#its about how. even when things have been taken away. they still have each other

[tillysketch]

Songbird in a Cage

Spawn Astarion x Female! Reader Oneshot (4k)

Summary: You've been thrown in jail, and its there that you meet a dear old friend of yours. This first part can stand alone, but the second will be 18+ fair warning.

@clericblood and I have been going insane in our dm's over writing ideas, and this one we just went nuts over. Here is their fic! :) Hope you enjoy both!

Part Two

Things are only getting worse each day in Baldur’s Gate. People are disappearing. Murders in broad daylight. Enver Gortash suspiciously rising to power, and his Steel Watch becoming a menace to society. You’ve even heard rumors of a mind flayer or two being seen in the sewers, and in the old windmill outside of town. People are becoming restless, and even trying to flee the city, but most choose to ignore it all.

Not you. 

You’ve always had a knack for music. You’ve been playing songs in the winding streets of the Gate for years. You even still perform at the Elfsong Tavern some nights. You decide to turn to the peoples’ ear with sweet unsuspecting melodies about the corruption and dangers happening beneath their noses. At first, it seemed to be working. The right people are noticing, and word is spreading about the odd goings on. And, you’ve been able to make a bit of coin in doing so. The Elfsong and its patrons have always been good to you. 

Now, there’s talk in the streets about a small band of adventurers that have caused quite a stir. Among them, a pale man with white hair who killed a clown at the circus in Rivington. Some people say it was a provoked attack, some say he lashed out after a bad joke on his own behalf… But when the fighting was over, some claim the body of the clown had transformed into a grotesque monster. You have to giggle to yourself about the whole thing. 

It stirs a memory of an old friend you had years and years ago. Another man who also had white hair, and too had a hatred for clowns. You’d teased him about it mercilessly back then. Even  dressed up as one, makeup and all, just to get a rise out of him one night. How he screamed and how you laughed, clutching your sides after jumping around a corner and spooking him half to death. 

That was over two hundred years ago, and you couldn’t believe it had been so long since you’d last seen your friend… He’d died tragically, too young. He’d been practicing law, and was murdered, you always suspected, by a mob he’d been at trial with but there was never any final pinned cause. 

He always came to the Elfsong on nights you were performing, said your voice was like a siren song luring him there. He’d drink, listen to you sing, and try to forget about the mountains of paperwork waiting for him back at his office. You were both so young, and naive; gods how you missed him, even now. 

This troupe, however, is gaining attention, and you are thoroughly intrigued. You start to sing songs about the group, calling them the Heroes of The Gate, here to save the city from the rising horrors.

‘These heroes though fearless be

Must also be cunning and witty

Though their actions bring some glee

Others find them quite shitty’ 

“Eh… could be better. I’ll work on it later.” You tuck your small notebook away in your coat pocket, and walk home from the park. You always did your best writing there. 

It’s only a few days of your little performances in the square when the Flaming Fist gets word of your little musings and performances, and you’re abruptly taken to Wyrm Rock Prison- quite a harsh punishment for someone just singing songs…

———

“What am I even in for? You can’t do this, I’ve done nothing wrong!” You demand, as your shackles are let loose, and you’re thrown into a damp stone-wall cell. The only light comes from the torches lining the edges of the cell block, but even with the small bit of glow, you can see illuminated beady eyes staring back at you from the edges of the darkness. 

Oh gods, you shiver. Rats. 

“That’s what they all say… ‘Let me out, I’m innocent!’ Or, ‘please I’ve got a family!’ But I know your type, troublemaker. You’re trying to cause unrest amongst our citizens.”

“I was just singing songs! You have no grounds to keep me here!” You plead through the bars, gripping them with both hands, if only you could pry them apart. 

“Tell that to the Archduke Gortash- the order to put you in here came directly from him. Now, shut it! Or I’ll cut out your little tongue, see how well you sing after that.” The guard snarls and turns on his heel. 

‘How the hells did my songs reach him? I must be more famous than I thought… Though, I should have made a fair bit more coin if that was the case.’

Alone, you retreat back into the far corner of your cell. Curling your knees up to your chest, you rest your head and softly hum to yourself to try and calm your racing thoughts. Surely you won’t be in here for long… right? That’s what you tell yourself anyway. You try to block out the sounds of small scurrying feet and hushed squeaking. 

———

The loud clanging of metal on metal wakes you with a start. Your mind scrambling as your heart jumps in your chest, pounding painfully against your ribs. 

“Meal time.” Through a small gap on the floor, one of the guards pushes a plate of bread and a cup of water towards you. 

Food… Your stomach twists and you leap towards the plate, snatching the bread and chewing greedily. It’s impossible to tell how long you’ve been down here- there’s no sunlight to indicate the passing of time. They give you water every couple of hours, but measly scraps of food- once a day. Maybe… when they remember. 

“Please, sir, what day is it? How long have I been down here?” You beg the guard.

“You’ve been here for five days. You have another twenty-five before you can leave,” he leans on the bars and gives you a look. “but, I could always arrange for you to be let out earlier, on account of good behavior.” He gives you a greasy sort of smile and a wink. He looks like he hasn’t seen a bath in weeks. Smells it too.

You’re not desperate enough to have any sort of ‘arrangements’ with a man that smells like he fucks mud covered pigs and likes it. 

“I’ll take my twenty-five days, thanks.” You sneer.

———

At every meal, (can you even call a simple roll of bread a meal?) you ask the guard what day it is. 

And on day thirteen, you hear them bringing another prisoner down into the depths. You feel your stomach drop and your neck grows hot and slick. What if they put that person in here with you? What if they’re a murderer? What if they’re a lunatic and they try to hurt you? You silently pray that they stay the hell away from you. 

You busy yourself with humming a tune from your childhood, and you feed a few of the rats some crumbs you’d saved from your last ‘meal’. Though terrified of them at first, they’ve grown to be your only friends down here. One even brought you three hair pins, like it was trying to thank you in its own rat way. Sweet little thing. 

Whoever is joining you down here is putting up quite the fight. Feet scraping against the stone floor, voices shouting, and a slew of curses exchanging between it all. They throw him into the cell across from yours, and you try not to be nosy by staring. But gods help you, you were never one for subtlety. Even with your elven eyes, the dark down here is unforgiving. That, and because of your lack of sleep and other basic needs, you can barely see into the other end of the cell. It’s a man, definitely. You only heard men shouting at one another when they brought him in.

When the two guards finally shove him in and lock his own gate, you turn your head and ignore them, hoping they forget you’re here and don’t bother you. At least for a while. That filthy flirtatious guard has come to you twice more since the first time, each time smelling more foul and rancid. Really, does he have something against bathing? 

A few minutes after the guards have left the man to rot down here, your eyes wander across the way, just to try and sneak a look at your new ‘housemate’. 

“What are you staring at?” His voice growls, making you jump a little. 

“Sorry… I’ve been alone down here for nearly a fortnight. The guards and rats aren’t much for company or conversation.”

“I see.” He sighs. “How long?”

“What?”

“How long do you have to be down here?”

“A month.”

“You’re halfway, you’ll be fine.” He snorts, dismissing your agony and loneliness with a wave of his hand. You can barely see his face, but not enough to make out any distinguishable features. His eyes though, they’re almost glowing in this awful dim. 

“How long do you have?” You ask softly. 

“Five years, but I suspect I’ll be out much sooner, should my friends actually gather the brains to help me.” 

A long moment passes by before you try to fill the awful silence permeating the air. 

“There’s rats down here by the way. They’re mostly harmless but I’d be wary and sleep with your shoes on. Had one nibble my toe the first night I slept.” You offer, in the hopes of making more conversation.

“Hah! This isn’t my first time being locked up with only rats for company.” He scoffs, and you almost think you recognize something in his voice. Like a memory of a dream- foggy but still… there. 

“Frequent prison cells do you?” 

“In a way…” 

Well that’s awfully vague. 

“What are you in for anyway?” He asks. 

You clear your throat before boldly telling him, “Singing…”

He barks out a short laugh. “…Singing? Come off it.”

“Well, that’s not the full extent but that’s what it comes down to.”

“A songbird in a cage…” He teases, and again there’s a flicker of something you recognize. 

“What were you singing about, little bird?”

“I, uh, I was singing about the times. The unrest, the Steel Watch, Gortash- I was trying to get the truth out, without getting into trouble.” 

“And that worked out very well for you, didn’t it?” His reply drips with sarcasm. 

“What about you? What are you in for?” You ask. 

“I threatened a few people, illegally snuck into the city with my companions, and I killed a clown.”

“I heard about that, that was you?” 

“I see my fame precedes me. Yes, that was me.” He chuckles dryly. Gods, why does his laugh sound so familiar? “So, you’re a performer, then?”

“Yes. I sing at the Elfsong some nights, if you’ve ever been there. I’d recommend it, if you haven’t.”

“Mm. I know it, it’s a uh, old haunt of mine.” 

The guard comes back and gives you your second ration of water for the day. A small silver cup with enough water to just wet your throat, and not a drop more, and hells- how you ached for more. 

Hours pass, and boredom burrows deep into your skull. You fiddle with the laces on your boots, tying and untying different knots over, and over again. As you do so, you hum to yourself, faintly, so as not to disturb your new neighbor. 

“I know that song…” His voice echoes across the way. “It’s an old elven tune from the Heartlands.”

“It is. You have quite the ear.” You remark, looking up.

“Will you sing it for me?” He asks softly. Never one to shy away from a crowd, you clear your throat and sing out loud the words.

‘For even in death will I find you,

I’ll kiss your cheek and sigh,

Had time been kinder to us,

I would have never said goodbye

You danced in the grass,

I sat under a tree,

You took my hand, 

and said dance with me

How I wish to dance with you now,

And hold you close to me,

I’d never let you go,

If only, if only’

Your voice echoes off the stone walls, and only the slow drip of water is your applause. 

“Sorry, my voice is a bit rusty-”

“Come into the light, please..” He urges, softly desperate.

You look across to his cell. There he stands against the bars, his face pressed between them. The man you fell in love with over two hundred years ago. The same white mop of curls, the same devastatingly beautiful face you could never forget. His eyes searching for you in the darkness.

“Astarion?” Your heart leaps to your throat. 

Your legs move before you do, standing and propelling you to your own cell bars. You press against them and stare out. 

It is him. 

Have you gone mad? Are you dreaming?

“It’s you…” He breathes. 

“H-how? You’re dead! You died!” Your eyes prick with tears and your throat closes up. How can this be happening?

“I did..” He replies sheepishly. 

“But then how-?” Surely this can’t be real.. Can it?

“I… I fear that might take some explaining.”

“Well, it’s not like we’re going anywhere…” 

————

He tells you everything, starting from the very beginning, when your lives were torn apart so abruptly. How he was beaten, left to die in the streets. He was on his way home after watching you perform. You had a few hours left in your set at the Elfsong, and needed the money from performing. You’d told him to hurry on ahead and you’d meet him at his townhome. 

He recounts how he’d forgotten to kiss you goodbye that night, and he’d regretted it every night since. Centuries had passed, and the fact he didn’t kiss you goodbye, that has stuck around in his skull like a blood stain on a white shirt. Your heart shatters hearing him speak about how he’d met his demise. It’s like he’s died all over again… 

He takes small pauses to swallow, steadying his voice; when he continues, he tells you about how he was turned, how he was kept in Cazador Szarr’s estate, locked up and beaten, and kept alive by feeding on rats of all things. It takes every ounce of courage he has to tell you about the people he lured back, but his voice reveals the pain he’s carried all this time. The shame, the guilt, the utter self loathing. The hatred he carries for himself and his master. 

Stretching your arm out from between the bars, you reach for him and he immediately does the same. Your fingertips brush against one another, just enough to feel his cool touch. 

He’s real. This is all real.

He lets his arm fall and you stare at one another. The silence between you two saying more than words could at the moment. Gods, how your heart aches to hold him, to kiss his face and feel his arms wrapped around you again. 

“Why didn’t you ever come find me after you were turned?” Your voice quivers, and heat burns your eyes as you try to keep your own emotions in check. 

“I was so afraid that I would hurt you. I… I didn’t want to find anyone from my life before. I was dead to you all, and I thought that was better than coming back as a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” You choke, a tear spilling down your cheek. “I missed you so much…” You whisper, the tears now threatening to drown you. 

“I… I missed you too. Every single day, I’ve missed you.” His own voice is soft, but still dry. “There isn’t much I remember from my mortal years, but you… I remember how I loved you.”

“Can I ask you something?”  

“I’m sure you have many questions. So, yes, go ahead.” He smiles softly. 

“How come we never crossed paths over the last two hundred years? I mean, I never left the city. And if you’ve been here, well, and in the Szarr estate... Surely, we would have seen each other just once?”

“I kept to the shadows, and the seedier places of the Gate. Being a spawn, I couldn’t go out in the sunlight. Though, now with my tadpole, that has changed-” 

“Wait, tadpole?” You ask puzzled. 

“Oh, yes. I didn’t get to that bit. You believe me with everything I’ve explained thus far, yes?” He asks with a snarky grin. 

“I do. Why is this next part just utterly insane?”

“Well... Yes, actually.” He replies. “About five months ago I was captured by mind flayers and infected with an illithid parasite- a tadpole. This has interrupted the connection between myself and Cazador, and has broken some of the vampire rules for me. For the first time in so long, I am living. Truly living.”

“It's true then- the illithid invasion is real.. Hah! Wait- how have you not grown tentacles yet and become a squidface?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it all. 

“One of my friends, another person that was captured, she has a prism that has been protecting us all from changing.” He explains his entire journey here, through the Emerald Grove and the Goblin camp. Then the Underdark, going through the Shar temple, fighting against shadows and an Orthon. Shadowlands, Rethwin Town, the Harpers... All of it. Up until arriving in the Gate and being thrown in jail. It takes hours, but you don’t care in the least. Hearing him, his voice again. You could listen to him read out of one of his old law school textbooks, and you wouldn’t care about the boredom. 

“We need to get you out of here then, if you really are going to save Faerun.” You smile at him, and sigh, “Any ideas of how we can do so?”

He sighs in reply, and he looks up, contemplating an escape plan. “If I had something small, I could pick the lock. But-” he looks around his small cell. “I have nothing. Anything over there, darling?”

“Would a hair pin work?” You ask, sliding the few pins from your hair, allowing your bun to fall out and drop around your shoulders. You pass them through the bars to him,his log fingers just barely able to snag it from your own. 

“Yes, that’s perfect.” He takes it and puts it in his pocket. “I’ll start after the guard comes by next.”

“Makes sense... How did you learn how to pick locks anyway?” 

“When you’re locked in chains as frequently as I have been, you learn by necessity.” He retorts. “I’ve been doing all of the talking. What have you been getting up to all these long years?”

“Oh, nothing exciting. I still perform at the Elfsong most nights, and in the square too. I live in my own house, I have a cat. I’ve actually had twelve cats over the last two hundred years...” 

“Twelve??” He laughs. “Any other loved ones in your life, or are they all pets?” 

“If what you’re asking is ‘do I have anyone else in my life’ the answer is no, not as of late.” You snark with a half smile and raised brow. Though so much has changed for both of you, it feels so good to be talking to him again; instead of talking to his headstone and pretending he could hear you. 

“That truly baffles me. How has no one swept you off your feet and smuggled off with you away from all of this?”

“Oh, others tried but I never really clicked with anyone over the years.” You reply casually. It’s a half truth. You certainly have loved many other people since you and Astarion were together, and you almost married one of them. But, something inside your heart never let go of him. You could call it sentimentality or hells, even puppy love, but you truly never did find someone else that understood you and loved you the way he did. 

“But, what about you? Did you ever find true love?” You ask and you hate yourself for even doing so, but you hate waiting for his answer even more.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. I had many ‘lovers’ but even calling them that is too generous. Dalliance is probably more accurate.”

“I see..” You nod, a bit of relief filling your heart. 

“How often do the guards come by?” He asks, trying to look down the corridor. 

“Not too often, when they remember anyway. But, what do we do if we can actually escape? We can’t-”

“Done.” He pushes on his gate and it swings open, and he immediately sets to work on your side. Your heart races in your chest as you watch his nimble fingers push and fidget with the lock. Standing just on the other side of the bars, you catch the faintest hint of citrus and herbs. He still has that same smell to him, and now your heart races for different reasons entirely. Memories and old feelings come rushing back to the surface, bubbling and spilling over the sides like a pot of water left on the stovetop. When your own door finally opens with a screech, your heart drops to your stomach. 

“Shit, that was too loud!” You panic. Astarion grabs you by the arms, pulling you from your cell. He twists one of the gold bands from his fingers and places it on your own index finger. 

“This is an enchanted ring, it has an invisibility spell in it, it doesn’t last very long, so I need you to stay right by my side, and don’t make a noise.” He holds your hands so delicately and you nod your understanding. “That’s my girl.” He gives you that same wicked grin you had once fallen in love with, only now it’s much sharper you notice. He moves your thumb over the ring and makes you squeeze it against your finger, instantly making your hand vanish before your eyes. You look down at where your feet should be, and there’s nothing. Astarion follows suit and dissolves into the air. You feel his cold hand pull you to his side and you shuffle on tiptoe down the hall, careful as to not make a single noise. It's not a particularly wide corridor, and when the guard passes you, Astarion pushes you against the wall, and presses his own body to yours, so as to give the other man a wide berth to walk around the two of you. 

This is so weird... I can feel his breath on my face, but he’s just gone.

The second the guard passes the two of you, he snakes his arm around your back and continues to usher you out of the prison. Past two snoozing guards and around the ajar front gate, softly padding up the steps, and then finally out into the warm afternoon sun. He doesn’t stop though, not till you two are hidden away in a side alley near the Flophouse. You feel him guide you to the back of the small building, and push you against the wall. You let out a sigh as the spell wears off seconds before his own does. 

His face is much closer to your own than you would have expected, so much so that you’re sharing the same air as you try to catch your breath. The two of you can’t stay here though, you’re still far too close to the prison, and surely they will come after you any moment now. That doesn’t stop you from letting your eyes drink in his face. He’s still just as handsome as you remembered him to be. But there’s dark circles under his now crimson eyes, and his face no longer holds the lively pink it used to. Despite the circumstance, you can’t help thinking about his lips, and how much you want to kiss him. 

“We need to keep moving.” You murmur, inches away from his face looking down at you. 

“Always the sensible one.” He grins. He clears his throat and steps away from you. “Sorry, I forgot myself for a second there. But you’re right we, uh, we should keep moving.”

“We can hide out at my house for the night, and then we’ll figure out how to get you reunited with your friends.” You smile at him. 

“Lead the way, darling.”

Borders by @thecutestgrotto

Thanks for reading! - Tilly <3

[randomfoggytiger]

The X-Files: Did Mulder Want Scully to Leave in Requiem?

(Excerpt from a larger meta post.)

Mulder and Scully have an important-- albeit ambiguous-- discussion in his Bellefleur motel room. Quoting from this transcript:

MULDER: It's not worth it, Scully.

SCULLY: What?

MULDER: I want you to go home.

SCULLY: Oh, Mulder, I'm going to be fine.

MULDER: No, I've been thinking about it. Looking at you tonight, holding that baby... knowing everything that's been taken away from you. A chance for motherhood and your health and that baby. I think that... I don't know, maybe they're right.

SCULLY: Who's right?

MULDER: The FBI. Maybe what they say is true, though for all the wrong reasons. It's the personal costs that are too high.

MULDER: There's so much more you need to do with your life. There's so much more than this.

MULDER: There has to be an end, Scully.

In Requiem's script, Mulder's concerns are highlighted clearly and Scully's reactions are more physically engaged and questioning:

There's important interplay here. Scully and Mulder are both concerned about her health; and, while the script writes that she downplays her struggles-- only to internalize them later-- the episode amplifies Scully's anxiety: when he puts forward the idea that she's suffered enough, she doesn't outright disagree. Further, they both have no idea what she's suffering from-- "Why is this happening to me?"-- and fear it's connected to her former abductions. When Billy Miles disappears, Mulder packs up and takes them home, effectively abandoning the case with barely any notice: Scully's safety, he is proving, trumps the files-- trumps his own wishes and fears and needs.

all things resolved what had been brewing in Scully's heart since Never Again-- a fear and frustration she succinctly repackaged in her pointed Biogenesis question: "Mulder... look, after all you've done, after all you've uncovered-- a conspiracy of men doing human experiments, men who are all now dead-- you exposed their secrets. I mean, you've won. What more could you possibly hope to do or to find?" Scully made her peace: the x-files was still Mulder's passion and pursuit; and she chose to stay the course because she wanted a life with him. She was-- they were-- content.

...But. There's always a 'but'. The basement isn't end game for either Mulder or Scully-- not really. Chris Carter to this day maintains he has a vision of their final moment on-screen-- a vision he tries to bring to fruition but can't fully realize due to his aspirations (to be discussed below)-- of them together, victorious. Mulder was meant to find his closure (post here), Scully was meant to find her voice (post here), and they were meant to find the Truth in each other and leave the world to chase its own tail in futility. As Frank Spotnitz famously declared,

"You can't get the truth. You can't. There's a larger truth, though: that you can't harness the forces of the cosmos, but you may find somebody else. You may find another human being. That may be kind of corny and all of that, but that's really it: Love is the only truth we can hope to know, as human beings."

Circling back to the original topic: what did Mulder mean in Bellefleur? Did he mean Scully and he should leave together? Did he mean they needed a healthier work-life balance? Did he mean to go it alone from now on in order to keep his partner safe? Had he wanted Scully to simply verbalize her own thoughts? Had he even reached a substantial conclusion?

Tom Kessenich makes some good points in his book EXaminations:

"The Pilot:" To look at how this relationship has evolved, we obviously have to go back to where it all began. ...I believe the scene in Mulder's hotel room in Oregon is the one that truly laid the foundation for this relationship. Not only are we given insight into Mulder's quest, but Scully is enthralled as well. She (and we the viewer) can feel Mulder's passion for his beliefs, and the intensity with which he relays the mission he is on is seductive. In fact, you could say Scully is seduced by Mulder's words and the powerful way Mulder intently describes his past, present and where he believes his future is headed. In that instant, Scully is hooked. And so are we.

"Fight the Future:" ...Scully is wracked with self-doubt, questioning her place alongside Mulder, convinced she is yet another obstacle in his dogged pursuit of the truth. Mulder's response is crucial. For the first time, he extends the nature of their relationship beyond the aspect of trust. When he tells her that she has made him a whole person, he is pulling Scully inside him, filling the gaping hole created the night his sister was abducted, the night Mulder lost a part of himself as well. Mulder can't go on without Scully because she has become as essential as "the truth" had always been. The elusive truth was the fuel that drove Mulder's quest. But Scully had now provided the soul he needed to not only persevere, but to survive.

"Requiem:" Much of this episode is about looking to the future while feeling the past nipping at Mulder and Scully's heels. From an FBI audit which threatens the future of The X-Files to, more importantly, the progression of the Mulder-Scully relationship, it's clear a new chapter is being written. Mulder seems resolved to move to another place in his life. He wants something more for Scully, something more for himself and his growing relationship with Scully symbolizes the change in his life. He is prepared to move forward, but before he can, he believes he must put an end to the past that had driven him for so long. The irony of Mulder's abduction is that it came at the precise moment in his life when he no longer needed it or was driven to embrace it. His "quest" no longer sustained him entirely.

Requiem, then, was the final gasp of their old existence.

I believe Mulder senses something is changing-- the same sense that led him to predict "A change for us, it's coming" in Tooms. This same sense alerts him to the FBI's looming intent to close the files and leads him back to Oregon seven years later.

Where I differ from Tom: I don't believe Mulder was ready to let go. He is dispirited after the audit, knowing the Powers That Be are looking for a way to shut him (and Scully) down. The phone call from Bellefleur perks him back up because it was proof there is still work to be done. That hope morphs into regret when he sees Scully cuddling a baby-- the truth is a never-ending line that will swallow them whole, he realizes-- then fear when Scully becomes ill at the motel; then terrified resolve when she collapses in the forest.

As Mulder said in Fight the Future, "They call me Spooky. Spooky Mulder, whose sister was abducted by aliens when he was just a kid and who now chases after little green men with a badge and a gun, shouting to the heavens or to anyone who will listen that the fix is in, that the sky is falling...." Two years later, no one listened-- still, there are aliens conniving and scheming as he howls at the moon. But FTF taught him he can't do "this" without Scully-- that he'd rather she "go be a doctor" than live in a world without her.

I believe his fears in Fight the Future are the same in Requiem: that Mulder thinks Scully should "go be a doctor" for her sake yet doesn't want to lose her, or the connection of their partnership, either. I believe Mulder is still struggling to let go of the files, even after his sister's closure-- and that he ignores multiple signs to let the truth be and live his life on this planet with Scully (and their unknown baby.) I believe that struggle lures him into the jaws of captivity and face-first into the darkness of death. And, I believe, he has to learn to let go after his resurrection: not because he's afraid to reenter life (Three Words, post here), not because he's forced out (Vienen), and not because he's turning away from his true nature to avoid the pain of losing that connection (Alone.)

CONCLUSION

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[conflictedkismet]

agent 8 and a sanitized octoling. they used to be friends but now have vague familiarity in place of memories.

[mssalo]

after hours

Joel Miller has been yours for a month now, and while things between you are steady, Jackson’s demands have kept you too busy for his liking. Missing you fiercely, Joel decides to pick you up after a late night, only for his mood to sour when Paul monopolizes your time. What starts as a simple check-in turns into something much more when Joel finally gets you alone or well... the other way around.

Warnings: MDNI, 18+, Sub!Joel, Dom!fem!reader, explicit sexual content, oral (m! and f! receiving), throat fucking, Joel nearly getting rimmed (not quite yet, though - we getting there), Joel kissing your feet for a sec, jealousy (hello, Paul), office sex kinda, praise kink, Joel being a desperate, needy mess, - and soft emotional moments because I'm nice

This can be read as a standalone but officially its part two of ma'am.

7k. Enjoy!

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The sun had long since set, casting Jackson in a blanket of cool twilight. Joel sat at the small kitchen table in his house, staring down at the unlit candle sitting in front of him.

He turned it slowly between his rough fingers, the faint scent of something warm and sweet drifting up to him- something that reminded him of you.

He’d found it earlier on patrol, tucked away in an abandoned cabin, and the moment the smell hit him, you’d been all he could think about.

The softness of it, the quiet comfort - it was you to him. He wasn’t sure why he picked it up, not at first.

Gifts weren’t exactly something he knew how to give anymore, and hell, he didn’t even know if it was too early for something like this. A month together wasn’t long, but for Joel, it felt like something impossible.

You had slipped into his life like sunlight, warm and steady, breaking through cracks he didn’t know were there. In just a month, you’d pulled him out of a place he thought he’d never leave, and it scared him sometimes - how much he cared. How much he wanted to hold onto you.

But lately, Jackson had taken up so much of your time. You still saw each other - quiet dinners, soft conversations, and kisses stolen in the fading light of day but that’s all there had been.

Between long shifts, late nights, and endless meetings, you’d been stretched thin, and Joel could see it. He didn’t resent you for it - how could he? You were the heart of this place, keeping everything and everyone steady. It was just…

He missed you.

And tonight, when the clock struck well past 11, and you still hadn’t come home, something in him stirred. Joel wasn’t the type to chase someone down, but tonight, he couldn’t just sit in the quiet house anymore.

With a deep sigh, he grabbed his jacket, stuffing the candle carefully into his pocket. The cold air bit at his skin as he stepped out onto the gravel path, boots crunching softly as he made his way toward the main building where he knew you’d still be.

As he climbed the stairs and spotted the warm light glowing from beneath your office door, he felt some of the tension ease in his chest.

You were safe. Good. But then he heard it—soft voices, yours and another man’s - Paul.

Joel paused just outside, his jaw clenching. He didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but something about it—about how Paul’s voice carried that too-familiar tone, how your own voice stayed calm and professional - made his teeth grind.

Paul. Joel knew exactly who he was, young, good-looking, dependable. Always where you were, always taking up your time. Joel resented him for it. Not because he didn’t trust you, but because he was damn sure Paul wanted you - how could he not? Hell, Joel figured everyone did.

You were strong, beautiful, impossible to ignore.

And Joel? He still didn’t quite know how he’d gotten lucky enough to have you, and it ate at him, hearing Paul’s voice when he wanted to see and talk to you so badly himself.

His brow furrowed, and he stopped just outside the slightly ajar door.

“- appreciate the update, Paul,” you were saying, your voice calm and professional. “We’ll make adjustments to the roster tomorrow morning.”

“Of course,” Paul replied, his tone polite but with a hint of familiarity that set Joel’s teeth on edge.

Joel peeked through the crack in the door and felt his chest tighten.

You were leaning partially against your desk, your posture relaxed but commanding, your sleeves pushed up to your elbows as you gestured toward a stack of papers in front of you.

The soft lamplight illuminated your face, highlighting the curve of your jaw, the way your blouse clung just right.

You looked… god, you looked so fucking good.

Too good.

Joel’s jaw worked as he stepped into the doorway, his hand gripping the frame. He didn’t say anything, just stood there, his presence heavy and awkward.

You glanced up at him, your brow furrowing slightly in confusion. “Joel?”

He shifted on his feet, his gaze flicking between you and Paul, unsure of what to say. His fists clenched at his sides, and he suddenly felt out of place, like he was intruding.

Paul turned to look at him as well, his expression polite but curious. “Evening, Joel,” he said with a nod.

Joel gave a tight nod in return, his lips pressing into a thin line as he struggled to think of something to say. But his gaze kept drifting back to you - your relaxed posture, the slight smirk tugging at your lips as you studied him.

You tilted your head, your eyes narrowing slightly as you read the situation.

“I think we can wrap up for tonight, Paul,” you said smoothly, your voice taking on a sharper edge. “We’ll revisit this tomorrow.”

Paul blinked, glancing between the two of you before nodding. “Sure. Have a good night.”

You waited until Paul had gathered his things and stepped out of the office before turning your full attention to Joel. Crossing your arms, you leaned back against the desk, one brow arched as you studied him.

“Well?” you said, your tone light but teasing. “What’s on your mind, Miller?”

Joel shuffled his feet, his eyes darting to the floor. “Didn’t mean to interrupt,” he muttered, his voice gruff. “Just… you were workin’ late. Wanted to check on you.”

Your lips curved into a slow smile, and you pushed off the desk, stepping toward him. “And here I thought you were giving Paul the stink eye,” you teased, stopping just in front of him.

Joel’s ears burned, and his hand came up to rub the back of his neck. “Wasn’t givin’ him anythin’,” he mumbled, his gaze stubbornly avoiding yours.

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed, tilting your head as you watched him squirm. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Joel’s voice was quiet, thick with a mix of concern and something deeper. “You shouldn’t work so late,” he said, his dark eyes locking onto yours for just a moment before darting away again. “It ain’t good for you.”

You tilted your head slightly, your lips curving into a soft smile. “Baby, I’m alright,” you reassured him, your voice gentle. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

But Joel’s jaw tightened, and his shoulders remained stiff. His hand came up to rub the back of his neck, a clear sign he was holding something back.

You stepped closer, reaching up to cradle his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing over his scruffy cheeks. “Hey,” you murmured, leaning in until your forehead almost touched his. “I mean it. I’m okay. You can breathe, you know.”

He exhaled shakily, his eyes fluttering closed as he leaned into your touch. “Just… can’t help it,” he admitted, his voice rough and low. “You do too much. Somebody’s gotta make sure you take care of yourself.”

Your smile softened, and you pressed a brief, chaste kiss to his forehead. “You’re sweet,” you said, your tone teasing but warm. “But I’ve got this, Joel. I promise.”

With that, you turned back to the desk, leaning slightly as you reached for a stack of papers you’d been organizing before Joel arrived.

Your blouse shifted as you moved, the fabric pulling taut across your back and revealing a hint of the smooth skin at your waist. You pushed up your sleeves absentmindedly, as you flipped through the papers with a focused efficiency that had Joel rooted in place.

Joel tried to focus on your words, on the way you calmly explained whatever you’d been discussing with Paul before he barged in, but his mind betrayed him.

His eyes trailed over the curve of your back, the dip of your waist, the way your pants hugged your hips. His pulse quickened, heat creeping up his neck as he imagined you sitting back on that desk, your legs spread as you guided his head between them.

Fuck.

Joel clenched his jaw, his fists curling at his sides as he tried to shove the thought away, but it was no use.

The image was too vivid—the taste of you, the sound of your breathy moans, the way you’d hold his hair as he worshipped you. He could practically feel the pressure of your thighs around his head, your voice low and commanding as you told him to keep going, good boy.

“Joel?”

Your voice jolted him from his spiraling thoughts, and his head snapped up. You were looking over your shoulder, one eyebrow raised, your lips tugged into a curious smirk. “You okay over there?”

He cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away. “Yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough. “Just… thinkin’.”

“Uh-huh,” you replied, turning fully to face him now.

You leaned back against the desk, crossing your arms over your chest, and Joel’s eyes—completely against his will—dropped for a fraction of a second before snapping back up. Your smirk deepened, and Joel’s ears burned.

“You sure about that?” you teased, tilting your head. “Because it seems like your thoughts might be wandering.”

“I—” Joel started, but the words caught in his throat.

He looked away, his hands twitching at his sides as he fought to regain control. But the way you leaned against the desk, your confidence radiating in every movement, was doing things to him he couldn’t stop.

You watched him for a moment, your eyes narrowing slightly, your smirk softening into something more thoughtful.

Then, you straightened, uncrossing your arms and stepping closer. “Joel,” you said softly, your voice dropping just enough to make his heart skip. “What’s really on your mind?”

His breath hitched as you closed the distance between you, your fingers brushing lightly over his forearm.

He wanted to answer, but the words tangled in his throat, his mind still clouded with the image of you, the way you’d look under him—no, above him.

You tilted your head, studying him like you could see right through him, and your lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. “I see,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement.

Joel’s mouth opened, then closed again. He shook his head quickly, his ears burning, but you didn’t let him squirm away this time.

You stepped even closer, your fingers trailing up to rest lightly against his chest. “Come on, baby,” you murmured, your voice soft but teasing. “You can tell me.”

Joel’s throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, his eyes darting to yours, then away again. “It’s… I just—” He stopped, his hands clenching at his sides as he let out a frustrated sigh. “You make it impossible to think, y’know that?”

Your smile widened, your head tilting as you regarded him.

“Oh?” you said, your tone light but edged with something darker, something that made Joel’s stomach flip. “And what exactly are you thinking about?”

Joel hesitated, his gaze flicking to the desk behind you for just a second before he looked away again, his jaw tightening. But it was enough. Your eyes sparkled with realization, and you leaned in, your voice dropping to a near whisper.

“Thinking about me on that desk, baby?” you murmured, your lips curving into a sly smile. “Thinking about how good it’d feel to put that mouth of yours to work?”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, his pupils blown wide. “I—fuck,” he rasped, his voice breaking

Your smirk deepened, and you reached up to brush your fingers through his hair, your nails grazing his scalp. “Go on, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like velvet. “Say it.”

Joel’s breath hitched, his entire body going taut as he stared at you, pupils blown wide, lips parted like he was caught mid-thought.

“I—fuck,” he rasped, voice cracking under the weight of whatever was bubbling inside him.

You smirked, tilting your head, and let your fingers glide into his hair, nails lightly grazing his scalp.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands twitching at his sides. “You’re so fuckin’ sexy,” he finally admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush.

“All day, I’ve been thinkin’ ‘bout you—‘bout gettin’ my mouth on you. Feelin’ your thighs against my face, your taste on my tongue. Can’t stop.” His voice dropped into a low growl, his breath uneven.

“Can’t even fuckin’ think straight when you’re standin’ there lookin’ like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in your eyes. “Didn’t I take care of you this morning, sweet one?”

His jaw flexed, and he groaned softly, his eyes dropping to your lips, then trailing over your body with an intensity that made your stomach clench.

“It wasn’t enough,” he muttered, voice desperate. “It’s never enough. You ruin me, darlin’. I just… I need you.”

You leaned back against the desk, arms crossed casually over your chest, and his eyes followed the movement, locking onto the subtle shift of your body.

“Take my pants off, Joel,” you said, your voice calm but firm, like it was the simplest request in the world.

Joel’s breath hitched again, his fingers already moving before he could fully process your words.

“Yes, ma’am,” he whispered, his voice trembling as he stepped closer. His hands were unsteady, reverent, as they found the waistband of your pants, hesitating for just a moment before undoing the button and sliding the zipper down.

The air between you crackled as he knelt in front of you, his hands gently tugging your pants down over your hips.

His lips parted, and you heard the faintest gasp as your panties came into view, a darkened spot already visible where your arousal soaked through.

“Goddamn,” Joel muttered, his voice low and wrecked, his hands gripping your thighs. “You’re—fuck, you’re perfect. Don’t even know what you do to me.”

You smirked, leaning forward slightly, one hand brushing through his hair. “I know exactly what I do to you, baby,” you murmured. “That’s why you’re on your knees for me, isn’t it?”

Joel tugged the rest of your pants free, his movements quick and deliberate, pausing only to slide your shoes off and set them aside.

The moment your legs were bare, he hesitated, his eyes darting down to your feet before he leaned in suddenly, pressing his lips to the top of one foot.

The soft, warm press of his mouth sent a shiver through you, and you let out a startled laugh, tilting your head as you looked down at him. “Joel,” you said, your voice low with curiosity and amusement. “What are you doing?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, his lips traveled over the arch of your foot, slow and reverent, and when he finally spoke, his voice was thick and trembling.

“Can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful. Every part of you—” His tongue flicked out briefly, dragging along the delicate curve of your ankle. “—drives me fuckin’ crazy.”

Your breath caught as his hands slid up to cradle your calves, his lips brushing against the arch of your other foot.

“Joel,” you murmured, your voice soft but edged with heat. “Are you a feet-guy now?”

His head snapped up, his cheeks flushed, but his eyes were dark with pure, unfiltered want.

“I’m a you guy,” he rasped, his voice rough and uneven. “I’d worship every inch of you if you let me, ma’am.”

The sincerity and desperation in his voice made heat pool low in your belly, and you smirked, brushing your fingers through his hair. “Every inch, huh?” you teased, your tone sultry. “Guess I should let you, then.”

His lips parted as he stared up at you, his chest heaving like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. “Please,” he whispered, the single word dripping with need as his hands gripped your legs tighter. “Let me.”

Joel didn’t hesitate when you gave him a soft nod, your smirk still firmly in place.

His hands slid slowly down your thighs, reverent and careful, like you might vanish if he wasn’t gentle.

Joels lips parted as he lowered his head, brushing a slow, deliberate kiss against your knee before trailing lower, his breath warm and shaky against your skin.

“Go on, baby,” you murmured, your fingers threading through his hair as you tilted your head, watching him with a lazy sort of dominance. “Show me how much you mean it.”

Joel groaned softly, his hands trembling as they gripped your thighs tighter. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to the inside of your thigh, the heat of his lips sending a shiver up your spine.

His nose brushed against your skin as he moved closer, inhaling deeply like he couldn’t get enough of you.

“Fuck,” he breathed, his voice barely audible. “Smell so good. Always do.”

Your smirk deepened, and you gave his hair a soft tug, guiding him closer to where you wanted him.

“You’ve got a smart mouth when it comes to saying all the right things, Joel,” you teased, your voice dropping to a whisper. “Now, put it to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Joel rasped, his voice trembling. He didn’t waste another second, his lips brushing against the damp fabric of your panties.

The first touch made him groan, the sound desperate and guttural as he pressed his face closer, his nose nudging against your clit.

You gasped softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. “That’s it, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm and encouraging. “Yeah, just like that.”

Joel’s tongue flicked out, dragging along the wet patch that had already formed against the thin fabric.

He moaned as the taste of you hit his tongue, and the vibrations of the sound sent a sharp jolt of heat through your core.

His lips latched onto you through your panties, sucking softly as his nose pressed harder against your clit, grinding into you with every movement.

“You’re such a good boy, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk. “Look at you, so desperate to please. Bet you’ve been thinking about this all day.”

He whimpered, his hands sliding up to grip your hips as he buried his face deeper against you.

“Every day,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Think about it every damn day. Wanna taste you, wanna make you feel so good.”

You smiled, the sound low and indulgent as you gave his hair another tug. “Then take them off, baby,” you whispered, your tone commanding but patient. “Show me how much you want it.”

Joel’s hands shook as he hooked his fingers under the waistband of your panties, his lips brushing against your hip as he slid them down your legs.

He didn’t even bother to move them completely out of the way, his attention entirely on the sight of you bared before him. His breath hitched, and he licked his lips, his eyes dark and filled with reverence.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice wrecked.

You chuckled softly, leaning back against the desk and letting your thighs fall open a little wider.

Joel groaned, his hands sliding up your thighs as he leaned in, his lips parting to drag his tongue slowly through your folds.

The first taste always made him moan so loudly you couldn’t help but smile, and his tongue worked with desperate precision, lapping at your entrance before moving up to flick over your clit.

“Fuck, Joel,” you breathed, your nails grazing against his scalp. “You’re so eager, baby. So good at this.”

He whimpered against you, his tongue pressing harder against your clit before wrapping his lips around it, sucking gently.

His nose brushed against you with every movement, the friction sending jolts of pleasure through your body as he lost himself in you.

“Keep going, baby,” you whispered, your tone calm but firm.

Joel moaned again, his hands gripping your thighs tighter as his tongue worked faster, licking and sucking like a man possessed.

He was all-in, his desperation and devotion pouring into every movement, every sound, every shuddering breath.

Joel pulled back briefly, his face slick with your arousal, his breaths heavy and uneven. His thick fingers slid up your inner thighs, his touch featherlight, reverent, like he was handling something holy.

He reached your folds, his large fingers spreading your pussy lips apart, exposing your swollen, glistening clit to his dark, hungry gaze.

“Christ,” Joel muttered, his voice low and trembling as he stared.

His fingers gently held you open, and for a moment, all he could do was look - memorizing the way you glistened, the way your cunt clenched with anticipation.

His mouth opened slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips as he bit down softly on the plush skin of your inner thigh, making you jolt.

“Joel,” you warned, your voice thick with arousal. “Don’t just look.”

Slowly, he leaned in to take your throbbing clit into his mouth again. - But then, under his breath, he grumbled,"Bet that asshole Paul ain't ever seen somethin' this fuckin' pretty."

Your brows furrowed immediately, the heat between you both briefly eclipsed by confusion. "Paul?" you snapped, your grip tightening in his hair, pulling his head back roughly.

Joel winced but didn't dare meet your eyes, his cheeks flushed as his lips glistened from where he'd already tasted you.

"You're jealous?" you demanded, a mix of amusement and annoyance in your tone, though there was something undeniably sultry in the way you said it.

Joel stammered, shaking his head, though his guilty expression betrayed him. "I just- he don't deserve to be 'round you like that."

You blinked, momentarily surprised by his audacity.

Then, something wicked curled in your chest, and your smirk returned as you leaned forward, your fingers threading into his hair to tug him to his feet.

Joel stumbled up, flustered, his face red as you pushed him back against the table with a force that knocked the breath out of him.

"You're jealous of Paul," you said again, quieter now, voice dripping with mock disdain as you stepped closer, your hips brushing against his.

Joel swallowed hard, his hands gripping the edge of the table for balance as you caged him in, your body pressing against his like he had nowhere to go.

His lips parting to reply, but no sound came out. His eyes darted to yours, wide and needy as you leaned in close, your lips ghosting over his ear.

"Would I touch Paul like this, Joel?" you murmured, your voice low and teasing as your hand slid down to press against the thick bulge straining in his pants.

Joel let out a strangled whimper, his hips jerking forward instinctively at the contact.

"Answer me," you commanded softly, your fingers tracing the outline of his cock through the fabric, applying just enough pressure to make him groan. "Would he be this hard for me?"

"Fuck-no," Joel choked out, his voice wrecked and trembling. His knuckles turned white where he gripped the table, his whole body tense beneath your touch. "Ain't no one else gets this. Just me. Please - always me, ma'am."

"That's what I thought," you whispered, a smug smile curving your lips as you slowly unbuttoned his pants.

Joel's chest rose and fell in sharp, shaky breaths as he watched your every move, his gaze dark and glassy with need.

"You think Paul could ever handle me the way you do?" you continued, teasing the waistband of his boxers now, your fingers brushing the bare skin of his hips. "Think he'd know how to please me like you do, baby?"

Joel shook his head desperately, his voice barely a whisper as he rasped, "No, ma'am.Never."

"Good boy," you purred, leaning back just enough to look him in the eye.

Joel's hips bucked forward slightly, his cock throbbing beneath your touch, but you stilled him with a firm press of your hand.

"You really think l'd let anyone else have me like this?" you murmured, your tone low and commanding. "You think I'd let anyone but you eat my cunt in this office?"

Joel whimpered, his eyes squeezing shut for a moment as he let out a shaky, broken sound that shot straight to your core.

"Please," he whispered hoarsely. "Please— don't stop."

You smirked, leaning down to press your lips to the corner of his jaw, letting your teeth graze his skin. "You want me to prove it to you, hm, baby?"

Joel nodded frantically, his head falling back as his entire body trembled beneath you.

"Yes," he breathed, his voice raw and needy.

"Please... Show me l'm yours. I'll do anything, ma'am. Anything."

And with that, you sank back down to your knees in front of him, dragging his pants and boxers down in one smooth motion, leaving him bare and vulnerable as you stared up at him, the wicked gleam in your eyes making Joel's cock throb painfully in anticipation.

"Alright, handsome," you whispered darkly, your lips brushing over the sensitive tip of him as Joel let out a desperate groan, his hips jerking forward.

"Be a good boy, and I'll make you feel like the only man in the world."

Joel's head tipped back, his hands scrambling for purchase on the edge of the table as your mouth closed around him, and the only word he could manage was a broken, worshipful, "Fuck."

You kissed along the thick length of his cock, slow and deliberate, dragging your tongue in a wet line up the underside until you reached the sensitive tip.

Joel’s body tensed, and a deep, broken groan tore from his throat as his hips jerked forward, chasing your touch.

“Ma‘am,” he choked out, his voice rough, his knuckles white where he gripped the desk behind him. His chest rose and fell in heavy, uneven breaths, eyes blown wide with need as they met yours.

You smirked wickedly, your lips brushing over his flushed, aching head. “Yeah, baby?” you teased, your voice dripping with dark amusement as you kissed him softly, deliberately avoiding where he wanted you most.

“Looks like you’ve been neglected.” You licked up the shaft again, savoring the way he whimpered, the sound breaking into a low, strangled growl. “But that’s on me, huh? I’ve been so busy…”

Joel’s head tipped back, his throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. “You’re—fuck, you’re what Jackson needs,” he stammered, his voice wrecked and almost pleading. “S’okay. I get it. You—you’re keepin’ us safe.”

His hands shook as he forced himself to look back at you, his eyes glassy with desperation.

“Oh, Joel,” you murmured, your voice like silk as you nipped lightly at the sensitive skin, making him jolt with a sharp inhale.

“Jackson might need me—but I got someone else at home who needs me now too, hm?” You shot him a pointed look, your tongue flicking out to swirl around the tip as Joel let out a wrecked noise that made you clench around nothing.

His breath stuttered, his entire body trembling beneath your touch. “Me,” he rasped, his voice cracking into a whimper, the word soft and desperate as it fell from his lips.

You hummed, lips curling as you dragged your tongue along the sensitive ridge beneath his head before wrapping your mouth around him completely, taking him slow and deep until the tip nudged the back of your throat.

Joel let out a loud, guttural groan, his hips jerking involuntarily as he felt the wet heat of your mouth envelop him completely.

You pulled back just enough to let him slip free, a trail of spit and pre-cum stretching between your lips and his swollen, aching cock.

It twitched violently in the cool air, slick and flushed dark at the tip, thick veins standing out along his length as it oozed a steady bead of milky pre-cum.

Your eyes trailed over it with a wicked glint, drinking in the sight of him—so messy, so utterly ruined—and your lips curled into a slow, smug smile as you lazily pumped him with your slick hand.

The noise it made was filthy, each movement a slow, deliberate glide of your palm over his slicked skin. “Look at you, Joel. You’re already such a mess for me.”

You dragged your thumb over his leaking slit, smearing the pre-cum down the length of him, and his hips bucked sharply, a strangled groan tearing from his throat.

“Christ,” he choked, his head falling back, his jaw slack as his chest heaved. “Darlin’, please - please, I- ”

“Please what?” you teased, your tone light and mocking as you leaned back in, your lips brushing over the tip again, barely there.

Joel’s whole body jolted, and he whimpered—so loudly—as your tongue darted out to swirl around him, gathering the salty slick that had gathered there.

“Wanna fuck my throat, baby?” you murmured darkly, your gaze locked on his as your lips curled into a slow smile.

“Is that what you’re so desperate for? Hm? That big cock of yours buried all the way in, feelin’ me tight around you?”

Joel let out a sound that was somewhere between a groan and a plea, his hands clenching into fists at his sides. “Yes,” he rasped, his voice raw and wrecked. “God, yes, darlin’. I—fuck—please.”

“Then go ahead,” you purred, your hand stroking him with slow, deliberate movements. “Go on, Joel. Take it.”

He froze for half a second, as if the permission short-circuited his brain, before he stepped closer, his hands finally leaving the desk to cradle your jaw.

You let your mouth fall open, your tongue teasing his tip as he slid in, slow and careful, testing the waters. Your eyes stayed locked on his, and you hummed approvingly, encouraging him to move deeper.

“Don’t hold back, baby,” you murmured between breaths, your voice thick with sin. “I can take it.”

Joel groaned, deep and guttural, as he pushed further, the head of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

You swallowed around him, and the sound that ripped from his chest was wrecked, his hips twitching as he fought not to lose control.

Slowly, he rocked forward, fucking into your mouth with careful, shallow thrusts, each movement slick and filthy with spit and pre-cum. You could feel him throbbing, could hear the desperate, broken noises spilling from him every time he hit just right.

“Jesus,” Joel gritted out, his voice low and wrecked as his fingers threaded into your hair, guiding you gently. “Feels so fuckin’ good, ma“am. So fuckin’ perfect—goddamn.”

You let him thrust just a little deeper, taking him until your nose pressed against the dark curls at the base of his cock.

Your throat flexed around him, swallowing him whole, and the growl that tore from his chest was loud and shattered, his control slipping further.

He pulled back, your spit trailing in thick, messy strings along his length, and you let out a satisfied hum as you pulled away completely, your lips wet and slick with him.

But you weren’t done.

Your hands slid up his thighs as you leaned lower, pressing your lips to his balls. Joel’s hips jolted sharply, his legs trembling beneath him as you kissed him softly, your tongue flicking out to trace the sensitive skin.

You smirked against him, releasing him with a wet pop before flattening your tongue and dragging it slowly, teasingly, down the sensitive skin just beneath his balls.

Joel’s whole body jerked, his knees threatening to give out as he let out a choked, desperate shout, his fingers tightening painfully in your hair.

“Yes,” he gasped, the word breaking as it tumbled out of him. “Yes, fuck, yes!” His voice cracked, hoarse and wrecked, as you continued your slow, deliberate path, your tongue barely grazing where he was most sensitive.

The filthy noises spilling from him grew louder, more frantic, his hips twitching uncontrollably as you pushed him further and further over the edge.

“Like that, baby?” you purred, pulling back just enough to whisper against the trembling skin. “Want me to lick even lower, huh? Is that what you want?”

Joel let out something between a sob and a growl, his head snapping back as his mouth fell open, panting for air like a man starved.

His body shook violently, and before he could even get the words out, his release hit - a sharp, shuddering jolt that tore through him like lightning.

“Fuck- oh, ma‘am- fuck!” Joel roared, his hips surging forward as his cock throbbed and pulsed, spurting hot, thick ropes of cum across your face and blouse, the first one hitting so hard you moaned softly at the sheer force of it.

His voice echoed off the walls, a deep, primal sound that he didn’t try to be quiet - didn’t care who heard.

“Shit- oh, darlin’ - fuck, I- ” Joel was lost to it, wrecked and trembling, his hands shaking in your hair as his cock twitched again, more of his release spilling onto your tongue and chin.

You caught as much of it as you could, sucking softly at the head of him as he moaned, loud and shattered, the tension in his body finally breaking.

“Such a good boy for me, Joel,” you murmured softly, your voice thick with satisfaction as you swirled your tongue lazily over his still-pulsing tip, gathering the last drops of him.

His cock was slick and messy now, glistening with cum and your spit, and the sight of him—ruined and trembling, his thighs shaking so hard he could barely stand—made you smirk with pure satisfaction.

Joel’s breath came in ragged gasps as he stared down at you, his face flushed and wrecked, his chest heaving like he’d run for miles.

“Jesus,” he rasped, his voice barely there, as if the words were dragged out of him.

You licked at your lips, smearing a streak of his release off your cheek with your thumb before sliding it into your mouth, sucking softly as you held his gaze.

Joel’s body jerked at the sight, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he couldn’t decide whether to pull you up or drop to his knees.

“Made such a mess, baby,” you teased softly, reaching up to stroke his still-twitching cock, your hand gliding easily over the slick mess coating him.

Joel groaned, his eyes squeezing shut as his hips gave an involuntary jerk at your touch.

“Didn’t even care who heard you, huh?”

Joel let out a low, wrecked sound, his face buried in his arm as he leaned heavily against the desk for support. “Don’t fuckin’ care,” he muttered, his voice muffled and rough. “Let ‘em hear. Let ‘em all know I’m yours.”

You smirked, rising slowly to your feet, your body grazing his as you straightened. Joel’s hands found your waist immediately, his grip still shaky, like he needed to hold on to you or risk collapsing completely.

You leaned in close, your breath warm against his ear as you whispered, low and sweet, “That’s right, baby. You’re mine.”

Joel groaned softly, his head tilting back to meet your gaze, those dark eyes still heavy-lidded, glassy with the remnants of his release.

There was something else there too - something softer, flickering in the depths as he stared at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Always yours,” he rasped, his voice still wrecked but thick with something deeper. “No one else, darlin’. Just you.”

Your smirk softened, your fingers sliding up to trace along the stubble of his jaw before you cupped his face gently in your hands. “Yeah?” you murmured.

Joel’s breath hitched as you tilted your head and kissed him—softly, slowly—your lips molding to his in a kiss that stripped away the desperation and left nothing but warmth.

He sighed into it, his arms wrapping fully around you now, pulling you in close until you were flush against him.

You pulled back just slightly, your forehead resting against his as you whispered, “I’m yours too. Always.”

Joel’s chest heaved, his hands tightening on your waist as his thumb traced slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Okay, baby? No need to give Paul the stinky eye,” you teased softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

Joel’s brows knit together, his face shifting into something defensive but playful as he pulled back just enough to look at you.

“I wasn’t givin’ him the stinky eye,” he grumbled, though the way his jaw twitched betrayed him.

You snorted, unable to help the laugh that bubbled up. “Joel,” you teased, your grin spreading wide.

Joel’s lips twitched, the ghost of a smile threatening to break through, and he huffed softly, shaking his head. “You’re seein’ things, darlin’,” he muttered, but there was no heat behind his words.

You laughed harder, leaning your forehead against his as his low, rough chuckle finally broke free, rumbling deep in his chest.

The sound sent warmth flooding through you, and before you could say another word, his lips found yours again.

This kiss was softer now—easy, lingering, the kind of kiss that said I’m here, and you’re mine.

Joel’s hands slid up your sides, cradling you close as you melted into him, the laughter fading into something softer, something sweeter.

When you finally pulled back, breathless and smiling, you brushed your nose against his. “You were totally giving him the stinky eye,” you murmured, grinning.

Joel chuckled again, shaking his head as he pressed another kiss to your lips—soft, deliberate, and warm. “Maybe,” he murmured against your mouth, his voice low and fond. “Maybe I was.”

Smiling, you brushed your fingers along his jaw, your touch gentle, grounding. “You’re the sexiest and most handsome man I have ever laid my eyes on,” you murmured softly, the sincerity in your voice leaving no room for doubt.

Joel froze for just a moment, his brow furrowing slightly like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. Then, his face softened, his cheeks coloring just a little as his lips curved into a lopsided smile.

“You really think that?” he asked quietly, his voice rough, almost uncertain, as though he didn’t quite believe it.

You laughed softly, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth before pulling back just enough to look him in the eye. “No, Joel. I know that. Don’t go gettin’ all humble on me now.”

Your fingers tangled gently in his hair, your voice a whisper. “No one else could hold a candle to you, Joel Miller. You’ve got no reason to be jealous of anyone.”

He huffed out a small laugh, his hands finding your waist and pulling you closer, like he needed to feel you against him to believe it.

After a minute - you stepped back. “C’mon, handsome,” you teased, your voice soft but playful, “let’s get home, yeah?” You winked at him, your grin infectious.

Joel huffed a soft laugh, his hands still resting on your hips. “Yeah,” he said, his lips quirking into a small, proud smile. “I got somethin’ for you at home. A little somethin’ I found today.”

Your eyes lit up, curiosity sparking as you tugged his hand gently. “Ooh, a present? You’re spoilin’ me, Miller,” you teased, grinning wide.

Joel chuckled, ears red, shaking his head as he let you pull him along.

· · ──𖥸

“A candle?” you breathed, your eyes widening as you turned it over in your hands, the label simple but faintly worn.

The smell of something warm and sweet reached your nose, and you blinked up at Joel, completely caught off guard.

Joel rubbed the back of his neck, his gaze flickering to the floor as a faint pink crept across his cheeks.

“Yeah,” he said, a little awkwardly, his voice low. “Found it while we were out on patrol. Smell reminded me of you… I don’t know, somethin’ soft and warm—real nice. Figured maybe you’d… like it.”

He shifted slightly, his hands fidgeting against his jeans as he added quickly, “I mean, it’s nothin’ fancy. If it’s too much or too soon—”

“Joel,” you interrupted softly, your voice barely above a whisper as you brought the candle closer, inhaling the faint, soothing scent.

Something in your chest tightened, an unexpected warmth spreading through you that made your throat feel thick. It had been so long—years, really—since anyone had given you something just because they thought of you.

Joel paused mid-ramble, his eyes snapping up to meet yours, worry lingering in his expression.

Before he could say anything else, you stepped forward and kissed him—soft, sweet, and lingering.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky, tears threatening to spill as you smiled up at him. “Thank you so much, Joel. You don’t… you don’t know what this means to me.”

Joel’s brows softened, his hands reaching out to cup your face gently, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice warm and low, “you’re welcome, darlin’. I just… I wanted you to have somethin’ nice. Somethin’ that’s yours.”

You smiled, blinking through the tears as you leaned into his touch.

“No one’s given me a gift since I was seventeen,” you admitted softly, a hint of laughter in your voice as you tried to play it off, but Joel’s expression only grew more tender.

“Well, I’m makin’ up for lost time, then,” he said, his voice steady, the corners of his lips twitching into a faint smile.

You let out a soft laugh, pressing your forehead against his, your hand still clutching the candle like it was the most precious thing in the world.

“You’re somethin’ else, Joel Miller,” you whispered, your voice fond and thick with emotion.

Joel chuckled softly, his fingers brushing through your hair. “Yeah, well… you’re worth it.”

· · ───────────𖥸──────────· ··

[misaamoure]

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭:

𝐇𝐞’𝐬 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬… 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭??

⋅ ˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

𝐒𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬:

It was no secret that Sylus’s dexterity was finely tuned.

He always spoke about how if your fingers were more sensitive, you’d have an advantage over your opponent or… something like that? You weren’t really listening.

Sylus didn’t miss how your eyes lit up a bit when you glanced at his hands. He’s teased you about it endlessly.

As much as he loved to mess with you, he also loved giving you exactly what you wanted.

Which is how you both wound up here, in your current position.

“Sylus… oh… my god!” You nearly fell forward onto the table as he delivered a harsh smack to your ass.

“Easy sweetie,” He rubbed his hand over the bruised skin. “I’ve barely even started.”

You two had been sitting together in his dining room when you had stared as his beautiful hands a bit too long.

You broke your gaze away from them, looking up and accidentally catching eyes with him.

“You’re too far away,” he beckoned you closer with his infamous smirk. “Come closer. I don’t bite. Surely the big bad hunter isn’t afraid of me?”

As many times as you’ve blown his stupid proposals off with a, “reverse psychology doesn’t work on me,” it unfortunately did work this one time.

You decided to match his bold disposition. Maybe it’d finally shut him up. Sylus talked too much.

Walking right around the table to where he was sitting; you mustered up your sexiest saunter over to him and sat right in his lap.

“Satisfied?”

“Fuck,” You felt him exhale against you, carefully wrapping his arms around you. “You don’t even know.”

He pulled you into one of the most passionate kisses you’ve ever had.

Then one kiss turned into a make out. And then you two started to grope each other all over, and things got more and more heated.

Running your palm back and forth over the bulge in his black slacks, you bit his neck as you felt him gently push you away as he huffed out a groan.

“Wait,” He grabbed you by your shoulders. “Bend over the table for me, kitten.”

You licked your lips before doing exactly what he said, not daring to break eye contact.

While you were once hesitant to look him in the eye, you now adored being the only one in his gaze.

You see him palming himself through his slacks as he watched you bend over, making you even wetter than you were before.

“Yeah, just like that. Pull your panties to the side.”

You once again did exactly as he said, still looking into his encapsulating red eyes.

Sylus reaches forward and gives you a good spank, making you sensually gasp.

You feel both of his hands on your ass, and then you feel him give you another smack.

“Sylus please...”

He kisses the spot he previously hit.

“Hm?” You hear him chuckle behind you. “Tell me what you want.”

“I wanna know what your fingers would feel like inside me.”

Sylus felt himself be taken aback, something he found himself to be often in your presence.

Everything with you was so new to him.

“What my sweet girl wants,” He kisses the red, sore spot once more. “She will get.”

You felt him dip one of his long fingers into you, finally, making your jaw drop.

“Tell me where it feels good.”

Bending his finger forward, Sylus starts off with slow pumps in and out of you, a feeling that has you struggling to stay still.

“Oh… my god…” You felt a harsh shiver make its way down your spine. “Just like that… feels so good…”

“Yeah?” He starts to pick up the pace, building up a delicious friction inside of you. “Want more?”

“Please!” It had come out louder than you intended, but that was the last thing on your mind at this point.

Wait the door was locked… right?

Just as you were about to deepen what was supposed to be a fleeting thought, you feel your mind nearly melt out of your ears as Sylus smoothly stuck another finger inside you.

Curling both fingers forward, you felt him start to prod around inside you for your gspot.

Everything he was doing to you was turning you into a mess of moans and gasps.

Then he found your gspot.

You felt the tips of his fingers rub against that one spot that made your knees weak.

“There!” You nearly screamed, knees almost giving out under you. “Right there… so good Sylus don’t stop…!”

“Here?” He pressed the spot extra hard, making you gasp loudly once again.

“Yesss yeah right there!”

You heard him laugh once again before feeling his thumb on your clit.

“Sylus… Sylus…”

Eyes screwed shut, you couldn’t stop chanting his name as he sent shockwaves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Keep calling out my name, sweetie.” He felt his cock throbbing painfully in his pants.

But he wouldn’t stop until you were cumming all over his fingers.

And then he’d make you beg to be stuffed full of his dick. Every single inch.

He thought of making you count the inches out loud as he sunk himself into you painfully slow.

This filthy train of thought was quickly derailed by your pussy tightening delightfully around his fingers.

“Sylussss,” He felt you fuck back onto his fingers. “More…”

Not missing a beat, he stuck a third finger inside you and started to rub your clit in tight, quick circles.

You practically screamed out the moan previously caught in your throat.

The entire base had to know what you two were doing by now.

“Oh my god… I think I’m gonna cum!”

Sylus started to move his fingers even faster in and out of your, rubbing right over your gspot with every single thrust.

“Go ahead. I want to see you cum all over my fingers.”

And you did just that.

𝐙𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞:

“Mmm… mmm!”

You moaned against Zayne’s lips as he rubbed your clit with his thumb over the material of your jeans.

Being that he was a surgeon, a top surgeon at that; Zayne’s dexterity was finely honed over the years.

He could hold even the tiniest and thinnest of tools. Get into nooks and crannies that no other could.

And his hands… they were beautiful.

So much skill and devotion captured in every movement.

The silver scars adorning them only made them so much more appealing.

He often caught you staring during your quality time together… times when you were supposed to be finishing up work reports or studying.

“Concentrate.”

“Sorry…”

Ever so often, he loved to indulge you.

Zayne knew just how good he was with his hands. And he’d let you know too.

“I feel bad for impeding your work efficacy,” You could see the ghost of a smile on his face. “No matter. I’m sure I can make it up to you tonight.”

“Zayne…”

He stopped touching you, making you whine at the loss of his touch.

He instead took each of your hands in his, lacing his fingers through yours and pinning your hands on the bed next to your head.

“Tell me what you were thinking about earlier, Y/N.” He didn’t break eye contact as he dipped down to kiss along your neck.

You felt the heat rush to your face at the ticklish sensation.

“I was thinking about…” You turned your head away, not being able to bear the intense eye contact much longer. “Your fingers inside me. And how good it feels.”

“Hm.” You heard the vague amusement in his voice.

Oh, how you had a love hate relationship with this side of him.

“Well, you did finish all your work earlier. That should be rewarded, no?”

Zayne gave a few more kisses to your neck, making you squirm, before sitting up and taking your pants and panties off.

“I never get sick of this sight.” He sighed affectionately.

You felt so exposed under him. But you trusted Zayne more than anyone else. You were safe with him.

Pushing up his glasses, Zayne wasted no time getting to work.

Running his middle finger up and down your slit, he gathered the wetness on his finger before slowly pushing it inside you.

This made your jaw drop. You threw your head back with your eyes screwed shut tightly.

You had been wet all day. You had been waiting for this all day.

"Oh my fucking god Zayne.." You couldn't help but toss and turn at the feeling. His fingers were so long.

You opened your eyes and looked down fleetingly. He felt so deep inside you with just one finger.

“Like that?”

“Yes… please…”

Smoothly adding a second finger into you, he began to make scissoring motions with his two fingers inside you.

Zayne felt his cock throbbing in his pants. But he knew discipline more than anyone else.

He wouldn’t stop until his job was done.

Deepening and intensifying his movements inside you, he watched your facial expressions change and react to his every action.

Going off of this he found the best ways to pleasure you.

“How about a third finger?”

"Yes, yes... please..!" You babbled dumbly as his thrusts sped up.

Doing just as you asked, he carefully added a third finger to the two already inside you.

Fuck, he wished he could give himself even a little bit of relief. Watching you so enthusiastically receive the pleasure he was giving you was turning him on unbearably.

What Zayne really wanted to do was pull his cock out and jerk himself off while still continuing his ministrations on you.

But he wouldn’t allow himself to get distracted. He knew he’d cum in seconds if he were to do that.

Shaking the thoughts from his head, he opted to dip down and give you a quick kiss on the lips instead.

"How about right here?" He asked before reaching down between the two of you to rub circles into your clit.

"Yes!"

He always knew the right spots and how to touch them. He knew you inside and out. No pun intended.

He knew right where your gspot was too.

Slightly twisting his fingers as he pulled them in and out of you, he curled them forward into your gspot with a substantial press every time he passed it.

Your jaw was dropped into a permanent gasp, your hands thinking with a mind of their own as they reached down to grab Zayne’s wrist.

Not even stopping his motions in and out of you, he quickly took both of your hands with his one free and pinned them above your head.

“Oh… Zayne… I can’t take it anymore!”

“I know you can. Do it for me.”

The sound of his voice… what he was saying… what he was doing to you.

It was all too much. Poor you.

"Zayne I'm gonna cum!" You threw your head back on the pillow and gripped as his shoulders harshly.

"Cum for me,” He said breathlessly, watching you with adorably red ears. “So I can fuck you after.”

He grabbed your chin and pulled you into a passionate kiss as he brought you to your climax.

[vxnuslogy]

𐙚 my love, mine all mine.

— some headcanons about certain things the hsr men would do while in a relationship.

— warnings: none

— author's notes: self-indulgent, once again credits to @.cafekitsune for the banners. this is lowkey dedicated to the stellaronhvnters <3

𐙚  AVENTURINE 

would always accompany you on your spontaneous night drives around pier point. before you can even leave your room to drag aventurine to his car, he’s already leaning on your doorframe, his car keys in hand as he flashes you a smile; not the gambler like smile he shows to his enemies but a child-like one filled with uncontained excitement and wonder. 

its half past midnight and your both in your pajamas (he insisted that you both wear matching ones) as he rolls down the roof of his very expensive car to let the wind flow with your hair. your phone connected to the speakers as you blasted your shared playlist. loud enough to satisfy your needs to have a mini carpool karaoke session but quiet enough you won’t disturb any civilians trying to sleep the night away.

aventurine shakes his head in fondness and amusement when you scold him as he skipped a song he didn’t particularly like. the pout on your lips would soon fade as he reached to pull you by the chin and give you a peck on the lips. your nagging turned into panic as you hit him in the arms for not keeping his eyes on the road.

𐙚 VERITAS RATIO

always comes home exhausted. even in his tired and slightly dazed state, he always comes home at exactly 7 pm and each time his arms wouldn’t fail to snake around your waist and his lips press a soft kiss on your neck in greeting.

when you ask about his day, the doctor just grumbles and complains about his students. but you knew deep down he was proud of them after they finally managed to solve this one particular problem he gave them without his help. they’ve been making fast progress, he once stated, making a smile bloom on your face when he checks their papers.

you chuckle under your breath as ratio continues to chatter away about his students' progress. your back flushed into his sturdy chest while arms kept a steady hold of you – tight enough that you could feel his muscles but still be able to move around the kitchen. a melody starts to fall from your lips as you hummed and swayed, and ratio follows with his own humming as you both start a pseudo dance in the middle of making dinner.

𐙚 BOOTHILL

date nights with boothill usually consisted of going bar hopping and hiding away in a dark alley as the IPC passed by. you’ve grown fond of the excitement as your lover drags you out the bar with officers high on your tails. it never fails to rip out an uncharacteristic laugh from you and cherry grin from him.

tonight was a lot tamer than other nights. sitting in a bar counter, a cup of whiskey boothill had asked you to hold while he gets another bounty for the both of you. he knows you wouldn’t take a single sip of his drink, your alcohol tolerance was nonexistent he says making you roll your eyes. your peaceful night was disturbed when a new face popped out from seemingly nowhere, taking the seat your lover once occupied as the man tried to buy you a drink

boothill always had impeccable timing. just as the man was about to take a hold of your – his – glass, a cold arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you back into a firm chest. you try to look up but a familiar hat was instead placed over your eyes as the glass in your hand was taken. the liquid disappeared in a flash as boothill downs it in one go. just to prove his point, he gingerly lifts his hat over your face and press a kiss at the corner of your lips, making it known to the man that you were with him.

𐙚 SUNDAY

not many would believe you if you told them the stories of how easily flustered the head of the oak family. everyone would picture him as a full package gentleman – opening doors for you, pulling back your seat, pressing a kiss to your knuckles, etc. – but what they don’t know is that, in your relationship, the one being worshiped wasn’t you.

without a doubt, you were the one who always opened the door to his office for him, offering to carry his things even if he protested, even going to one knee to tie the laces of his shoes. sunday was always in competition when it came to being a gentleman and he always loses to you every time. and he doesn’t make any effort to make you stop despite his embarrassment; one drag of your knuckles under his eyes when he’s overworked and tired and he’s putty in your hands.

how could he resist your pampering when you always take off his gloves when it's just you two in his office, pressing a delicate kiss to his knuckles and whispering sweet nothings to him. admiring the writing calluses on his right hand as you talk about your day. 

© vxnuslogy 2024. please do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works.

[goldengirliez]

STEALING MIKEY'S KEYS SO HE'S LATE FOR A MEETING>>>>>

09:32 pm

I believe that intimacy is the new kind of pure love. Getting to know someone on a deeper level is something that goes beyond simple attachment, it goes beyond the simple but necessary need of validation.

Being intimate means getting on the same frequency level as a person and communicating effectively with each word, each action, and each stare.

Intimacy isn't something you only find under the sheets until sweat, tears and arousal dampen the mattress. Its true nature lies in between the actions of your everyday life, moments that don't need any kind of particular reason to happen and yet feel special because you are there, you are connected.

You have realised such a thing only briefly as the air is getting in and out of your lungs hectically, your breath coming short and irregular and the adrenaline rushing through your veins full speed with each pump of your vital muscle.

Your legs almost shake and your feet ache slightly, your eyes darting to the person in front of you with an excited and rebellious glimmer, the glint of life.

You've been running away from Mikey for the last ten minutes because you had taken the keys to his motorbike.

He has been spending every evening with Toman recently, not passing by your home to even say goodnight because the meetings always finish late at night.

You know that he always tries his best to make it up to you for the lost time with his ways of bringing your favourite sweets to school, taking you home and around the city with his bike whenever you need to, sending you a sweet message randomly throughout the day to check up on you, never missing the opportunity to hug you, kiss you or keeping you close when you pass by, and yet… You can't help but miss him more than anything.

You tried to talk to him about it but he prefers for you to not get too involved in his gang business: he fears your safety, not wanting hundreds of testosterone-filled guys to get close to his beloved.

You fear nothing when he's by your side but he still turns you down when you ask to come along with him: he has lost too many people he cared about for his good and he has no intention of putting you in danger even the slightest.

This had to change.

That's why you're preventing him from heading to the meeting of Toman until he makes up his mind.

“Y/N! I'm gonna be late, please, give me those darn keys back, goddamnit!!”

His voice spurts out desperately, short puffs of air coming out of his mouth as he tries to catch his breath: you're fast for fuck’s sake!

He is a bit pissed at you for acting this stubborn, sure, but he can't help the wide smile that plasters on his face the more he hears you laugh every time he can't catch you, every time you hide behind his motorbike and fool him by running in the opposite direction, almost tripping on your own feet.

That smile of yours, that light in your eyes is worth every spare minute of his life and the meeting can wait if that means he has the chance to see you this full of energetic playfulness.

You're both in the flowers of your youth and sometimes you forget that due to how harsh life experiences can be. Moments like these make up for the lost time.

As you raise your hand high and shake his keys, making them jingle as you do so, you can't help but feel overpowered by pride: having your super athletic boyfriend, the invincible Mikey whining out to you so he can get what he wants isn't an everyday occurrence (I mean– unless he's begging for sweets or your attention, of course). Maybe you could break him and he would finally let you come along in one of his meetings.

“Begging ain't gonna do shit, you gotta work for it, Mikey!”

Sprinting to the other side of the garden of his house, you can feel him sigh exasperatedly and follow you along as he mutters “If I catch you–" in between a breathy laugh.

The wind feels magical against your skin, the cool breeze of the night after a heated summer day gives you goosebumps and yet you feel hot all over; your blood pressure rising with each stride of your run is what keeps you going, laughing nonstop as you stare up the full moon over your head briefly, savouring such a moment that will surely become a core memory of yours.

As you hide behind his motorbike once again, Mikey stops a few feet away from you, the vehicle is the only thing separating your bodies.

“You’re a menace, y/n!”

You shrug at his words, rotating his keys on the tip of your index finger with a proud expression.

“I guess that dating a delinquent made the trick– eek!”

You can't even finish your sentence as Mikey takes a run-up and easily jumps over his CB250T and lands not so graciously on top of you, making you fall on the grass with a thud. The impact doesn't hurt that much though, not when Mikey put a hand behind your head right on time so you couldn't injure the slightest.

He couldn't resist the urge to bring you down and wipe off your face that shit-eating grin and see that cute pout your peachy lips make every time he catches you by surprise. He's a weak man, bear with him.

Pinning you down on the floor he takes away his keys from your hand and smiles toothly: his rosy cheeks and messy hair shine under the moonlight, his obsidian gems staring into your soul easily make you melt and your initial annoyance turns into an amused laugh. He's your angel, no matter what.

“Sorry, what were you saying about dating a delinquent?”

Rolling your eyes at his statement, your smile slowly fades when he gets off you and brushes some grass away from your shirt with his hand, before kissing the top of your head with the soft petals of his lips.

He was going to leave again and that thought screeches inside your brain. It doesn't sit well with you the fact that he's keeping you detached from a big aspect of his life… There's a strong gut feeling that tells you you shouldn't let it slide, you should insist on being part of this area of his life because, if you don't, something extremely bad will happen in the future.

And Mikey sees right through you, he always does, because he loves you and he is connected to your being in every way for respect and admiration.

He feels the intimate bond you two share, he can almost touch that connection, he can feel the burn of the red string that connects the two of you.

He can feel his bones ache under the weight of letting you drown away from him so sad and helpless and whenever he sees your angelic face darken out of worry and fear for him, for the both of you.

He knew why you took the keys away from him that day and he couldn't help finding it amusing and cute... but believe me when I say he's not blind and recognises the desperate attempt to have yourself near him for longer.

Mikey stands up from the ground and offers you his hand to stand up, his calloused hand brushes against your tender palm and holds in a strong and warm hold that doesn't flatter even when you're finally standing.

Staring down at your feet, your voice comes out in a whisper, a loving but pained one.

“Please, be careful Mik–”

“Hop on.”

Your head snaps up, your eyes searching for his out of confusion and then hope.

The two of you are intimate, you understand each other's worries and can feel them within your organs, you can feel each emotion run through your being and resonate like a magnetic wave from you to him and vice versa.

You two are flames that burn for love, with love: your glint should never flatter, you deserve to feel it alive and vibrating.

Mikey smiles at you as he puts his helmet on top of your head and secures it attentively.

“I'll keep you safe, pinkey promise”.

That's your man to you.

I have had this idea bouncing inside my head for a while now! I've been inspired by this post of the sweet @xsleepinggoodx.

I hope you've enjoyed reading it as much as I loved writing it.

English isn't my first language so I apologise for any mistakes!

Sending y'all hugs. ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ꒰ঌ ♡ ໒꒱ ⊹ ࣪ ˖

©GOLDENGIRLIEZ do not repost or modify on any platform.

[pueckersgirl]

WHEN YOU KNOW, YOU KNOW — Paige Bueckers x Teammate! reader

summary — Paige finally realizing that she fell for her best friend after the win against usc :)

warnings — none, super cute

note — first post, so scared.. literally just thought of this out of nowhereee, send requests tho!!

wc — 1.9k

It’s your senior year at Uconn, your last season and opportunity to win the natty you’ve been chasing since you were a freshman. You’d worked so hard all throughout the season, determined to make it to the NCAA Championship finals.

After the season you’d had so far, things were looking great for the team. Your team worked amazingly together, on and off the court. Especially you and Paige, an unstoppable duo, which was a title you embraced.

It was the Elite Eight, a game that would decide if you made it to the Final Four or not. The game was against USC, a team just as good as your own.

They put up quite the fight, wanting the win just as bad as you. It was a close game, but with only three seconds on the clock and being up by seven, you knew you’d won.

You can hardly hear the buzzer that announces the end of the game, your teammates and Uconn fans already screaming.

You’re not even thinking when your feet automatically carry you towards Paige, throwing yourself into a hug. She’s screaming too, wrapping her arms around you while jumping excitedly.

You’d wanted this so bad, but if there was one person who wanted it more than you, it was her.

Paige has had it rough throughout her years at Uconn. She missed a good bit of her sophomore season after fracturing her tibia, and then missed all over her junior season due to tearing her ACL.

Her ACL recovery journey was not easy, you witnessed it firsthand. It took longer than the usual recovery did, but she never gave up. And this season, she jumped right back in, like she was never injured to begin with.

She was so strong, one of the millions of things you admire about her. In fact, you might have a tiny crush on the girl, who happened to be your best friend.

A tiny crush that she was completely oblivious to.

It wasn’t that you purposefully tried to show it, but you weren’t exactly discreet. The whole team had found out about it, constantly teasing you to no end. Whether it was the way you’d stare at her when she wasn’t paying attention, or the blush that would coat your cheeks when she hugged you an extra long second.

It was obvious to everyone but her. So obvious that fans had noticed and started shipping you with her. You would never tell a soul, but sometimes you’d watch ship edits, cheesing at the clips.

The edits made it look like she almost liked you back. Almost.

Others would agree that she was just as equally infatuated with you, but you couldn’t see that. Neither could Paige honestly.

She’d never taken the time to think about your friendship and how it was basically equivalent to a relationship. No, you guys were never intimate sexually but you were in almost every other way. Hell, you’d been sleeping in each other’s bed for the past six months (something Nika thought was so weird.)

Still, no lines were ever crossed the way you’d honestly hoped. So, you tiptoed on the line between but never said anything as long as she didn’t.

You realize how long you’ve been holding her, growing warm in the face when Ice sends you a look. You pull away, moving to hug the rest of your teammates and join in on the celebration dance Kk started.

You all line up to give your ‘good games’ and pats on the back to USC before returning back to the court. You watch as Paige excitedly jumps, pushing Geno around and can’t help the smile that automatically makes its way on your face.

Some interviewers pull a few players aside, Paige included, leaving you to comfort a crying Nika.

For the sake of pictures, team management passes out your shoot-around shirts to put back on along with a matching cap. You all mingle around the court, waiting for the trophy to be brought out.

To add on to the celebration, confetti was set off, which you immediately start scooping off the floor to throw at Geno.

While Paige is still getting interviewed, she spots you and Geno, smiling at your antics. She doesn’t even realize the trance she’s in until she realized she had missed the question the interviewer asked, who was looking at her with an almost knowing smile.

Paige felt like she was looking at you in a whole new light. The gravitational pull she felt towards you, the need to be close to you. She never realized how much she thought about you, or how you were the first person she looked for in a crowded room. Only now does she realize.

“Uh, what’d you say? My bad, I zoned out,” she apologizes, shaking her head and looking back to the interviewer.

The interviewer repeats her question, watching as her gaze flickers back and forth between her and you. This time though, Paige manages to answer the question before saying her thanks and returning to join the team’s celebration.

Once the trophy is brought out, the team huddles up to take pictures with it.

You sit front and center in the middle, beaming at the camera with the trophy between you and Aaliyah. Nika, who was on the other side of you, moves to make an open space for Paige, who would complain if she wasn’t beside you. To show her appreciation, she gives Nika a side hug, mumbling a small thanks in her ear.

Paige instinctively wraps an arm around your shoulders, causing you to look at her and smile brighter.

Photographer’s stand in front of you, taking photo after photo. You look to the camera, feeling happier than you’d ever been.

Paige looks at the camera, for the most part, at least. Her eyes flicker to you again a few times, but she does her best to be professional.

After the team photos, photographers pull aside individual players for more photos. While you wait your turn, you stand around talking with Azzi and Caroline.

Paige returns from her individual photos, coming up behind you and grabbing your arm. She pulls you towards her, stealing you away from the current conversation you were in.

“Hi?” You say, but it comes out sounding like more of a question. Despite your confusion, you still smile up at her in a way that has her heart racing.

“You got somethin,” she mutters, reaching a hand up to your head. She carefully removes your cap, pulling at a piece of confetti tangled in your hair. “There.”

She holds up the piece of confetti to you, laughing softly. Before you can put your hat on properly, she flips it backwards and places it on your head, laughing even more.

“Paige, c’mon,” you groan, smacking her shoulder playfully. “Put it back!”

“But you look cute,” she protests, still laughing at you. “Okay, fine. Hold on real quick,” she says, pulling out her phone to, what you assumed, post on some social media platform and embarrass you.

“When did you even grab your phone?” You question her, because when did she find the time to retrieve it? She shrugs, smiling mischievously and continuing to unlock her phone.

It didn’t matter that there were plenty of photographers all around, along with cameras recording the interaction. She wanted the picture to herself.

You stare at the camera with an attempt at a blank expression, but with Paige staring at you the way she was, like she was completely and entirely in love with you? You couldn’t help cracking a small smile.

She looks at the picture for a moment, still smiling, which was causing her cheeks to hurt, before tucking her phone in the pocket of her shorts.

You continue to glare at her, waiting for her to fix your hat. She sighs, rolling her eyes before taking the hat off your head again.

This time, she flattens any stray hairs sticking out, wiping at one on your forehead. She places the hat back on your head the way it was originally, patting your cheek teasingly.

“All better, yeah?” She smirks, her gaze shifting down to your lips before back up to your eyes.

You quirk a brow at her, noticing her wandering eyes, telling her without words that you caught her. She doesn’t say anything either, raising her brows in amusement, putting her hands up in fake defense.

Before you can say anything back, you’re being called for your individual photos.

“Be back,” you turn to her, sending a sarcastic smile before turning on your feet. You don’t look back, trying to save yourself from adding to the heat on your face, but you feel her eyes on you.

“The editors are gonna have a field day with this,” Paige turns at the sound of Kk’s voice, rolling her eyes and pushing her away.

“You’re dumb,” she shakes her head, trying to play it all off. The blush on her cheeks said otherwise though.

“What? I’m keepin it real, you got caught lackin!” Kk snickers to herself, stopping when Paige sends her a ‘shut the fuck up’ look.

Finally, after all the photos, the team heads into the locker room. You were obviously tired from the game, but could still feel the adrenaline pumping from the win.

You’re packing up your bag, throwing a hoodie on over your jersey and slipping on your Uggs. The team slowly files out, leaving just you, waiting on Paige.

She decided to shower in the locker room bathroom, which you now realized you should’ve forced her to wait until you were home. You know how long it takes her to shower, yet you still agreed.

“You ready to go?” Paige emerges from the bathroom at least half an hour later. She’s dressed in a hoodie and sweats, drying her hair with a towel.

“Finally,” you sigh, standing from the bench you were sitting on with a stretch. Normally, Paige would have a snarky response, but one never comes. You look at her, confused when she sends a half-assed (and forced) smile. “Something wrong?”

“Listen, I was wondering if we could talk?” She speaks up, sitting down on the bench. You don’t hesitate to sit beside her, reaching for her hand.

“Of course,” you say reassuringly, despite the anxiety spreading throughout you. When she doesn’t say anything after a moment, you turn to her again. “Did I do something?”

“No, I just.. I realized something today and I need to tell you,” she rambles, pausing to lick her lips and finally meet your eye. “I think.. I think I’m in love with you. Not in a friend way, like-“

You don’t let her finish her sentence, using your free hand to grab her jaw and kiss her. She doesn’t kiss back immediately, caught off guard by the sudden action. But when she does realize what’s happening, she’s quick to pull you closer to her.

You kiss her until you’re out of breath, pulling back and panting like you just ran a mile. You’re not sure what to do now, looking up at her sheepishly.

“Don’t get shy on me now,” she breaks a smile, breathless herself.

“Shut up,” you shake your head, feeling the heat creeping up your neck.

“So does this mean..” Paige trails off, suddenly lacking her confidence to finish the sentence. She would hate for all that to have happened just to get rejected.

“Yeah,” you nod your head, standing up from the bench. You hold your hand out for her to take, which she immediately does. “Can we go now?”

“Let’s go home,” she breathes out, slinging her duffel bag over her shoulder.

Just before you leave the locker room, she stops, grabbing your jaw to kiss you a second time.

“What’s that for?” You smile at her, tilting your head curiously.

“Just cause I can do that now,” she shrugs her shoulders, smiling proudly and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

[chenfleur]

melting again

pairing. yang jungwon x y/n ⇝ ft older brother!jake

genre. family by choice au, that one scene from ep 13, fluff, secret relationship

word count. 1.2k

author's note. this drama ended last week and now there is a gaping hole in my chest. i'm trying to get back into writing after a few months and i forgot how hard it is (headinhands) happy december! i hope this month is kind to everyone ♡

masterlist

You’re not exactly sure how long you’ve spent sitting in the fourth floor’s common area, shifting around to find a more comfortable dip in the armchair, uncrossing your legs when the bottom one falls asleep just to cross it over the other. The condensation of your iced coffee dripping down your wrist is a prickly sensation—it demands your attention that, up until now, had been completely focused on burning holes through Yang Jungwon and Jake Sim’s apartment door. 

When the rivulet ends as a small, wet blotch on the sleeve of your blouse, your patience snaps.

There’s a resounding slam of sole against tile as you march up to the door, fingers fumbling with the keypad. “Assholes,” you curse under your breath, impatiently punching in the code you already know by heart. “I reminded them twice yesterday that we’d be having breakfast at Dad’s…”

The door unlocks with a click and a little jingle. Hastily twisting the door handle, you exercise your self-given (and very justified, you’d argue) right to barge into their apartment as if it were your own. 

“Guys!” You slip off your shoes, kicking them to the side. “Where the hell are—”

The obnoxious wave of alcohol that hits your nose makes you stop in your tracks, extinguishing your fuse by forcing you to take in the state of their apartment.

See, your expectations for two twenty-something men living together weren’t high to begin with, but this seemed excessive. The place looks like the morning after a college party, but the fact that you know it was only the two of them last night is what makes it unreasonable.

Random clusters of soju bottles, crumpled beer cans, and half-torn chip bags are strewn all over the place—and there, in all their flushed-face glory, were Jungwon and Jake. Both severely passed out on opposite ends of the couch.

You roll your eyes so hard, they’re practically in the back of your head.

“Jake. Sim. Wake. Up,” you grit out, punctuating each word with a smack to his limp arm. “Seriously, wake up. Did you forget we’re eating with Dad today? Huh?”

Your older brother only groans in his sleep, moving away from your swatting hand and settling back against the couch. There’s a siren in your head urging you to punch him, but you silence it with an irritated sigh.

Then, your eyes fall onto Jungwon. They soften.

Setting your things down, you round the coffee table, kneeling down next to the couch. Your brain is determined to stay annoyed with him for not being ready to leave, but your hand is gentler than you’d hoped for as you shake his shoulder. 

“Jungwon,” you murmur. “Come on, just wake up.”

Not a part of him moves, not even in acknowledgement. A deep sigh leaves your lips as you slowly push yourself up by your knees, about to turn away—but fingers wrap around your wrist, latching on. 

A surprised yelp escapes you as Jungwon tugs you down onto the couch. You fall into place, into the spaces where his body hadn’t already taken up. A sputtered protest is about to leave your lips, one about him being awake the whole time and ignoring you, but it dies on its way out when you feel his arms wrap around your waist. 

Frozen, you blink. It amuses him, based on the way the corners of his lips quirk up ever so slightly. The tip of his nose is cold when it brushes against yours.

“You look pretty,” he mumbles sleepily.

Ten years apart wasn’t enough time for your eyes to learn to handle the sight of Yang Jungwon. They were still so overwhelmed by him—darting everywhere, trying to process his eyes, nose, lips. Trying to process the parts of him that had changed, like his cheeks that are less round than they were when he left for Seoul.

And maybe the fact that the only version of him you remember and truly know is the one from high school—that you had watched him grow up, but not in a way that your insecurity told you actually mattered—is what causes you to fixate on certain things.

Like how his less round cheeks still carry that lingering, rosy tint that you remember. That you try to hold onto.

You strain yourself to harden your gaze. It fails miserably.

“Jungwon, what are you doing?” you whisper urgently. “Jake is right there—”

“He’s asleep,” Jungwon murmurs in response. “Out cold.”

Gaze flitting over to the coffee table, he regards you with a raised brow. “Iced coffee? In winter?”

You glare at him. “What does the temperature of my drinks have to do with the season?”

One of his hands leaves your waist to gently flick your nose, returning to its original post when you open your mouth in protest. “Stupid girl. No wonder you get sick so easily.”

Scoffing, you grumble, “You should go back to Seoul. Piece of shit.” 

You know it’s an empty threat. A miserably thin veil, trying to keep him from looking too closely at the fragment of your heart that physically shakes with fear at the thought of losing him again. Of unknowingly handing him over to a city that doesn’t welcome him. To people who hurt him.

So after the words leave your lips, you curl a little tighter into him. Trying to get his warmth to swallow you and rejuvenate the parts of you that have been aching dully since the day he’d left.

Jungwon watches you through half-lidded eyes the entire time that you’re silent. He carefully takes in the way your fingers grip the fabric of his shirt.

His first instinct is to pry, but he decides that you probably don’t want his first instinct.

“Kiss,” he murmurs instead.

The request catches you off guard, snapping you out of your bleak thoughts. “No,” you purse your lips, trying to push down the small smile that threatens to surface. “No. You’re drunk and you smell.”

“I kiss you when you’re stinky and you won’t do the same?”

“What are you even talking about? I’m never stinky, unlike you right now.”

Jungwon only chuckles, and in the blink of an eye, his lips are on yours in a fleeting kiss. When he pulls away, he’s looking at you again, a pretty smile on his lips at how caught off guard you look.

“You— you can’t just do that—” 

“Says who?” He tilts his head at you with a soft click of his tongue. “Apparently I have a girlfriend who doesn’t know the concept of free will.”

Girlfriend. The idea still makes your head spin. 

You glance over your shoulder to check that Jake is still dead to the world before coming back to Jungwon. “Come on,” you whisper, hand coming up to rest on his hair, twirling a small piece between your fingers. “We’re gonna be late. My dad will get worried and start blowing up my phone again.”

Nodding against the pillow, Jungwon’s cat-like eyes flutter closed again. “Okay.” 

A pause. “Love you.”

Spinning, spinning, spinning.

“Mm,” a coherent part of you manages to hum back. Your lips press a quick, soft kiss to the corner of his eye, not before taking one more precautionary glance at Jake. 

“Love you, Won.”

[zylev-blog]

Danny was pissed. He was chilling in the Speedforce, waiting on his dad—the Flash—to show up when he felt something shift around him. He exited the speedforce to find that the timeline had changed again, and he had been written out of the timeline. He technically was a time anomaly now, and didn’t exist. So he talked to Clockwork, a ghost he’d gotten to know extremely well after Danny’s creation.

Danny was a clone of the Flash and Green Lantern(Hal Jordan) as part of an experiment that Lex Luthor had taken prior to cloning Superboy. Lex had wanted to know if the power ring was able to transmit anything genetically (it couldn’t. It was a wearable weapon, not a genetic thing.) but Danny had inherited Flash’s superspeed, so he wasn’t a complete loss. Danny wasn’t sure if he looked more like either man, considering they both wore masks. He had brown hair and green eyes. Beyond that, he tanned well, was tall for his age, and packed on muscle far easier than the Flash did. He hadn’t ever seen either man out of the costume.

After a talk with Clockwork, he decided he was just going to force his way back into his Dad’s life. Both of them, if possible. He arrived years before his creation by mistake, right near the start of the Justice League. By his estimates, the team had only been formed for a year before he’d arrived. It was strange; he both didn’t exist and was from the future. He guessed that it was around nine years before his birth, and since he was technically six months old, he was 9 years in the past. Thinking about this was going to give him a headache.

The Justice League was severely mistrustful of each other. They didn’t go out of their way for teamups, didn’t have weekly meetings, and almost pretended if the other members didn’t exist. The most recluse of them was Batman, of course. If any hero set foot in Gotham, they were booted out before they even got to downtown. Danny highly suspected Batman had the entire city on camera. The situation was weirding him out more than before. What had happened to the team?! He was used to everyone being one big family, and even the sidekicks having their own teams… speaking of sidekicks, why was Robin so small?! Wait a minute, that wasn’t the third Robin that he was used to, that was the first Robin! Baby Nightwing!

Thankfully for him, he still had his costume on this entire time as he zipped around the country, spying on the younger members of the Justice League. It was surreal watching everyone try to capture him, but he wasn’t going to be caught that easily!

Eventually his presence forced the Justice League into another teamup. Batman laid the trap out, and Flash lured him into it. The plan was so beautiful that he didn’t even realize it was a trap until he was caught in it. Green Lantern took off Danny’s mask, and for the first time, he looked at his fathers without a mask. They didn’t make the connection to him right away. It wasn’t until Wonder Woman’s lasso made its way around his wrist that the truth finally came out.

“Who are you?” Wonder Woman asked.

“Oof , hard question—ow ow oww—I’m being honest!” He struggled against the lasso as it started to burn him. “My designation was Dn-y, I go by Danny, though. I’m a clone.”

“Of who?” Batman demanded.

“Flash and Green Lantern.” The lasso was glowing brightly, indicating that he was telling the truth.

“How did you escape?” Flash asked.

He didn’t answer right away. He was trying to think about how to phrase the whole time traveling—timeline erasure thing when the lasso started to burn him again. “Ow ow! Sorry, I’m thinking! Ow! Turn down the settings on that thing, holy shit—okay, okay.” He winced, his words coming out in one breath as he quickly talked, “What do you know about time travel?”

Diana’s eyebrows were rising. “How are you able to resist the lasso for so long?”

“I’m not really resisting it.” He answered, noting the obvious deflect of his last question, “I just-oww—okay! My mind moves too fast for me to put into words sometimes and it makes me stop to think about it, but like, I’m not good at controlling the speed in which I speak all the time—owww make this thing stop burning me! I’m speaking honestly!”

Diana revoked the lasso, and he rubbed his wrist where his costume was starting to singe. He was still trapped in an anti-speedster prison, so it wasn’t exactly like he was going anywhere anyway.

“Why were you asking about time travel?” Batman asked.

“Based on the crickets chirping I heard earlier, that leads me to believe you guys haven’t had any experience in it yet.” He leaned against the wall of the prison, wincing as it shocked him with electricity. “Seriously? How paranoid are you, Batman?” He rubbed his shoulder. “Honestly, I don’t know what I was expecting with you people, but I feel so attacked right now.”

“So we have experience with it in the future?” Superman piped up.

“Yeah?” His tone of voice equated to a ‘duh’ tone. “Why would I ask what you knew if I wasn’t from the future?”

“How far in the future are you from?” Green Lantern asked.

“Nine years, maybe close to ten? Timelines are weird. I’m technically six months old, but at the same time I’m sixteen. Cloning is odd, but I was like, the first clone ever, so I don’t really have a basis for this sort of thing, if you catch my drift.” He shrugged. He seemed like he talked a lot more than the heroes did, but he didn’t know if that was because he was a chatterbox, or because they weren’t comfortable in each other’s presence. Either way, the silence was odd to him.

“How did you end up here?” Batman asked.

“Honestly? I don’t fully know. Don’t give me that look, Diana! I’m telling the truth.” He added quickly as Diana fingered her lasso again. “All I know is one minute, I’m chilling in the Speedforce, and the next, the timeline is changed and I’m nine years too early for my birth. You’d think the timeline would at least have the decency to spit me out in my own year, but nooo, it wanted to—“

“What’s the Speedforce?” Superman interrupted.

He tilted his head at Superman’s question, then turned to the Flash. “How long have you had your powers?”

Flash shifted uncomfortably. “Two years.”

“Oh boy.” Danny’s green eyes widened. “You don’t know anything about them, do you?”

“I do know things!” Flash deflected, “My suit doesn’t catch on fire anymore! I can run up to Mach 2! I can get from either end of the country in thirty minutes!”

He groaned loudly. “Oh no. Oh no.” He chewed on his thumb, trying to recall everything he’d learned about his powers from his Flash. While he hadn’t learned his or Green Lantern’s identity yet, he knew almost everything about their hero personas and a lot of personal information. They were just worried of the Cadmus connection and didn’t want their identity to fall into the wrong hands if they still could see inside of Danny’s head.

“What’s wrong?” Diana asked.

“Okay.” He ran his hands through his brown hair, making it spike up. “Hypothetically—“ he cut himself off as Batman glared at him. “Okay, totally real, but uh, Flash, let’s just say that I’m faster than you right now. A lot faster.”

“How much?” Flash took a step forward, obviously curious.

“From what we can tell, I’ve topped out at Mach nine.” He responded with a dry laugh, “But your speed was still a lot faster than mine. You’d never tell me what it was. I’m still growing though, and I’m getting faster. I’m able to beat my precious time by almost double each time we test. But my situation was complicated, and things were happening, and it was a mess.”

“Like what?” Superman asked.

“World war three. I think?” He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that he had picked up from Green Lantern, “Things got complicated. That’s why I was going to wait for…” his eyebrows scrunched together as the last piece of the puzzle clicked into place. “It was you!” He turned to Flash. “You!” He jabbed a finger at the speedster. “You set this up! You set ME up!”

The heroes took fighting stances, but Superman took a step forward, blocking them from Danny. “What are you talking about?”

“Okay okay.” He was trying to calm down his anger, but he had been told by Green Lantern in the past that he had inherited the man’s anger issues. “Let me start at the beginning. This is going to be a long story, you might want to take a seat.”

Nobody moved, but everyone was tense.

“Or not. Okay. So my creation starts with Lex Luthor.” He noticed Superman stiffen. “He used me as his trial, if you will. Once he got a successful attempt at cloning—me—he moved onto his real target. Cloning Superman.” Danny’s green eyes hovered onto Superman’s blue ones. “He was successful.”

“What happened?” Superman’s voice was unnaturally quiet.

“Well, at first, Conner wasn’t showing that he had all the powers of Superman. So Lex tossed him aside and tried again. The second attempt was more successful than the first. But cloning Kryptonian dna was hard, I guess.” He shrugged. “The second clone lacked basic emotions. Empathy, remorse… it made him the perfect little weapon for Lex. But eventually, the clone’s anger and Lex’s greed got to a point of no return. Lex was elected President of the United States and uh…you can probably see where this is going, right? While the fighting hadn’t like…’officially’ started,” He used his fingers to create air quotes around the word ‘officially’, “Things were getting tense. See, we couldn’t take the clone down because Lex had wrote out the Kryptonite deficiency out of his weakness. And the clone had all the strength of Superman and none of his remorse…”

Superman looked pale. “I see.”

“So Flash and I came up with a plan.” He turned back to his father, “We were going to travel into the next dimension for help. From what we could tell, that dimension was full of god-like beings, and one of them actually helped me out earlier! But for a lot of them, they ask for a price for their help. But anyway, Flash and I were going to take our case to the King and plead for help. I was waiting for Flash when the timeline reset and I found out that not only did I not exist, but I was nine years too early.”

“What are you going to do now?” Green Lantern asked.

“Dunno,” His voice dropped as the reality hit him. He wasn’t going home—his home didn’t exist anymore.

[hidtired]

Love Burns

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Some way somehow you crawled your way back from death. All to get back into the arms of one man. Daryl and the rest of the group were taking your death hard, your death was gruesome. So your disheveled arrival back to them was unfathomable… (Duel POVs)

6.1k words

Fall felt like winter. In a place made of concrete it was decided something needed to be done before winter truly came. The prison still needed a lot of work but with the new people of Woodbury things were getting done a lot faster. Only thing lacking was supplies. So a team was round up to go to a near hardware warehouse. Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Daryl, You, Carol, Sasha, Tyrese, and a few Ex Woodbury people headed out for as much as they all could carry. It was Hershel who suggested that this was dire because someone could get sick and that was supplies we just couldn’t spare. So… this wasn’t all for nothing. This run was the greater good for the prison. Even if it all went wrong by dusk. Even if it cost your life.

Almost all the cars had been full of things. It was decided to send a few of the new people back to empty their trucks and comeback. The chill was numbing everyone’s hands as they moved things back and forth. A fire was started inside the chain link fence. The U haul parked close to it to blocked the wind. Daryl had taken his bike, the psycho. But you had to admit the leather jacket he now wore looked good on him. You and Daryl, still no label but something was there. If the time spent cuddling him every chance you got inside the cellblock said anything. Always using the excuse you were cold, which wasn’t wrong. You’ve both kissed but that had happened only a few times. The only reason you had both gotten so close was the time spent after the farm fell.

It was decided in your mind after this run you would put all your card on the table. So while you were in the warehouse grabbing future farm tools Daryl walked past you making you turn and speak, “Hey, wanna share what little whiskey I have left when we get back.” Daryl turned a small smirk barely noticeably, he grunted before speaking, “Bring out booze? Must be a special occasion.” You glance away then back to him, gathering courage, “Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” You smiled and walked past him with your head held high mimicking confidence. Little did you know you made the hair on the back of his neck stand and his heart beat just that much faster.

Finally dusk was fast approaching and everyone was gathered around the fire discussing before getting ready to leave. You sat staring into the fire half listening to the chatter of everyone. You had your arms around yourself trying to stop the wind. You were playing out things in your mind to say to Daryl. Trying to develop a way to get your feelings across. Strange how things escalate to life or death. Your peaceful gaze into the now hot coals was interrupted with sounds of gun shots drowned with screams and sounds of the dead marching. It was damn unlucky to have had two herds merge into each other at the warehouse. It was frantic but quick. You had been left to put of the fires. You had waited by the last smoldering one to beat the cold before all of you departed. When the gun fire and screams started you hadn’t thought to look behind you with all the action in front of you.

You heard a thunk before you felt something fall on top of you pulling you to the ground by your legs. You kicked and thrashed killing the walker that snuck up on you. However you noticed a wave of walkers now pulled down a part of the fence with their eyes dead set on you. A few slipping out of through holes in the fence. You unhooked your side arm from its place on your thigh. Pulling the knife you apparently stuck into the walker that jumped you. You look all around you trying to navigate options. But the situation that had originally got your attention also seemed to escalate with another wave of walkers come from every direction. That’s when your awareness made you freeze all together. A pain to your side close to your back. Lifting the layers of your cloths a mark of teeth bleed.

You had been bite.

Ice filled your veins, fear. Your grip tightened on your weapons. You stare as walkers closed the distance. Your name rung in your ears. Daryl scream for your attention, you slowly turned to him. He was a distance away behind a fence with others who seemed to escape the first wave they’d met. Even if you hadn’t been bite to may blocked your way to run into any means of safety. Daryl waved his hands trying beckon you to run to him. He looked like he was going to jump the already bending fence to get to you. Other faces you recognized to be the family you had found yelling in panic along with Daryl’s. You slowly pulled your shirt turning to them. Blood ran down dripping into your pants from the deathly injury. Others seeming to realize what had happened.

“NOOOOOOO!”

The pained yell Daryl had ripped out from himself being followed by the snapping fence falling to the pressure of the herd. Daryl still stood even with the danger coming to him, Rick clearly holding him back with Glenn running over to help drag him away. You smiled at Daryl some tears running down your face, probably the last Daryl will see it as his face disappeared from your sight. You turned around to the herd closer to you. A few walkers had gotten closer to you than you thought. This was your last stand. You fired gunshot after gunshot while managing to kill some with your knife. You tripped on one of the bodys you had put down. You fell expecting to quickly get back up and continue your count down to death bringing any dead bastard with you. But a flare of unexpected pain at your landing made a blood curdling scream vibrate into the air. You had landed into the fire pit. Hot coals with little flame burning you. Ambers exploding around you with your fall. Your open wound on your side sizzles adding more pain to the specific area. You instinctively jumped up away from the pit. Groaning while you forced yourself to stand vision blurred and legs wobbling.

It’s funny… to know you’re about to die. You could never imagine the things to go through your mind until it happens. Your past didn’t flash before your eyes. More thoughts of the future. How will people take your death? Maybe If this didn’t happen then how would you fit into there future. What if you had that drink with Daryl… That pushed you to now. Right now. You woke up. Groggy cold and numb. The smell of death strong. You weren’t sure if maybe you were a walker maybe it was all a dream.

The haze lifted with a spike of your adrenaline as your eyes focus. A walker close to your face with your knife jammed into its head. A gasp filled your lungs, you weren’t dead? You were lying on your stomach under the U haul nearly freezing. The body of walkers all around you seemed to be your insulation. You take in the scene around you, then you do the only logical thing, cry. A sob ripped from you, tears streaming down your now dirt covered face that was laying in the dirt. You were scared, in pain, and alone. It seemed like the only thing you could really do and have the mind to do. In the small gaps that walkers didn’t cover a slight glow came. You pushed through the body’s crawling between them until fresh air hit you. Dark gray clouds hung above you.

The night had passed while you were under the truck. You caught sight of the littered bodys around the area. It was quiet. Not a soul or other wise empty vessel around. You attempted to stand but fell when you became light headed and unbalanced. Another attempt had lead you slowly to your feet. You were covered in dirt. You could only think you were rolling around in it while keeping walkers away from you under the car. The longer you were awake the more you came back to yourself. A hand slowly moved to your forehead. You were cold but shouldn’t you have a fever by now? At the thought you moved some of the fabric from your bite only stopping when your cloths were singed to your body. Were the bite was now was left with a deep embedded scorch marks. Coals had seemed to burned you up to your shoulder and down to your hip on you left side.

The sight of it made you gag but you couldn’t feel a thing from it. The burns must have destroyed the nerves. If the infection of being bite wasn’t going to kill you the infection sure to come from this wound would. A flare of life filled you. A broken chuckle passed your lips filling the dead silence. You need Hershel badly and soon if you wanted a chance to live. A chance was better than what you had thought. You slowly turn around to the U hale in hopes you could drive it back but the tires were blown and a rainbow like liquid had formed a puddle. You probably shot at walkers while under there damaging the car. Like damaging the gas tank and somehow not exploding so you’ll take that win. No that meant you just had to walk several miles back to the prison. Suddenly you remembered you weren’t bond to the roads so maybe you were closer then you thought.

So you took off north into the woods, hopeful and better yet alive.

Daryl POV

Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and this damn run was no exception. It was so close, they were all packed and ready to go. A herd coming didn’t seem like a big deal just alerting them there was no time to dilly dally. So after killing a few and saving people who got surprised by it they stood behind a chain fences that wasn’t going to hold for long the more that pushed against it. Daryl’s eyes flickered to everyone behind the fence. Panic now felt when his eyes didn’t meet yours. He turned back around frantically until he say you standing facing what looked to be another herd. His eyes widened and your name was flying out of his mouth before he even knew he was doing it. You just stood there, not even in a defensive posture, just casually. Your head turned to meet his after hearing him.

Tears ran down your face but your face remained to looked shocked. Maybe you froze in panic so he gestured for you to come quickly but you didn’t move. Soon others joined in calling for you. But when you moved and lifted your shirt he felt like he was sinking. Blood dripped down your side and teeth were imprinted in your skin. His eyes flicked back up to yours to see you smiling at him. He was screaming and moving without a thought.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

A hand grabbed his shirt and then the fence in front of them fell. He still tried moving forward even then but other sets of hands now pulled him backwards. He grunted and gasped still looking at you as he was moved away. The smile on your face directed at him. The look in your eyes saying so many words that he didn’t have the time to decipher in the moment. He didn’t know the words coming from his mouth but he was yelling. For whoever holding him to let him help you in curses and cry’s. When he lost sight of you is when he faltered. More people seemed to be dragging him now. A gunshot went off making him jump in his skin along with the others around him. Sound now processing in his ears. Maggie sobbing along with muffled crying from others.

Everyone had assumed that gunshot was you giving yourself mercy. Then more came making him start dragging his heels again. You were fighting, you were bring some of the herd on them back to you. He was going to fight to get to you. But he froze along with the people clawing him backwards. You were screaming. No you were dying and they all were hearing it. It was guttural and sudden like you were surprised. He was yelling in tears now, “NOOO PLEASE-“ his words jumping starting people again to pull him away. Your pained cries fading when he was pulled into a car. Tyrese was the one locking him in place. Rick driving with Michonne in the passenger side leaning over like she was going to be sick.

Daryl was now desperate to grab air in his lungs as has he went limp in Tyrese grasp. His gasps filled with the now humming engine felt like he was spiraling. Sounds muffled and thoughts racing. ‘Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.’ The feeling from the words originally was like butterflies, now it was hornets. You always wiggled your away into his arms. Excuses of ‘it’s cold.’ or ‘But you’re always so warm.’ He knew for some reason you had taken interest in him. You had lit some dumb teenage feeling in him. Thoughts of you always crossing his mind throughout the day. Hopes of you trying to make your way into his space later in the day. The first time you fell asleep on him was when you crawled in his lap during watch and shivered endlessly while he held you. He continued to watch gaze flickering through trees while holding you and he knew deep down he was screwed.

The fear that kept him away and doubting had come true. He watched trees go by through the window in silence. Tyrese still holding him as he was lying across the seats. Like he would jump out the moving vehicle if given the chance. Even though he didn’t act on his feeling he had still loved you. He felt cold inside. The cold that would have drawn you to him. He will never hold you to him again. His hands trembled to his face and covered his eyes. Your screams echoing in his mind, your sad loving smile played into his mind. His palms dug into his eyes and he cried. His tears breaking seemed to trigger those around him. He heard Rick holding his breath as he sniffled. Michonne would occasionally suck in a gasp. Tyrese trembled with sighs and coughs trying to break the growing ball in his throat.

Eventually making it back to the prison Carl swung the gate open happily for two cars and Carol riding on Daryl’s bike. The unsuspecting grief hadn’t reached the prison but when they got out of the cars it was felt in waves. They were still seemed lost in thoughts, or lost in a moment. Carl looked on to his father who held is head down and hands on his hips. Maggie making her way to her father and cried silently when he hugged her with Glenn close by eyebrows furrowed in pain. When looking at Daryl it was clear to who they lost. He was stock still and pale, in shock. Hershel practically herded them into the cell block. Carol tried to come near him while walking there but he just shock his head and pushed past her.

They sat in silence sitting at the tables they had their breakfast just this morning. Daryl leaned on the wall keeping his distance. Rick was standing and looking on to everyone hunched in to themselves. Judith in his arms was probably the only reason Daryl didn’t go into a berserk rage. Though when Rick started retelling what had happened to the other that weren’t there he was gettin close to it. Nails digging into his palms and teeth clenched he still listened.

“Y/n’s gone… We were just about ready to go when a herd spooked us.” Rick sighed now looking to everyone’s face. “We had gotten behind a fence and Y/N was putting fires out…” Beth had clear tears now growing in her eyes as she listened. “We think a separate herd flanked us but we were so busy with the first to notice. She was across from us with a herd closing in from behind and in front of her. She could have possibly made it… if-“ he cleared is throat starting again. “If she didn’t lift her shirt showing us she was already doomed. I don’t know when or how, but she was bite.” Rick paused then chuckled wetly, “She had to go out being a badass, could hear it in my mind ‘Was it cool at least?’ Always theatrics with that one.” The thought bubbles in Daryl’s stomach, ‘she always said if she was ever going out it was in a blaze of glory, nothing “lame”.’ Daryl leaned forward off the wall moving to pass by everyone. Everyone had stilled at his movement but he just walked into the cell block.

He needed a minute, to cope, scream, cry, yell, he didn’t know but he felt like he was dying. He found his way up the stairs and pushing past the stupid Dino sheets you chose for your room. ‘They’re not ugly! We have a lot more in common with are extinct friends now. Though I would have preferred a meteor…’ He stared at everything that had been left where you had it. He stumbled to sit on the edge of your bed looking around. You had so many weird thing… you were so weird. A now deflated happy birthday ballon he remembered you yelling, ‘JACKPOT’ when you found it scavenging. Then his eyes locked onto a bottle of whiskey. It was not even half full but when he saw it tears started falling quietly. He picked it up and held it to his chest.

“Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” That sentence would haunt him forever.

Your POV

You groaned like the dead as you made your way through the woods. Speaking of the dead they didn’t much notice you. That had made you spiral in the whole am I really a walker?! But then you remember you were covered in dirt and blood and walking like you had a few to many. You were starting to feel warm putting you into a cold sweat. It was hard to not think that maybe the bite was still going to kill you. You had burnt it with the rest of your back to hell. You probably look like you crawled out from hell. The thought made you dazily laugh out loud. Ok so maybe you were delirious. If that manic laugh that bubbled from you wasn’t any indication. You weren’t thinking straight. Only moving in the direction you think is to the prison? God you could go for some pasta right about now, Olive Garden salad and bread sticks… damn. Little mint at the end. You trip out of your thoughts slamming into the forest floor with a groan.

It had snapped you back into a clearer head space. Your vision swam a little but you started to push yourself back up. So turns out your near death thoughts weren’t as epic as you thought they were going to be, just bread sticks and mints. You sighed looking around trying to gain your bearings. You could hear some water to your right meaning you were indeed going the right way. Just 20 more minutes and you were back to the prison. You wonder if you could have had a dinner date with Daryl. I suppose you still could if you didn’t die. The poor man had tried running into a herd for you. You were getting more unbalanced as you walked leaning from tree to tree. Wood splitting and jamming into your hands, only adding to a list of injures. The worst part was you didn’t feel much of anything pain wise. The cold numbed you and your lack of cognitive ability was no better help.

The stream broke off flowing into the direction of the prison. You saw the bridge that held the water pump before the prison. You somehow managed to get back here. The prison was still quieter than normal. You could see closer to the gate a few people were clearing walkers, vision to bleary to know who. A thunk sounded coming into the middle of the inclosed clearing. Rick was cutting wood with Carl moving logs for him to cut. Slowly making your way to the fence you didn’t realize your throat was so scratchy, nothing but a huff of air coming out. That’s right, you had been screaming…. and crying. You lean into the fence hands intertwined with the cool dewy metal.

A walker was pushed against the fence to your right staring to Rick and Carl too. You slowly push down to the floor grabbing a stick. You pushed back up using the fence to walk closer to the walker. Taking a deep breath you kicked the back of the walkers legs making it fall to its knees. The walker grumbled in shock or protest but it was silence with the stick shoved in its eyes. The constant noise of the walker was acknowledged by the Grimes so when it abruptly stopped they looked over to where it was. You were leaning into the side of the fence as you heard feet approaching, “Who are- Holy shit!” You heard them running and the sound got farther from you. The heavy gate door grunted open and the running sound came back toward you. You tried moving along the fence, tripping yet again on the walker, this time only to your knees.

A shadow fell over you causing you to look up seeing Rick kneeling in front of you, hands moving to pull you up. Your adrenaline was dropping now that the task you set for yourself was complete. The fall made your head swim, voices now muffled as blood pulled into your head. You saw Rick talking but didn’t comprehend anything he said. He soon pointed at Carl and your eyes moved over to the boy. Walkers had made their way out of the woods at the commotion. You suddenly were being jostled now. Rick had put an arm to the back of your shoulders and his other arm to the back of your knees and lifted you into him. You were slightly over Rick’s shoulder as he quickly moved. Then you realized what Rick was yelling.

“HERSHEL! HERSHEL! HERSHEL!”

That was right, you wanted Hershel to help you… help you? What for again? Your mind clicked as you watched the door of the gate close behind you. Some faces now appeared as Rick continued to carry while trying not to dig his hands into your injury. You had been injured, right. Some looks you caught while over Rick shoulder was nothing you’ve seen direct at yourself. The group formed shuffling to the gate to get into the court yard. You recognized Maggie gasping and her saying, “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” You rumbled out a deep noise. “Cause I’m a badass.” You were becoming slack and your vision was blurring. You were trying to remain awake. Maybe for the face you so desperately wanted to see, and the other part of you was afraid you wouldn’t wake back up. But at last you involuntarily relaxed as you heard him, “Y/N!” His voice was pained and dry, but it sent a smile to your face before you went still as Rick continued moving you.

Daryl POV

He fell asleep in your bed. Selfishly taking in what little smell was left of your space. The whiskey bottle was held to his chest untouched. He kept waking up ever hour. He felt wrong like something was missing. His body knew that you weren’t with him and it made him restless. He would think about your screams feeling like he still heard them. He would play back random moments with you. He just couldn’t seem to move. Stuck laying down holding the bottle you both were going to share, stuck going in and out of consciousness. He was depressed he realized. It was the norm for his sadness to spark rage but he just felt defeated. With Merle he got angry, upset even. But he could still move. His world was still moving then but now he wasn’t sure how it kept spinning with you gone.

Everyone was already moving through the day doing tasks that needed to be completed. He heard the shuffles and whispers of his friends- his family. He would hear someone’s breath hitch while talking about you. He was left alone with Glenn being the one saying, “Leave the man alone.” With other things like, ‘when Lori died-‘ or, ‘if it had been Maggie I’d be the same.’ He would thank the man on another day. So here he is still, morning coming to pass, in your bed staring at the ceiling. He tried to not think about how you might be a walker wondering or even worse your body was still there. He would have to push himself up to that. But the silence around the prison seemed to have broke.

The heavy door that lead in from out doors slammed opened and a panicked Maggie nervously yelled for her father. “D-Daddy somethings wrong Rick’s yelling for you!” Daryl’s hearing perked up feeling the pit in his stomach drop further. Dread seeping into him, ‘Another bad thing was happening.’ He heard the clicking of Hershel’s crutch’s as he moved through the door that Maggie’s had burst through. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut before sucking in a breath in and huffing it out. He got up.

He got to his feet moving down the stairs buzzing with adrenaline. Not sure if he was going to have to protect people or kill someone. As Daryl pushed through the metal door to the court yard an icy wind blew through him. The hair on the back of his neck stood. He turned over to the commotion gathering by the gate to the yard. Scanning the area he didn’t see danger so he made his way over to the group. “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed as he got closer over hearing people now.

“Cause I’m a badass.”

Although the voice was deep and scratchy he froze at the familiar voice. He only paused for a moment before he started running the rest of the way there, “Y/N!” His voice was slightly harsh with dis use and the ball of tension in his throat didn’t help much either. You were being held up in a weird way by Rick but you sluggish turned drooping slightly as you did. When your eyes met you smiled but it slowly fell as you went slack. Rick was moving again with the demands of Hershel yelling orders to Carol and Maggie to gather things. Daryl saw your cloths, burnt holes and black and red covered you. Your skin stuck sticking to fabric as deep char marks riddled your back and side. He was speechless as the group passed him but he still followed. Maybe he fell asleep again and was dreaming all this.

“I need disinfectant and a bucket of clean water!”

Rick had set you down on your stomach in an unused cell. Your arm dangled over edge swaying. He stood the watching in shock. People were scrambling around him. He didn’t realize he had gotten the bottle still in his hands before he looked down and walked over practically shoving it into the man’s arms. Daryl was wide eyed as he watched your still form, “Daryl I need you to cut off her clothes. Be careful of her shirt.” A hand clasped to his shoulder finally clicking everything into place. His hand had moved for his knife and he slowly cut down right side on a seam. He slowly plead the shirt from you. It would stick then tug and pull off of you making him cringe. Hershel started talking again as Daryl moved to pull down your jeans.

“You said she was bite?” Daryl let your pants fall to the floor as he looked back up to the side he had seen it. Your entire side was indented and black. Some black circles were higher up to your shoulders as your enter left side seemed to have taken most of the burns. He pointed to were he had last saw the bite. “It was here- shit she fell into the fire pit.” The screams he heard played back into his mind. The pain and surprise that had ripped from you. Hershel now with a cloth and water started cleaning the area removing the grim, “That means she might have stopped the spread of the infection with how deep these burns are.” Hershel paused looking over her body. He then put a hand to your forehead, “She’s warm but not feverish…” Hershel grabbed the bottle of whiskey again turning to Daryl and popping the lid of,

“Get out of here Daryl. Maggie! Carol! I need hands!”

He watched as the two girls push past him and before he was out of sight from you saw Hershel dump some of the alcohol onto the area. He stepped out turning to see worried and confused faces. They stared at him silently with the background noise of Hershel making demands of his helpers. Sasha almost whispered her question to him, "How is she still alive?" Everyone turned to her before looking at him expectantly as the wondered the same. Daryl looked like he was visibly thinking before he sighed, "I don't know. She fell in the fireplace is all I know." Rick looked to the floor nodding thinking back to when he first saw you and struggled to pick you up around what looked to be burns. Daryl spoke again almost hopefully, "Hershel thinks there's a chance she stop the infection from spreading with how deep the burns are."

Hopeful gasps filled the air. Carl was the next to speak almost as a demand, "Then we going to use all are medical supplies we've got if there is a chance." Rick whispered, "Carl..." but Beth jumped in. "W-we have it for reasons like these! I know she is technically bite but we have no clue if she stopped it, its worth splurging to see if this could save others!" Rick looked surprised at the outburst mouth opening about to speak before Glenn jumped in also pleading to him, "Well find more!" Other silently agreeing and nodding. Daryl looked between the group so determined about your life smirking at it even but, he knew what Rick was trying to say. Sure enough the man had chuckled shacking his head, "Why are you all looking at me for, I'm not the leader anymore. This is a matter for the council. But I think that decision has already been made." It had only started not to long ago with Rick being the stand in while everyone settled on who the council consisted of. Michonne clapped her hands together, "Right is has been settled then, what ever cost to keep her alive." It was a waiting game now.

Days pass with the prison fueled with a hope. The once depressive air had lifted once Hershel declared you stable and with no fever. It was determined until a day later with still no fever you were not infected. The only problem now way you had yet to wake up. The girls had cleaned you of all the caked on dirt from your skin and hair they best they could with you unconscious and your injury. Daryl with any of his free time was by your side. He even took to sleeping in the bunk above you. He changed your bandage most of the time. You were on the your third IV by the 5th day. Daryl had a chair pulled by your side as he fiddled with his crossbow and bolts, your steady breathing having a calming effect on him. The breathing pattern faltered for a second making him look up to you. He stared for a moment before you seemed to grunt in pain. The hair was rising on the back of his neck. Hazy eyes open and your cuffed hand attempted to move but was halted by it be attached to the metal bed frame in the wall.

Daryl felt his heart race as he watched you slowly and groggily start moving. He reached to stopping your hand from moving with his own. "Hey, stay down." You groaned pain probably hitting you finally making Daryl call for Hershal. The clicking of crutch’s came closer but he looked back down to you at your sudden silence. Your eyes met with his and in that moment you saw straight into his soul making him feel exposed. All his nerves seemed to stand on end with your quiet gaze. A small smile creeping it way on your face. Daryl leaned down moving some hair from your face as you remained on your stomach. When he was crouched closer to you he whispered, “Hey darlin’…” You huffed out air and a tear ran down your cheek. He was smiling down at you feeling the weight of deaths grip finally releasing you back to him.

Hershel broke the moment but he never stopped holding your hand as the older man fussed over you. Your voice was rough to say the least. He winched at your first attempt at using it. “iM aLivE…?” Daryl squeezed your hand and the ball in his throat suck to his chest as he let out a chuckle. You seemed just as surprised of the fact just like them. You hissed before flinching forcibly relaxing your muscles but you still spoke again, “tHe BiTe?” Hershel had moved injecting something in your IV bag, pain killers hopefully. Your eyes barely following the movement as Hershel spoke calmly with a smile, “You’ve been out for a few days. No fever. We are working on the burns because they are festering but blistering. You killed the infection.” Your eyes squeezed shut and you sniffled a little tears poured from your eyes in relief. Daryl couldn’t help for his eyes to blur a little to. A hand fell to his shoulder, Hershel. “Her blood pressure is still low so keep her lying down. Try and fed her something small for now until she is up right.”

With that he hobbled away probably going to spread the good news that you are up. His attention snapped back to you when he heard a faint whisper of his name, “daryl.” You had a dopey grin as you stare up at him making the knotted ball in his stomach loosen. You smile falter and a harsh sounding, “woOaH-“ your eyes blinking like your vision got blurry. He intertwined his fingers behind yours as he keyed open the cuffs. “goDdaMn…. HaRdcorE dRugS hEllo~” Daryl chuckled seeing you sag in relief. Your eyes moved to something behind him a long, “hEeeY…” your lips pouting. He turned around questioningly at what you were staring at. The bottle of now empty whiskey, aah. He turned back to you running his free hand into your hair, “Don’t look at me I didn’t drink it.” You stare at the bottle softly saying, “How wiLl I woe a DiXon nOw?”

Daryl sighs feeling that ever burning in his chest when it comes to you. “Don’t think you need to worry to much about that, think he is beyond woed.” You dawn a familiar smirk he knows means trouble. ‘Mmm’ vibrates from your chest, “Good… been really laying it on thick as of late. Hell crawled back from death for the guy.” Your voice seemed to not rattle in your hushed tone. You seemed to struggle to keep your eyes open and focus you spoke once more before closing your eyes and falling to drugs and exhaustion, “So much for not using the med supply like Hershel said…”

Love burns with either the loss of them or the fact they exist in the first place, but you would say the fireplace hurt a tad bit more than loving your gruff hunter.

Feedback welcome and requests open!

[choszen]

★ — il capitano.

il capitano x florist! reader.

GENRE: smut.

WARNINGS: NSFW. capitano smut. masturbating. fantasizing.

SYPNOSIS: the fatui harbinger, il capitano, had been visiting the flower shop for months now. he never engaged in small talks with you, only scanning the selection of flowers in sight, and only coming by to buy bouquets of flowers. whenever you would hand him the arrangements, he would place a lot of mora on the table and would take his leave in urgency. you often found yourself wondering why never speaks, and why he always appeared to be in a hurry.

MINORS DNI ❕

CAPITANO was in haze. looking deep into those angel eyes was dangerous, especially when the said eyes were shining so brightly. it sent butterflies fluttering in the pit of his stomach, however, the captain couldn't find it within himself to look away. he didn't even want to. he felt as if his soul had been trapped in this angel's eyes forever, and that the angel was holding him captive with just a look.

“good morning, captain. you're here again!” you smiled, “which flower will you buy today? the usual? we have many lovely ones at our store.” your voice was like the music of angels, it was as melodic as the singing angels.

the first among the eleven fatui harbingers, a god amongst men, his name alone was enough to cause fear in everyone who heard it. so, why aren't you afraid of him? why aren't you shaking in fear? why don't you cower under his power? why are you staring at him with a soft smile that graced your face? what makes you believe that you can be safe around him? no one can truly be safe from the harbingers. he could easily squash you between his fingers, he knows how, but he wouldn't... why should he? he doesn't intended to hurt a girl like you, he has other things planned for you that would bring him joy. “... peonies, and lilies.” capitano spoke, voice low.

his eyes, dark and intense, tracked your every movement like a predator hunting its prey. each subtle shift of your form sent ripples through his composure, and he could feel his fist clenching tightly, the knuckles whitening as he battled against the rising tide of his desires. his control over his desires had always been difficult to come by. in the depths of his mind, the captain wonders how you'll scream his name out loud, how he will feel when he finally have his member inside of you. your body is meant for him, only his. the more he observed the way your casual clothes hugged your body, the more his thoughts wonders on how you will look without those, however, capitano pushed these these thoughts aside before they grow any bigger. now is not the time nor place for such thoughts.

“we're very lucky that you're visiting our humble shop. here are your peonies, and lilies.”

as capitano placed the stack of coins upon the counter, he didn't spare a single glance at you, his urgency propelling him swiftly away from the moment away from you. upon reaching his office, he slammed the door shut with a resounding thud, locking the door behind, ad immediately sank into the embrace of his desk chair. he leaned his forehead against his palm once he placed his helmet at the table. your scent, mixed with a sweet and delicate perfume was still lingering on his nose. the sound of your laughter still echoes in his ears, the way you smiled at him, the sound of your voice, everything about you captivated his senses as his breath hitched with desire. he wanted you to be the one to quench his flames– his growing desire.

there was a painful erection underneath the pants that he wore. he needed to relieve the pressure, the ache that was building up inside of him, and it wasn't long before capitano's hands began to fumble with his belt and once he unzipped his pants, the impressive bulge that grew more beneath his underwear was revealed. he couldn't hold himself anymore. he had spent so much time working on getting his arousal under control, yet, there it was, begging to be taken care off. ah, you should be the one pleasuring him right now, not himself. the point of his dick— his tip, kicked his stomach when he recalled your sweet scent, the way your hands brushed on his when you handed the bouquet. his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. he couldn't even tell whether he wanted to cry or laugh at the same time. his cock pulsated, growing harder and harder with every passing moment he was left alone with his thoughts.

can you even handle him? will he even fit inside you? his body is huge, his length is immense. he was big. he knows you can take him, capitano's length is for you to take only. his cock was veiny, twitching and already dripping with pre-cum as it was waiting to be touched. the thought of wrapping your lips around his cock made his mouth fell, his chest moving up and down, and sweats appearing on his forehead. he had never felt so aroused before but at the same time his hands were clammy, shaking and itching to touch himself now. the sudden feelings of capitano's fingers in his dick caused him to let out a small groan, there was a mixture of excitement and arousal flowing in him right now and all he could think of was you.

capitano had his head rolled back with a slight groans escaping through his lips, it has been a long time since he felt this pleasure again as he wrapped his lengthy digits on his cock, moving up and down in such pace. “ah~” he breathed softly, the sight of him stroking himself had turned him into a horny animal. he gripped onto his cock tightly and increased his movements, moving his fingers faster while moaning louder than usual. “t-the things... you do to me... y/n..” capitano mumbled between moans, brows ceased in arousal as he continued to stroke his cock with his thick calloused fingers. in that moment, the captain longed for your hands to caress him, fantasizing your gentle fingertips running over his warm flesh. how divine it would be to give in to your warmth, and feel your soft touch engulfing him in a cocoon of comfort and intimacy. the mere thought of your hands wrapped around his length, ignited a longing desire within him. what a relief it would be, to trade the solitude of his own touch for the blissful sensation of your fingertips.

his eyes rolled back in sheer ecstasy, each moan escaped his lips and grew louder, louder, louder. the captain's head fell heavily onto the polished table, his hands still clenching fiercely around his throbbing member, as if that grip could tether him to the world of sanity. no people should ever come close to making capitano cum so hard, his cheeks flushed a deep crimson. the throbbing sensation that came with each hard and fast stroke, coupled with the increasing heat spreading throughout his whole body. “ah~ y/n... what did you do to me..?” the captain moaned aloud, his voice whiny from the intensity of his pleas. his face, once nonchalant, was now covered in shades of crimson. capitano’s mouth were open, moans and hot breath coming out. there were beads of sweat cascading down his forehead. his eyes rolled back in bliss at the overwhelming pleasure wrapped around him. he was utterly lost, unable to contain the soft whimpers and loud moans escaping his lips.

it didn't matter to capitano that the noise might alert others. his heart was beating like crazy, the feeling of being being inside you, your soft walls, made him lose all restraint on his self and he was whispering your name. capitano had never felt anything like it before. he knew you were the reason for his desire but the idea of telling you that, of showing you his love and passion, seemed too impossible and unreal. “m-my dear angel... forgive me for fantasizing about you...” his words sounded so weak. capitano closed his eyes in pure bliss. “let me make amends for my sins, my angel. please...” he begged, opening his eyes only a slit. the captain's fist were now full of cum as he stroked his shaft over and over again, his breath haggard and his chest heaving. he was going crazy and there was nothing he could do to stop it, nothing to distract him from the feeling coursing through his veins and setting him ablaze from the inside.

capitano could feel his climax approaching and his breathing became heavier and quicker. “...fuck..” he gasped, closing his eyes as he pushed against himself with his fist. “i will make you mine... y/n, my angel..” his legs trembled, his muscles twitched, his teeth were clenched. his eyes drifted shut as he surrendered his cock to the sensations of his own juices leaking down his member and fingers. he didn't know how long he had been doing this, but his body betrayed his exhaustion.

he stared at his swollen cock, and his own cum, watching the last few drops of cum dripping out of the top before it fell on his lap. what a waste. you should've been here to swallow all of it, to taste the most succulent thing that he had been saving for you, to taste every drop of it. he wanted to see your pretty mouth devouring the liquid substance of his own ejaculation.

[underdark-dreams]

Tiefling Bachelors - Tail headcanons [pining + in a relationship]

Some tail thoughts for Rolan, Dammon, & Zevlor [reader is gender neutral, non-Tiefling]

For anyone who doesn't follow already-- @forgeofthenine creates amazing Tief content! Their headcanons for these three are VERY delicious, including some genius tail HCs that I have been rereading all day!🖤

Pining:

Rolan:

When he's extra annoyed or excited by something, the tip of his tail will twitch side-to-side behind him slightly like a cat’s

Turns out the same thing happens when he’s got a crush on someone

He can control it with enough concentration, but it could still give him away if you catch him off guard or heaven forbid touch him in an unexpected way

It’s no secret from Cal and Lia—the three of them teased each other ruthlessly about the littlest flirtations back in Elturel, as teenagers do, so they’re used to picking up on all of each others’ signs

The minute they catch Rolan’s telltale (tell-tail?) move while he’s talking with you, you can bet those two will not let it go until you’ve moved in. Probs not even then honestly

If you get friendly enough with Rolan to have long talks about magic or the Weave, his guard will lower and he’ll let his tail do its thing (within reason)

He lies to himself that it’s just because he finds your conversation stimulating. Really, it’s everything about you

Dammon:

If you’re a non-Tiefling, Dammon might comfort himself with the knowledge that you probably don’t recognize the significance of how his tail moves when you’re near

He’s good at keeping his words to you measured and polite. The way his body reacts around you is a bit more instinctive and hard to control

He’s goddamn touch-starved to be honest, this man is practically married to his hammer and anvil & he’s been living alone for years

Whenever he makes you laugh, he finds his tail curls forward toward you a bit—wishing he could touch or hold you with it

Dammon always tells himself he needs to be a bit more careful when you come around the forge. But somehow it goes out the window every time

His tail will sway gently back and forth when you talk to him, not quite wagging, but definitely actively engaged

A fellow Tiefling would immediately recognize the gesture as interest and flirtation

Zevlor:

Zevlor thought he was a pro at this: controlling the tail movements, the ear twitches, generally suppressing his Infernal tendencies at all times

But it's been so long since someone made him feel like this. Handsome, desirable, everything

The first time you overtly flirt with him, and especially the first time you touch his arm or shoulder, his tail wags behind him

He stiffens immediately, alarmed and taken aback by his own reaction to your touch. Prays you haven’t noticed

If he can smoothly get away with it, he might excuse himself from your presence to try and collect his composure

He’s very conscious of his role as leader/authority figure among the other Tiefling refugees. He’d be mortified if any of them caught him eagerly tail-wagging like a youth after just a casual gesture from you

From that point Zevlor refocuses his control whenever you’re near, making sure to keep part of his brain aware of his posture around you. The way you keep seeking him out and standing close to him during conversation doesn’t make it any easier on this poor man

Relationship:

Rolan:

More than hand-holding, Rolan prefers to hold you with his tail

Let him loop it around your calf when you’re standing beside each other, or rest the curve around the small of your back

He finds it profoundly comforting to keep in contact and touch you that way

Rolan would love if you let him gently bind you with his tail, whether it’s your hands behind your back or one of your legs pulled open for him

He often wraps it around your waist while you’re topping or riding him

Rolan also likes to drag his tail between your legs while you’re going down on him and he can’t reach you with his hands

It turns into teasing almost every time—Rolan trying to see if he can finish you with his tail before you can finish him with your mouth

Rolan’s tail gets super sensitive when he’s close to coming. Gently tug on the tip, or God forbid suck on as much of his length as your mouth can take—Rolan will come hard with a loud whimper

Dammon: 

Finally getting with you is a relief for this man; he was struggling to control his body’s reactions around you anyway

Dammon is very cuddly and touchy with you in general, but he especially loves the freedom to finally touch you with his tail

Naughty man loves to slide it up over the curve of your ass when you’re kissing—even when you’re both standing in his open-air forge where a passerby on the street could glance over and see

He’s super into you, why would he hide it? Unless it makes you uncomfortable in the slightest, of course, in which case he'll do his best to restrain himself

It would turn him on so much if you asked for tailplay in the bedroom

Let him hold you with it, spread you, spank you, help you grind and pleasure yourself with it—anything you want, he’s down bad for

Watching his tail get you worked up super super does it for Dammon, and he will be sure to tell you just how much

Zevlor:

Once you’re together, Zevlor won’t hold back from using his tail to caress you

It’s usually when you’re already kissing or embracing each other. His tail will curl behind your knees, or perhaps wrap once around your waist to gently hold you close

He still keeps the gestures mild, out of habit and out of some lingering concern that it might come on too strong for a non-Tiefling. Zevlor also just tends to be reserved when it comes to PDA in general

When he’s bedding you, Zevlor’s tail may wrap around one of your legs in the heat of the moment—it’s a sign of deep affection and trust, and a bit of possessiveness (good luck getting him to admit to that one though)

Beyond that you will have to ask, beg, and plead to get this man to use his tail actively during sex

Despite his chivalry, Zevlor has been around the block and seen pretty much everything during his Hellrider days. But those were different times: here now, with the person he cares for most in the world, everything feels new all over again

Asking him to slip the tip anywhere inside you will render him speechless for a moment

You’ll have the best luck if you’re already naked on top of him when you ask

If you want to give Zevlor his hardest orgasm in a decade, tug and play with the very base of his tail while he’s inside you. He will practically sob against you and finish in record speed

[mapiforpresident]

Its Always Been You

alexia x reader

~~~

The stadium lights cast a soft glow over the pitch as you and Alexia jogged toward the center circle. Training had ended hours ago, but the two of you lingered, just like you had so many times before. The empty stands echoed with the faint sounds of your laughter as you passed the ball back and forth, the simplicity of it grounding you in a way few things could.

It had been this way for as long as you could remember. You and Alexia, side by side, growing up in the small fields of Mollet del Vallès, dreaming of someday making it big. You’d shared everything—trophies, heartbreaks, and countless late-night talks under the stars about life and love. But it wasn’t until this past year that you truly understood how much she meant to you.

"Still got it," Alexia teased, nudging the ball toward you with a grin.

"Always," you replied, stopping it effortlessly under your foot. "But you’re slowing down, old lady."

Alexia laughed, rolling her eyes. "I’m six months older than you. Don’t push your luck."

You smirked, but the familiar ease between you made your chest ache. You weren’t sure when it started—this shift in your feelings for her—but now it was undeniable. The way her laugh lit up your world. The way her eyes held yours a second too long. The way being around her felt like coming home.

“Remember when we were kids and used to stay out here until it was too dark to see the ball?” she asked, a wistful smile tugging at her lips.

You nodded. “Your mom would come yelling, telling us to get inside before we caught a cold.”

“She always thought you were the bad influence.”

“Me? You’re the one who insisted on practicing corners for hours,” you shot back.

Alexia shrugged, her smile turning softer. ��Maybe. But look where we are now.”

Her words hung in the air, and for a moment, everything stilled. Time, space, the years you’d spent as teammates, friends—everything came rushing back. You thought about all the people you’d dated, all the moments you’d tried to fill the void that only she could seem to occupy. It had taken you thirty years to realize it, but Alexia had been right there all along.

The silence stretched too long, so you nudged the ball toward her and said, “How about a little one-on-one? Let’s see if you’ve still got it.”

Alexia grinned, accepting the challenge. You both fell into the rhythm of the drill, laughter mixing with the sound of your feet pounding the turf. She was quick, as always, and for a second, you forgot about the feelings bubbling beneath the surface. You were just two players, pushing each other like you’d done your whole lives.

Then you lunged to steal the ball, and your foot caught hers. Alexia stumbled, and before you could stop your momentum, you fell on top of her.

“Lex! Are you okay?” you asked, heart pounding as you scrambled to brace yourself, your hands on either side of her head.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, laughing breathlessly. Her hands instinctively landed on your waist to steady you.

You looked down, your faces only inches apart, and froze. Her eyes met yours, wide and glinting under the lights. Time seemed to stand still. You could feel the rise and fall of her chest beneath you, her warmth radiating against you in the cool night air.

“Y/N…” she said softly, her voice almost trembling.

Before you even registered what you were doing, you leaned in. Your lips brushed hers, tentative at first, as if you were testing the waters. But the moment her mouth moved against yours, the hesitation melted away. You kissed her like she was the only thing tethering you to the earth, pouring years of unspoken emotions into that single moment.

When you finally pulled back, your heart was racing, and so was hers. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze searching yours for something—reassurance, maybe, or an explanation.

“I—” you started, but Alexia’s hand moved to your cheek, her thumb brushing against your skin.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… was that real? Because I’ve been dreaming about it for a while.”

Your lips parted in surprise. “You have?”

Alexia nodded, her hand still resting on your face. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. I just didn’t think you felt the same way.”

A shaky laugh escaped you, more disbelief than humor. “Are you kidding? Lex, you’ve been my whole world. I just— I didn’t realize it until recently.”

She smiled then, a slow, breathtaking smile that made your chest ache in the best way. “I guess we’ve been wasting a lot of time, huh?”

“Maybe,” you admitted. “But we’ve got forever now.”

She nodded, her forehead pressing against yours as she whispered, “Promise me something?”

“Anything.”

“Promise you’ll hold me close,” she murmured. “Don’t let me go.”

You smiled, leaning into her touch. “I promise.”

The two of you stayed there for what felt like hours, tangled together in the center circle under the Barcelona sky. For the first time in your life, everything felt exactly as it should.

~~~

requests are open especially for:

Patri x reader x Pina

Alexia x reader

Mapi x Ingrid x reader

Lena Oberdorf

[yikes-aemond]

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part IV)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, death 

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood plan for the future. Things don’t quite go as planned. 

word count: 5.1k 

author note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I will not lie—this part was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it at least three times, and I am still not sure if I’m absolutely satisfied. Fair warning, I’m putting our lovebirds through the ringer, but do not worry—I’m a girl who loves a happily ever after. Also, no smut in this part, but stick around for part five. Happy reading!

part i can be found here, part ii here, and part iii here.

“Have you lost your mind?”��

You could not have heard him correctly. Surely Benjicot Blackwood had not just asked you to marry him, while you were half naked. 

You hurried to adjust your dress and cover yourself in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of dignity and propriety in this moment. Had you not been overwhelmed by the day, had you not been so taken off guard, you might have responded a little more kindly to a proposal from your beloved.

Benjicot laughed as he watched you try to gather your wits about you. He followed your direction, adjusting his breaches so that everything was tucked back into its proper place.

Once you were both decent, Benjicot reiterated, “I am quite serious. We should marry this evening.”

You shook your head, mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he was saying, what he was asking. For years, you had watched Benjicot from afar. Watched the way he grew into a man, into someone that people feared and respected in equal measure. Being with Benjicot was always your dream. The one you had tucked away in your heart for years, never to see the light of day should you dare to do the most dangerous thing in all of Westeros—hope. 

And now he was asking you to marry him. You felt unbalanced, unsteady. Your head and your heart were at war. 

You managed to get off the bed. Needing a moment to collect yourself, you put some distance between you and Benjicot and moved back across the room to the fireplace. 

When you turned back to Benjicot, you saw that he had not moved. His eyes were fixed on you, that predatory gaze locked onto your form, waiting for your response. 

That look in his eyes never failed to make you squirm. The weight of that stare made you think he could hear every thought in your head, all your secrets and dreams. 

You sighed, breaking eye contact and said, “You know that our families will never allow it.”

Benjicot stood then, and slowly stalked toward you. With each step, you felt your heartbeat pound louder against your chest. You had thought that the longer you spent in his presence, the more you would become used to him. But you could not deny the effect Benjicot had on you, on your body. 

Benjicot took your hands in his, and pulled you against him. Placing your hands on his chest, he rubbed his thumbs over the scrapes you had gotten earlier in the woods. Had that only been this morning? Time seemed to hold no meaning in this room. A prison that now felt like a sanctuary. 

“That is why we must marry tonight.” Benjicot smiled, and then placed a kiss on your brow. “By the time they find out, it will be too late.” 

You pulled back, just enough so that you could look at his face. “And do your really expect your father and Black Aly to welcome me into the family with open arms?” 

Benjicot was still smiling, still so sure of his plan. “They will once they see how happy we are. How much we love each other.” He shrugged before continuing, “And we would not be the first Blackwoods and Brackens to marry. Others have done it in the name of peace.”

“But our families do not seek peace now!” You practically shouted, frustration coloring your tone. “We are on the brink of war, and our families stand on opposite sides.”

You tried pulling away, but Benjicot tightened his arms around you, stilling your struggle. Whatever good humor Benjicot had was slowly leaching from his features. “You know as well as I do that Queen Rhaenyra is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.“Of course I agree with you, but that does not change the fact that my father will disown me if we do this. I will never be able to return home.”

Benjicot pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin,“Would that be such an awful thing?”

You felt your heart jerk at his question. The idea of never seeing your family again, of never being welcomed home, of never eating your cook’s fruit pies or riding through the moorlands outside of Stone Hedge on a misty morning, or gods never visiting your mother’s gravestone, was enough to send a wave of nausea through you. 

You hid your face against his chest. “My father was not always the most loving, but he is my father. For all the faults you may find with him, he has never been cruel to me.” 

Benjicot felt the shift in your mood, could practically feel the sadness and desperation radiate from the points where you touched. He knew the sacrifice he was asking you to make was no small thing. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort the turmoil within you. 

You could not stop the tears even if you wanted to. You did not wail, did not scream at the unfairness of your situation, did not rail against the old gods and the new for cursing your families and subjecting them to an endless blood feud. For what else could this ancient, hateful grudge between the Blackwoods and Brackens be except for a curse? 

Even if you could convince your father to bless a marriage between you and Benjicot, any children between you would be enlisted to the war. Generations of prejudice had proven that. It was no matter that the Bracken or Blackwood on the other side would be a cousin. No matter that no one could remember how the hatred between your two families even began. No matter how senseless the bloodshed would be. 

This was your and Benjicot’s world. You could not run from the truth of your situation, could not hide from your fates. Not if you wanted your love to withstand.

And even though the thought of never going back to Stone Hedge was devastating, the thought of never seeing Benjicot again was unthinkable. Never hearing his voice or his laugh. Never seeing his smiles. Never having him hold you in his arms. You could not bear the separation, not after having a taste of what your life could be like together. 

Your tears slowed and your breathing evened out. Whatever doubts that had plagued your mind were banished. Resolution steeled your spine. You took a fortifying breath and lifted your head from Benjicot’s chest. With a watery smile on your face, you said, “I accept your proposal, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Benjicot’s joy was infectious. Smiling wide and bright, he lifted you into his arms and kissed you with such a reverence that left your breathless. Gods, you loved this man. Wanted him again and could not imagine ever being parted from him. The very thought of being separated was enough to send a panic through you. 

You wrapped your arms around Benjicot’s neck and tangled your hands in his hair, your tongue in his mouth. You felt his joy in that kiss. And you let that joy into your heart. Let it fill and warm you. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be happy. 

The impossible dream was becoming a reality. 

When Benjicot had proposed, he did not have an actual plan. He did not have any rings or a marriage cloak. As a Blackwood, he preferred to have a ceremony before the old gods in front of the ancient, colossal weirwood tree in the godswood. 

Because there were no clergy associated with the old gods, the current Lord Blackwood usually performed marriage ceremonies at Raventree Hall. But seeing as his father would likely oppose the marriage, that left Benjicot with few options. With a little convincing, or in Benjicot’s case, a little threat of bodily harm, the maester finally agreed to perform the ceremony. 

You could not stop smiling as Benjicot snuck you out of your rooms. With each passing hallway and corridor, you felt your excitement grow. You could barely contain your glee as you clung to each other, arms linked and hands intertwined, as you made your way into the godswood.  

The maester stood before the weirwood tree, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns to light the way. Hundreds of ravens were to be your witnesses. On any other night, feeling the weight of all those eyes watching you might have felt unsettling. But nothing could spoil this moment, nothing could come between you and Benjicot— 

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?” 

Every muscle in your body tensed. Panic settled in your chest, and you felt your stomach drop. 

Black Aly stood at the edge of the godswood, her bow and arrow knocked and poised to strike.  

You felt the world shift. One moment you were standing beside Benjicot, and the next, Benjicot stood in between you and Aly, putting himself in the way of the arrow that had been aimed at your chest. 

“Lower the bow, Aly.” Benjicot’s voice was hard and low. You watched as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger, ready to draw the blade at any moment. 

Even from a distance, you could see Aly roll her eyes at Benjicot’s actions, but she did not lower her bow. “Do not overwork yourself, nephew.” 

You grabbed the back of Benjicot’s cloak, pulling slightly as if to hold him back. You glanced wearily back and forth between the Blackwoods. Two warriors preparing to battle. The last thing you wanted was for there to be violence. For surely a duel between Bloody Ben and Black Aly would be a fight for the ages. 

Benjicot’s body was tense as yours. He did not truly believe that Aly would hurt you. Aly was tough but fair, and underneath her brash attitude and hostility, she had a gentle heart. But he would not risk you. Would not allow anyone to threaten or harm you. Not when he had the ability to protect you. 

Benjicot pulled out his dagger. “Put the bow away, Aly. I will not ask again.”

You wanted to step in between them like you had done in the fight with Aeron. But this situation was different. This was two Blackwood who were taking the measure of each other, testing how far the other was willing to go. You could not intervene, even if the sight of an arrow pointed at Benjicot was enough to send your blood running cold. 

After what felt like hours, Aly lowered her bow. Sighing, she returned the arrow to her quiver. Only then did Benjicot sheath his dagger. 

“You sure have a flare for the dramatics, nephew.”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the woman who had an arrow aimed at my betrothed.”

Your heart fluttered at the word. 

Aly huffed out a laugh. “Is that what she is to you? Your betrothed? I do not recall your father agreeing to any such arrangement.” 

Benjicot remained in front of you, a barrier between you and Aly. “I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”

Aly stood with her hands on her hips, eyes directed toward the heavens. She looked as if she were searching for patience amongst the stars. When she cut her gaze back to Benjicot, you could not miss the look of pity that flashed across her face. 

“Benji, you know that you cannot marry her.” 

You reached for Benjicot’s hand, needing his touch and warmth to ground you in this moment. Whatever happiness you had felt, whatever joy that you had shared, was now slowly falling through your grasp. 

Black Aly would never allow you two to marry. Not like this. 

But Benjicot’s stubbornness was no light thing. “I love her, Aly. I will marry her, and you cannot stop me.”

Just as Aly was about to respond, you saw her face pale and expression grow uneasy. And when you heard the voice behind you, you understood why. 

“You would be wise to reconsider that position, son.” 

If you had thought you felt panic before, that was nothing to the sickening feeling that plagued you now. 

Because standing on the opposite side of the godswood, directly across from Aly, was Lord Samwell Blackwood. Benjicot’s father, and your own father’s sworn enemy. And with him stood a dozen Blackwood guards, each looking between you and Benjicot with expressions that ranged from disbelief to disgust. 

You had never been formally introduced to Lord Blackwood. He was a rather tall man, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. His close-cropped beard was the same. Like Benjicot, his gaze was enough to send a lesser man cowering. And right now that gaze was cold and enraged and fixed on you and Benjicot. 

If Benjicot had not been holding your hand, you would have been trembling. The two of you were trapped. 

“Are you so eager to start a war, Benjicot?” Lord Blackwood asked, his tone was like ice. “For some Bracken wench?” 

You felt Benjicot’s hand tighten around yours, almost to the point of pain. One glance at Benjicot told you that he was furious. His glare held that feral edge, and he was close to snarling. Bloody Ben was backed into a corner, and he looked itching for a fight. Even if that fight was against his own father.

“You will mind how you speak about my lady, father.” Had you not been so fearful for your life and his, you would have thought that declaration rather romantic. 

Lord Blackwood did not look impressed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you and your lady have brought to our door, Benjicot?” 

“We wish to marry, father.” Benjicot glanced at you as he said, “We love each other.” 

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lord Blackwood as he motioned for his men to stand down. “That does not change the fact that she is a Bracken. You cannot simply marry her without expecting there to be consequences.”

“I am prepared to accept any consequence if it means we can be together.” The surety in Benjicot’s tone was enough to ease the fear that had gripped you since you had been discovered. You could help but give him a small smile. 

A smile that Lord Blackwood did not miss. “And you, Lady Bracken?” Lord Blackwood sneered. “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this marriage? Your father will seek retribution for this little act of rebellion. Are you prepared to have blood on your hands?” 

Now you were the one who squeezed Benjicot’s hand. Lord Blackwood terrified you, and so did his words. You did not wish to be the cause of another fight between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, did not want to send anyone to their death because you fell in love with someone who was never meant to be yours. 

Benjicot nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you what strength he could. With him standing at your side, you found the courage to meet Lord Blackwood’s gaze. “Whatever trials and tribulations may come our way, Lord Blackwood, I am prepared to meet them with Benjicot as my lord husband.” 

Even without looking at him, you could feel Benjicot’s eyes on you as you held your own against his father. Could feel how proud he was of you for defending your future together. 

Taking another breathe, you could not help but add, “You speak of my hands becoming bloody,  but I could not think of anything more fitting for a woman betrothed to Bloody Ben Blackwood.” 

The silence in the godswood was deafening. 

Every person and creature seemed to be holding their breath for Lord Blackwood’s response. You did not dare break eye contact with him, determined to hold your ground and prove yourself worthy of being Benjicot’s wife. 

Lord Blackwood finally moved his gaze from you and back to Benjicot. “We will treat with Lord Bracken tomorrow. Offer him a parley. You will ask his permission to marry his daughter. You will accept his decision, no matter what he says.” 

“Father! You know he will not—”

But Lord Blackwood had heard enough. Holding up his hand, he demanded silence. “Those are my terms, Benjicot. Be grateful I am allowing this much.” 

A weariness had settled over Lord Blackwood’s features. Although he was still a man in his prime, in that moment, he looked aged and tired. As he turned to leave the godswood, he said, “We stand on the brink of war. The Targaryens are at each other’s throats since King Viserys passed. Soon House Blackwood will be asked to choose a side, and you have allowed your foolish heart to guide your choices.” 

You could tell Benjicot wanted to protest, wanted to push back on his father’s orders. He knew as well as you did that convincing your father to allow the two of you to marry was going to take an act of the gods. 

And even though Benjicot knew when to pick his battles, knew when he had lost a fight, he could not help but have the last word. “There are worse things to be guided by than one’s heart, father.” 

Benjicot’s words gave Lord Blackwood pause. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might reprimand Benjicot for his lack of respect. Only when Lord Blackwood continued walking out of the godswood did you feel like you could breathe again. 

The Blackwood guards followed their ledge lord, leaving you, Benjicot, and Aly in the presence of the ravens. You could have collapsed from exhaustion. You felt wrung out from the day. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, and your body was protesting. 

Aly approached and stopped just short of you and Benjicot. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Benjicot rounded on Aly, and with animosity in his voice, he asked, “Why did you stop us?”

Aly stared at Benjicot like he had grown a second head. “We’re trying to prevent a war, Benji. Had the two of you married, Bracken would have shown up here with a thousand men seeking your head. You might love each other, but is that love really worth the lives of hundreds? Thousands?” 

“You are overreacting—”

Aly shoved at Benjicot’s chest. “And you are being an idiot! Use your head, Benji. If you had married in secret, the Brackens would have stopped at nothing to avenge that insult. You know that, even if you are too blind to see it.” 

With a softer tone, Aly continued, “Be grateful your father is supporting you in this. He could have just as easily returned her to Stone Hedge. You have a chance.”

Benjicot scoffed. “A chance? Do you really believe—”

“Enough.” You cut Benjicot off before he could say another word. You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “My father may hate Blackwoods, but he is not unreasonable. We will convince him.” 

You could tell that Benjicot was struggling to control his temper. He was still running hot from the confrontation with Aly and his father. Bloody Ben was lingering too close to the surface. You pulled his face toward yours and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nothing more than a gentle peck, but enough to distract him. 

When you pulled back, you could see that some of the edge had worn off. Benjicot’s face was calmer, less hostile. “I love you, Benjicot Blackwood. I do not plan to give you up without a fight.” 

Benjicot smiled at your words, the soft smile he reserved just for you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “My brave girl. I pity any man who would dare cross you.”

You held each other for a moment before Aly cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’m going to escort little Bracken back to her rooms.” 

With a quick kiss to your head, Benjicot released you and said, “Sleep well, my lady.” 

You did not want to leave Benjicot, but you knew there was no way Aly was going to let you stay with each other. As you followed her out of the godswood, you could not help but take one last look at Benjicot. 

You nearly stumbled when you saw him. Beneath the ancient weirwood tree, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by ravens, stood Benjicot. His head bowed as if in prayer. 

You did not have to guess what he was praying about. You only hoped that the old gods were listening. 

The only neutral territory acceptable to both the Blackwoods and the Brackens were the boundary stones near the old windmill. The day was overcast and cold, with the wind tearing through the cloak Aly had lent you.

Aly had not left your side since collecting you from your rooms that morning. You and Benjicot had been kept separated for the entire journey. You had asked for him, begged Aly to allow you two a moment alone, but she had refused. Lord Blackwood was keeping both she and Benjicot on a tight leash until this matter was settled. 

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had tossed and turned the entire night, too anxious to close your eyes for fear of what your dreams may hold. You might have been confident with Benjicot the night before, but in truth, you had no idea how to convince your father to allow you to marry. 

The Brackens had arrived first. 

A host of about fifty men had gathered on their side of the boundary stones. A sea of red and gold with a few horses scattered in the mix. You did not miss how all the men were armed with swords at the ready. 

And in the front, seated atop his favorite war horse and adorned in battle leathers, was Amos Bracken. Your father.  

Amos Bracken was not as tall or built as Samwell Blackwood, but you knew your father to be a proficient swordsmen and respected fighter in his own right. You had no doubt that should this come to blows, he would hold his own. 

Aeron stood beside him. A united front against their perceived enemies. And while your father’s face was blank of all emotions, calm and controlled, Aeron’s disdain for the Blackwoods was clear for all to see. 

The Blackwood host equalled that of the Brackens’. You had ridden to the neutral ground on the back of Aly’s horse. You had tried to spot Benjicot all morning, but there were too many men, too much chaos. The closer you got to the boundary stones, the more you felt Aly tense in front of you. 

When you finally stopped, Aly directed you to the front of the vanguard. She had drawn her bow the moment your feet hit the ground. 

Your first sight of Benjicot sent your heart thumping. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times. But that was the only sign that Benjicot felt uneasy. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth was fixed in a smirk, like this meeting was an every day occurrence. He showed no fear. 

Aly stopped you slightly behind and to the right of Benjicot. You saw the moment when your father and Aeron spotted you. Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Aeron’s face twisted into a mix of shock and disbelief. 

You swallowed down the fear and anxiety. Swallowed down the nausea that threatened to upend your breakfast. Swallowed down any uncertainty you felt. You had to present a strong front to your father and his men. Otherwise, they would pounce on any hesitation and demand that you be returned home. 

Lord Blackwood broke the silence first. “Amos. A pleasure as always.”

“Cut the shit, Blackwood,” Lord Bracken snarled, “and return my daughter to me.” 

The words were not unexpected. You tensed as Aeron shifted his hand to the sword at his side, stomach twisting as he gripped the hilt. 

You exhaled a long breath and fixed your gaze on your father. “I am well, father. The Blackwoods have treated me kindly.”

Lord Bracken’s face darkened, and you instantly regretted speaking. “I do not want to hear a single word from you.”

Your cheeks flamed at the dismissal, but you refused to lower your eyes. Refused to cower before your family. “Then I am sorry to disappoint you, father.”

“You insubordinate, ungrateful—”

“Lord Bracken,” Benjicot interjected, stopping your father from insulting you further. “I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You did not so much as breathe as you waited for your father to respond. 

And waited. 

And waited. 

The longer you waited, the more panic seeped into your veins. But when your father finally responded, you wished that he had not. 

With a sneer on his face, your father glared at Benjicot when he said, “I would sooner feed my daughter to one of those Targaryen dragons before marrying her to some Blackwood cunt.” 

You had felt like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You had never seen such hatred on your father’s face. Had never heard his voice sound so cold and cruel. You knew that he hated the Blackwoods, but to sentence you to death rather than let you marry? 

You looked at your father like he was a stranger. 

You heard angry shouts and curses behind you from the Blackwood host. Felt that the bloodlust in the air had upped a notch. 

Lord Blackwood held up a hand to silence his men. “Careful, Bracken.” 

“My daughter was taken by your son. Subjected to gods knows what. I will not be careful, Blackwood.” 

“That’s not true, father!” You shouted, launching yourself to stand before your father. You had to find some way to convince him, some way to get him to listen. “Benjicot and I are in love. Please, just listen to us.” 

Your father scoffed. “Love? Between a Bracken and a Blackwood? Do not make me laugh.” 

The Bracken host jeered at your father’s word, laughing and snickering at the very idea of you and Benjicot being together. You even heard a man call out, “Blackwood whore!” 

You did not see Benjicot move. Did not see him reach for the dagger at his hip. Did not see him launch the blade into the air. 

But you could not miss the dagger embedding itself into the man’s throat. Could not miss the splattering of blood or the final wheeze of breath the man took before falling to the ground. Dead in the blink of an eye. 

A scream tore from your throat. You whipped around to look at Benjicot and found Bloody Ben instead. His eyes held that crazed, feral look, but there was no smirk.

Every Blackwood and Bracken standing in that field un-sheathed their weapons. 

“You may insult me all you wish, Bracken!” Benjicot called out, moving forward. “Call me a cunt. Call me craven. I do not care.” He stopped next to you and took your hand. "But I will cut down any man who dares to say such vile insults to my lady. Of that, I promise you.”

Your father did not look pleased by that declaration. If anything, he looked more enraged than before. “You violate the terms of this parley, Blackwood. You have spilled Bracken blood. I have the right to demand your head. But I will settle for the return of my daughter. Now.” 

You were close to tears. Nothing you or Benjicot said moved your father. He was determined to hold onto his hatred, to see the Blackwoods in the worst possible light. But you could not give up—you had to try. 

“Father, please,” your voice broke at the words, “I know that the feud between our families has lasted for a millennium. I know that the thought of a Blackwood and Bracken being together, of loving one another, is inconceivable to you. I know that this is not the life you wished for me. But I have lovedBenjicot since I was a girl.” You took a quick glance at Benjicot to give you strength. “And he loves me. I humbly ask you to grant our union.” 

Your father refused to look at you. Refused to acknowledge your words or pleas. You clutched Benjicot’s hand tighter. For you knew what was coming. Knew that your father was about to crush whatever hope you still held onto. 

Ignoring you and Benjicot as if you were insignificant, he directed his words to Lord Blackwood, “I do not give my blessing to this marriage. Return my daughter to me or we will have war.” 

Your vision swam and your ears began ringing. Somewhere in the distance you heard Lord Blackwood sigh and give the command. Your hand was ripped from Benjicot’s, by whom you did not know. You felt as if the entire world had spun off its axis. How had everything gone so wrong? 

One moment, you were standing next to Benjicot, his warm hand against yours, and then in the blink of an eye, you were on the other side of the boundary stones, with Aeron leading you away.

You felt as if you were disconnected from your body. Aeron’s arms were around you, guiding you. You were vaguely aware that he was trying to say something, speak to you about what had happened. But you felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness had settled over you. 

Only when you heard Benjicot call out your name did you snap. 

You shoved against Aeron, tried to run back across the boundary stones to Blackwood land, back to your love, but Aeron held firm. You struggled against him, screaming and hitting and kicking, but your strength was no match for his. 

You looked across the field to see Benjicot being held back by three men. He was snarling and raging, but the men held firm and forced him to his knees. You watched as Aly tried to speak to him, tried to calm him down. 

But there was no calming Bloody Ben. Not now. Not when his lady had been taken from him. 

When Benjicot saw that you were watching him, saw that you were struggling against your own constraints, he stopped. His eyes were wild and fierce and held the promise of retribution. With laboring breaths Benjicot shouted across the field, “I will come you for you, my lady!” He vowed. “I will always come for you!” 

You sobbed at his words. Sobbed for the happiness and hope that you had felt only hours before. Sobbed for the future you might have shared together.

For the second time, you were forced to leave Benjicot behind in this accursed field. Only this time, the heartbreak was so much worse. You had gotten a taste of the impossible dream, gotten so close to getting everything you wanted.

Your dream had become a nightmare. 

final author note: I know! I know! We have to suffer before things get better. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you babes xx

taglist:

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[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Time for today's silly Merlin au! This time featuring himbo Arthur!

I think that the show should have leaned into the whole "Merlin's technically a creature of magic" aspect, both in terms of being magic incarnate and kin to the dragons, and I think Arthur should have also been forced to come to terms with it as well. However, this is Arthur we're talking about, so of course he wouldn't come to the right conclusions right away.

In this scenario, around season 5-ish, there's an evil sorcerer seeking revenge against Camelot for the purge who puts a spell on all of the humans in Camelot, one that would weaken them and cause such fatigue that no one would be able to even stand up after a while. But it's a powerful and taxing spell to cast, so the sorcerer can only afford to target the humans in Camelot to keep the number of targets as low as possible. Besides, what could the livestock in Camelot do to stop him anyways?

So everyone in Camelot is falling under this spell, and Arthur and the knights are rushing to prepare for battle against the sorcerer to make him lift the spell. However, with each hour that passes, everyone grows weaker and weaker.

Merlin does, of course, know that this spell has been cast and what it does, but he doesn't feel its affects and assumes that his magic is protecting him. He acts like he's growing weaker so he doesn't fall under anyone's suspicions for the wrong reasons. However, after Merlin summons and talks to Kilgarrah for advice on how to break the spell, Kilgarrah informs him that Merlin wasn't protected by his magic, but rather by the fact that he isn't truly human.

And Merlin decides to unpack the implications of that some other time, because he's got a kingdom and a prat to save.

Fast forwards to the knights getting their asses kicked by the sorcerer and the evil sorcerer preparing to kill Arthur, who's lying on the ground with his eyes closed. All the other knights were knocked out by a blast from the sorcerer, but Arthur's still barely clinging to consciousness, yet he's too weak to even open his eyes. All he can do is listen helplessly as the sorcerer prepares to kill them all.

But then the sorcerer yelps, as if he were hit by something. Arthur's hope skyrockets as the sorcerer yells "You! How are you even still awake?! Every single human in Camelot should be feeling the full effects of the spell by now!" Arthur thinks for a moment that one of his knights has found enough strength to overcome the spell and fight back, but that hope is quickly dashed when he hears Merlin's voice responding like he isn't tired in the slightest, saying, "Well it's a good thing I was never really human then."

Merlin decided to say that to throw the sorcerer off-kilter enough to distract him and give Merlin an advantage in the fight. Besides, Merlin can see that all of the knights, including Arthur, are knocked out on the ground, so there's no harm in admitting it to this sorcerer who he's definitely going to have to kill.

Arthur, meanwhile, is still conscious and completely reeling from Merlin's words. What the hell did he mean he wasn't human?! Has some vile magical creature taken Merlin's place?

After the battle (which sounded to Arthur like a bunch of grunts, pained yelps, and a final, wet gurgle), Arthur could feel the effects of the spell lifting, letting him open his eyes with a gasp. He frantically looks around to make sure Merlin's ok, but Merlin's only a few steps away from him, while the sorcerer lies dead on the ground with a sword buried in his chest.

Hearing Arthur's gasp, Merlin turns to him with a relieved smile and helps pulls Arthur to his feet. Arthur, meanwhile, is too stunned to even ask how Merlin of all people managed to kill a powerful sorcerer by himself, but Merlin's giving some unbelievable explanation that involves distracting the sorcerer and then getting a miraculous opening and stabbing the sorcerer. Arthur's nodding along, but inside, he's really searching man who might be Merlin or might be some magical imposter posing as Merlin, as awful as that is for Arthur to consider, for any signs that he's truly Merlin.

If he's an imposter, Arthur has to give him credit, he plays his part well. The man in front of him looks exactly like Merlin, talks like Merlin, walks with Merlin's lanky gait, and seems to know everything Merlin knows, even their inside jokes. Still, Arthur needs to be sure, so after they get back to the castle, Arthur goes down to the vaults and grabs a secret object that Uther used in the purge that could detect illusions and glamor magics. It was a simple clear crystal in the shape of a sphere and small enough to fit in the palm of a person's hand, but if someone or something that was using magic to alter their appearance came into contact with it, the crystal would glow with a bright light.

Arthur plants the sphere in his chambers and disguises it as a new paperweight. The next day, Arthur pretends to accidentally knock it off his desk, sending it rolling across the floor, and orders the maybe-Merlin to pick it up and bring it back to his desk. Maybe-Merlin rolls his eyes in a perfect imitation of Merlin and walks over to the crystal. To Arthur's shock and relief, the crystal doesn't glow when Merlin picks it up, so he definitely is the true Merlin.

But then that leads Arthur to a horrible conclusion: the Merlin he knew wasn't a human, and never was. And the only creatures with the ability to look convincingly human were creatures of magic.

Oh god, Merlin was a creature of magic.

Arthur decides that, in order for him to plot an appropriate course of action, he needs more information. Namely, he needs to know what exactly Merlin is.

So, Arthur sneaks into the library and secretly takes some of the bestiaries, searching for what manner of creature Merlin truly is. Arthur tries not to jump to the worst possible conclusions, but all of the creatures of magic that can take human form that Arthur knows of are horrible monsters that prey on humans. Take the sidhe and the lamia for examples!

But people don't randomly go missing or turn up dead from monster attacks very frequently in Camelot, and Merlin cries when Arthur so much as shoots a bunny, so if Merlin's some sort of monster that kills and eats humans, he's doing a piss poor job at being one. So, Merlin must be some sort of creature that doesn't hurt humans, which certainly narrows down the list.

Arthur eventually finds a list of peaceful, human-like creatures of magic, and he starts trying to narrow down what Merlin is. He couldn't be an elf, since his ears were huge and round, not pointed. He couldn't be a gnome, he was too tall and gangly. He couldn't be a nymph, he spent too much time indoors to be a nature spirit. He couldn't be a leprechaun, he didn't have a beard or an affinity towards gold. He couldn't be a fae or a sidhe, he doesn't make deals with anyone (besides when he goes gambling at the tavern). And he certainly couldn't be a dragonlord, they were all dead!

Arthur was just about to give up when he finally found what he was looking for! The book's passage on fairies described them as benevolent relatives to the fae who would often disguise themselves as humans and would bring good luck and fortune to whoever befriended them, while sometimes engaging in some fun mischief! That must be Merlin!

Come to think of it, Arthur did have some great moments of luck, some of them almost miraculous! Morgana's magic failing her the day of a battle, defeating a dragon single-handedly, surviving the questing beast's bite, and of course defeating monsters that were said to only be killed through magic. And Merlin had been there for all of those events!

The book also describes fairies as creatures that love all living beings and are closely connected with nature, which makes perfect sense considering how much Merlin hates hunting! And fairies could see into the true hearts of people, which was how Merlin always knew if a person was untrustworthy!

It all made so much sense! This even explained Merlin's random "visits to the tavern", when Arthur knew that Merlin rarely ever drank. According to the book, fairies could only maintain their human forms for so long before they needed to spend some time in their smaller winged forms.

The book even addressed how fairies could be born from a union between a particularly powerful fairy and a human, which even explained why Merlin never knew his father and how Merlin could be a creature of magic while having a human mother!

Now that he knew the truth, Arthur felt so much relief! His best friend wasn't some diabolical monster, he was just a playful and friendly fairy trying to live as a human! It made so much sense!

And now all Arthur had to do was prove it. All evidence pointed to Merlin being a fairy, but he needed concrete proof before he could take any action. According to the book, the blood of a fairy in a human disguise sparkled under the light of a full moon. So, Arthur devised a plan to take Merlin out on an overnight hunting trip the day before the next full moon and "accidentally" cut Merlin's arm with one of the crossbow bolts. Arthur would then bandage the cut for Merlin and, after a couple hours, insist on changing the bandages, and pocket the first bloodied bandage.

Sure, Arthur felt guilty about purposely cutting his friend, but this was Merlin's fault for keeping the fact that he wasn't human a secret over their ten years of friendship! So, Arthur goes through with his plan, and when he held the used bandage up to the moonlight after Merlin had fallen asleep, he has to hold back a gasp as the red blood on the cloth shimmers and turns a bright golden color. Well, the book was right, the blood certainly sparkled!

(It was a shame that Arthur never read into warlocks, and how the magic in a warlock's blood made their blood turn gold under the light of a full moon.)

Arthur then turned to look at his peacefully sleeping friend, and swore that he would do everything he could to help his friendly little fairy.

Shortly after that revelation, Arthur starts actively noticing all of the strokes of luck he has. Bandits can never land a hit on him because they're too busy getting knocked out by tree branches or tripping over roots, his baths and meals are always the perfect temperature no matter how long he waits, and his injuries all heal at near-impossible rates. Hell, Arthur couldn't even recall the last time he got sick with something as small as a cold!

So Arthur tries to do little things for Merlin to show him his appreciation, like giving Merlin flower crowns (which fairies are said to like and Merlin absolutely adores), giving him a shiny silver mirror (fairies are supposed to like shiny things, and Merlin's never had a proper mirror before), and giving Merlin parts of his own meals as a food offering (which Merlin of course isn't about to turn down).

(Arthur's also kinda frustrated at the lack of information about fairy courting rituals lol!)

But Arthur isn't the best at keeping secrets, so the knights of the round table eventually catch him trying to set up a nice little fairy ring for Merlin in the garden, and they also "figure out" that Merlin is a fairy, and it all spirals from there until the entire castle is trying to show their appreciation for their fairy friend.

Merlin's very confused by all of this (since Arthur's terrible at actually communicating, Merlin doesn't know that Arthur thinks he's a fairy), but he's not about to turn down all of these lovely gifts!

And there's lots of different directions the story could go from there! A pretty funny scenario would be some rival king catching wind of how Camelot's great victories are all because of their king befriending a kind fairy, so he kidnaps Merlin in an attempt to make Merlin grant him such great luck and victory in battle. However, all they do to imprison Merlin is pour a circle of salt around him (since they firmly believe that fairies cannot cross a barrier of salt).

Merlin's just kinda raises an eyebrow and thinks that this is the weirdest kidnapping ever, steps over the salt, and escapes back to Camelot.

Thank you for reading through my rambling! :D