#fic: love ours

[saiilorstars]

Love Ours | Ch.9 Birthday Mania

Fandom: MCU • Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC

Summary: Seren plans Steve's birthday and it doesn't go according to plan at all.

Story Masterlist • Seren’s Masterlist 

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

Taglist: @ocappreciationtag​ @arrthurpendragon​ @anotherunreadblog @maaaaarveeeeel @stareyedplanet​ @averyhotchner @foxesandmagic @kmc1989​

[If you’d like to be a part of any OC’s works/edits, let me know!]

The moment that Steve opened his eyes, Seren was right beside him holding a cupcake with a lit candle in her hands. He closed his eyes again and let out a light chuckle.

"Straight to the point," he mumbled in the midst of his laugh. He cracked one eye open and looked up at Seren. "Good morning."

Seren was grinning from ear to ear and was quite loud when she wished him 'happy birthday!'. "You'll of course have a decent birthday cake later but for right now, how's about an old fashioned birthday cupcake?" she said and offered him the cupcake.

"For breakfast?" Steve raised an eyebrow at her as he sat up. "Breaking the rules…"

"Mm, I'm willing to make an exception today — it is your birthday, after all. Happy birthday, lovey. May you have plenty more years in your life." She leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on his lips. "And I mean like hundreds more…"

Steve's expression at the number was priceless and he was very clear afterwards that he was not looking to live for hundreds more. "I'm 106 already, sweetheart. It's not about the quantity but the quality of life instead and without you, there's not much quality in my life." He took the cupcake from her hands, blowing out the candle.

"You didn't make a wish," Seren pointed out, her cheeks still flushed from his words.

"I did in my head," Steve said, taking a bite of the cupcake. "This is delicious, by the way."

"Thanks, I made them earlier," Seren said, and at his look she explained she had gotten up much earlier than him. "I couldn't sleep," she shrugged. She wiped a finger over the cream of the cupcake and popped it into her mouth.

"I hope you're not sleep depriving yourself for me," Steve said. "I don't need anything today, Seren, I told you."

"Why must you be oh-so-high-and-mighty about a simple birthday party?"

Steve chuckled at her disgruntled face. "I'm not—"

"Yes, you are!" she exclaimed. "What is so wrong about wanting to celebrate your very existence!?"

"Nothing, sweetheart, but I just don't want you stressing out over something that doesn't have to happen. I don't need anything," he said and reached a hand on her cheek, "But I do very much appreciate your intentions. So, what can I help you with?"

Seren hummed as she thought for a second. "Well, I pretty much have everything ready, just some last minute pick-ups in the afternoon."

"Of course you do," Steve playfully rolled his eyes. "Then I guess all I have to do is make myself look presentable, right?"

Seren nodded at him. "Make yourself look very pretty, please. Not that I think you'll have a lot of trouble with that."

Steve threw his head back and laughed. If he ever needed a boost of confidence, Seren would always be the one for the job. She had absolutely no trouble with it.

~ 0 ~

Throughout the whole day, everyone in the compound was wishing Steve a happy birthday and making comments about the upcoming party in the evening. Seren had been planning it for weeks now and had roped each member into doing certain tasks for her. Chloe, Wanda, Pietro and Vision were in charge of decoration considering they had probability, telekinesis, speed and flight on their side. Natasha and Thor were to supervise them because they were more than likely to get into arguments on the job — they were also meant to blow balloons somewhere along the way. Tony was in charge of music — a self proclaimed position, unfortunately and something Seren couldn't persuade him to leave alone. Bucky had the job of distraction, and he wasn't very good at it (Steve thought this because he had told him 5 minutes into a conversation that was his intentions for the day).

"So where the hell is my girlfriend?" Steve demanded to know when four o'clock hit and he hadn't heard a peep from her. She was small, yes, but still explosive. She should have been in communication with him at some point already.

Bucky, who had also self-proclaimed himself in charge of the alcohol at the party, was deciding between two wine bottles. "I think I should get the most expensive one, right? I mean, it doesn't really matter for us but it would be funny to see Chloe get drunk and make a fool of herself."

Steve rolled his eyes at the grinning face his best friend had on. "I'm gonna go find Seren." He was only halfway towards the door when Bucky called him back.

"C'mon, Steve, let her do whatever she needs to do. She's put her whole little hybrid heart into this shindig." Bucky set the wine bottles on the island and motioned Steve to pick one. "Personally, I think beer is better but apparently we need to have a variety of options for the guests."

"Who is even on this guest list, anyways?" Steve asked out of curiosity. He walked back to the island and looked over the two wine bottles.

"Not a lot of people," Bucky said honestly. "Seren said she was keeping it small for you."

Steve smiled to himself. She knew him so well.

"So, which one?" Bucky presented Steve with two more bottles for him to choose from.

Before Steve answered, a gust of wind blew in and suddenly Pietro Maximoff was ransacking the fridge.

"Which one of you took Wanda's lemonade? She'll kill whoever took it." He shut the fridge door with a huff and turned around, his face lighting up at the sight of the wine bottles. "Never mind!"

"Hold it," Bucky pointed at him. "Last time I checked, you're not 21 so go get a juice box."

Pietro rolled his eyes. "But I will be soon and I should be compensated for my troubles back there. Between my sister and Chloe, it's a miracle I haven't lost my mind already."

"Yeah, yeah, back to work," Bucky shooed him off.

"They're horrible," Pietro reiterated. "Especially Chloe and her bossy—"

"I'd watch your words about my girlfriend," Bucky cleared his throat and pretended to examine the ingredients of a wine bottle.

"Just take a water bottle, Pietro," Steve suggested kindly and sent the speedster on his way. He shook his head. "I think I'm gonna go—"

"Do I need to tie you up or something to keep you here?" Bucky put the wine bottle down and stared at his best friend sharply. "If you go and mess up Seren's schedule, she'll come for my ass and I don't feel like dying today. I feel like wine tasting, actually…"

Steve rolled his eyes and raised his hands in defeat.

~ 0 ~

He made himself look very nice — pretty — and was downstairs at the prompted time, according to Bucky. The party got started very smoothly and it was honestly fun, but Steve was worried. Seren had not shown up and what's more, she hadn't sent him any message nor called.

That wasn't like her.

Steve couldn't shake off the feeling that something was wrong. Nobody else seemed to think the same. Bucky's selection of drinks was a hit and so was the music — it was a party. The food was good, the drinks were good, the people — his friends — were all so kind and well wishing. Steve really appreciated everything they all had done for him but he couldn't enjoy any of it until Seren arrived.

And she didn't.

An hour turned into two.

Finally, Steve decided he had to do something. He went to find Chloe and cut her dance with Bucky short.

"No, I haven't heard from her," she told him. "Is she — is she not here?" She looked around the party, her senses slightly off with her amount of drinks.

"No," Steve shook his head. "And I know Seren would message me — or you, even — if she was going to be late."

Chloe thought the same. "Maybe she texted Nat or something."

"Or Stark," Bucky suggested. "Stark told me Seren had called in a favor from him for something for, uh, you?"

Steve went to go find Tony while Chloe and Bucky went for Natasha. When Steve found Tony, he cut straight to the chase. His heart was starting to hammer in his chest as the minutes went by and he knew nothing of Seren.

"No, she hasn't called me," Tony said. "She was supposed to be in about an hour ago."

"Where did she go?" Steve said urgently.

"I can't tell you, it was a surprise," Tony shrugged. "She made me swear it."

"I don't care — she's not answering anyone's calls! Where is she, Tony?"

Tony was still hesitant to answer. "I…look, if she finds out that I ruined the surprise—"

"Stark!" Steve snapped. "I don't care, alright? I want to know where she is so that I can go to her and make sure she's okay! Damn everything!"

"Steve!" Chloe exclaimed as she rushed towards him. "We found her! Well, Bucky found her, but we got her!" Steve immediately went to look for her in the party but Chloe told her she wasn't with them. "Don't freak out — Seren's okay — but she sort of, may have, had an accident…"

But of course, Steve's first instinct was to freak out. "What!? Wh-where is she? What — what happened!?"

Chloe once again reassured him that Seren was okay, but her words meant nothing to Steve until he could confirm with his own eyes that Seren was okay. She dragged him out of the party and into the hallway where Bucky was waiting for them.

"Bucky, where is she?" Steve went straight to his best friend, his face filled with anguish. "Where's Seren? Please, where is she?"

"Calm down, calm down," Bucky said, grabbing Steve by the arms. "She's fine! She's here — well, she's coming here. She'll be here soon."

Steve looked at Chloe, confused. "I thought you said she had an accident?"

"She did," Bucky re-confirmed. "But she's totally fine. I don't know exactly what happened, Seren wasn't very specific. She's being brought over by the medics — she literally forced them to discharge her and she's being brought over so calm down."

"I-I gotta go pick her up — I gotta go—!" Steve made two steps forward before Bucky blocked his way. "Buck, I need to see her!"

"I get that but there's no point! She's already on route here! She'll be here in 15 minutes, man! You're gonna miss her if you leave!"

Steve begrudgingly stopped pushing against Bucky. "What happened?" he demanded again.

"I don't know, Seren didn't tell me. She was quick — she was scared of the whole medic thing so she told me to be ready."

"Why did she call you?" Steve asked all of a sudden. "Why didn't she — why you?"

Bucky knew better than to fall for the jealousy trick. "She didn't. She called the compound and FRIDAY patched it through. I answered the call. You need to calm down before you see her. You're gonna scare her more than she already is."

The idea of adding more fear to whatever Seren was already feeling made Steve finally stop and take a breath. He needed to make sure that she was okay but he couldn't do that if he was going to make it so that she wasn't okay.

Fifteen minutes later, they were at the entrance of the compound waiting for Seren to finally arrive. Thankfully, in a few minutes, they saw a car pulling through the entrance and met it halfway.

Seren was trying to push her way out even before the car had stopped. She really didn't want to be anywhere near the medics. She practically fell into Steve's arms jumping out of the car. Steve took the chance immediately to check her out. She was dressed to the nines for the evening but there was a large gash running down her right leg.

Steve picked her up bridal style and left Bucky and Chloe to tend to the people Seren had come with. He ignored her assurances that she was fine and her pleas to calm down, bringing her straight to the medbay.

"I'm calling Helen," he said firmly and with no room to argue. Helen was the only medic in the world whom Seren could trust in. Luckily, she was one of the attendees of the party and so it was fairly quick getting her down.

"I'm fine," Seren told Helen as the woman examined her leg. "Just a small accident."

"Doesn't look small," Helen hummed. She was cleaning out the lingering blood on Seren's skin. "What happened?"

"Yes, what happened?" Steve waited impatiently to hear the answer. "And don't lie, please."

Seren groaned and explained that she had been struck by a car trying to push someone else out of the way. "All I did was fall — I've had much worse and you two know that!"

"It doesn't mean I can't worry," Steve told her, frowning. "I didn't hear from you all day. I knew something was wrong."

"Well, it looks superficial," Helen remarked, "But definitely something that'll take a few hours to heal even with your super healing."

"Why is it so big?" Steve said, his voice no longer angry but filled with concern.

"It was the car," Seren told him. "The license plate hooked on my skin. Hurt like hell but definitely not something I needed to go to the hospital for. It took me forever to get to my phone. That's why I couldn't call and even when I did, I just had to call the quickest number. I thought you would be having fun at the party so I didn't want to ruin it. I failed, obviously."

Helen smiled at the couple. "I think this is where I leave. Seren, the stitches will fall out when your skin starts closing on its own but you should be fine."

"I am fine, Helen," Seren reiterated.

"But you still won't be dancing tonight, I'm afraid. And no getting off the bed either, except for the restroom and even then you're going to need help."

"I got it," Seren sighed. "Thank you, Helen."

"Of course," Helen nodded and left the two alone.

Seren leaned her head back on her pillow. "As far as birthday parties go, I am the worst at planning them. I ruined your day, Steve. I'm so sorry."

"You're joking," Steve said flatly. "You have to be joking."

"What?"

"I'm going to pretend that you didn't say any of that stuff because you did make an incredibly great party and you got hit by a car." Steve pulled a chair beside her bed and sat down. "But I was so worried when you didn't show up and you didn't answer my calls."

"I'm sorry, lovey," Seren sighed. "I swear it was supposed to be something quick."

"What were you even out doing?" Steve asked.

"Getting you your present, what else?" Seren reached for his hand and curled her fingers around his. "It was the last thing on my to-do list and by far the most important one." No sooner had she said that when she gasped and started looking around urgently for her bag. "No, no, no, no, no! Where's my bag!? Where's my — your present was in there!"

Steve was quick to push her back down when she made to get off. "Absolutely not!"

"Steve, I left your present in that car!" Seren struggled with Steve's hands gripping her wrists.

"I don't care about any present—"

"It was important!"

"Well, this is a promising sight," Chloe's voice froze the couple in their spots. She looked up at Bucky beside her then. "If you ever fight me like that, know that I'll blast you."

Bucky rolled his eyes and pushed her a few inches to the side. "Anyways, we came to deliver." He held up Seren's bag in his hand. "You left it back there."

"Oh my goodness," Seren breathed out in relief. "Bucky, I love you, thank you!"

"Hey now," Chloe flashed Seren a faux sharp look, "That's my line."

Bucky handed Steve the bag who then handed it over to Seren. She thanked him all over again.

"Should we tell them upstairs that the party's over?" Chloe asked.

"Yeah," Steve immediately said, gazing at Seren. "I won't be going back anytime soon."

"No, you totally should," Seren said, frowning. "It's your day."

"And you're my girl. That's way more important. Besides, how can I go to a party that you made without you?"

"He's got you there," Chloe shrugged. "Tell you what," she reached over for Bucky's arm and tugged him back with her, "We'll go back and keep the party going in honor of you."

Steve snorted. "Oh, really?"

"Chloe's got the right idea," Bucky nodded very seriously. "We'll save you some wine. Let's go!"

They could hear Chloe's laughter even as they disappeared into the hallway.

Steve went after them and closed the door. "No more interruptions. You need to rest."

Seren smoothed out her dress as best as she could and lamented the way their evening turned out. "I am so sorry, Steve."

"Sorry for getting hit by a car? You have to be joking," Steve chuckled and walked back to her bedside. "I'm just glad that you're okay. You have no idea what I was feeling earlier. Please don't disappear on me like that ever again."

"I wasn't planning on getting hit by a car but you know how 4th of July is. It's full of crazy people — even crazier than on regular days." Seren scooted on the bed and patted the spot next to her. "Speaking of, the fireworks will probably be starting soon and it's no balcony but the window's pretty big."

"That it is," Steve agreed and gazed at the windows. The sky was already being lit with fireworks from a good distance, only leaving soft noises of the cracks. Soon, they would be much closer. He sat down beside her and gave her a kiss on her forehead. "I did love your party, by the way. Thank you."

"I'm glad you did," Seren said, "I wanted it to be perfect for you. I'm sorry you can't enjoy it anymore. I really don't mind if you want to go back, you know."

"I know, but I don't want to go back. You're here and I always want to be next to you. And you know what? My wish that I made this morning was to spend my evening just with you."

"Well…how about you at least open my present, then?" Seren reached inside her bag to pull out a wrapped present for him. "I think you'll like it."

"I think you're right," Steve said and took it from her. He was careful to unwrap it and soon found the makings of a frame. He expected it to be a picture of them — he wouldn't mind one more for their bedroom — but he found something very different instead. The picture was old from Time but the face was young…

"I, uh, I got Tony to help me out with all the permissions and stuff," Seren explained during the silence. "I thought you should have it."

"It's a picture of my mother…how did…how did you even find one?" All Steve had from his mother were his memories and a few sketches of her that he had made. As far as he knew, there was no tangible proof that his mother had ever existed.

"With a lot of work," Seren admitted and smiled. "But worth all the work to see that face." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "Happy birthday. I owe you one birthday cake."

Steve was very, very, careful with the frame as he set it down on a table beside the bed. There were no words to encompass all the feelings in his chest. Even now as he gazed at the frame, he couldn't believe he was actually staring at a picture of his mother. His sweet and beautiful mother.

"You will never have to buy me another birthday cake," he said and turned to face Seren. "Not with this kind of gift." He cupped her face and tilted her head up to kiss her. "You are officially given a pass for the rest of my birthdays."

Seren chuckled. "You don't have to exaggerate, lovey. I'm glad you liked the present. It was totally worth getting hit by a car."

Steve's face fell flat and yet she giggled like it totally hadn't happened at all. Thankfully, the closer fireworks started and they cuddled to watch them through the windows. It was then that Seren admitted she had also had some doing in the fireworks for him.

Steve couldn't believe it and yet at the same time he did because it was something very her — trying to make him feel so special. "You're amazing," he murmured against her hair and peppered a few kisses, earning various giggles from her.

A/N:

Happy birthday to my boy ^.^

[tadfools]

You guys are commenting on the fics you read right? You’re at least leaving kudos on the Astarion smut and the pairs that have less than 20 fics for them too? You’re bookmarking stories you really like that are still being updated and ones that haven’t been touched in over a year right?

You know that even the smallest interactions are like cocaine to fic writers right? You understand how important a string of emoji hearts left behind on a chapter at three am is right?? Right????

You’re treating AO3 like a community and not a content factory….right?

[transformativeworks]

Australian Social Media News

Australia has passed a law that bans anyone under age 16 from using social media starting late 2025, fining tech companies up to A$49.5M for non-compliance. While intending to address mental health concerns in kids and teenagers, the law raises significant risks for privacy, digital access, and the freedom of expression, raising questions about the boundaries of digital censorship.

With that being said, we don’t expect this decision to affect the OTW or any of its projects, including AO3. However, as the OTW, we are against all forms of censorship and will be releasing a detailed statement about the matter soon.

https://www.reuters.com/technology/australia-passes-social-media-ban-children-under-16-2024-11-28/

[demaparbat-hp]

The Crew is boisterous and loud, full of traitors, inside jokes, and secrets. The scum of the Fire Nation. The forgotten tiles on the Empire's Pai Sho board. The ones who change the game.

But most importantly—they're a family. And no matter how much they complain about their boss (teenage menace that he is), they'll do anything for their Prince.

Anything.

.

The Crew is the heart and soul of my fic For the Spirits. No one really knows just how important they will be to the story...how important they already are.

[petricorah]

scenes i loved from Real Enough to Get Me Through by @marriedzukka <333 [ids in alt]

[ricochetyears]

oh how i hate that headcanon where sirius is a total whore who’s super experienced with sex. like, okay, sure—humor and flirting might be his coping mechanism, but i’m dead convinced the bastard knew as much about sex as a cow knows about discord. fr, growing up in that household? zero sex ed. sex was probably treated as purely for making heirs, and anything about pleasure was seen as shameful. so yeah, sirius might’ve been all talk, shouting about sex like he knew everything, but in reality? no real experience, no real understanding. just vibes and bluster

and that’s exactly why i love wolfstar intimate connection so much. in my mind, remus has a healthy, grounded understanding of sex—like, he actually gets it. he knows that it’s not just a physical thing but something tied to connection and emotion and he definitely understands how to give and receive pleasure

he’s the one who shows sirius what pleasure can actually feel like, how it’s nothing to be ashamed of. he teaches him how to enjoy it, how to feel good both physically and emotionally with someone you care about. remus is the one who shows sirius how to kiss someone when you love them, where and how to touch to make it feel good—no rush, no pressure. just feelings, just connection

[frownyalfred]

“This fic would be better if—” babe this isn’t your high school English class and my fic isn’t assigned reading. it’s something a stranger wrote on the internet without an explicit request for constructive criticism or suggestions for improvement. you are not grading my smut fic on a rubric (I hope).

if you cannot consume writing without needing to criticize it, that’s a you problem. stop leaving me these kinds of comments — and if you DO: for god’s sake, please make sure you’re actually objectively correct about the criticism you’re leaving.

[deepspacenova]

𝐂𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐒

4500 words | Dragon!Sylus. Banter. Sexual tension. Smut. (aka the holy trifecta)

Note: Basically written based on headcanons and vibes. Because no, I am not okay about this myth card. Let’s all be not okay together xx

The icy air prickled on her skin as she scrambled her way through the rocky terrain that led down to the cavern system. 

She couldn’t help but feel a thrum of adrenaline-infused excitement as she crept into the darkness, the fissures in the rock overhead illuminating the tunnel with speckled moonlight as she slipped through the silent shadows. 

She paused for a moment, her breath curling into silver mist in front of her. The stars were high, and the cave ahead was quiet and blissfully unaware of her presence; she had time for a moment of indulgence. She took a deep breath, the intense chill of the night air revitalizing her. 

She had certainly seen worse.

Once upon a time she’d loathed heights, but she’d experienced far worse things over the years than being a few extra metres from the ground. After the war she’d thought it would be easy to fall back into her life, thought it would feel like being back on solid ground, but she’d been wrong, so caught up in changing the world that she didn’t even realise that she had changed too. Now…

Now she had to get back to work.

She hugged the jagged rock walls, her boots crunching softly against the gritty floor of the cave as she crept deeper into the shadows. Overhead, the roof of the cavern became higher and darker, glittering with faint streaks of quartz that caught the dim light filtering through unseen cracks above. 

What would her younger self think of this? Sneaking into a monster’s lair to pilfer his treasure? She imagined that naive girl, horrified beyond belief, clinging to ideals about honor and fairness. But those ideals didn’t pay for food, for shelter. The truth was simple: wealth changed the world. And if she had to steal it from the claws of a monster, then so be it. 

The path curved sharply, and just ahead, the faintest glint of gold sparkled in the dim light. Her heart skipped, her pulse quickening. 

Something was wrong. 

The chamber’s massive iron door, usually sealed tight, was cracked open, its hinges groaning faintly as a draft stirred the cavern air.

Damn it. She’d been so close. So close she could taste it. But now—

The faintest sound reached her ears—a low scrape, like claws dragging across stone. It was so subtle she almost missed it over the hammering of her heart as she gripped the dagger at her side.

Carefully, she tilted her head to peek around the corner.

The chamber opened into a vast expanse of shimmering treasure. Gold coins, goblets, gems, and gilded weapons spilled across the cavern floor in glittering piles. But her attention wasn’t on the wealth — it was on the hulking figure sprawled atop the stone mound.

The dragon. 

His massive form was sprawled on the pedestal, onyx scales glinting in the faint light like shards of obsidian. Smoke curled lazily around him as he rested its head on a palm, like a domesticated creature in repose.

Her stomach twisted. She’d expected him to be there, of course, but seeing him in the flesh was another thing entirely. The beast was impossibly large, his spiked wings resting behind him like folds of a midnight curtain. His tail swished idly, the tip flicking lazily as it held his prize, her prize. The Thread of Celestia, the sparkling necklace she’d set out to retrieve.

The very sight of him irked her. The sheer arrogance of him. No disguise, no armor, no clothing, he wasn’t even sticking to the shadows, the cocky, brutish– 

“Your stealth skills could use some work.” He called, his voice low and resonant, cutting through the quiet night like a blade through silk.

She rolled her shoulders, cracked her neck and gripped her dagger. 

She stepped out into the moonlight, allowing the glow to illuminate her silhouette. His massive form shifted, but he didn’t move to hide. No, he continued to lay upon his perch insolently, as if daring her to try something. His gaze narrowed as he took in her figure fully. 

A few moments of silent stalemate, then, a long-suffering sigh.

“Again, little one?”

“Apparently.”

“How have we ended up here again?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who sent you this time? I doubt we move in the same circles,” he said with a pretentious little sniff.

“No one hired me, Sylus.”

“Oh?” he inquired, eyes glittering like rubies. “Just for the fun of it then?”

“This isn’t for fun.” She lied. It wasn’t just for fun anyway… “Just because you don’t care about anything but yourself–”

“You know that’s not true,” he said, sitting up. The Thread of Celestia disappeared somewhere on his person with a smoothness that made her wonder just how many secrets his body held. 

Sylus continued, “I don’t believe for a second that you don’t have a little giggle to yourself thinking of the look on your master’s face when he realises his favorite… toy is being played with.” His gaze sluiced like warm water over her body and she knew he didn’t mean the necklace. She took another step toward him, palm tensing around the dagger behind her back. “And before you start waxing poetic about causes, I’ll remind you that last time we were in this position, you told me that cretins like him get what they deserve.”

“They do,” she said lightly, taking a few more steps forward.

“If you’re waiting for me to fall prey to the dagger behind your back, little one, you’re going to be disappointed.”

She shrugged, using the action to subtly shift her stance.

“I’m always disappointed in you.”

“Careful, sweetie, you’ll make me cry,” he drawled, his lip curling. “Shall we get on with it, then?”

She stopped less than a foot away from him. “I think we should.”

“Then, we don’t have all night.”

“No we don’t.”

There was a moment of perfect stillness, perfect silence. Then the tension snapped.

She sprung forward like an arrow from a bow, lunging towards him through the thin gap between them, and at the very same instant he leapt off the ledge, conjuring a cloud of thick smoke that swamped her vision. She expelled it with a slash of her arm and as the fog cleared she tried to glimpse him to no avail. He’d disappeared.

She may well have changed a great deal over the years, but she still hated losing.

She prowled around the cavern, her lungs burning as she fought to catch her breath each time she felt a claw poke her back, a tail stagger her step, or his melodic chuckle reverberate through her chest. She was fast but so was he, and in terms of size, strength, and supernatural ability he had her beat tenfold. 

He was almost close enough to grab now, but still an elusive flash of body parts her blasted human eyes could barely make out. It was now or never, though. With a grimace and a grunt of exertion, whipped around, hands outstretched–

And caught nothing but air.

She heard the soft thump of his tail behind the gold pile next to her and, not one to be easily deterred, she followed. 

This wasn’t over until she said it was over.

But she felt his heartbeat too late, alarmingly close, and she didn’t even have time to turn around before the tip of his claw was denting into the delicate flesh at the side of her neck.

“Found me,” he whispered into her ear as his arm came around her. He chuckled under his breath as she shuddered involuntarily against his front. “I forgot we’d added ear-whispering to the list of dirty tricks. I know how much it… affects you.”

“Fuck you,” she spat, cursing her treacherous body.

“Really? Here?” he said, and she could practically hear the arrogance in his grin.

Well. One dirty trick begets another.

Angling her hips just so, she pushed her arse backward until she heard the sharp intake of breath she knew so well. Then she snapped her head back, and heard a satisfying grunt as it connected with his face.

She spun around as his tail replaced his arm when the tip of his middle finger brush a small drop of blood from the corner of his lip — ideally, she’d have aimed for his nose, but he was at least a head taller than her so she’d take what she could reach — and drew her fist back.

“Oh no you don’t,” Sylus growled, grabbing her fist in his hand and twisting her arm toward the small of her back. “Don’t you dare give me another black eye, little one.”

“Don’t tempt me,” she muttered, drawing her dagger with her unrestrained hand and aiming it at his face.

Sylus released her fist from his grip, then used her moment of unbalance to tighten his tail around the back of her knees, but she was still fast and trained. She dropped her entire weight onto his tail and tackled him to the ground while he was still regaining his balance.

“If you don’t want a black eye, then you should be faster,” she panted, wriggling on top of him as she attempted to pin his arms to his sides with her knees. “Now where is it?”

“You don’t already know?” he asked silkily, with an utterly shameless grin and a roll of his hips. And yes, of course she could feel the effect the friction was having on him, of course, she knew she was squeezing him with her thighs so it was hardly an unexpected outcome, of course, his ridiculous leather ensemble really did leave very little to the imagination, but–

“I’m not interested in that,” she said coolly. “Where’s the necklace? And don’t you dare tell me to search for it.”

“Why should I tell you anything, sweetie? I’m rather enjoying myself if I’m honest.” She felt his erection twitch beneath her as if it was agreeing with him.

“So help me, Sylus, I will search for it, and depending on which crevice you’ve stashed it in, that could be quite uncomfortable for you.”

“Why are you so damn insistent anyway?” he asked blandly. “This thing is a novelty at best.”

“An expensive novelty,”

“Well obviously, but surely a rock that supposedly prevents hangovers is beneath your exalted notice?”

“It just means I’m selling something harmless,” she said with a shrug, “Now where-”

A loud crack of thunder above them split the quiet of the night, startling her.

Sylus immediately bucked his hips up, destabilizing her just enough that he could pull his hands up from where she’d been pinning them. He grabbed the back of her thighs and flipped them over, managing to catch one hand but she was too quick for him to catch the one that mattered, and then they were still again.

Her dagger under his chin, his claw digging into the space above her heart, tail pinning her in place, their chests heaving.

“Now why do we always have to solve our problems with violence, little one?” he purred, his voice barely more than a wisp of air. “Can’t we act civilized for once?”

“Maybe.”

“Fancy moving your little blade then?” he murmured, leaning forward a touch so she could feel the soft vibration of his voice humming through the length of her weapon into her hand.

“No,” she said stubbornly, “Why don’t you move your- your talon?”

“Because if I move mine you’ll cut my cheek, take the jewelry, and leave me,” he bit out, scowling, “Like last time.”

“Last time was different.”

“I wouldn’t have cared, you know,” he whispered, moving a fraction closer. She kept her blade against his throat, and he pressed his a little harder into her ribs. “I would have let you take that amethyst too, but waking empty handed and alone? That did sting a bit, sweetie.”

“So sorry,” she muttered sarcastically.

“No you’re not,” Sylus growled.

“No,” she said, almost breathless now, “I’m not.”

He let out a huff of exasperation, and they surged together. The kiss was hot and hard and vicious, and it stole the air from her lungs. She could taste the blood on his lips, and resisted the urge to bite it harder, oddly proud she was the one who’d put the mark there, who made the great beast bleed in the first place. He had no such qualms, and he nipped sharply at her lower lip, grunting in satisfaction when he felt her shudder beneath him.

“We can’t,” she gasped as he turned his attention to her neck. 

“If you want to leave then move your damn knife out of my face,” he rumbled into her jaw, and she realised that she had instinctually kept her weapon stuck firmly under his chin. His claws had moved to wrap around her throat. 

“Fine.” The sound of metal hitting metal echoed around them as the blade landed into a small pile of gold. 

They lay there, their faces a hair’s breadth apart for several seconds before she yanked the silvery-white hair at his nape and kissed him as if she wasn’t expected to be back in the city soon. 

Sylus didn’t complain. On the contrary, he growled into her mouth and his tail constricted harder around her hips, keeping her flush against him. Gods, she really did wish he wasn’t quite so attractive. She could feel every muscle through her clothes, smell the comforting scent of smoke on his warm breath, see every piece of white and black that covered this man who lived in the grey. 

“Every time,” she murmured as he kissed and nipped his way down her chest. “Every time I say it's the last time.”

“You did last time.” He hummed. 

She flicked her tongue against the pulse point she’d wanted to press her dagger into a few moments ago, “That’s why I left.”

He roughly shoved his thigh between hers and smirking at the way she gasped and tightened her grip on his shoulders, she could feel every wrinkle of fabric brush against her sensitive skin. “I’m sure that’s why,” he whispered in her ear sardonically.

“Dirty tricks,” she managed to pant out.

“Have I missed something, little one?” Sylus asked, pushing his thigh harder into her so she was practically rocking on his leg, “I thought we were well into the list? My lip’s still healing by the way.” 

“I need to get out of here, you beast,” she said, uncomfortably aware of how thin and unconvincing her voice sounded. “You can have all the dirty tricks you want once I–”

“That a promise?” he asked with a wolfish grin. 

She couldn’t help but smile back, even as she felt her cheeks heat. “Just a few hundred metres to the exit of the cave”

“Hm, winner keeps the necklace?”

“Wait, that’s not–”

He silenced her with a searing kiss, all tongue and teeth, then pulled away with an unbearably arrogant smirk, getting up and vanishing from her sight.

“Sylus!” She shouted in frustration before sprinting after him.

That confusing, adrenaline-fueled joy was back as they chased each other around the cave. 

She had no clue if she was really gaining on him, or if he was letting her for the fun of it, but in that moment she didn’t care a bit. When she spotted his tail from the corner of her eye she leapt forward and this time she caught more than air. She barreled into his chest like a warrior. Her light build was mitigated by the sheer momentum and together they tumbled onto the stone-cold floor.

They tussled clumsily for a few moments, rolling over and over without either one getting the upper hand. 

She saw a tantalising glint in her peripheral vision.

He was dangling the Thread of Celestia over her head from his tail — she didn’t even want to know which unholy nook or cranny he’d produced it from — and even in a gilded room it glittered, almost as if it was producing its own light. 

Then she realised that while she had been staring at the jewel, Sylus was staring at her, eyelids lowered, gaze soft. He cocked his head, questioning, and she couldn’t help but smile.

She reached out and gently closed her hand over the necklace, removed it from his tail, and flung it away from them.

“The usual rules?” Sylus murmured.

“Yes.”

“You didn’t wake me last time.”

“Last time we’d already agreed on the course of action.”

“You mean you’d agreed on the course of action,”

“Don’t pout, dragon. It’s not my fault all your attention had rushed south.”

“You were half-naked, sweetie.”

“So were you. That’s how I know where all your attention was.”

“Just… promise you won’t do it again,” he said, more serious than she’d heard him tonight.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I promise.”

“I’ll make you pay if you break this one,” Sylus rumbled, his voice low and dangerous.

She opened her mouth to retort, but he surged forwards with a low moan, their lips met, and her brain went blank for several wonderful seconds.

They were panting when they broke apart, but there was only a split second of stillness before they were back at each other, fingers and claws tearing at their garments between kisses. Eventually the clothing battle was won, and Sylus pressed his naked torso to hers as he brushed her hair over her shoulder with one sharp finger.

She ran her hands indulgently down the length of his back and he shuddered under her fingertips, sinking his teeth into the soft skin between her shoulder and neck.

She gasped and he chuckled. “Tit for tat,” he murmured into the crook of her neck, running his hands down the outside of her arms all the way down to her hips, where he hooked his thumbs inside her underwear. 

She tore them down her legs, the tease of real touch not nearly enough.

“So impatient,” he tutted, his lips brushing her jaw with every syllable.

In answer she slid her hand back up to palm him and grinning smugly to herself when she felt him shudder.

“You are always so-” he pulled one bra-strap down off her shoulder, “-demanding-” he slipped the other strap down, dragging his tongue over her collarbone, “-and greedy.”

“Tease,” she managed, trying and failing to disguise the growing desperation in her voice.

He pulled back and smiled slowly, the dusting of pink on his cheekbones and the soft grinding into her palm the only signs he might be as overwrought as she was. 

He dragged a fingertip across her lips, just barely grazing her tongue for the smallest second, and then it was too late to stop herself. She sucked it into her mouth, and for that moment every shred of composure vanished from his expression.

Apparently all his patience vanished too, because he let out a hoarse groan and grabbed her, flipping her around so her front was pressed against the gold-splattered floor. She longed to feel his heated skin against hers, so when he flicked open her bra she scrambled to shrug it off, gasping when her nipples brushed the cold metal of his treasures.

“You know how I know you like me here?” he growled into her ear, running his sharp finger down her spine. 

“How?” she panted, and he laughed quietly, a soft vibration against her neck.

“Because, little one,” he purred, “You’ve already headbutted me once this evening. I don’t believe for a second you wouldn’t do it again if you wanted to,” he nuzzled the nape of her neck, an oddly tender action given the way he was gripping her hips hard enough to bruise, “So logically I have to conclude that you’re letting me do this… but why is that, sweetie?”

He trailed off and his tail lowered around her thighs, leaving her exposed but still constrained. He swept his hand down her arse and the inside of her thigh, and then back up again to dip one finger into her. She tried to arch into his touch, but he’d already pulled away, and she huffed in frustration.

“Tell me why you’re letting me do this,” he commanded softly.

She bit her lip to stop herself from moaning. How was he so good at this?

The first time it happened it had been a fight from start to finish, brutal and frantic and without the smallest trace of softness, and she’d screamed so loud they’d had very nearly brought the cave down. The second time was more of a negotiation. He’d trapped her here for a few days, and after the first time had been so successful, it seemed like there were certainly worse ways to pass the time.

Every time they both agreed it was the last. Sometimes she told him to shut up, wrestled him to the floor, and made him shut up. Sometimes it was the other way around. But every time it became just a little harder to convince herself that this time really was the last.

“Tell me, little one,” he breathed, grinding each ridge of his cock slowly against her backside.

And every time, they would get to this point, the point where her resistance would evaporate, she’d say fuck it.

“Because I love it,” she gasped.

“Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward again to reach between her legs, cupping her but not pushing inside. She groaned and arched into him again, and the arrogant bastard laughed. The worst thing was that his brazenness only riled her even more. “Now, are you going to be good for me, sweetie?”

“Don’t push it,” she snapped, and he laughed again.

“As you wish,” he said smoothly, and as much as she was enjoying this, his hand between her legs and his warm weight pressing her bare front against the floor, it didn’t do to let his ego run amok.

She moved to turn around, and surprisingly he didn’t try to stop her, just pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. For once there was no fight for dominance, no semblance of a struggle, just a frenzy of movement as they both scrambled to devour each other.

She traced his scales with her tongue. He stamped hot, open mouthed kisses on the bruises that were beginning to bloom from their escapades. Skin to skin, it was like a moment out of time, a bubble where nothing outside this underground cavern existed.

A sigh of satisfaction vibrated from his chest, when he slid a finger inside her and choked on a gasp of pleasure. His tongue swirled around her nipple and his thumb found her clitoris, and suddenly what she’d thought would be a marathon became a sprint.

“Sylus, I- I’m-”

He withdrew his hand and she groaned in disappointment, but her thighs were already cradling him and his cock was already teasing at her entrance. She ground down, desperate for friction, but he tightened his tail around her and before she could even blink he had flipped her over again. She had wanted to watch him unravel above her but now he was pushing her knees apart, and pushing further and further into her and- well, actually, this was fine too.

The moment the tip of his cock bottomed out she arched up into him as if she’d been electrocuted. Even so, it wasn’t enough. She squirmed for more.

“So demanding,” he purred, his hot breath torturous against the curve of her cheek.

“Stop stopping!” she growled, grabbing his hair to push his face into her neck and pushing back into him.

He chuckled against her and flexed his hips once, just once, and she was so close she felt like a live wire, her skin buzzing with the anticipation of it. Without warning he punched her clit and she screamed into the top of her own hand.

Sylus caught her wrist and pinned it to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” he grunted, pushing in further, “I want- fuck- I want to hear every single sound.”

She moaned loudly. Much as she hated to admit it, she really did love his voice like this.

“Just like that,” he groaned, and she clenched around him involuntarily as he began to move. “Oh fuck- I fucking love-”

“Gods, I’m going to-”

“Yes, come on my cock,” he snarled, thrusting harder and tightening his grip on her wrist.

Her other hand fisted around his nape, her whole body clenched, and her awareness narrowed past this room, even past him, and all she could do was hold on for dear life as her orgasm claimed her.

In the fuzzy edges of her perception she heard her name, his voice low and rough, almost reverential, and finally he came with a wordless moan, his body shuddering against her. As the waves of pleasure began to recede, she thought distantly how strange it was that this was so good. It didn’t make any sense at all. They didn’t make any sense. This couldn’t ever work.

But there was something profoundly, sinfully delightful about taking something you were never meant to have. And in that moment, she thought she understood this dragon more than she ever had.

There weren’t any more words. This part was always oddly quiet for how much they both loved to talk. They just silently curled their exhausted bodies around each other. There wasn’t anything left to say, they both knew that, all too quickly, dawn would arrive, and reality would catch up with them once again.

As the tendrils of sleep coiled around her mind, the last thought in her head was that maybe she would quite like to do this one day without any of the usual shit. Maybe they could fall asleep together and wake up together. Maybe they would… maybe……

When she awoke, she felt unusually comfortable. She hummed in contentment and stretched, and let out a little sigh of disappointment when she realised that she was alone. Then the context caught up with her, and all the sleepy indulgence evaporated.

She bolted upright, ignoring the twinges of protest from her limbs and the rush of lightheadedness at getting up so quickly. She’d half expected him to be lounging there next to her, waiting for her with the necklace dangling from his tail like an insolent bastard, but no. The cave was as empty as the silks she’d been lain on, and her heart sank.

She should have known this would happen, especially since she’d done it to him last time. She shook her head in exasperation at herself. This couldn’t keep happening, it was-

Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a small package on the bedside table, a leather pouch with a folded note propped up in front. She reached for the pouch, undoing the drawstring and peering inside.

And there it was. The necklace. The very thing that had brought her to him in the first place.

She pulled the drawstring tight, as if looking at it too long might make it disappear, and reached blindly for the note. It was just a few scrawled words.

Just this once, sweetie. I have a monstrous reputation to maintain. -S

[starkspi]

From "Unadulterated Loathing" in which Charlie chains these two idiots accidentally together by @otsmosis (who made this comment at the end of the last chapter and inspired me to do whatever this is above)

[mimiscappinisideblog]

Me throughout 2020-2021-2022-2023:

Me the moment AO3 has been down for more than ten hours:

[saiilorstars]

Love, Ours Ch. 9: To Those Left Pairing: Steve Rogers x OFC, ft. baby!oc Story Summary: One-Shots/AU collection of Seren and Steve outside of their fics (Darkest Before Dawn, Alignment, etc.).

Story Masterlist ○ Seren’s Masterlist 

Also available on Fanfic ○ Ao3 ○ Wattpad

taglist: @ocappreciationtag​​​​​​​​​​​​ @arrthurpendragon​​​​​​​​​​​ @anotherunreadblog​​​​​​​​​​​ @maaaaarveeeeel​​​​​​​​​​​ @stareyedplanet​​​​​​​​​​​ @gloryekaterina​​​ @averyhotchner​​​ @foxesandmagic​​​​​​​​​​​​i @kmc1989

[If you’d like to be a part of any OC’s works/edits, let me know!]

He'd always remember the first night they met. It was rainy outside but after a long mission, Steve couldn't see himself getting any kind of rest until he had his favorite pastries. Traffic was hell, it would be a lot longer in the rain if he took the motorcycle so, with an umbrella clutched in his hand, he walked all the way.

He opened the bakery door and shook the umbrella outside before quickly rushing inside. He closed the umbrella and started towards the counter. There was another customer at the front, her baggy green jacket drenched from the rain.

"C'mon, put it on my tab or something!" She was saying to the young cashier.

"Seren, you know well there's no tabs," the cashier smiled apologetically at the woman. "I can't give you your order."

'Seren' let out a groan, shaking her head. The hood of her jacket fell back slightly, revealing brown hair at the top of her head. "C'mon, you know I would never do this. It's the rain — I got caught in the middle of it — literally dropped my stuff — I'm sorry!"

The more she went on, the more it sounded like she went through actual hell so Steve decided to step in.

"I can pay for the order, Mary," he said to the cashier, someone who knew him very well as he was, of course, a regular there.

Seren immediately pulled her hood down and fixed her wide green eyes at Steve. "That's not necessary!" Her long brown hair was wet and strands were sticking to her face so she started pulling them off. "That's really not necessary! I know I look like a mess but trust me I'm usually on my stuff!"

Steve was amused with her alarm; at least she seemed genuine. Besides, he felt bad enough that she was soaking wet. "We all have those days." He looked at Mary again who seemed to be waiting for a final decision between the two. "I'm paying. And could you get my usual too, please?"

"Sure," Mary said and started inputting the order on the cash register. "To go as well?"

"Yeah." Steve said but he took a second glance at Seren and, on a whim, added two cups of warm coffees. "For here." It seemed like Seren's eyes were permanently wide. "If that's alright with you, of course, just while we wait…" Steve decided to say to lessen the pressure. He wouldn't want her to feel like she had to sit with him just because he was paying for her order.

"Y-yeah," Seren said nervously and while Steve went ahead and paid, she quickly combed her fingers through her hair in hopes that she could appear a little more presentable.

Mary chuckled as she saw the woman's panic. She sent Steve to the pick up side of the counter then whispered over to Seren. "You look fine."

Flushed, Seren went to go find a table…which wasn't that hard considering the terrible weather outside. Most people were doing take-out. She took off her coat and draped it on one of the empty chairs beside her. She grabbed a few napkins to pat dry her face then set them on the side as well.

A few minutes later, Steve came by with the coffee. He set her coffee in front of her then sat down across from her. "I didn't add anything," he warned her and reached for the sugar packets.

"It's totally fine, thank you," Seren offered her best grateful smile because it's literally all she had tonight. Not even a sad dollar was in her pocket. "Like I said before, I'm usually a lot more put together than this. It's a fluke, I promise."

Steve chuckled at her. "And like I said too, everyone has those days."

Seren ripped open a sugar packet and dumped the whole thing into her coffee. "It's Seren, by the way, and I'm very thankful for what you did for me."

"Steve," he introduced himself as he too dumped sugar into his coffee, "And you're very welcome."

"I will pay you back," Seren promised, stirring her coffee gently. "I swear."

Steve chuckled again. "It's fine, really. Not richer nor poorer because of a few dollars."

"Except it was a big order so it wasn't a few dollars at all."

"It's still fine. Were you having a get together tonight?" As soon as he asked, he saw a faint flush on her face.

"Not really…" she said quietly, though very embarrassed. How could she say that the whole order was just for her without sounding like…? "But I mean it. I will definitely be paying you back."

Now matter how many times Steve said it wasn't necessary, Seren insisted that she would.

"I just wouldn't feel good about myself," she said, and took a sip of her coffee. She hummed as the warm liquid traveled down her throat. She didn't usually get cold but tonight the rain was a nightmare.

Steve smiled at her again, taking in her pretty features. The rain hadn't done her wrong in any way.

They talked for a while, neither one bothering to check in with Mary about their orders. Steve found that it wasn't that hard forgetting about dessert as he got to know Seren more. She was sweet and funny and for some reason everything just felt comfortable. It turned out it was a small word because once upon a time, Seren had been a SHIELD agent like him. When it went down, she switched gears and entered the CIA.

"Not really as much fighting as before but it's better than a desk job," she gave a nonchalant shrug. She silently noted that she was almost done with her coffee. "Though I guess you really wouldn't know about that, huh?"

Steve knew what she meant and sheepishly looked at her. "So you did recognize me?" Seren nodded. "You didn't mention it in the beginning…" Usually people recognized him on the spot as Captain America and were never quiet about it, nor shy.

"Why would I?" Seren said, confused. "It wasn't pertinent to the moment."

A pleasant smile crossed Steve's face at that. "It wasn't?"

"No." Seren brought her coffee to her lips and flashed him half a smirk.

Mary finally called them about their orders, breaking their moment. Steve took a look at his watch and realized half an hour had gone by. The orders were definitely done long before now. Still, half an hour seemed so short. He looked at Seren as she placed her coffee cup down on the table, empty like his. Something in his stomach twisted. He needed at least another half hour with her...

But that wasn't possible and he knew it.

Seren started getting out of her seat and reached over for her jacket. It wasn't that much dry but it wouldn't matter as she was about to go through the rain again. "Thank you so much, Steve. Seriously. And you know I'm gonna pay you back."

"Yes, I know," Steve said with a playful roll of his eyes. "So if you're that determined, why don't we meet tomorrow then? If you're able to, I meant…"

Seren hummed as she considered the idea. In reality she was just joking because she knew what she wanted. "It's not going to rain tomorrow so…yeah, that sounds nice. Want to go to Central Park?"

"Sure," Steve said when in reality he had been about to blurt 'anywhere' instead.

They settled for lunch time then headed to pick up their orders at the counter. Mary handed them their respective bags and wished them a goodnight.

It was still pouring when they reached the entrance doors. Steve offered to take Seren home but she was adamant that she would be fine.

"I literally live like three blocks down," she said. "And I'm fast. Trust me."

Steve didn't feel right about it but he couldn't force her to let him come with her. He opened the doors and then opened his umbrella. Seren pulled her hood up and stepped out with him.

"Here," Steve moved the umbrella's handle into Seren's free hand before she could refuse.

"Steve, I said I'm fine—!" Seren laughed at his insistence and tried to give it back to him.

Steve's hand wrapped tighter around the handle, and over Seren's hand in the process. Now Seren was laughing nervously. His hand was super warm, not to mention strong, but it was the gentleness in his eyes that captivated her, the charm in them.

"Please, take it," Steve insisted. Seren found herself nodding at him like she was in trance. He was hesitant to let her hand go but he didn't have any other excuse to prolong it. He was still slow about it, letting their fingers brush against each other until finally it was just Seren holding the umbrella.

"Goodnight, Seren…"

"Goodnight, Steve," Seren said with what she would think was nothing but a dorky smile. God, everything about her that night had been such a mess.

But Steve hadn't thought so. To him, the night had been perfect.

Present Day

Steve woke up to the sound of a toddler's cries. Without a second thought, he got up from bed and went into the adjoining room where the cries resembled more like screams. A toddler with a beet-red face was sitting in the middle of his crib, crying his head off.

"Okay, c'mon up, bud," Steve reached inside the crib to pick the toddler up into his arms. He then grabbed the little blue blanket with bright yellow stars; Noel would want it as soon as he calmed down.

He returned to his room and tried soothing Noel with gentle bouncing before getting back into bed. But while Noel stopped screaming, he still continued to cry. And what was worse is that he was crying and calling for his mother. It was the same constant 'mama, mama, mama!' that Noel often cried when he was in-between naps and sleep, because that was of course when he needed his mother the most.

It broke Steve's heart just a little bit more than it already was. He was Noel's father, and he loved the little boy so, so much but even he knew that at the end of the day, every child needed their mother more. There was something that a mother provides that a father just couldn't. And this had been Steve's reality for many months now.

Steve brought Noel to bed with him, wrapping him up in his favorite blanket and setting him to rest on his chest. These days, Noel no longer wanted his pacifier. Every time Steve gave it to him, Noel would spit it out and if it didn't land far from him, he would reach it and then chuck as far as his little arm could throw it. Steve wouldn't put it behind Noel to have given up the pacifier as his form of retribution for not keeping his mother with them.

Noel's cries gradually lessened as he tired himself out and gained some kind of comfort from his father's heartbeats and then finally fell asleep. Instead of putting him back in his crib, Steve kept him with him. Just like the night before, and the one before that.

Past

One innocent meeting at Central Perk turned into another "get together", and then another one and then suddenly they mutually agreed they were going out on dates. There was no denying from either side that they needed to keep seeing each other. So whenever Steve wasn't on some Avengers mission and Seren wasn't on a CIA assignment, they were seeing each other.

It ultimately led to Steve's friends hassling him to make it official. He saw Seren all the time and when they couldn't, they did video calls. Seren was delighted with his old fashioned way of asking her if she wanted to be his girlfriend — his girl. But before she would fully say 'yes', because she wanted to with all her heart, she came clean to Steve about her true self.

"I'm not entirely human," she had whispered to him with heavy fear in her eyes. She explained her lineage to him, how her grandmother was from another planet and had sought refuge on Earth, how her mother was born on Earth to a human father…how she was then born…and that at the end of the day she was still part alien.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you before," she said, swallowing thickly. "I understand if you're angry with me and don't want anything to do with me."

But of course Steve was not angry. He simply wrapped her up in his arms, bringing her on his lap and kissed her, softly reassuring her that everything was fine.

"I mean, it would be slightly hypocritical of me to say anything when I'm Captain America and I work as an Avenger…" He said as a means to humor her and bring a smile out of her fearful face. It did, even though it was a small one. She nestled closer to him on the couch of her living room. "We're going to be okay," Steve promised her and pressed a soft kiss on her temple. "But I'd still like an answer to my question, you know, whatever it was going to be."

Seren's smile spread at the reminder. "I think you already know…"

"Maybe," Steve kissed her temple again, "But I'd still like to hear it."

Seren playfully rolled her eyes. "Yes — obviously."

After that answer, it was very hard to separate them both. If they weren't working, they were together. Even if it was early or late. In no time, Steve was bringing her to the Avengers' compound to see the place and meet the team.

"This place is so big!" Seren laughed throughout the tour. Steve had brought her into one of their training rooms where two Avengers were currently training. She recognized them immediately, having previously worked with one of them.

"Long time no see, Soul," Natasha said as they greeted her.

"You two know each other?" Tony Stark eyed the two women curiously.

"SHIELD," Seren and Natasha replied.

"It wasn't that small of an organization," Seren said with a shrug.

"Ah, so where were you when it was all going down?" Tony asked, prompting Steve to shush him.

Seren felt his arm wrapping around her waist. "She's here to visit, Stark."

"Well then, what do you think of the place so far?" Tony asked.

Seren hummed as she looked around the training room. "It's okay…" She set eyes on the targets set across them. "Oof, whoever made those shots…yikes."

Steve and Natasha laughed while Tony went into a ramble about his targets. Sure, the blasts were a little off but they were still good.

Seren seemed bemused and chuckled. "I'm happy to help you with target practice."

Tony scoffed. " Really ?"

"I'm good, I swear." And to prove her point, Seren raised a fist towards the target Tony had been practicing on and fired star matter. The entire target went up in dangerous star fire.

Tony deadpanned her for a long, hard minute while both Natasha and Steve did poorly hiding their laughs. "Nice girl, Cap," he muttered and took off. "I'm gonna bill you for that!" He called to Seren just before disappearing.

Seren made a face and looked up at Steve. "I don't think he likes me."

"Funny, because I'm liking you more right now," he remarked and dipped his head to kiss her cheek, earning a giggle from her.

Present Day.

Noel was in a full blown babbling moment and Steve had no idea what on earth the toddler was saying. Every once in a while he heard coherent words — among them mama, dada, no…but then he heard 'mon-mon' and he knew exactly what Noel wanted then.

In about an hour, he'd taken the toddler out with him for a quick pastry trip and returned home. He sat with Noel on the couch, giving him small pieces of his favorite treat: cinnamon rolls. Noel was delighted with each piece his father gave him, squealing for more whenever Steve happened to be too slow for his liking.

"Just like your mother…" He said with a dim smile as he wiped some of the crumbs off Noel's chin.

At the mention of his mother, Noel began to call for his 'mama!', clapping his hands together. "Mama! Mama, mon-mon!"

Steve's smile softened and he gave Noel another piece of a cinnamon roll. "Guess I'll have to finish teaching you how to say that. Noel, cinnamon roll?"

"Mon-mon!" Noel squealed again.

Steve shook his head. "Noel, try again. Cinnamon roll?"

With a giggle, Noel repeated his version of the word.

"Noel—"

The toddler let out a playful shriek and lunged towards Steve, quickly reaching for the rest of the cinnamon roll in his hands. He then attacked it with his new teeth. Steve laughed at the sight and pulled Noel on his lap.

"Yeah, alright, we can take a break…" He kissed the top of Noel's head then smoothed out his blonde hair.

Past

Steve gently pulled Seren's body closer to his. She rested her head on his bare chest, her fingers absent-mindedly making circles over his skin.

"You know, I should be going now…" Seren said for about the fifth time now without actually moving an inch.

"Stay…" Steve kissed her hair.

"I've been here all weekend, lovey. I'm sure your friends are so tired of me by now."

"Thor and Natasha love you."

"Mm, and what about Tony?"

"You know, I don't particularly care about his opinion, especially when they're always wrong."

Seren chuckled. She tilted her head up to see Steve. "I love you, but I do have a home to go to. My stuff is all there."

"I know that, I do, but why?" Steve seemed genuinely confused, which just made him look adorable to Seren.

She laughed again. "What do you mean 'why'? Because I live there?"

"Sure, but, what if you didn't live there?"

"Then I would be homeless, Steve."

Steve rolled his eyes and gave her a soft pinch on her side. Her body jerked and she yelped.

"What if you brought your stuff here so you could live here?" Steve said slowly and clearly. "Then we wouldn't have to worry about going back to our homes. Doesn't that sound appealing?"

Seren nodded without making opposing reasons. "But I mean…what about the others?"

"Seren, c'mon, if you're worried about Stark, he doesn't actually hate you. He just likes messing with you. He always messes with me, trust me."

"Oh, he better not," Seren said immediately, frowning as such. "I'll kick his ass right now."

"Not precisely right now, please," Steve said, giving her a look for her less than clothed situation. She rolled her eyes at him. "Seren, please? What do you honestly think?"

Seren sighed lightly and started to smile. "What do you think? I would love it. I would love to stay here, be with you, and wake up in the morning with you again and again. You don't seem to understand, I love you."

Steve did understand, but he liked getting reassured every now and then. "So, are you staying tonight?"

Seren nodded at him. "I called into work sick tomorrow. Told them I had a fever."

Steve chuckled. "A fever?"

"Real nasty one. Got the shivers and everything."

"Liar, liar, Miss Soul…"

Seren began to laugh as he gently tugged her off his body and turned on her so that he was hovering over her.

"We don't lie," Steve wagged a finger at her.

"Then I guess I'll have to go back to work tomorrow morning…" Seren warned him.

"The lie has already been said, the day is marked off…"

"Oh well!"

"Yeah, oh well…" Steve flashed her a smirk before diving down for a kiss.

Present Day.

Noel squealed with laughter as someone threatened to catch him down the hall. His running was at best a penguin's waddle and he'd almost fallen several times but his stamina was of course, super, so he ran across the whole compound without missing a beat.

Finally, Steve snuck up on him and swept the toddler off his feet. "Gotcha!"

Noel's laughter echoed through the building. "Mon-mon! Dada, mon-mon!"

"Oh," snorted Steve as he settled Noel on his side, "because you won?"

Noel nodded like he completely understood the question, and maybe he had. To this day, Steve wasn't sure exactly how far developed Noel was with both the serum and Celessian blood running through his body. Before, when Seren was still with them, they would often get curious and talk about it…but now it was the least of Steve's concern. Noel was healthy and developing fine and that was all that mattered. That was all that Seren would care about.

"Dada!" Noel slapped a small hand on Steve's cheek to get his attention. "Mon-mon!"

"You are your mother's son," Steve shook his head playfully, "You'll make up any excuse to get a cinnamon roll."

He started heading towards the kitchen with Noel. There was a box of leftover cinnamon rolls from the previous night and of course Noel recognized it the moment he spotted it on the aisle.

Steve set Noel down on the aisle and grabbed the box. Noel excitedly sucked breaths as he watched his father break a cinnamon roll in pieces. He could hardly wait for one when Steve offered him a piece.

"What, no dinner first?" drawled a voice from the threshold.

As soon as Noel heard her, he looked back and grinned. "Asha! Asha!"

Natasha walked into the kitchen and smiled at the toddler. "Look at you getting dessert before dinner…" She crossed gazes with Steve, her smile becoming a teasing one. "You are and have always been a sucker for Celessians, huh?"

Steve deadpanned her but not as much as he would've liked because soon Noel had started yelling for another cinnamon roll. Natasha smirked, her point proven.

"So, shouldn't the munchkin be asleep by now?" She checked the time on the clock. It was well past nine.

"Yeah, uh, he wanted to play and…like you said…I can't say no…" Steve watched Noel fondly while he chewed on his piece of bread.

"Mm, you know I only kid," Natasha said, "But it wouldn't be bad if you didn't feel guilty all the time."

"I'll stop when you stop," Steve remarked and looked at Natasha with the same smile as the one she wore.

There was a reason why out of the remaining Avengers, they were the only ones who decided to return to the compound and live together. They were the only ones who couldn't move on. They were the only ones who still sought to work and…just try to help…make things a little better.

"You still have this little guy," Natasha said, reaching over to tickle Noel's stomach, earning a giggle from the boy. He tried swiping her hand off and lucky for him, she stopped so he could keep eating.

Steve agreed. Noel was the only thing keeping him from losing it altogether. Every time he woke up, he had a reason to stay awake and not let the darkness swallow him up. For every giggle that Noel let out, Steve felt some comfort. If he could make his baby happy, then he wasn't a complete failure.

Past

Seren was in tears, her face red from both anger and frustration. Steve wasn't listening to her. He was so close to the stupid door, about to open it, all in the name of doing the  right thing .

"Screw the right thing and listen to me!" she yelled at him.

"Seren, believe me, I am!" Steve exclaimed. "But you're the one who doesn't want to hear me out!"

"Because you're telling me that you're not coming back! You're telling me that you're going to leave me behind!"

"Because I have to!"

"No, you don't!"

"Yes, I do! I have to leave you because then otherwise, they'll be coming after you too! And that is the last thing I would ever want for you!" Steve said, doing his very best not to raise his voice. The last image of her should not be of her face after he screamed at her for something that wasn't her fault. This was all on him. He was the one who made the choice to help Bucky, condemning his friends to the life of fugitives.

He'd been very weak and couldn't let go of Seren then. For the past months, he'd been sneaking back to see Seren, having to be extra careful so as to not get caught but most importantly to not to get Seren caught.

"Seren, this is just getting too dangerous," Steve said. "We have to stop, as much as it hurts us. I can't drag you down with me. I love you too much to do that to you. Please. I have to go."

But Seren shook her head fervently, remaining hard on her stance. "You can't leave me. I can't let you. Because if you walk out right now, I don't know when I'll ever see you again…"

"Seren, I'm sorry. I really am, but I gotta do this. I have to go."

"Then take me with you," Seren said determinedly.

Steve started shaking his head at her. "No, you have a life. You have a job, you have a family—"

"None of it matters anymore!"

"What—?"

"It's not just about me anymore," Seren said, visibly gulping as she brought a hand over her stomach. "I understand what you want to do for me but it's not about me right now. I'm pregnant, Steve."

As she expected, there was a long,  long , pause in the argument. Steve had practically gaped at her, mouth hanging wide open. He'd expected an argument from her, tears, and maybe even words that they would later regret…but not  this . This was the last,  very last , thing he ever thought would happen.

"This isn't how I wanted to tell you — God I never pictured telling anyone this kind of news like this," Seren let out a humorless laugh as she wiped some tears off her face. "But it's better than having you run off before knowing the truth. If you walk out that door and don't come back, you'll be walking out on your child too. I would never threaten you and I know I wouldn't ever have to because I know that you love me as much as I love you. That's why this happened." She rubbed her stomach. "Please don't leave us. We need you."

Whether it was the news, or her frail voice, or the tears in her eyes, it was unclear, but Steve left the door and strode back to Seren. He pulled her into a tight hug, to which she basically clung to.

"I'm sorry," he heard her whisper in her arms.

"No, no, you're not apologizing for anything," Steve said, cupping her face and tilting her head up. "You're so beautiful, and I love you. I love you so much." He leaned down and kissed her. "And I love this baby already so, so much."

"You believe me, then?" A few more tears threatened to spill from Seren's eyes. Steve wiped them off with his thumbs.

"I believe that we are about to have one very unique little baby…at a less than prudent time…" And at that, Steve couldn't hide his nerves. The news didn't change his circumstances. He was still on the run. "Seren, if you come with me…you'll lose everything…" He leaned his forehead on hers.

"I have everything I need right here," Seren whispered, closing her eyes with his touch.

There was nothing left to say. That night, Steve did not return to his team alone.

Present Day.

No toddler could have been happier than Noel when he smashed his birthday cake. Steve, Natasha and Chloe all laughed. Once cake bits started flying into Noel's mouth, the decision to smash or eat the cake became more of a struggle.

"Happy birthday, kiddo," Chloe I'd and helped Noel with another piece of cake on his face. "I won't be the one cleaning you up later."

Steve rolled his eyes at her but did take a look at his cake-covered son with some wariness. If there was one thing Noel loved, it was bath time and if there was one thing Steve didn't like, it was bath time. It was chaos, to say the least. But the everlasting giggles coming from Noel each time he smashed his fist against the cake and the wide grin on his face made it all worth it in the end.

Steve smiled at his son.

"What flavor even is that thing?" Natasha wondered as Noel joyfully shoved some of it into his mouth.

"Cinnamon," Steve replied.

"Of course," went Natasha and Chloe together with similar knowing smiles.

A little later, Noel has finally gotten his fill on cake and was now taking real notice of just how sticky he'd gotten in the process. What was fun and giggles had quickly turned into fuss and calls for help. It took a lot of wiping but they got Noel semi-clean enough to be held. Steve was now in charge of feeding him small bits of cake while Natasha and Chloe offered the toddler gifts.

Noel loved his new toys, and Steve truly appreciated the loud ones. It was Chloe who offered Noel a present that Steve took to heart.

"I changed the frame and everything so it can't be smashed," Chloe said as Noel and Steve tore the gift open.

As soon as Noel saw it, he let out a happy squeal. "Mama! Mama!" He recognized his mother in the picture. His not-so-sticky fingers hit the picture frame in his joyful screeches.

Steve was stark quiet as he held the frame and stared at it. For a second Chloe regretted her decision.

"I found it in my, uh, things and I thought you guys might want…" she sighed, "I'm sorry, I just thought—"

"Thank you, Chloe," Steve said, lifting his eyes from the frame to meet her gaze. She visibly relaxed with his words. "We love it. Thank you."

That night, when Noel was bathed and nestled comfortably in his father's arms, the two sat in bed with the frame of Seren's picture in front of them. She was younger than when Steve had met her in that bakery shop, with shorter hair and in a pretty flower dress. She wore her star pendant around her neck, the same one that had disappeared with her. Her star birthmarks were very visible on her neck and shoulder, two things she had always been so reluctant about.

From a glimpse, Steve saw the same birthmark on the side of Noel's neck peeking from his onesie. The toddler was idly rubbing his stuffy under his nose, an old habit from when he used to do it with his pacifier.

"Mama…Mama…" he said every once in a while, less enthusiastic unlike earlier. It was night now, and Steve knew that this is when Noel needed Seren most.

"I know buddy, I miss her too," Steve whispered and kissed the top of Noel's face.

Past.

Exhausted and worn out, Seren held her newborn son in her arms with such love and joy and bewilderment. Steve couldn't figure out what was so confusing in the beginning and chalked it up to the fact the birth of their son had not been the easiest nor the shortest. Seren had done everything and now it was his turn to do everything for her, and now their son. He wanted to.

"Seren, sweetheart, you should get some rest," he said as he gently sat on the edge of the bed. "You can hand him over to me and you sleep."

"I know but I…I don't want to…" Seren said, watching her son yawn in her arms. "He's so small…"

"He is," agreed Steve with a fond smile on the newborn.

"I love you, Steve," Seren looked up at him with matching smiles. But the same bewilderment came back to Seren's face, pushing the smile off her face.

"Seren, what is it?"

"Nothing bad, I just…" Seren gazed at her son again, "I love you, Steve, I do, and so much…I just didn't know that there would ever be someone else that would tip the scales." She adored her son so much, the words failed to describe the intensity of her love. "He's like a little extension of our love…"

"And that's why you're so confused?" Steve smiled, amused. He was sure Seren was still in dire need of sleep.

Seren shrugged lightly. "Call me crazy, I just never thought I'd experience something like this. I would rip the world apart for this little thing in my arms...with absolutely no hesitation."

"I'd never call you crazy for that. Truth is, you're right. I feel the same way."

"I thought of a name for him," Seren said abruptly. With all the mess of the birth, they had yet to make any name official. She motioned Steve to come closer and took his hand with one of hers. "What do you think about Noel?"

"Noel…" Steve tested the name out several times before deciding that he liked the ring of it.

"Yeah?" Seren smiled as Steve came around.

"I like it, yeah. Noel. What do you think, Noel?" Steve peered down at the newborn and swore that Noel had smiled at him.

"Noel Steven Rogers," Seren said and Steve's head snapped up at her. Her lips spread into another smile. He was adorable too. "What do you think?"

"I don't…are you sure?"

They never talked about how they would name their baby; their main priority had always been a full-term pregnancy, no complications, and most of all giving birth to a healthy baby.

Seren chuckled. "If I wasn't so sore, I'd be pulling you over."

Steve laughed and winced when their son made a fuss. "Sorry, bud," he leaned down and pressed a kiss on his forehead.

"So? What do you say?" Seren still waited for his answer.

"I like it," Steve nodded. "But the next one will be named after you."

Seren chuckled. "Let's give it some time, okay?"

"I'm in no rush." Steve took his hand out of hers to cup her face. He leaned over and kissed her. "Now how about that rest?" He murmured against her lips.

"Don't…" Seren pouted. "I don't want to let him go."

Steve laughed lightly then. "Honey, you need to rest. I'll be here with you and Noel."

"I know that…but I still want to hold him…" Seren shifted Noel so that his head rested over her heart. She gently soothed his back and kissed his head. "Now you can come over here—" — she told Steve and nodded at the spot beside them, to which he quickly obeyed and came to sit next to her, "—and everything will be just fine."

Present Day.

Noel was fast asleep on Steve's chest, his small hands gripping his blanket. Steve held the picture frame of Seren in his hand. He glanced at the empty spot beside him on the bed.

'And everything will be just fine…'

[all-too-unwell-13]

i'm going to war (looking through the rosekiller tag for an actual rosekiller fic)

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˖✧ Through my eyes

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Karen explains Mary and Arthur's story to you. Saddened, you're convinced you could never compete with her until the man in question proves you wrong. ✦ Warnings/Tags: Self-depreciation from both sides, kissing, comfort, fluff. Reader has been with the gang for a year. Use of Y/N. ✦ Words: 3k ✦ a/n: This is the answer to this ask by the lovely @crystalofmoon19. I really hope you'll like it, dear! And thank you for your support, you've been really sweet to me and my work! As always, I got carried away and wrote way too much. And as always, please reach out to me if you spot any misspellings. Also idk why I made this in Colter, guess I just feel way too hot rn and want some fresh snow + Arthur's coat is perfect for comfort. Credits. Arthur's pic is from my playthrough. Other pics are not mine found them on Pinterest. AO3

“And in the end, she rejected his proposal, then a few months later, sent him a letter telling she was marrying some wealthier gentleman!”

Your mouth hangs open in the air. Karen’s words enter through your ears and create a nice little nest for themselves in your brain. You had no idea. No idea Arthur had been this close to being married. That their relationship had been so strong, that, according to hearsays, he had reached his lowest after their break up, drunk most part of the day, fighting the rest of the time, obnoxious to everyone, even Dutch and Hosea.

“Y/N? You’re okay, there?” Karen asked you, disappointed her big reveal had left you reactionless.

You focused your gaze back on her. Her blonde hair is softly litten up by the setting sun, her breath exhaling a puff of steam as she breathes. Colter is a cold place, and it probably felt even colder because of the morose mood of the gang. You suddenly remember you’re supposed to be shocked. You are, of course, but in a very bad way. Not in an “Oh my God, I can’t believe this Karen, so much gossip!” kind of way.

How could you ever compete with that?

“Yeah, I’m alright. God, I had no idea so much happened between them.”

“Oh, trust me, it was definitely his biggest love story. Never saw him get into someone else after her. Not even Mary-Beth! Could you believe that?”

No, you couldn’t. You weren’t sure why but every word from Karen felt like an enormous stone falling into your belly and dragging you deeper and deeper into the sea. Your silly little crush on Arthur, when you first joined the gang a year ago, had turned into a way stronger attraction. Denying it at first, you had little by little let your emotions win, cherishing every moment with him, thanking Dutch for assigning both of you to the same missions, loving the quiet evenings where he would just sit next to you around the campfire to scribble in his journal while you would do your little hobby on your own. Silent most, but enjoying each other’s company, and so, so peaceful.

More than your emotions, you even had let your imagination take the lead, dreaming about a selfish future with him, seeing it every time he would give you a smile, or laugh at one of your jokes. A happy Arthur, relieved from his obligations, enjoys life's simplest joys. A house, a garden. Maybe a dog, considering he had loved having Copper. A marriage even. And why not a child? If he would feel ready. Something in you was telling you he would be a good father.

But now, you felt like this dream was rotten, condemned.  Like a broken match. The fire, the very thing it’s designed for,  not being able to be lit. Would never be lit. A wasted potential.

You tried to continue your gossiping chat with Karen, voice light but gaze elusive as you peeled the potatoes you were supposed to prepare while discussing, tedious tasks often ended up less difficult this way when you were working with the other girls. But behind your seemingly normal smile and hollow words, a haunting thought was hanging on to you as strongly as a rock trapped in a thousand-year-old iceberg. 

Arthur never fell in love again after Mary Linton.

Night had definitely fallen on the frozen mountains. After your endless vegetables centered-chores, you had helped Mr. Pearson turning them into a decent meal, his incessant blattering about the Navy giving you some sort of distraction. During dinner and after though, once you didn’t have any goal or job left to do for the day, your conversation with Karen came back into your wandering mind, her speech playing again and again like a used gramophone record.

Never fell in love again...

Sitting at one of the corners of the big cabin you had been sleeping in for the past few days along with the girls and some other gang members which mainly served as a common space, you were looking outside by a dilapidated window. A frozen World spread out before your eyes, every inch of surface covered in snow and ice, the landscape ending up looking like it was coated with a thick strange substance —dark blue colors Queen of this gloomy, misty horizon.

Arthur had returned from a very busy hunting day with Charles. Thanks to them, meat had been added to the vegetable paradise of a meal, resulting in a better-than-usual supper. He should have felt cheerful, but his mood wouldn't lighten. 

He had spotted you from across the room, noticing the hurtful absence of your smile on these sweet lips of yours. Smile he secretly loved. Lips he secretly fancied. 

Hesitating for a long moment, debating with himself, a self-depreciative rambling turning in his head like a well-oiled motor, he had ultimately decided to join you and investigate. Something pretty important must been bothering you, because loosing your usual little grin and eating your plate all by yourself really wasn't in your habits.

Approaching you, his boots and spurs clicking and stomping before you could see him, he plants them in front of you, standing there while his eyes lock on your face.

“Miss Y/L/N? Is everythin’ okay?”

“Oh, Mr Morgan. Yeah, don’t worry. Everything is great.”

He doesn’t believe you and honestly, you wouldn’t have convinced yourself either. And Arthur is a stubborn man. A stubborn, and caring one. He leans against the cabin's old creaky walls, on the other side of the window.

“Come on, don’t lie t’me girl. Everyone noticed you’re not in your right mind.” He honestly doesn’t know about everyone, but he surely did. His words are accompanied by a small, polite smile.

“I don’t think… I don’t think you’re the right person to talk about it.”

Arthur’s entire body froze. The hands he had on his belt as always when he was comfortable, flew to his chest as he crossed his arms, his thick winter coat folding with difficulty. His encouraging smile flattened, his brows pleating in a harsh frown.

“Erm… Alright, I get it. I won’t bother you, I guess.” 

Without loosening his arms, he pushed himself from the wall, taking a step to leave you some space. You couldn’t have missed it. This change of behavior, the hurtful expression he had displayed, as if he was truly pained by your words. Disappointed, maybe even shameful to have thought he could help you at all. He was just a sad, ugly bastard, after all.

You felt like you could hear all of it from where you were, and see it in the shadow that had taken his face and the gigantic mass that seemed to have fallen on his shoulders.

No, you didn’t want this. Didn’t want him to feel like that because of you and your stupid feelings, or your own dark thoughts.

“Wait, Arthur!”

He turned around the second you talked again.

“I’m sorry it’s just…” You sigh and look at him with an uncertain expression, knowing your next words were going to be risky. “It’s about you and Mary Linton…”

His eyes turn into two literal plates, his mouth slightly opening in outer astonishment. This was really not what he had in mind. You could have been sad because of a hundred logical reasons, the death of Davey and the loss of Sean and Mac, the complete fiasco of Blackwater, the hundred of dollars lost, the terrible and tough conditions of the Grizzlies plunging everyone into an unbearable cold and a threatening famine.  Not mentioning Hosea’s alarming coughing, Dutch’s mysterious decisions, and Micah as a whole.

But you, out of all these things, were worried about Mary.

Once his eyes had grown as round as they could, they got back into an interrogative expression, the wave of surprise over.

“Wha’…?! How d’ya even know ‘bout her?”

“Karen speaks a lot when she’s bored…” You briefly explained, trying to sound detached.

Arthur rolls his eyes to the Heavens. Of course, folks talked, and you had to know about it all at some point. But this wasn’t ideal at all. He would have preferred to tell it to you himself, at a time he would have felt comfortable doing so, with his own words. He didn’t want this to change anything between the two of you.

“And erm… What exactly bothers ya?”

You open your mouth to speak, but your words are jammed. Explaining that you feel jealous of what the both of them had shared would just come down to confessing your feelings for him plain and simple. 

You felt completely stuck. 

He’s right there before your eyes, the very source of all your worries and your every joy. Looking at you with those confused blue eyes, wondering what is happening in this pretty head of yours. But the words still won’t come out.  You feel more and more powerless, and instead of a sound, your eyes take over to get something out of your body, slow and sad tears filling them like a lonely glacier fills a mountain lake on its own.

Arthur’s usual frown furrows, his wrinkles more visible, contrasted by the shadows from the warm lights of the fire. Suddenly, his internal melancholic speech shuts down, as if the view of a single tear streaming down your cheek were absolutely intolerable to him. No worries nor anxious self-restraints crosses his mind —it’s now only instinct. He sees you crying. He has to help you. This is as easy as that.

His right hand reaches to you by itself.

It feels warm but coarse. This big, big hand on the side of your face.

“Oh, Y/N. Don’t waste those pretty tears for a sour-faced idiot like me.” His thumb gently wipes the drops of sadness that had overflowed from your two delicate lakes. “Come on, les’ jus’ talk about this somewhere quiet.”

Arthur gently uses the hand he had on your cheek to wrap it around your shoulders, solid arm gently pushing you up. He then leads you through the door, other members throwing curious gazes at the both of you.

But he doesn’t care. His priority, right now, is your well-being, and some privacy to allow him to finally whisper things in your ears he should have a long time ago. Not in front of everyone. Not with the other men looking at your sparkling eyes, and listening to the change in his voice he knew would crack, his usual intimidating persona crushed into a million pieces with only the sound of your own. Or with the other girls hearing the oh-so-important words he had to say. No. You would be the only one to witness this. 

He had brought you to the barn where the horses were kept. The snow was falling lazily, a few flakes passing through the holes in the dilapidated roof. The place is enveloped in a heavy silence, as if it was muffling every sound coming from the outside.

Once Arthur had closed the big wooden doors behind you and before he could do anything else, you finally burst.

“I shouldn't cry, I’m so sorry Arthur, I just… She looked like an incredible woman, so beautiful a-and distinguished, and me well… I'm just… me.” Your eyes fell to your feet. You like everything was coming out of you all at once and you couldn't contain it anymore.

“Stop it.” 

“How could I ever mean something to you? You've been with her for so long and even proposed to her and… and never fell in love again after her and…”

“Stop it, Y/N!”

Arthur cut your blabbering panic by pulling you against him. He held you so tightly you were almost crushed by his powerful arms, but it felt so good. Like he was holding together all the little pieces of you that had cracked, melting them with his warmth and molding yourself again with it.

“Now you l’sten to me, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to say things like this ever again.”

The sudden use of the pet name soothed your heart immediately. You buried your face into the furred collar of his big winter coat, the hairs tickling your nose. There, you can feel a little bit of his bare skin, your cheek finding shelter against it.

You stopped talking.

You just wanted him to continue to. His deep voice seemed to come directly from the inside of his chest, and you could feel it vibrating before actually hearing it.

“Ya know I’m no… Am no poet or, or good with words like Dutch…” He started, visibly unsure of what he was going to say. He’s relieved he had initiated the hug, this way, with your face in there, you couldn’t see his. The worried expression it was carrying, like a burden. “But lemme tell ya just how much I care about ya. Oh, my sweet girl.” 

This is it. He tries not to but his low tone begins to tremble. It’s so strange. It feels like forever since that happened for the last time.

“Yeah, Mary has been a real’ important part of my life, I won’t lie to ya. But it was so long ago, gorgeous. So long ago.” 

He knows he won’t shed a tear. He never cries. But his hands shake. His vocal cords vibrate in a vulnerable, softer, and higher-pitched quaver. His body tenses, heart as fast as if racing with a million wild horses galloping in the Great Plains. Even if his words couldn’t explain just how much you meant to him, you could have guessed by how you were affecting his entire flesh.

“Ya know what? It’s true. Our story ended badly. I never fell in love again after her.”

You sigh, more tears wetting your face and his blue coat, this truth so hard to swallow.

“Until that morning, when I saw you brushing Boadicea’s mane; your hair all covered in hay, the brightest smile I ever had the chance to witness on that sweet face o’ yours. That day, I knew my stupid foolish heart had done it all over again.”

You let out a single chuckle mixed with tears and emotions, so relieved. Even when you felt like you were at your lowest, he succeeded at making you smile.

“Grimshaw had forced me to groom all the gang’s horses to “get used to camp’s work”. Must have looked terrible.” You remembered with a smile, details of your first encounter with Arthur flooding your mind.

“You looked like a goddamn Angel, honey. T’was like the sun was shining jus’ for ya. Jesus, I knew it was too late for me.”

You pulled back from him just a little, enough for you to look at him in the eyes, but not for him to let go of you. Now that they had found you, his hands, still slightly quivering, refused to let go, their place on your back and behind your head feeling so natural and right. Your eyes behave the same way as them but with his face. He looks so moved that you have to pinch yourself internally to make sure you’re not dreaming this whole thing; never in your life you had seen him like this.

“I love you too, Arthur.” You confessed back to him, fingers cupping his cheeks in a delicate touch.

You had to stand on your tiptoes to reach his face, but his arm helped you, your lips gently discovering themselves, brushing against each other in a soft and shy caress. Even if both your mouths were chapped by the biting cold, it was the most gentle kiss you had shared in your life, a satiny embrace that left you completely dreamy and light-headed.

The snowflakes silently swirl around the both of you, Nature the only witness of your souls melting into each other.

Opening your eyes again after this moment out of time, you're met with the happiest smile Arthur ever had on his face. He looked like and idiot in love, and you were sure you looked exactly the same.

“Please darlin’, don’t ever compare yourself to her ever again. What’s in the past stays there. And I wanna have a future with you.”

Your dreams sprang back straight from your heart to your mind. The visions you had about the both of you were more alive than ever, reinforced by his own needs shared with yours.

“You’re sweet, you’re funny, you’re so smart and stunningly gorgeous. And, you wan’ a proof?” He playfully asks you, taking his hat off his head, a thin layer of snow falling from it.

Turning it over, he carefully pull a piece of paper out, hidden between two leathered segments in the inner part of his hat. His cut and reddened fingers unfold it and he gives it to you, his big smile turning into an embarrassed and sheepish one.

It’s a sketch of you.

You’re mesmerized by the details of it, the blades of hay messily tangled in your hair, the sparkling in your eyes, the exact clothes you were wearing that day. This smile, you’re more than certain he drew it way more beautiful than it really is. Arthur even had added some lines traced from your head to the end of the paper, as if you were the Sun itself and were emitting your own light.

This was impossible this was the same person as you, her beauty was too radiant and fascinating.

But no matter what you thought about yourself, seeing his work curled your lips in the exact same way as yourself on the drawing. With snowflakes replacing the twigs, you had turned into the living recreation of it. Arthur laughed when he noticed, and realized just how much he had loved you and continued to since that morning from a year ago. He bent towards you to put a small kiss on your forehead.

“Arthur it’s… It’s beautiful.” You find it difficult to find another word, speechless once again. 

You also had no idea of how talented at drawing nor attracted to you he was. This day definitely was full of surprises. You chuckled fondly before taking a last look at your portrait and giving it back to your lover. But Arthur’s large palm wrapped around your hand.

“No, please, keep it. This way, you’ll always remember how you look through my eyes.”

More tears threaten to escape your own, even though those were a direct extract from the immeasurable happiness you were experiencing.

“And... Now that I don’t have to hide myself while sketching ya, I’m going to draw lots of new ones.”

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries Thank you for reading all of this! Also, I didn't know this was a thing but if ever you want to be tagged in my works too, let me know! It would be my pleasure.

[illyrianbitch]

Of Our Own Devices — Part Two

For @erisweekofficial Day 2: Legacy

Pairing: Reader x Eris

Summary: Eris Vanserra carries a legacy of cruelty, a reputation forged in whispers and fear. But something doesn't quite fit anymore. You’re beginning to think that the male doesn't truly match the legend he's left behind.

Warnings: brief mentions of abuse, cruelty, injury, battling to death, introspection? like a lot, readers head is soooo big from these big thoughts

Word Count: 3.1k

did someone say eris week mini series???? technically can be read as a stand alone, just squint

Part One | Part Three

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

When Eris Vanserra was born, his mother wept in the bathroom for hours after.

Her trembling hands muffled her soft cries as her handmaidens swaddled a newborn Eris in fine cloth. Beron hadn’t been there for most of the birth—hadn’t held her hand the way her father had held her mother’s. He came only at the end, just in time to praise the heir as he left her womb, presenting him like a trophy before promptly leaving for court business.

She was still young, felt like a child herself— at least in her own mind. So, while she loved her son dearly, his birth had cemented her fate to a male she didn’t love, a male whose hands she feared more than death itself.

His mother loved him, this Eris knew. Even at a young age, he felt that love. It burned in him like a comforting flame, the same warmth as the heavy blanket she would tuck around him at night or the sunlight that seeped into his skin on warm afternoons.

And yet, even surrounded by that love, Eris grew up lonely.

His loneliness led him to finding a home in curiosity, in sticking his pointed nose into matters that often didn’t concern him, picking out small details he'd unconsciously store for later. He was a collector from the beginning—of people, of excuses, of emotions he had yet to name.

Perhaps that was why he was so sickeningly fond of you, so starkly different from the others, equally curious, equally lonely.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

It wasn't Eris who people met first.

It was his reputation.

Eldest son of the High Lord, equal parts cunning and cruel, a loyal soldier with the venom of a viper. Anguish seemed to follow him, seemed to follow any with Vanserra blood, but there was something distinct about Eris, something divinely alluring. Terrifyingly sinful.

It was all true. So you weren't sure why it bothered you so much when your patrons talked about him, when his name was thrown into conversations surrounding the High Lord.

Your family's tavern was always filled with stories. Its dimly lit, worn wooden tables had overheard more whispered secrets and slurred confessions than you could ever count. Most nights were like this, with drinks spilling over into the laps of locals, the hum of conversation swirling in the air like smoke from the hearth. Tucked in a corner of the court’s lands, it was a place for those not high enough to feast in grand halls but not low enough to beg in the streets. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was home. A comfortable middle ground.

You placed a handful foaming drinks before the three males at the bar, taking a moment to analyze their appearance. They were relatively large, muscular builds hinting at some form of laborious profession. The callouses on their hands told you that they handled weapons often. But their clothes weren't nice enough to be one of Beron's men, weren't tailored enough to be one of Eris's either. Perhaps they were border patrollers, the lowest and grimiest of the forces.

They thanked you with lingering, appraising eyes as you moved away to fetch more drinks.

“I heard,” one of the them said, leaning closer to his companions, “that the eldest boy has a new game he plays with those who cross him. A real spectacle.”

The male next to him, the oldest of the three, nodded eagerly. “They say he’s got a private arena where he forces traitors to fight each other to the death. It’s supposed to be brutal—nothing but blood and screams. And Eris just sits there, like it’s a grand show.”

You clenched your teeth, turning around to face the wall behind you, forcing yourself to attend to the pile of glasses waiting to be wiped down. You tried to focus on your task, hoping to drown out their disturbing conversation, but it was no use. You could feel your grip tightening on the material of the rag, knuckles white as they continued to talk, their voices growing louder and louder with every drink they took.

It was a lie. A rumor. Nothing more.

Yes, Eris was cruel. He was manipulative and calculated. But you'd seen slivers of something else, something brighter, kinder, even. While you believed that a male should face the consequences of his actions, there was no honor in perpetuating lies that simply weren’t true.

It made no sense, anyway. Eris had done plenty of questionable things. There were multitudes of actions to choose from, many things worthy of criticism. There was no need to indulge in falsehoods. The image they painted of Eris—a male reduced to a sadistic spectator in a grotesque spectacle—seemed far removed even from him.

“A grand show?” the third scoffed. “He’s not just watching. He’s placing bets on who’ll survive, like it’s some sick sport. It’s all for his amusement. I’ve heard he gets pleasure out of the carnage. Let's his hounds ravage the bodies.”

A knot tightened in your chest and you gripped the glassware harder, cloth bunching in your grasp. Before you could register the motion yourself, you spun around, the movement abrupt enough to make the males flinch.

"You have no idea what you're talking about," you sneered. The males stiffened, large angry eyes boring into yours. You continued. "Bold of you to traverse around spreading rumors of a High Lord's son. Be grateful he isn't around to correct you himself."

You blinked, the anger draining away as quickly as it had surged, leaving a wave of embarrassment in its place. You took in the male’s faces—initially stunned, then quickly morphing into anger. It was an expected reaction from those who felt their pride wounded, especially from males who had just been scolded by a low-court fae like yourself.

You straightened, trying to regain your composure as you cleared your throat.

The largest of the men leaned forward, his eyes narrowing with a sneer. “Well, well, boys,” he drawled, his voice dripping with disdain. “I think our pretty little bartender might be one of the Princeling’s whores.”

You weighed your options as you stood there, hand still gripping the glass. For a fleeting moment, you were tempted to shatter it over his head. The thought of the glass breaking, of the shards embedding themselves in his skin, was almost satisfying.

But you didn't. Your father would be angry, would be disappointed above all. You needed the business.

You took a deep breath and your grip on the glass loosened.

“Allow me to apologize,” you said. “It seems I’m more sensitive about our court’s reputation than I realized. I don’t know what came over me. How about a round on the house?”

Their faces shifted to smug satisfaction as they accepted the offer with eager grins and, soon, their cups were filled once more. As they happily downed their next round of drinks, you slipped out from behind the bar.

The door’s bell chimed softly as you stepped outside, itching to find the heir that was imprinted into your mind.

Strangely enough, you knew exactly where he'd be.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹

You found him in a clearing south of The Forest House, an expansive area bathed in the warm light of the afternoon sun. It was a dedicated space for the hounds, adorned in various obstacles that Eris used during their training—wooden jumps, tunnels, and agility courses set up with careful precision. You'd seen the area of land a handful of times before, times when Lucien found Eris to argue or hurl curses.

You approached carefully, watching as Eris kneeled by one of the hounds, gently tending to what seemed to be a cut on its paw.

After a moment, he finally looked up, his gaze meeting yours. The corners of his mouth quirked upwards and a playful glint manifested in his eyes.

"Even after all these years, a vixen without a fox at her side is still a strange sight."

You gritted your teeth, taking a deep breath as your eyes roamed the face of the male before you.

It was an unnecessary jab.

Lucien hadn’t been by your side for centuries now. Though you had visited him as often as you could, the friendship you once shared had changed. He had changed. You had, too. You'd grown into your life at Autumn—managing the tavern that bore your family’s name and living vicariously through the stories that came your way.

The last time you had seen Lucien was marked by a change. You'd looked into his eyes and somehow understood that things were different beyond what had been anticipated.

"Why do you do that?" You asked. "Be a dick when you don't need to be?"

Eris stood, brushing his hands clean as the hound trotted away to rejoin the rest. He narrowed his eyes at you for a moment, a scrutinizing, analyzing moment. Then he offered you a shrug, something so casual and dismissive. You were sure it would've warded off anyone else, that his disinterestedness would have begun to tired them already, turn them the other way.

"Maybe it's part of my charm," he finally responded, "Or maybe I'm just a dick."

He made no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice as he emphasized your insult. Eris had been called many things— you'd heard them, even delivered a few of the titles. But so far, you were the only one to call him two things: a dick, and a prick. Perhaps it was delusion, but you swore that he seemed to enjoy it when you said such things, seemed to smirk in a way that wasn't just cruel, but impressed.

You rolled your eyes. "Most wouldn't wear that title with such pride."

He narrowed his eyes for a moment, the corners of his lips twitching upwards. "What's the use in denying my nature?"

You sighed, a sound of frustration, of annoyance. "Do you not grow bored of your little games?"

Eris rolled his shoulders and straightened his back. He always had immaculate posture, his stature was often so perfect that it was almost uncomfortable to witness. It emphasized his wealth, somehow— emphasized his power. He towered over you even more now.

"Did you seek me out solely to criticize me?"

You bit the inside of your cheek. "No."

"Then why?"

You still weren't entirely sure why you had come.

"Perhaps I was bored."

Eris raised an eyebrow. "Do you not have any friends?"

You bristled. "I have plenty." You paused, allowing your gaze to settle on the view before you, on the open land and the animals that in the open expanse. You turned back to Eris. "It's you that doesn't seem to have any. Your only companionship recently seems to be those hounds. I'm surprised you're not running on all fours."

Eris's expression shifted. He let out a small chuckle and you fought against the twitch in your lips, cursed the warmth that blossomed in your chest. But the amusement dissipated from his face soon after, replaced be a resolve of cold indifference. His eyes seemed tired in this light.

"As much as I…enjoy our little talks," He began after a moment, "I didn't ask for company. You should find someone who wants it."

A small sense of rejection passed through your skin like a cold, morning chill. You were never foolish enough to think Eris would welcome your presence with open arms and a smile, never naive enough to consider yourself anything more than semi-peaceful acquaintances. But still, there was something deep within you that wished he’d show you something beyond the disregard he showed others.

That wasn't a fool's wish— because you knew it was possible.

You'd seen it.

Strangely enough, you had. In the stolen glances when he thought no one was looking, how he lingered after you stumbled, offered a hand before quickly retracting it. There had been flowers at your door after your mother passed of Autumn fever, an unusual number of wealthy patrons who had frequented your father’s tavern for months afterward, tipping generously despite only having a drink or two. They all adorned attire of a specific, deep green that you’d come to recognize easily—the shade often worn by Eris’s personal guard.

His name was never attached to any of it, but you could trace it back to him. You'd always wondered why he'd never taken credit, never basked in somehow proving your presumptions about him wrong.

Twenty-nine year old you, freshly bonded to Lucien after he'd stumbled across your father's tavern, would be shocked that centuries later, she'd be spending more time alongside his cruel brother than Lucien himself.

You’d had an image of Eris back then—an image painted by Lucien’s words. It was accurate, to an extent. You never doubted your best friend’s judgment, never questioned the stories of cruelty and ambition that followed Eris like a shadow. He had, indeed, made Lucien suffer. There were reasons he disliked his brothers so deeply, reasons you knew were valid.

But you were curious by nature, always craving to understand things deeply, intricately. And Eris Vanserra called to you like a riddle from an ancient tale—dangerous, alluring, and impossible to ignore.

Above all else, you wanted answers. Throughout the years, Eris had never called upon your bargain, never asked for a favor, never even mentioned the price you’d paid for that first visit with Lucien. Not once.

It unnerved you.

"I don't understand you," you said, without realizing the words had fallen from your lips.

You hadn't intended on voicing it so blatantly. You weren't quite sure how Eris would respond, how he would interpret your words. It was a tossup, really, between a snarky response or something condescending, something to make you feel silly, naive.

Silence.

Eris shifted, turning his body to look out into the horizon before him.

"Not everything in life is meant to be understood."

You paused.

Eris was complicated. Unfortunately for you, you loved complicated. It wasn't boring. It made you think, made you wonder. You gravitated towards the eldest Vanserra more often than you'd like to admit. It was easier now, you decided, since Lucien's watchful eye wasn't around. He didn't have to witness your betrayal first hand, didn't have to see as you attempted to find something in his brother. You weren't sure what that something was, but you were certain you were searching for it. You had been for years.

"That's not true. I can understand things if I try hard enough."

Eris played idly with the rings on his hands. "You set yourself up for disappointment, Vixen," he said to the empty air before him, not turning to look at you. "Why does everything need to have a deeper meaning?"

You studied his face further. Noting the lines etched around his eyes and the set of his jaw. He was beautiful. You weren’t one to deny it—all of the Vanserras were. But where Lucien had been handsome, radiating a gentle charm that made you blush with every lingering gaze, Eris was more akin to the sharp edge of the season’s chill—striking, with an air of regal severity. His amber eyes alone seemed to hold the crisp, unyielding essence of autumn itself—beautiful, but not without its bite.

"It doesn't need to," you replied. "But it often does. I think details are important."

He didn't respond as he turned to face you. You glanced up at him, his eyes fixed on yours with an intensity that seemed almost tangible.

"You've never lied to me," you stated. It was a statement more than it was a question.

"No," Eris replied.

His gaze didn't waver. You were almost impressed that you'd managed to hold his stare for so long. No one had ever looked at you like this before—so deeply, so penetrating. You understood now how his mere gaze could make people crumble, understood the rumors of how he only took his partners from behind, how he never made eye contact.

You pushed away the burning thoughts that arose.

"Is it true?" Your gaze bounced around his face. "Do you force your traitors to fight for your amusement? Place bets on them like animals?"

Eris's eyes flickered with something dark, but he didn't move.

"Do you think it is?" he countered.

You shook your head. You were certain of your answer, but you needed to hear his. "No. I don't."

The corner of his mouth twitched upward, and he gave a small, almost imperceptible nod. "Then it’s not," he said simply.

His expression revealed nothing more as you scanned his face. He didn't seem startled by your question, didn't seem confused at the context. He was aware of the rumors, of the stories circulating like the last morsels of food at a feast—passed around, savored, and eagerly consumed.

"It doesn't bother you? That these lies exist?"

A hint of confusion crossed his features, as if the question itself was somewhat absurd.

"Why would it?"

You blinked, momentarily retracting into yourself.

As a hound trotted up to Eris, his attention shifted. He crouched down, meeting the beast at its level. The gentle manner with which the hound regarded him, the affection in its eyes, stirred something inside you, deep within your gut. Your father had always said that a male’s nature could be understood through how animals responded to him.

Eris clearly cared for his hounds, and they, in turn, cared for him.

You found yourself wondering if, deep down, Eris was ever troubled by his reputation.

Lucien always had been.

He cursed the blood than ran through his veins, spent every moment trying to prove himself to be better than the legacy of his family— he did everything he could to avoid the curse of a wicked kin.

But then there was the male before you.

Eris, the rightful heir and firstborn son, was different.

You had always assumed he was bestowed with the legacy of the kingdom, that he was born for the role of High Lord, eagerly embracing the title and its accompanying glory. He seemed built for it, seemed to thrive under its weight.

You watched as more hounds approached him, watched as they surrounded him like a loyal fleet.

Could it be possible, you thought, that perhaps it wasn't all gifted. That it was possible Eris was burdened with the legacy of a Court?

You realized, then, that you'd never truly acknowledged that what he had become allowed for a kinder brother to grow in his wake.

The thoughts came faster, hazy, so many that your vision began to blur. It all made you itch, made you uncomfortable, made you overwhelmed and desperate for more.

None of this felt right.

You stared at Eris for a few more moments. When he stood up straight once more, about to turn toward you, you turned and ran to your horse.

You could feel his stare burning into you as you left.

✹ ✶ 𖧷 ✶✹ 

reader panicking when she has deep intellectual thoughts about sexy man as he tends for his dogs. shes so me fr

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[demigods-posts]

i would pay so much money to see the last chapter of moa in percy's perspective. i need to see him anxiously awaiting annabeth's return. i need to see him silently cry into her hair when she falls apart in his arms. i need to see him beaming with pride when she describes how she completed a quest no child of athena ever could. but for the love of god. i need see to him experience all five stages of grief the second he sees annabeth being dragged into the pit. i need to see him pray to every god and goddess in existence that he reaches her in time. i need to see him look into annabeth's eyes and come to terms with the notion that they might never come back from this. and i need to see him confess that he'd relive every awful moment of his life if it meant that they were together in their dying moments.