got this Y/N. Why don't you go shower?" You glanced up from the deer you'd just finished dressing "I'm damn near done" he shrugged "Yeah but I can finish up" you stared at him for a second before slowly nodding "Ok"

You wiped your hands on your pants then held out your knife "Sharpen this, please?" He nodded "yeah" and took it, careful to not touch your skin.

You found yourself on the porch of Carol's house. It was late so you didn't want to risk waking Judith by going to Rick's. After you'd showered you came out to Carl giving you your knife and saying Daryl had tasked him with returning it.

Even when everyone had eaten together he'd put Abraham, Rosita, Sasha and Glenn between the two of you. You didn't want to wake Carol if she was asleep so you just sat down close to the door and leaned back against the house. The night air had a slight chill but the jacket you now had was plenty of enough to block from the chill.

Rosita had braided your hair for you so that wasn't even a bother. You closed your eyes, listening to the sounds of the night until the door clicked and you opened them to see Carol looking down at you "Wanna come in?" She asked and you shook your head. She nodded "in that case, let me get you some tea and I'll come out"

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

You sat on the steps, looking up at the stars and sipping whatever tea concoction Carol had brewed up. It was pretty good,had a slight honey and vanilla taste. She'd also insisted on you wrapping a blanket around your shoulders.

After a few minutes she bumped your knee lightly "He won't talk to me, do you want to? Or need to?" You let out a breath that shook on the end "A lot happened Carol. A lot of bad shit"

She slipped an arm around your shoulders and whispered "You didn't judge me for Lizzie sweetheart. I'm not judging for anything but I love you and I love Daryl. You two care about each other so much, you have for so long and it hurts seeing the distance between you two"

You took a deep breath then nodded "Did Rick ever tell you about the claimers?" "The ones who attacked him, Michonne and Carl?" She asked and you nodded. You went silent for a few breaths so she turned to look at you "Honey. What happened?" You could feel tears working to break free "I was alone after the prison. I was running from a herd, trying to stay ahead of it. I fell and wasn't paying attention, I should've been paying attention.."

"Don't" she warned lightly and you gave her a watery smile before continuing "some guy grabbed me by the hair, shoved a gun in my face and announced well look what we got here boys" she connected the dots fairly easily "The claimers" her voice was low and you nodded "Daryl was with them. He spoke first said I was claimed?"

She gave you a questioning look so you shrugged "It was their rules. If one of them claimed something that was supposed to be the end of it but their leader Joe was bored apparently..." she squeezed your hand "you don't have to tell me if you aren't comfortable" you turned to face her "I can't keep it in my head any longer Carol" she nodded "Ok. I understand then"

You took another deep breath "He told Daryl to introduce me. Daryl asked him to just leave me be and I guess that pissed him off because then he told Daryl if I was claimed to claim me"

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

You hadn't realized you were crying until Carol pulled you over onto her "What did they do to you two?" She asked but you just shook your head. "I had to cross lines with her I never would've. Lines she'd never gave me permission to cross and lines that if we ever would've crossed shouldn't have been with eyes and guns on us" you heard and pulled back from Carol to see Daryl standing there, watching you with a worried expression.

Carol looked from you to him "Do you two want me here for this or do you need to do this alone?" You wiped your eyes and swallowed hard before finding your voice "Alone" she smiled and rubbed your arm "I'll be inside if you need me" she stood and patted Daryl's arm before heading inside.

"I'm sorry" he sounded so damn broken. "Daryl, you're not to blame" you'd wanted to tell him this for so long but the same day they'd found you they'd found Rick and Michonne. You and him were planning to leave but had to stay because a feeling had told you those sick fucks were after Rick.

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

You stood up and he took a step back to give room between the two of you. You crossed your arms, suddenly feeling a lot colder than the night "They didn't make you do everything at least" you wanted to offer comfort but his face twisted in disgust "They made me do enough. I should've fought them. I never should've been with them. I should've..." you cut him off "Yeah and if you would've fought them and they would've killed you? Then it would've them holding me down and taking turns on me!" You felt tears slid down your face as you faced him, weeks of frustration spilling over.

"I should've kept you safe" his voice was just above a whisper. "You did everything you could to keep me safe Daryl. Joe had a gun to your head. It was your lips on mine or his. Your hands on my breasts or his. Even then you shielded my body from their view as much as you could and I nodded that it was ok because that was how we could stay alive"

He shook his head "I still touched you without you wanting me like that. You should hate me. You got every right to" you reached out for his hand and he flinched slightly but didn't move away "Listen to me Daryl. I don't hate you, nor do i blame me. You kept me alive and you kept me out their hands. We saved Carl from getting raped by them. We killed them. You're just as much a victim as I am but I need you back. I've had you at my side for too long. I can't do this damn thing without you"

"I'd never hurt you for nothing" he spoke and it broke your heart hearing his voice crack. You nodded "I know Daryl" you used his hand you were still holding to pull him towards you and instead of resisting he let you pull him into a hug, fitting himself around you.

You buried your face in his chest, letting the emotions you'd been burying since the fall of the prison hit you fully. You felt moisture hitting your head and realized Daryl was crying but didn't say anything, he needed to get it out too.

After a while the two of you pulled back and you smiled up at him "I missed you" he half laughed "I missed you sweetheart"

"How did you manage that?" Rick asked Carol as the two of them watched you and Daryl walking towards the gate, bows thrown over your shoulders talking and laughing.

"They just needed a little help finding their way past the bad shit back to each other" she replied with a smile.

[linkemon]

Confession headcanons

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Other headcanons from this series can be found here.

Part 1 | Part 2 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Rook Hunt, Riddle Rosehearts and Floyd Leech.

Rook Hunt

• Even if you weren't fully aware of Rook's love for you, its signs would catch up with you faster than his arrow. Mainly because Hunt doesn't hide his feelings towards anyone. His love for beautiful things is widely known. What can be more beautiful than love? It might be difficult to distinguish his usual delight from this feeling. Because Rook has been singing paeans to you basically from the very beginning of your acquaintance.

• You would definitely feel valued around him. He sees your advantages but at the same time loves your flaws. Do you bump into things? You don't want to study? Did you cause mischief with Ace and Deuce? He thinks it's a charming display of unpredictability, which makes him like you even more.

• You would have to come to terms with his stalker tendencies. If you knew how much he watched you to plan the perfect confession, you'd think twice if you really wanted to be with him...

• Vil doesn't have much patience. He promised himself that if he heard Rook start talking about the sparkle in your eyes again, he would remove him from his position at Pomefiore. The poor boy had no choice but to stop.

• Rook's confession would consist of love letters that would bring you to your knees. Delivered by an arrow, of course. He couldn't send just one. It would take time because he had a large supply of them. Poems about your appearance, interesting facts about yourself that you don't notice or a quick sketch of your face. He kept them all and now he decided to reveal them to you. You would have known after the first letter but it's nice to see the new ones coming after you've already told him that you reciprocate his feelings.

Riddle Rosehearts

• You would be the one to confess your feelings to him before he had the chance to do so. Riddle would have seen something happening to him. His attention would start flying out the window and it would worry him terribly. History of magic lesson with Trein and he didn't write down a few sentences of his notes? Disgraceful behaviour on his part. And all because you had physical education with Vargas outside the window near him. You were laughing loudly at something and he could almost imagine the sound.

• He wouldn't be able to understand that he was in love. His mother didn't talk to him about such things, so although he understood in theory that people were together, he had no practice in this area because she always locked him at home. Trey would gently suggest this possibility to him but he would hotly deny his words.

• You would have to take matters into your own hands. You'd realize pretty quickly that Rosehearts reciprocated your feelings. After all, no one else escapes his spell as easily as you. In front of no one, his cheeks glow as scarlet as the Queen of Hearts' dress. At unbirthday parties, he serves you first and you are always welcome in his dorm, even if he was busy studying. Knowing his character would let you know that you had to take the first step.

• You would scrape the thaumarks you had saved especially for such occasions. For once the rules of the Queen of Hearts would be useful. A bouquet of freshly cut red roses, of course in an odd number, clearly suggested a declaration of love. Riddle, versed in complex laws, would have understood immediately when you handed it to him. You would be answered by the redness in his cheeks and the silence, after which he would say that he needed to think about it. Don't worry, it wouldn't take him long. He would just have to get used to this new thought.

Floyd Leech

• Confessing your feelings for Floyd would be as strange as your entire relationship. One day he would just say you were his girlfriend. Just like that. You wouldn't take it to heart because the guy is always saying very random things, one third of which are jokes, one third are lies and the rest are true. You assumed it was another joke and that's it.

• It would piss you off when he got between you and a freshman you went to class with and talked to. He would put his head on your shoulder and tell him to get lost because he wanted to talk to his girlfriend. You would grumble under your breath and follow Floyd, not taking his words seriously.

• That was until one time at the Mostro Lounge, his brother asked if you were going to go home with them because it would be nice for their parents to meet you. You would look at him as if he had grown an extra tentacle. In your head you weren't even a couple. Meanwhile, Floyd allegedly talked about it at virtually any occasion. You would go to him right away to explain it.

• Floyd wouldn't be moved by his favourite shrimpy yelling at him. After your tirade, he would ask how you wanted him to confess his feelings to you, completely unfazed. Whatever you say, he will do it. Do you want to put him to some test this way? No problem. For him, it might even be a confession made on the moon. His cleverness is not decoration. When he really cares about something (or someone), he will get it sooner or later.

• Ne, shrimpy... you better have the sweetest kiss in the world for his hardships. Once Floyd sticks to you, you won't get rid of him easily...