#I almost bought Silver because he’s my favorite but I’m committed to the bit

[niko-jpeg]

sighs heavily. I purchased a Shadow plushie.

[sapphicambitions]

Okay so I finished watching black sails a few days ago and I’ve spent the last few days reading other metas and posts and interviews about Flint & Silver to gather my thoughts (thots, if you will) and these are the conclusions I have come to:

John Silver and James Flint have the most interesting and well written dynamic ives ever seen between two characters. I am endlessly fascinated by their relationship. Because it’s so unique and complex and I can’t think of any other relationship between two men on screen that even gets close to being on their level, that level of intimacy and their DIALOGUE????? especially in season four????? there is no daylight between us???? i have made myself transparent to you????? you already know me in all the ways that’s relevant???? fuck me up dude!!!!!

All of that being said, I don’t like… ship them. At least not in the conventional way of shipping. I don’t see them as boyfriends or husbands or even as romantically involved. Like I said I LOVE their dynamic and I am fascinated with the complexities of it, and I really and truly think that they loved each other deeply, but to me the idea of them being like in an explicit, canon relationship sort of... cheapens it?

Especially if we’re talking about seasons 1-3 flint & silver. To me, saying that they were romantically involved during that time period sort of misses the point of their build up. Because they didn’t even really like each other then. They were necessary evils in each other’s stories. ESPECIALLY in seasons 1 & 2, they weren’t friends! They were work place acquaintances who needed each other to survive. And remember Silver’s whole season three arc of “I think flint controls the weather”???? Lmaooo the idea that they were romantically involved at that time, to me, almost does a disservice to their characters and the journey that they took to get to where they were in the fourth season.

Because I don’t think that they truly started to even be friends until that night around the fire. When Silver asked in who’s name they were fighting the war and Flint told the truth about his past. When Flint made himself transparent and vulnerable to Silver, and they openly discussed their partnership. When they came to a mutual understanding of each other, when they felt the possibility of the future together, that is when they really and truly emotionally connected and became more than work place acquaintances, became even more than just casual friends.

But I still don’t think that they were like, together together in season four.

Do I think there were extremely high levels of homoeroticism? also-fucking-lutely. But I don’t think they were romantically involved. For many reasons.

I think that the last two episodes of the series do not work if they did not love each other. The last two episodes are not effective if there is not something deeper there, if there isn’t something to lose when they fall apart. Like when Billy and Silver fall apart? I was like aww they were friends. :( and that’s it. When Silver and Flint fell apart? I sobbed my fucking eyes out. Would I have been as destroyed by Silver’s betrayal if I didn’t truly believe that these two men had a deep and profound relationship, that they needed each other and completed each other? Lmao no! No I wouldn’t have. If Flint didn’t love Silver, he wouldn’t have taught him sword fighting, he wouldn’t have shot Dooley, he wouldn’t have looked so deeply crushed when Silver raised the gun. Because the look on his face? When that happens? That is heartbreak, pure and simple.

BUT. I ALSO think that the last two episodes of the series do not work if that love is explicit and defined. I do not think it works if Silver is fully aware of that love. Because I don’t think he is. I think he has found himself closer and closer to Flint, committing himself to Flint, becoming the other half of Flint, and….. doesn’t quite realize how homoerotic it is lmao. Because he has Madi! And Silver has never really had someone to be close to before, so I honestly don’t believe that Silver was aware how how Homo(TM) the whole thing was with Flint, at least not consciously, at least not out loud. And I say this because there is a very important moment in the finale that doesn’t work if their relationship is defined and official or romantic in any way.

It’s when Flint says “This will all have been for nothing. We will have been for nothing. Defined by their histories. Distorted to fit into their narrative. Until all that is left of us are the monsters in the stories they tell their children,” That is his last card to play. That, to me, is the THESIS of the series, that moment is what they have been building up to for four seasons, that is Flint’s driving force as a person. And Silver says: “I don’t care,”

That moment is reliant on Silver not understanding the queer implications behind what Flint said. That moment is reliant on Silver being a man who has never experienced the life ruining homophobia that Flint has experienced. That moment is reliant on Silver genuinely not caring, it is reliant on the complete disconnect from Flint in that moment, and if the two of them had been in a defined relationship at the moment, I wouldn’t have bought it. And it is heartbreaking and tragic because Silver DOESN’T get it. He doesn’t! He does not know what it means to fear how the world will see you for who you fundamentally are, fear how mothers will tell their children about you, fear how your story will be told, and I do not buy that moment if Silver is aware of his own queerness. Maybe other characters in other stories, I might, but Silver, self serving and self saving Silver, to not care? He has to genuinely NOT care.

I’ve mentioned before in other posts that watching Silver and Flint’s story play out is a lot like watching Romeo and Juliet, that you know that their story will end in tragedy, but you watch it unfold anyway. But there’s another reason I think they parallel the star crossed lovers. And I think the moral of Romeo & Juliet (it’s my favorite play step up and fight me) is not that the young lovers were stupid and reckless, but the moral is that they might have lived if not for the outside forces trying to drive them apart. Romeo and Juliet is about how the toxic and warring world in which they lived wasn’t sustainable for their love, that they were driven to their deaths by parents who didn’t realize the harm they were inflicting upon their children.

I digress but the POINT being that it is outside forces that drove the two of them apart. (Get Wreked, Billy) The toxic and warring world in which they lived wasn’t sustainable for their partnership. You can see it best in 4x09 when the flashbacks of the two of them alone on the beach are funny and tender and vulnerable and open between the two of them, and present day where Silver’s trying to get Flint a little bit KILLED and you can see how much things have changed between them since that day on the beach.

How might have things changed in another direction if they hadn’t been driven apart? Because like I said earlier, Silver and Flint’s relationship was a JOURNEY, it didn’t happen overnight. And I can’t help but feel like they were only at the beginning of their relationship when they fell apart and that is another tragedy, the what if? of it all. How might their relationship have changed and gotten even deeper if they hadn’t been pushed apart? What hadn’t been explored between them, what was still left unsaid when Silver raised his gun at Flint? So that’s ANOTHER reason I don’t think they were like ~together~ because there is tragedy is losing something you don’t have, that you might have had. Losing something that you don’t know what it could have become and that breaks my heart because it feels like they had only JUST begun and then they were ending in the most heartbreaking and tragic way.

Also to be honest, the main reason that I love Them is because I’m a slut for tragedy, and knowing that something is going to have a sad ending but rooting for them anyway. Romeo and Juliet, the Hunchback of Notre Dame musical, Hadestown, the Song of Achilles, They Both Die at The End, even rewatching Brokeback Mountain, you get it. Tell me that they aren’t going to make it in the end and then let me watch them fall in love anyway. Let me watch them grow to love each other knowing that they’re going to end in tragedy. I should be sobbing on the floor by the end of it, I WANT to be sobbing on the floor by the end of it. That’s my shit. It is literally my favorite type of story. fuck me UP

So those are my Thots (TM) about Flint & Silver. They have one of the most well written relationships I’ve ever seen on screen and I am endlessly fascinated by them. I don’t like romantically ship them because I think it’s too complicated to reduce their relationship to “they’re dating“ when it is their journey from reluctant work place acquaintances to “It’s hard to know where one began and the other ended” that is so incredible. But I do think there is a deep and profound love between them and the finale doesn’t WORK unless they love each other, but it also has to be somewhat unspoken for it to work, too.  Because I don’t think Silver was aware of his own queerness and I think he has to actively not understand the queerness of Flint’s fight in order to do what he does otherwise I wouldn’t buy it. And I think that they were only at the beginning of their partnership, and I wonder where it could have gone if they hadn’t been ripped apart. Theirs is a tragedy of losing someone you love and losing something that isn’t easily defined, losing something that could have been. And their tragedy does not work if they didn’t have something to lose.

[zenithlux]

Only the Best (VergilxReader)

In which you decide to celebrate a special Valentine’s Day with a certain, blue devil and with what you hope is an equally special gift.

Happy Valentine’s Day Ya’ll ^^ Hope you enjoy 

You've been with Vergil for almost eight months, yet Valentine's Day felt like it was going to be the most terrifying day of your life.

You had yet to decide if that qualified as being over-dramatic.

After a year and a half as Vergil’s “confidant” (the word “friend” apparently didn’t exist in his dictionary), you knew that Vergil didn’t care for holidays. Dante claimed that his brother often forgot them entirely, as he never had a reason to celebrate. And while you understood that, you were very different. Holidays were a chance to try something new, unwind, and just spend time with others. It was probably something you got from your father, who always found the craziest reasons - usually an obscure celebration of some kind - to come home with your favorite food and simple presents.

So, when you did start dating Vergil (which had surprised even you, as you evolved from “acquaintance” to “companion” after a rather honest, late-night conversation), you’d often wondered how you would handle this particular difference between you two. Every holiday since that night had been filled with excited people and other things to do. Halloween had come and gone, and you were happy to help with a costume party at the orphanage (and had been quite amused at the Batman costume the kids had begged Vergil to wear). Thanksgiving had been completely out of your hands, as Kyrie and Nico cooked everything while you were stuck at work. It had been Vergil who had dragged you out of bed after your overly long shift to join them at a rather impressive dinner. You expected Christmas to be the most difficult, as it involved presents (which Vergil always claimed he didn’t want). But his family had kept him busy on that one, and he'd actually accepted your gift in private; chocolate strawberries (you never told his family of that one) and a silver star charm for Yamato; a reminder of your first real date to the planetarium.

You were thrilled to find that attached to Yamato’s hilt the very next day. 

But Valentine's Day was something else entirely. There was no family to back you up (though Dante had cheekily offered). No chaos to hide behind. Just you and Vergil and some kind of present because you really just couldn't help yourself. And as much as he adamantly declared that he didn't need gifts… he'd never declined the few you’d given him. 

But you've also never tried to give him something so… frivolous. You’d considered buying another series present - books had been your go-to for your random bouts of gift-giving - but that seemed too simple. Too obvious. And it wasn’t often that you’d had a significant other on Valentine’s Day, and you were (mostly) certain that Vergil wouldn’t remember it. So, as you wandered the seasonal aisle at your favorite store, you were bouncing with nervous energy, determined to find something that would work. 

Except nothing felt right. It didn’t help that Vergil despised the color red on anything that wasn’t Dante’s jacket. 80% of everything you saw was already out of the question. The teddy bears were too bright. The larger stuffed animals were too cumbersome. The chocolate wouldn’t fit his tastes (you had to go far out of your way for that). He wasn’t interested in any other candies (a real shame, though you were happy to enjoy whatever sweets he passed on). The cards were all too impersonal. And the longer you circled these three aisles, the more frustrated you got. 

There had to be something. Anything that would earn that rare, adorable, and sincere smile you only saw when others weren’t around. But you couldn’t imagine giving any of these things to him… and you were quickly running out of time. Maybe if you’d thought about it sooner you could’ve done something more personal. A handwritten letter an option, though you’d only given him one of those, and you hadn’t actually seen anything but a curious, raised eyebrow when you handed it to him. The bookstore wasn’t too far away… you could always fall back on that…

“Hey!”

Nero’s voice almost startled you, and you weren’t sure whether to feel relieved or even more embarrassed. Fortunately, his knowing smile was all you needed to wave back. “Last minute shopping?” You said. 

Nero sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly? I almost forgot about it.”

You laughed. Like father like son. “Well, Kyrie seems easy to shop for. I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

“Easier than finding something for my old man, huh?”

Yep. You’d be caught. Though you really shouldn’t have been surprised. While Vergil never outright announced your relationship, everyone in the family knew. Maybe it was the way he’d started sitting beside you at every outing or leaving early to walk you home. Or possibly the nights he spent at your house instead of Devil May Cry, watching TV (which he hated in any other circumstance), or talking over tea (which he hated a little less). The most obvious sign was his lack of response to Dante’s teasing after months of harsh denial. That had been the metaphorical nail in the coffin that confirmed what everyone you knew already assumed.

Regardless, you couldn’t help but feel a bit self-conscious. “You’re not… wrong.”

Nero laughed. “Whatcha thinking of getting him?”

You sigh. “Nothing at the moment.”

“Then you’re overthinking it.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you…?”

“He’ll love anything you buy,” Nero said with a shrug. 

“...Are we talking about the same man?”

Nero laughed as he picked through the top row of teddy bears. “I’ve only known him for a few years, but even I can tell when he’s committed.” You blushed at that, though Nero didn’t notice as he pulled down a light pink bear holding a white heart. “Trust me. Find something that speaks to you or whatever, and it’ll be enough.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”

And after another loop around the aisle, you found it. The perfect gift. And that’s when the wheels started turning, piecing together all the ways to make it a Valentine’s Day he might actually enjoy.

After all, only the best was acceptable for your handsome, blue devil. 

Two days later, you couldn’t contain the painful bundle of nerves that had your stomach in knots and your heart nearly bursting from your chest. It was the first time that you’d officially invited him to your apartment, as he often just showed up on your doorstep whenever he wanted. Granted, he always conveniently knew when you were there, and you’d never had a reason (or a desire) to turn him away. But those impromptu meetings were usually dictated by him. So even he had been a bit surprised when you asked him directly with a specific time in mind, and a promise of a good meal. 

You didn’t mention the holiday, and you’d glared Dante into submission before he had a chance to spoil it. But you didn’t miss the smirk on the younger twin’s face, or the subtle thumbs up he gave you when Vergil wasn’t looking. Unfortunately, Dante’s “encouragement” hadn’t helped your nerves in the slightest. Neither had an entire day of cooking, or the panic trip to the store when you realized that you’d bought the wrong wine. Then you’d spent way too long debating if you should or shouldn’t put the rose petals on the table, or light the strawberry-scented candles, or…

A gentle knock at the door brought your thoughts to a screeching halt. You took a long, deep breath, smoothed down your blue dress, and greeted your partner with the most genuine smile you could muster. “Welcome!”

That ever familiar, curious eyebrow raise shot back at you, but you merely stepped aside to let him in. “Just in time,” You said as you wandered back to the kitchen. “The steak’s almost done.” Why were you so nervous? You felt like a teenager on a first date, not a full-grown woman having dinner with someone you’ve cooked for at least a dozen times by now. But then your thoughts strayed to the present and you swallowed another bout of nerves. 

“Are you alright?”

You jumped much further than you meant to and flushed likely as bright as a strawberry when he had to grab you before you tumbled straight to the floor. “Fine!” You said. “I’m… fine.” 

He wasn’t fooled (was he ever?). “Are you…” He paused, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing, really.” You said. “Honest. I’m just…” The words ‘Losing it’ crossed your mind, and you sighed as he gently pulled yourself away. “I guess I should just get it over with, huh?” You could feel his eyes on you as you half-scurried out of the kitchen, only to return with a small, blue box with a simple, black bow. “I know, I know,” You said hastily as his eyes flickered between you and it at least twice. “You don’t like gifts. But today’s special.” You held it out to him. “So… here.”

It felt like an eternity before he took it from you, though it could’ve only been around thirty seconds, tops.  Mercifully, he didn’t waste time opening it, and your heart twisted when his eyes widened ever so slightly. The blue dragon plush was a bit larger than your hand, so you knew it would fit perfectly in his palm… if he’d actually take it out of the box. Instead, he simply stared at it, as if he wasn’t certain what it was. “When I was out shopping,” you said. “I kept thinking of what would mean the most to you.” His eyes flickered to yours. Still, he said nothing. After another deep breath, you continued with as much confidence as you could muster. “So I thought you would want something small that your brother won’t see, that can keep you company when I’m not around.”

After another quiet moment, which wasn’t nearly as nerve-wracking as the last one, he finally lifted it. You smiled, relieved when it did, in fact, fit perfectly in his hands, its little legs dangling just off the sides. “Your perfume,” He said in a very matter-of-fact way. But you didn’t miss the slight twitch of his lips. So close. 

“I may have slept with it the last few days,” You said. “And wearing your favorite perfume. Of course.” Finally, as the last of your nerves slipped away, you gave him a rather cheeky grin. “If you ever need more, you’ll have to come back for it.”

Finally, finally, it happened. He smiled. That genuine, relaxed, Vergil smile that you would give anything to see every day of your life. And it wasn’t a grin like Dante or Nero, but a gentle show of emotion that fit him just right. “This is very thoughtful, my love.”

Your heart fluttered in a mix of surprise and adoration. You couldn’t recall if he’d ever called you that. Maybe you missed it? Unlikely, as you had a feeling you’d never forget such a thing. Especially not when it was said with such astounding tenderness; the kind of tone that only he could ever pull off. “I’m glad you like it.” 

Then a much smaller box practically appeared in your hands, and it took far too long for you to realize it. “I’ve been informed numerous times this month that today is Valentine’s Day,” He said. Your eyes snapped to his in surprise, and you felt your cheeks flush as his fingers brushed yours when pulled his hand away from yours. “My brother stayed out of this purchase, of that much I can assure you.” 

You couldn’t hide your gasp when you saw it; a silver heart necklace with glittering sapphires in the shape of a V. “Vergil…”

“It hasn’t been long,” he said as he slowly took your hand. There was a hint of nerves in his voice, something that you’d never heard before. But it made your heart swell as he pushed through it, and brushed his thumb along your check. “But you’ve already managed to steal my heart.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at that. “Now that’s something Dante did have a hand in, yes?”

Vergil snorted but didn’t deny it. “He may have mentioned kicking me out soon. I can’t fathom why.”

You paused for a moment, even though you already knew what you wanted to say. “There’s plenty of room here,” you said as you confidently met his gaze again. “I wouldn’t mind having someone else around more often if you’d like. And your little dragon would probably prefer this place to your brother’s.”

He watched you, expression calm, face unreadable. You tilted your head. “Is everything…”

The world stopped when his lips brushed yours, but he pulled away long before your heart found its way back to its body. “I would happily live here with you, my love,” He said, smirking when he saw how much he’d caught you off guard. But, in a surge of unprecedented confidence, you practically crashed back into him with a much deeper kiss than his had been. This time, he didn’t pull away, and you knew you’d be more than happy if he never did again.

[seasaltmemories]

Never Love an Anchor

Rating: M

Summary: There was a familiar restless energy to Sylvain, the same tense composure she saw whenever he was flirting with another girl who he’d throw away a week later. And for all the wounds she hadn’t been able to heal in time, for all those she had been forced to leave behind, a slow creeping voice in the back of her head told Mercedes that she might be able to at least fix this problem.

~

 “When next we meet, I will kill you without hesitation.”

Those words rattled around Mercedes’ head like a stubborn coin that refused to leave its pursue no matter how hard she shook it. Usually she wasn’t quite this good at turning over her thoughts for so long. For schooling, it was a curse, but for the rest of her life it was a blessing. She had seen the way those who had truly suffered grew bitter and resentful towards the Goddess, unable to let go of their pain. And well, maybe her life hadn’t have been all sunshine and roses, but Mercedes had never wanted to be like that. Life was easier when she relaxed and let Her divine hand guide her through life.

But after eighteen long years of hanging onto memories of her sweet baby brother, it was difficult to not grasp the few scraps this Death Knight gave her like a vice. She didn’t know what good carrying them would do, but if there was one thing she couldn’t hand over to the Goddess so easily, it was Emile. Letting go of his hand to run away with Mother had been the worst choice of her life. Even if all that these remnants of him brought was guilt and anguish, she feared more what she might lose if she let go of them too.

What would it feel like if you didn’t resist and instead let his scythe slice right through you? You’ve seen doctors cut through flesh to remove deadly diseases. Maybe if you didn’t struggle, he’d have pity and only carve out your regrets.

Mercedes’ eyes flew open. She didn’t know what inside her broached such a morbid suggestion, but she knew she didn’t have the courage to turn back and face it. She only realized where she was turning to instead when she the cold air began to nip the back of her neck. Her body was better at taking care of others than herself, so if she couldn’t sleep it must have decided without her that she might as well help the others rest more easily and get some chores done.

She floated like that for a while, letting everything from the cool stone of the floor to the silver moonlight take her attention away from the day's events. When Mercedes found herself in the kitchens, everything clicked. A few days ago, she had bought extra baking supplies from an Alliance merchant. It had cost more than the allowance the Professor suggested, but in the heat of the moment she had been so excited to gift Annette some of the sweets she had been craving. Maybe she hadn’t intended to sneak away and bake it in the middle of the night, but a breakfast surprise should be as good as any kind.

As she gathered her ingredients Mercedes hummed a wordless tune. There was a degree of practicality to it--singing helped her keep time and keep from getting too focused on one task--but it also had the nice side effect of calming her nerves. It was easier to control her breathing when there was a pleasant melody to entertain herself with. Her hands shook less when she had eggs to crack open with a precise touch. Loneliness was easier to swallow down when you knew people’s love wasn’t that far out of reach.

“So there’s our nightingale.” Mercedes almost dropped the mixing bowl from her arms out of surprise. It was only once she managed to field it onto the table that she was able to turn and face her eavesdropper.

“A little birdie like you should be careful about staying out this late. Never know what kind of animals would try to snatch you up.” Sylvain leaned against the doorway, grinning like a cat that had just spied his favorite meal. Since they had reunited, she had almost let those honey-brown eyes get to her. With his new height and bulk it had been easy to wonder if his flirtations had gained any weight as well. Still over time their old Monastery banter had returned to her.

“Hello Sylvain,” Mercedes smiled as she let all his innuendo fly past her without a second thought. “If it is so dangerous to be up, then what is your excuse?”

“I’m trying to climb back into any bed I can,” Slowly he made his way to the wine cellar. “Just need a drink to help me rest easier.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I was you.” On instinct she placed her body in-between him and the door. “Instead why don’t you try sticking to more traditional sleeping aids?”

Sylvain paused, a strange expression flitted across his face. She tried to decipher it, but it was gone in an instant and replaced with a cool regard.

“I don’t remember when I asked for your permission.” His voice was light and teasing, but that gaze of his cut through her with the same precision he’d take down a foe.

“I’m a medic, and I’ve been your medic several times.” While battlefield white magic was different from the work Manuela did, Mercedes wasn’t about to refresh him on the details. “Drinking yourself into a slumber is imprecise at best and can put your life in danger at worst.”

Sylvain didn’t say anything at first, just kept studying her like she was some battle map he was trying to commit to memory. It occurred to her then that she hadn’t put on a robe and her nightgown left very little to the imagination. Immediately she crossed her arms in an effort to regain a shred of decency, but then Mercedes began to wonder if drawing attention to her breasts when the night was so cold, when he was around riling her up was a good idea, or maybe--

“When did you get this?” While she had been caught up in her fretting, he had closed the distance between the two of them to play with Rafail Gem. It was another matter she had forgotten to attend to after today’s trying events. Or maybe her subconscious had decided to let it rest there as a physical reminder of the guilt she bore.

 There must be a part of him that still loves you if he is still protecting you like this? What remnants does Emile still hold of you? “When next we meet, I will kill you without hesitation.”

“I’ll tell you if you come and help me bake this cake. Once its in the oven, I’ll brew some tea that should make you sleep like a baby.” It was bribery at its most blatant, but for whatever reason, Sylvain let the gem fall back against her chest and followed Mercedes to the cooking table.

“So why were you up?” It was about as subtle as an axe to the face, but if Sylvain thought anything about her pushing the conversation back onto him, he didn’t say anything.

“What would you say if I was awakened by a siren’s song and would have been driven mad if I couldn’t find its source?”

“I thought I was a bird not a fish.” She giggled.

“You’re getting sirens and mermaids mixed up. Mermaids are your fish ladies. Will eat your heart out, but at least they look hot. Sirens disguise themselves with their song and don’t even give you the decency of being eaten by a pretty face.”

“So I really must not be so beautiful anymore.” Mercedes gave an exaggerated sigh. “You know if you didn’t like my haircut you could have just said so.”

“No Mercedes, you look divine as always.” It was a well worn-out compliment, but despite herself, she couldn’t stop the heat from rushing to her core. She was so busy trying to squash it back down, she almost missed his next words.

“It would have been Miklan’s birthday tomorrow.” There was no flowery language to blunt the harsh reality of his confession, just a quiet whisper of words that could have been lost in the wind. The news was so dizzying, her body kinda kept functioning without her, still compulsively stirring the batter and smiling like an idiot. By the time she actually began to process things, Sylvain was rambling on with that same desperation as when he had disclosed what growing up with a Crest had been like.

“I don’t know why I remembered it tonight. I didn’t care at all when it came around the first time his blood was on my hands. But you know my father had forbid people from mentioning it back then. It always broke my mother’s heart to hear about him. That used to piss me off because I still remembered a year where he almost trampled me with the horse he had been gifted, but no, now that he was gone he was simply a tortured soul. But then again--”

“Sylvain.” She didn’t mean to speak quite so harshly, but she couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice. When he turned back to her with those beautiful, sad eyes, her heart nearly shattered in two. There was a familiar restless energy to them, the same tense composure she saw whenever he was flirting with another girl who he’d throw away a week later. And for all the wounds she hadn’t been able to heal in time, for all those she had been forced to leave behind, a slow creeping voice in the back of her head told her that she might be able to at least fix this problem.

In one elegant motion, Mercedes swirled her hand in the cake batter and extended her frost-covered fingertips towards his mouth.

“Taste it.”

“What!?” If it had been under any other occasion, then she might have savored getting to see him flustered for once in his life.

“I said you would get a treat for helping me.” It was strange to be the one throwing around innuendos now, but the longer she held her hand out, the more it made sense. There was no need to find a new heart to break when hers was already so worn and fragile.

“Taste it, please.” She didn’t mean for her voice to crack on that last word, but it seemed to be the last bit of goading needed for Sylvain to finally give in.

He gripped her wrist with both hands while his tongue darted out in quick bursts to clean each digit. While at first each flick was nothing more than a blur of pink, controlled, focused, and utterly devoid of any sensuality, after swiping the last remains of icing, he’d linger for just a half second--sending shivers down her spine. When he found a dollop of frosting had been smeared just above her knuckle and leveraged her hand further in his mouth so that he reach it, Mercedes couldn’t keep from gasping in pleasure.

Sometimes a little voice would try and chime in that in was a poor use of expensive ingredients to waste them on foreplay or it was evil of her to take advantage of his grief. But pleasure had a way of warming the back of her throat, making her hum so loud she drowned out all those inner demons. The Goddess had never disapproved of intimacy. There couldn’t be any harm in carving out her own island of happiness when she otherwise might cry herself a sea of grief.

When Sylvain was finished with his task, he stayed there, head lowered against her hand like a loyal dog. But the eyes that stared up at her were those of a wolf, sharp and hungry. There was a reason you weren’t supposed to feed wild animals, after whetting their appetites, they’d always come back around for more. Yet it seemed that he was still respecting the power dynamics she had established, waiting for her next order.

So she did what any person with a big broad man leering at her like that would do--she pushed away her cooking and lead him to her room.

She must have grown complacent, thinking she’d be able to take her time, because she turned back to the door to make sure it was locked. However before she could move from her spot, a warm breath of air tickled the curve of her neck, freezing her in place.

“You never did explain who gave you this.” His left arm was pressed against the door-frame, caging her, while his right played with the Rafail Gem again.

“What if I told you it was a thank you from your last bedmate for warming it after you left?” She didn’t know what creature controlled her tongue in that moment. Maybe it was the innocent part of her that would prefer returning to their usual teasing relationship rather than risk this confusing mess. Maybe the not so innocent part of herself wanted to goad him into a fit of jealousy, to be fucked against the door with about as much gentleness as she deserved. Deeper reflection might have found the culprit, but it occurred to her then that Sylvain had neither done nor said a thing all this time she was caught up in pitying herself.

Slowly, she looked over her shoulder. When she met those honey-brown eyes again, she didn’t see the skirt-chaser she was used to from her past, but the tired warrior she grown more and more familiar with these last few months.

“I’m sorry,” When she reached up to cup his cheek, he flinched, but before she could pull away, he covered her hand with his and brought it closer once more. “Truly I am.” She didn’t quite know what she was apologizing for, but the same feeling she got when she watched a dying man beg for healing she couldn’t give was clawing at her chest again.

With the same strange passivity of his tonight, he let her lead him to her bed. There, she arranged his limbs so that he was lying comfortably, like she used to when playing with her dolls as a young girl. One by one, she began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“You carry so much more pain than most realize.” She pressed butterfly kisses against his chest, traveling down lower and lower. “I can be so cruel sometimes, but you’re an invaluable friend.” She moved to untie the laces of his breeches, but before she could get them undone, Sylvain shot to life and grabbed her wrists. In one swift motion, he pinned her arms above her head and rolled onto her.

“Don’t you patronize me too. Not you.” He rocked his hips against hers, and it took all her will-power not to chase the sensation. “Don’t call me your friend while trying to suck my cock. I thought I was more to you than that.”

There was something disorienting being in a position like this. Good old Mercedes who did everything for everyone unable to move a muscle. She should be screaming, trying to break free at whatever cost, but instead a sick thrill curled itself in the pit of her stomach.

“Why don’t you prove it then?” That wicked tongue of hers spoke without warning.

Sylvain stared at her, stunned, and she felt the urge to apologize again. But that little voice inside herself told her to wait wait wait, see what this might get her.

If you can’t ever let go of things yourself, maybe it might be good to let someone else take it from you.

The kisses they shared were not the type she wanted anyone else to know about. When she and Annette had gossiped about blushing boys and giggling girls, she had always adopted that role of wise and unflappable Mercie. It was a preferable position to refashion her wasted years into a comfortable experience. And really there was something nice in showing someone the ropes, leading them gently to a shared sense of bliss.

But this...this arrangement opened her up to all new sorts of delights. There was a satisfaction in the feel of Sylvain’s hips pressing her against the mattress with no extra force than his natural weight, his tongue in her mouth, exploring every crevice of it, as if he was searching for something. There was a pleasure in being so thoroughly possessed, so when his right hand descended to fondle her breast, and she couldn’t help but arch into his touch.

“You sure act arrogant for someone so desperate,” His voice had transformed into a low growl she could feel travel from his chest to hers. “Were you just putting on airs earlier and trying to hide how much of a slut you really are?”

Heat transformed from arousal and into anger. “Don’t call me that.” Mercedes broke from Sylvain’s grip, hating the way her voice cracked. It made her sound like a child, and this was the last situation in which she wanted to return to those days.

But thankfully, Sylvain didn’t call her stupid or naive. Instead his left hand reached forward to brush the hair from her face.

“I apologize. I forgot you like it most when I’m honest.” He murmured. “If I’m telling the truth, then I can’t imagine a more radiant woman than you, Mercedes.”

The hand still fondling her breast pinched her nipple, and Mercedes was embarrassed by how loud a noise she made. Still if anything, Sylvain seemed almost giddy.

“Never knew my flattery was that good.” His laughter made her ears buzz. “You liked that didn’t you?”

Mercedes didn’t trust herself to use words, instead just nodding before shoving her face into his shoulder.

Sylvain chuckled again, making what few pieces of fabric that separated them seem all the flimsier. “Does he know your little secret? Does he make you feel as good as I do?”

“Stop playing games,” The Mercedes that hadn’t been a blushing virgin for over a decade grew back her spine. “Tell me I’m good, that’s all I want.”

Sylvain sighed as he lean down to press his forehead against hers. “I can’t imagine anything easier. You might be more holy than the goddess, herself.”

“Oh,” Of course that was when he decided to sneak a hand up her night-gown. The sudden chill might have been an adequate excuse for her shivering, but even as Mercedes adjusted, she could not stop the tremors.

“You’re the best of all of us, kind, patient. None of us deserve you, least of all me.” His clever hands danced up her inner thigh, teasing and refusing to touch her exactly where she wanted.

“So beautiful too. You’re like a portrait come to life. I couldn’t look away even if I wanted to.” He captured her mouth just as slide a finger into her, and it was all so overwhelming, Mercedes wondered if she might just keel over right then and there. Still something about the intensity with which Sylvain kissed, her seemed to demand she stay there with him. So she returned his affections the best she could, using her tongue, nails, and teeth.

Eventually though she must have gotten too enthusiastic because after he rubbing her in just the right spot, Sylvain pulled away from her with a hiss as he cradled his ear.

“Oh my!” Mercedes leaned forward to try and innocently examine the nick, but Sylvain pushed her back down, spreading apart her legs.

“Don’t worry about it. You can sink your teeth wherever want--already’ve carved my heart from chest. I don’t mind it as long as you promise you’ll be there to kiss it better.��� He slipped another finger inside her and her embarrassment melted back into that glorious high that was building up inside her. So she tried to do as he asked, and peppered his injured ear with the softest of kisses as she begged and pleaded for him to bring her to release.

“Mercie I don’t think I could ever love another woman,” His breath was ragged, just the sound of it pushing her closer. “Marry me.”

Whiteness blinded her vision, leaving her all floaty and in a world where she couldn’t really understand his words. It was such a nice place, it probably was what let her entertain the idea for a moment, linger on how much she just enjoyed his presence and how devastated she’d be if she lost him.

And then she came back down to earth, where Sylvain was looming over her, waiting with his neediness on full display.

As she tried to catch her breath, her mind swirled with a thousand thoughts, but the one thing that consumed her the most was the knowledge that she should have never let them make such a mistake.

After that, well it became impossible to keep from crying.

“I’m sorry,” Mercedes did her best to wipe her tears away, but they just wouldn’t stop falling. “It’s not your fault, I--”

“I told you not to patronize me!” His words felt laced with venom. “I’m not used to girls crying before we’ve even rolled out of bed but then I guess it is no wonder you got tired of me this quickly.”

“That’s not true!” She tried to tilt his chin so that he would look at her, but he pushed away her touch with a snarl. “Please listen to me Sylvain, I should have never taken advantage of you when you were so obviously grieving. I’m the lowest.”

Pure rage burned in his gaze, no longer so sweet and syrupy. “Was I just a pity fuck?! Just another little child to shut up? Is that why you won’t tell me who gave you that necklace? Don’t want to break a stupid kid’s heart when you got another man who actually--”

“For goddess’ sake, I got this from my brother after he said he wanted to kill me!”

Immediately it was like a spark of thunder magic had struck the room. Everything grew still as they could only stare at each other as her outburst finally set it.

“Fuck,” It was Sylvain who finally broke the silence. He buried his face in his hands. “Fuck.”

“I’m sorry,” Mercedes wondered if she’d ever be able to say those words enough for them to mean anything. “I’m sorry, please forgive me. I’m not proud of what I did, I just couldn’t bear to think of him tonight.”

“Fuck!” Sylvain slammed his fist against the mattress. “I’m such a fucking dumbass, my brain might as well be in my dick.”

“Don’t say things like that!” Mercedes brought his hands to her chest. “I was the one who seduced you. I led you on. I wanted you domineering and cruel. I brought this upon myself!”

Sylvain gave a laugh at that, but this one had been drained of any humor. “I was charmed by you the minute I heard your voice tonight. There’s just something so soothing about being around you. With Miklan haunting me, it was the only thing that made me feel like myself again.” He dropped his hands to his side as his frame began to tremble. “But then that isn’t a good thing in the long run, because seeing that gem made me a spoiled child. I didn’t want to have to share you with anyone else in the world. I didn’t want to risk losing your comfort.”

There was a fervor to his words that a few minutes ago might have lit a fire in her as well. But now, his shaking shoulders only signaled just how evil she truly was.

“I’m sorry,” Goddess, when would she stop babbling. “I don’t know if I can give you any comfort. I don’t know if I have anything left to give.”

She dashed out the room, worried that staying with him any longer might bring on a new wave of tears. However as the door slammed shut behind her, it was only then she remembered that it was her own room.

Oh you stupid girl

Mercedes collapsed against the heavy oak behind her when her knees gave way.

She didn’t know how long she stayed there--crying, curled against the door. It seemed now that she had opened the flood gates, her sadness wanted to make good on all the years she had tried to persevere and stay strong. But even eighteen years of self-loathing, of having to live with the weight of her inadequacy, had it waning points. Like a tide that had temporarily receded, she knew it would come back with a vengeance. But she had to pull herself together enough to do the awkward work of reclaiming her own room. She hated to be the one to make a mess, but at least she had gotten good at cleaning them up.

Tentatively, she returned to find, Sylvain still sprawled across her bed with that faraway look in his eyes. Just seeing him again made her want to find some hole to crawl and die in, but forced herself to be mature and sat down to join him.

"Did you mean it?" Mercedes asked in a quiet voice. "Do you really want to marry me?"

There was a huff of air, and then a much longer and more tired sigh.  "Since I thought there might be another man in your life, I figured it was time to lay all my cards out on the table.  I figured you had no reason to believe a love confession alone, so I thought a ring would convince you of my genuine feelings."

“Sylvain, I mean it with full sincerity when I say that I want the best for you,” Mercedes took a deep breath. “But I don’t want you to be in love with me.”

Sylvain shifted back and forth, “I know you probably see me as nothing more than a shallow pervert, but that doesn’t change the intensity of my feelings for you.” She looked down to find him drawing unrecognizable patterns into the mattress. “Even if you don’t return them, you’ll always be divine to me.”

“It’s not that I don’t feel anything for you, either,” Mercedes smoothed her skirts, infected by his nervous energy. “If anything, I was frightened because I do feel something.” She danced away from the exact four letter word. Such affection felt too much for her clumsy hands to hold.

“I can’t blame you, I don’t particularly like myself either,” He looked up at her now, that neediness still overwhelming. “I like to think I’m a better man when I’m with you though. If I can’t give you my heart, then at least take my admiration.”

Mercedes could feel her shoulders begin to quiver. “I don’t think you understand though. I’m not the angel you think I am.” She traced the Rafail Gem. “I’m good at acting the part of the caring older sister, but well my brother isn’t wrong to want me dead.”

Sylvain’s eyes narrowed. “Not wrong doesn’t mean right. You bring so much joy to everyone, I can’t imagine a world where your absence would bring anything but sadness to us all.”

“I know I’m good at giving!” She didn’t mean to raise her voice, but the few strands of her soul were starting to unravel again. “I give my blood and tears because there isn’t much else I have to offer. I try to be kind and good but every well dries up eventually.” Mercedes forced herself to look him in the eye. “When I run dry will you still love me? If I can’t make you a better man, what use am I as a wife?”

Sylvain’s hands came to a standstill against the mattress. Then slowly he curled his fingers into the sheets. “You know I never used to believe him. I always wanted to prove him wrong, but maybe Miklan was right about some things.” He stared at her with that tragic gaze. “Here I am treating you the way my father treated me.”

Mercedes blinked. “What do you mean?”

Sylvain’s fingers grazed hers, but they didn’t quite hold her. What might be mistaken for a grip was too loose and skittish to quite count.

“When was that last time someone took care of you? You’ve had to put up with the same bullshit as everyone else, but you didn’t even have your own Mercie to help you along the way.”

There was a part of her that wanted to push him away. It wanted to convince herself that this wasn’t sincere concern, but just the result of her manipulative guilt-tripping.

But slowly his hands danced up the side of her arms, persuading her into an hug. Once she began to trace the length of his spine, it became impossible to keep from just melting into him.

“His name is Emile.” Mercedes whispered against his shoulder. “That is all I can give for now, but please don’t let me go.”

As shaky as an embrace it was, Sylvain held her through the entire night.

A.N. I was in a writing exchange and my requester wanted smut about these two being disasters in very different ways.  So glad I get to share it now (also after writing his name so many times I am not sure if sylvain is a word)

[starker-filth]

Starker Prompt Fill

This is a fill for a promt that @spadestorm696 sent me. About 3/4 of the way through I remembered that this was supposed to be an AU so let me know if you have another AU prompt that I can fill for you. Sorry about that! And thanks for the prompt again, you really got the creativity pumping.

Also shoutout to my loving and insanely supportive boyfriend for dealing with my obsession and being my beta for this fic 💕

Without further ado:

Congradulations

It was supposed to be the best day of Peter's life so far. He graduated at the top of his class and got to make his valedictorian speech with Aunt May in the crowd and his secret billionare boyfriend sitting proudly beside of her. Said boyfriend had been planning a grad party for him for nearly a whole semester that everyone wanted to attend. He couldn't blame them one bit, even the kids who hated him, who could turn down a penthouse party at the top of Avengers Tower?

Everyone knew Peter had an internship with Mr.Stark, but that was all they knew. And that was supposed to change the night of his grad party. They had talked about it for weeks, and once they told Aunt May about their unconventional relationship, even though she was reluctant and apprehensive, the three of them concluded that going public wouldn't receive any worse backlash than what Tony, Iron Man, and Spiderman had already dealt with from the press.

So why was Peter hiding in Tony's room, tears staining the expensive suit that the older man had bought him for this special day?

"Kid, it's your party and you can cry if you want to, but you gotta tell me what's wrong." Tony sighed as he walked into the room, dark and shadowy with the lights off and the shades drawn.

Peter used the back of his hand to wipe his face as Tony sat next to him on the bed, hand raising to cradle the back of his head.

"It's nothing, it's stupid." He shook his head.

Tony sighed and shifted to look Peter in the eyes.

"Nothing that makes you cry is 'stupid,' baby boy. Now spill,"

"It's just... Flash is being such a dick. It's been worse since he found out he was second in class rankings." Peter sniffed and his eyes lifted to look at the older man. "He's been saying stuff... like stuff about you. And as soon as he walked in he made a joke about me sucking your dick to get the party, and valedictorian. And now we can't even come out now, because everyone laughed at his joke and he was right. He took my whole day away from me and it's not fair."

Tony cleared his throat to cover up the predatory growl that almost slipped.

"Which one is Flash again? Stupid name, by the way."

"Purple polo... Weird nose... Backstreet Boys fauxhawk," but before Peter realized why Tony was asking, the older man was stalking out of his room toward the loud music and chatter.

Horrified, Peter chased after him but it was too late, Tony was already grabbing Flash by the collar and asking for his name.

"Uh... Flash... Sir. Flash," Peter's will to stop Tony evaporated when he saw the hilariously frightened look on Flash's face.

On cue, the music stopped playing and everyone turned to look at the host of the party.

"Listen kid... Flash... You've gotta get your superiority complex in check. Peter's smarter than you, he's nicer, he's way better looking than you... I guess that's beside the point but still true... He's better than you in every facet of existence and just because you can't handle it doesn't mean you can act like a total ass monkey and ruin his fun." Tony was practically foaming at the mouth, gripping onto the shaking kid by his shirt and Peter had never been so turned on in his entire 18 years of life.

"Mr.Stark I promise I- I don't know what you're talking about. Peter's my friend, we're-"

"Kid, don't." Tony let go of Flash but kept speaking, "I don't know what your issue is, mommy and daddy don't love you enough, your big brother got all of the attention, whatever it is I don't give a shit. You don't treat people like that, especially not Peter. Security?" Tony finished, stepping back to let one of Happy's men escort Flash to the elevator.

Peter's body moved without any thought toward Tony, and before he knew it he was fisting the lapels of his suit and crashing their lips together in the most chaste kiss his horny teenaged body could handle.

Tony was startled but he wrapped his arms around Peter and didnt pull away until he heard Ned woofing and MJ whistling obnoxiously.

"Thank you," was all Peter could come up with. His brain felt fried, he was torn between being worried about his impulsiveness, being horny, and being totally and completely in love with the man in front of him. Tony could tell he was at a loss for words, and cleared his throat before grabbing Peter by the hands.

Tony snuck a glance around at all of Peter's peers, and was relieved to find more cheesy grins than disapproving faces, though the preppier kids did nothing to hide their dismay. He internally shrugged and took a deep breath.

"Peter," their hands were still joined as Tony continued, "I'm crazy for you. Literally out of my mind for thinking someone so young, and sweet, and perfect in every way would ever want to be with someone as damaged as me... and my reputation."

Peter chanced a glance away from Tony to look over at MJ and Ned, who looked identical, covering their mouths and sporting literal heart eyes as they watched.

"Today we planned to tell everyone here that we're dating," said Tony, looking around the room, "but I can't do that anymore."

Peter's heart sank. His brows furrowed and his lip began to twitch and quiver at the thought of his world as he knew it ending. It all seemed like a waste now, the long nights spent spilling their conflicted feelings, the months of getting to know each other's ticks and triggers, all the information in his head that would be completely useless now - Tony's passwords, his favorite colors, his shirt size, the cologne he liked best. The love that they grew from a seed into a thriving plant, it was wilted, as was Peter.

"I can't date you anymore, Peter." Tony crouched down as he shattered Peter's heart. "We've been together for a year and a half, Pete, it's time that I commit to something other than my work for once in my life."

Then Peter realized that he was on one knee, and one of his hands had ceased holding his own to shuffle around the pocket of his shiny blue pleats. In disbelief, he looked over to MJ and Ned, the latter was crying and the former was fanning herself dramatically.

A little gray box appeard in Tony's hand and he reluctantly let go of Peter's other hand to open.

"I love you kid, will you spend the rest of your life with me?"

Peter coudn't speak, just nodded as tears threatened to fall from his eyes for the second time that day. Tony slipped the silver and black band around Peter's shaking finger and stood up, grabbed Peter's face in both of his hands, and kissed him. They both reveled in the feeling of being open with their affection for one of the first times. Tony sighed in relief against Peter's soft, smiling lips and Peter melted into the comfort.

Soon they were surrounded by May, Ned, MJ, and a bunch of other kids Peter couldn't bother to care about at the moment.

"Peter if you don't let me rock a sick pantsuit as one of your groomswomen I'll never speak to you again."

Peter was excited to plan the wedding and involve his friends and Aunt May, but that was the last thing on his mind as Tony led them to his room.

[salimahbicharara-comun]

Glitter & Gold | Two

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Ancient Mythology AU.  There is a limited number of encounters between gods and mortals.

Word Account: 7.030 (it’s a monster)

Warnings: brief mentions of noncon, some stalking, I guess? Nothing too serious.

A/N: Here it is! Part two! I’m excited, aren’t you excited? ‘Cause I am.

As always, my eternal thanks to @brightlycoloredteacups who was my beta with this fic. I love her and she deserves all the happiness in the world, so if you can go and leave a nice menssage in her ask box because she deserves it, okay?

Ao3 link here, and spanish version here.

I think is painfully obvious that english isn’t my first language, so if you see any mistakes in the narration is because of that. Please let me know what do you think! The credit of the gif goes for it’s respective owner.

Part One here

The market was crowded today; every corner and every food stall covered by the bodies of the hurried people of the village, running from one side to another with their hands full of groceries. The dust of the ground rose with each step they took and the air smelled like a combination of scents; not completely disgusting, but not pleasant either.

You sighed with annoyance when another person hit your shoulder as they passed, almost causing you to drop your own basket of groceries. The idea of ​​filling your home with food for weeks excited you, the small personal victory of having so many silver coins to buy a little more than usual settling with force in your chest. The emotion had made you forget how much you hate going to the market.

You had considered sending Clint, but he had an accident in the woods the night before, and now he is using the small bruise on his knee as an excuse to avoid any possible physical activity. You knew that the wound was not even close to being as serious as he made it look, but the look that he gave you from his bed, surrounded by blankets and pillows, always has been your weak point.

You did your best not to trip over anything –or anyone– on your way to the spice stall. The people of the town have always been scandalous, a little fussy and a bit gossipy as well. Your mother had some altercations with several of Ballynoe's inhabitants, almost always involving your father. Maybe it was those meetings that influenced her moving to the outskirts of town.

The old man behind the table that exhibited the spices sent you a bored look when you were in front of him, chewing a piece of old bread with his mouth open. You ignored the sound and gave him your order, fiddling with the small leather bag on the top of your basket full of groceries. 

The old man looked at you for a few more seconds before moving slowly to look for your order. You stood there, waiting for the man to find the rosemary you wanted. You had already seen it on the table, but it would be discourteous to grab it by yourself.

You looked around to entertain yourself, holding more strongly your basket and the bag of coins. Maybe the market was not one of your favorite places in Ballynoe, but sometimes interesting things happened in it. With so many people running around, busy with their own affairs, accidents tend to happen. 

And on occasions like this, when you have nothing else to do besides wait, you take advantage of those little misfortunes to entertain you. Clint loves to do this with you; too bad that he likes more to stay at home and do nothing.

Unfortunately, people seemed a little more cautious today. There was nothing that seemed about to collapse or fall. Everything is in perfect order. Noisy and annoying, yes, but there was no risk in sight. Part of you was glad that nothing happened; less fuss from which to escape. But the part of you who was bored was pouting with annoyance.

You sighed deeply and returned your gaze to the spice stall. All things were still in place: each bag of powder, branches tied together and vases filled with liquids were still perfectly organized in front of you. Everything was where it should be. Everything except the carrot that rested on the edge of the wooden table.

You tried to hide your smile while you stretched to take the carrot in your hands. It was a bright orange, almost sickly, but you knew that it’s taste didn’t compare to any other. Carrots were not something you ate very often just for the pleasure of it, but you had been eating a lot more the past few weeks. You could not help it; What else were you going to do with all these carrots suddenly appearing in unexpected places?

The old man in front of you cleared his throat, drawing your attention back to him. He was holding the rosemary you had asked for, "Two silver coins." The man took a bite of his piece of old bread. You paid for it and you wrapped the rosemary to keep it together with the other provisions, and keeping the carrot with everything else.

You almost had everything you had come for, and there were still plenty of silver coins. Not many to afford something very expensive, but enough to buy something at the bakery. The smell of freshly baked bread has been calling you since you set foot in the market, tempting you like nothing else could.

Just as you took a step in the direction of the bakery, a shiver went up your spine and ruffled the hairs on your neck. You stopped on your steps, looking around with curiosity. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Children running from their mothers, women filling their baskets with as much food as they could and men betting the only silver coins they had left for a sip of mead.

Nobody was watching you or paying attention to you, but the sensation of a gaze persisted in the back of your neck, an insistent heat that spread slowly throughout your body, making you feel more and more nervous.

You tried to ignore the feeling and went your way. You still had to buy some fruits before returning home, and hopefully you would take a piece of freshly baked bread as well. But the feeling of being observed didn’t fade. With each step you took, the feeling became stronger, as if whoever was watching you was coming closer and closer to you.

You looked around, looking once more to whoever that look belonged, but again you didn’t see anyone standing out. You tried to calm yourself, saying that there was nothing to fear. There were dozens of people in the market with you, and you didn’t have so many silver coins for a bandit to set his eyes on you. Maybe it was just your imagination playing with your mind. Clint constantly says how paranoid you can be, but you know he just exaggerates.

You moved among the sea of ​​people for a few more minutes, pressing the basket hard against your chest. You wanted to finish your purchases as quickly as possible and return home to Clint. Surely there you would feel silly of this moment, frightened by a simple sensation of being observed that was very likely imaginary.

You bought the fruits and paid as quickly as possible to the young woman who sold them, barely stopping to give her a grateful smile before continuing walking. A knot had tightened in your stomach, the beating of your heart accelerating. It was silly, but that feeling of being watched really was getting on your nerves, and now was the only thing you could think of.

You rushed to the market, taking care to drop nothing from your basket of food or trip over anyone. It was strange; Now it was you who was about to make a fuss if you kept moving so fast in such a vast sea of ​​people. People gathered around you, dealing with their own affairs and conveniently ignoring you. 

You hoped that so many people keeping you company would dissipate the feeling of insecurity in your chest, that perhaps with so many people mixing in the crowd your observer would lose sight of you and become bored.

A chill went up your back and the air around you became cold. You almost stopped but the fear made you keep walking. You didn’t get very far. Someone put their hand on your shoulder, a soft but firm touch, the grip of someone who didn’t want to hurt you but who could certainly do it easily if they wanted to. Your breath got stuck in your throat and you almost dropped your basket of groceries.

You looked over your shoulder just as another villager crossed your path. You saw a flash of pale skin and green eyes like emeralds before the man in front of you began to roar in your ear.

You accidentally collided with him and caused him to take a few steps back. Like that was the worst offense you could have committed. You started to apologize, but the man would not let you talk, too submerged in his anger. You didn‘t have time for this. Someone had been about to touch you, someone you could still feel with you, behind you. But when you looked over your shoulder there was no trace of the person you saw.

The man in front of you is screaming in your face. His stinking breath made you want to puke, but every time you tried to pass him he got in your way. You were starting to get impatient too, but the man didn't seem to show any sign that he would calm down soon. You just want to get home and pretend that none of this had happened.

"I have to go..." You tried to pass him again, but the man grabbed your arm and pushed you back in your place. The force of the push send you back, your feet stumbling over themselves. The man is raising a hand in your direction furiously, and you put yourself on guard, ready to defend yourself at any moment.

"I still have not finished with you, little girl-"

"Yes, you did."

A female voice interrupted the man, saving you from a hit. You took advantage of the distraction and walked away from the man as fast as you could, walking backwards and pressing your basket against your chest as a defense. 

You hit a person for the second time that day, but this time that someone didn’t get mad at you. Soft, pale hands rested on your shoulders, stabilizing you and keeping you on your feet. They were the same hands that had touched you a few minutes ago.

The grip on your shoulders wasn’t strong, but it was firm, as a gesture to support you and at the same time to hold you back. You had the feeling that this woman had a bone to pick with you.

The big man in front of you leaned back, clearly intimidated by this woman's presence, though you did not understand how. "It was not my intention–"

"I know it wasn’t," the woman interrupted him. Her voice was as imposing as that of a powerful person; the confident, casual manner in which she spoke showed how comfortable she felt in her own skin. You don’t know anyone who speaks that way. Nobody except one person, "but I suggest you forget what happened and continue your purchases. There is nothing to worry about now."

The woman spoke so convincingly that even you wanted to just shrug and go your way home, but you knew that wasn’t possible right now. The man, however, had nothing to stop him, so he just nodded frantically and walked away at a brisk pace. 

You watched as his broad shoulders and bald head disappeared into the crowd, feeling the woman's hands slide delicately from your shoulders. You were afraid to turn around and look at her, a feeling you had experienced before.

You turned around doubtfully, assessing your surroundings carefully; no one paid attention to your altercation with the man, everyone indifferent to the dispute between two people who collided in the market.

The woman in front of you wasn’t a simple woman, you noticed almost immediately. Maybe it was because you already had encounters with something out of the ordinary before, but you could recognize it faster than the last time. She wasn’t exactly tall, but her figure intimidated you as if she was, making you feel like you were smaller than you actually are. 

You hadn’t been wrong when you saw her before; she had red hair like burning flames that hung to her shoulders, framing her face perfectly.

Her green eyes examined you carefully in the same way you did with her. She was dressed in a simple white dress secured to her waist with a golden cloth ribbon. Her bare arms showed old scars, all the wounds healed. Her eyes were marked with a radiance that you had not seen in anyone in your life; they shone like precious gems in the sun. 

At first glance, there was nothing extraordinary about her, but you know that is not true. You have met eyes like that before, and that look is not of a mortal.

The woman fixed her gaze on yours and her apple-red lips curled into a smile, "You are more stunning to what they told me."

You frowned and looked at her strangely. You forced your mouth to move and talk to her, no matter how much your voice trembles when doing it, "What 'they'?"

The woman smiled more broadly and bit her lip with amusement, but didn’t answer your question. Instead, she turned around and started walking, gesturing for you to follow her. You looked around for a few seconds before running after her. 

You weren’t sure if it was the wisest decision, but the most curious part of you wanted to know what this woman wanted with you. Now that she had her back to you, you could see that her dress didn’t cover all of her back. She also had scars on her neck and between her shoulder blades.

You walked by her side for a few minutes, avoiding looking directly at her and instead greeting people you knew. Nobody seemed to notice the presence of your companion, which alarmed you a little, considering the aura of power that surrounded her. You didn’t understand how everyone moved out of her way so naturally if they couldn’t even see her.

She didn’t try to make conversation with you during the trip out of town, and you were grateful for that. You didn’t know what to say or wanted to say something. The woman made you nervous in a rather exciting way. She didn’t make you feel insecure or scared like it had in the market when she was watching you. Now, on the other hand, it made your hair stand on end, yes, but you didn’t feel the urge to run away from her as you had before. You wondered what had changed since then.

It was not until you left the market that you dared to speak again, fiddling with your basket of groceries, "Thanks for helping me in the market. I don’t want to think about what would have happened if you hadn’t been there."

The woman smiled in your direction and shrugged, "It's always a pleasure to see a man run away from me like an insect," she said playfully. No man had fled from you before, but you supposed that the feeling should be pleasant. If you could only intimidate a man as easily as she did. "I'm sure you can defend yourself, but try not to get in trouble while I'm not here."

You analyzed her words for a few minutes before answering, "I do not get into trouble often. I usually don’t come to the village to avoid getting into this kind of situation. "

"Oh?" The woman raised an eyebrow in your direction, "I thought you had friends here, for all the people you greeted."

"They are only people I know from childhood or old friends of mom. Nobody close." You shrugged nonchalantly. You didn’t know why you were telling this to a woman you didn’t know at all, but you were doing it. You had the strange feeling that she wasn’t going to use that information against you, and you didn’t know how to react to that.

The woman nodded in your direction by way of understanding and kept walking, looking at the houses on the outskirts of the market. It was still a good half hour before you arrived at your cabin, and you were not sure if she would want to accompany you. You still don’t know why this strange woman is accompanying you for so long, but the idea of ​​asking her what she wants with you makes your stomach turn into a mess of nerves.

You officially left the village and entered the green forest with the woman next to you. The branches of the trees waved in a dance guided by the wild wind, green and yellow leaves falling slowly to the ground. Autumn was approaching, and the Festival of the Summer End was just around the corner. You couldn’t be more excited about it.

You kept walking beside the woman in silence for several minutes before she spoke again.

"I do not understand what the big fuss is," she said firmly. You stopped over your steps to look at her, but when you turned to her, she wasn’t looking at you in the eyes; she looked at your face and body, analyzing you. "You are like any other mortal."

Your stomach tightened at the comment. The woman leaned closer to you, now holding your gaze but not actually seeing you. She was looking at your eyes, looking for something in them. Like the answer to her questions were inside there.

She blinked and frowned, straightening and dropping her head to the side in a gesture of curiosity. Her stance intimidated you, so firm and gentle at the same time, the personification of beauty in a storm.

"I've never understood the impulses of my brothers," she mumbled absently, biting her lip and shaking her head slightly, the movement making her red hair like a ripe apple shake with it. "But I will not let their whims hurt someone else."

You had no idea what she was talking about, but you tried to talk to her anyway, "You're not a mortal, I know that." You told her, trying to straighten up and talk confidently, but you doubted your attempts would work. "But you know I can’t trust you so easily."

The woman smiled cynically, shaking her head and snorting, "Haven’t you already had an encounter with a divinity that didn’t want to hurt you? I wouldn’t put my trust in him, but I do not think James has scared you so much to distrust of me as well."

Her words confused you and alarmed you at the same time. You didn’t understand what she was talking about. It was clear that she knew about the incident in the stream a few weeks ago, but you didn’t know any James who would have 'scared' you. You shook your head and frowned, "What happened that time was–"

"Do not try to deny what happened in reality. I know everything." The woman stopped looking at you and kept walking, you following her right behind. Her words formed a knot in your stomach. She seemed to feel your restlessness, because she hurried to clear up your doubts, "I was not there, if that's what you're asking."

"How do you know what happened, then?"

The woman smiled, the glow behind her eyes mingling with different emotions; affection, annoyance and the slightest trace of worry. "You're all he talks about."

You tried to make sure your surprise and confusion didn’t showed up so openly in your expression, but you were sure you were failing. You couldn’t take your curiosity anymore.

"I only know one divinity, and his name is not James."

The woman looked at you for a few seconds before returning her gaze to the dirt road in front of her; if you didn’t pay attention it would be very easy to trip over a root or a rock and fall flat against the ground.

"I always forget that you mortals don’t know the whole story." She let out a chuckle, like all this conversation amused her. You didn’t know how to feel about that.

Her words caused different feelings in you. You know that not all the myths and stories about the gods and divinities were completely correct. It wouldn’t surprise you if there were things that mortals like you don’t know about, things forgotten or ignored as history is told again and again for decades.

"Tell me, then." You challenged her. The way she said 'You mortals' confirmed what you already believed; this woman is a goddess, although you're still not sure of who. And just like that day in the stream, you don’t know if she is a good or an evil deity, and you can’t know unless you stay with her a little longer, risking the danger of a goddess with bad intentions.

The woman's step barely hesitated before casting a glance over her shoulder, even though you were walking beside her. That single glance reminded you how simple and mortal you are, but you didn’t feel threatened in anyway. It was like the woman wanted to make it clear who was in charge of the situation, and while you hated to give up control so easily, you knew that you weren’t even the most powerful person between the two of you. Not mentally, much less physically.

The woman thought for a few minutes before turning to you again, walking carelessly on the dirt road that led you home. 

"Mortals don’t care who we were before we became divine, unless it is directly linked to how we cease to being humans in the first place."

The statement took you by surprise. That wasn’t what you expected, but you knew you shouldn’t interrupt her until she was over.

"We had friends, jobs, families. We had names and pleasures and thoughts. We still do, but that is often omitted in our stories. Nobody of your people knows how I got this scar on my elbow, and nobody wants to know."

"I do."

The woman smiled softly, not caring that you had interrupted her. You had the feeling this was the only time she would let it go. "I'll tell you one day, but I want you to understand something first." You nodded and closed your mouth again, concentrating on her words and following your path.

The woman continued like you haven’t interrupted her, "You met Winter, God of Memories and Will, am I wrong?" You squeezed your basket, but nodded anyway. "I guess he told you to call him Bucky, like he does with us."

You tried to avoid feeling the way you did when he said his name. You had not seen Bucky since that time in the stream a few weeks before, but you knew he had been watching you. 

And here was this woman, this goddess, who is talking to you and treating you with something similar to kindness, although not completely docile. She is close to Bucky, someone who speaks with him commonly. The thought of being so close to him and at the same time so far gives you chills.

It's strange, if you think about it. You know Bucky has been watching you, even though you have not seen him in weeks. But you have felt him; a presence behind you or by your side when you go out for a walk, or every time you kneel in the cool earth of the field to plant or grow food that will soon bloom. There are times you can almost feel his breath in your neck, or a soft touch of his hand in yours.

And not to mention the carrots that he leaves around every time you're around.

"How else should I call him, then?" You kept walking normally. The woman shrugged and jumped on a tree root that protruded from the ground. "There is no way in this world that I’m going to call him 'My Lord'. That's not for me."

The woman let out a deep laugh. The sound made you smile as you had not done all day. "Please don’t. You will only feed his ego. I've been trying to get him off his pedestal for centuries."

You smiled at the thought. The tension in the environment had vanished, although you still felt cautious about your companion. She may be Bucky's friend, but she also may be lying. It would not be the first time that a deity deceived a mortal with games and lies. You didn’t wanted to be another victim.

You couldn’t help but relax around her, though. There was something about her that made you feel safe. Just like in the market, her presence alone calmed you in a way that nobody did. Maybe it was that aura of power that you knew could beat any opponent that faced her, or the way she claimed she would protect you from her 'brothers'. 

Maybe it was only her pale skin full of old scars that betrayed a life of suffering and survival, but this goddess gave off a power that no one could ignore.

The woman shook her head, still smiling, like she was remembering something that made her happy. "His mortal name was James. I knew him by that name. Bucky is just a nickname for his closest."

You processed what she told you slowly. James, that was his real name. Not Bucky, not Winter. James.

You walked in silence for a few more minutes, observing your surroundings. It didn’t take long to get to your cabin, and you still didn’t know what this woman wanted with you. You are on the verge of asking her, but you don’t know how to approach the subject. You tried another question that had been bothering you.

"What did you mean by not letting your brothers hurt me?" You asked doubtfully. You didn’t want to overstep your limits, and that horrible sense of insecurity was eating you alive. You hated feeling vulnerable, but there was no way to avoid that feeling by being with someone so obviously more powerful than you.

The woman almost stopped in her footsteps, but it was a pause so light that it might not have happened. She looked at you with green eyes like the leaves that fell around her and let you see her emotions, just as Bucky had done in your first and only encounter.

The woman smiled bitterly. "I have seen how the gods fall in love with innocent mortals and seduce them in their search for happiness. For centuries I have seen people like you go and fall in love just for the sake of doing it, dragging themselves into the world of deities. That almost never ends well, and I think you know it."

You knew, in fact. There is history after history of mortals and gods that fall madly in love, only for the god to get bored with his lover's time and leave them to return to their immortal life. In some stories, the mortal didn’t end with life.

The mortals aren’t made to be around gods, they have told you. You know it. And you know that even if Bucky doesn’t want to hurt you, maybe he can’t avoid doing it at the end of all.

"I'm tired of seeing people suffer. I myself have suffered enough for all of your people, and I don’t want my people to bring more pain to mortals than they have already done." All trace of kindness left her voice. The sudden aggressiveness made you nervous, but you refused to back away; You know that her fury is not directed at you. 

You held her gaze and kept walking beside her, ignoring the electricity in the air. There were a few minutes of walking to reach your cabin.

"You're Widow, aren’t you? That's why you want to protect me. To all of us." A glow of recognition appeared in the woman's green eyes, and you knew that you were right. "You are the Goddess of Protection and Defense. You don’t hurt mortals or innocents. "

The woman seemed pleased with your response, but the ferocity of her gaze had not disappeared. "I don’t hurt anyone unless they deserve it. And James has a special interest in you, Y/N. He has never acted like that with anyone, and I'm scared of what he might do."

You didn’t want to think much about the meaning of those words, but you had no choice. Widow was right; getting involved with a god could have tragic consequences for you, no matter how good or benevolent that god is.

The trees opened around you, uncovering the clearing in which your cabin was. The familiar dirt road to the entrance to your house looked strangely far away now that you had it in front of you. Maybe it was the presence of Widow that prevented you from taking a step inside your property, holding you with her until the conversation ended. Or maybe it was the figure of a man hovering in the clearing just a few feet away from you, halfway to your cabin.

Bucky was crouched in the middle of your front yard, carefully touching the blackberry bush that you and your mother had planted years ago. He didn’t look at you, but you knew that he already had seen you. You could see the brightness of his blue eyes from where you were, and the way they hardened when he laid his eyes on Widow. He didn’t look surprised to see her with you, but he did looked annoyed.

You froze and tried to catch your breath. Widow looked back at Bucky, no single emotion in her face. She didn’t seem to show any reaction to his presence either. You weren’t completely sure what was happening, but you didn’t want to stand between them in the middle of what seemed like a conversation without words.

Widow looked away suddenly, turning to you again. Her face was still expressionless, more reserved of her thoughts and emotions than Bucky had been in the stream. She looked at you with those green eyes, and you could feel a sense of warmth spread over you. Widow took your hand in hers and squeezed it tightly, a reassuring and at the same time intimidating touch.

She leaned closer to you, her breathing clashing with yours. She was so close to you that you could see her eyelashes, and you couldn’t find the strength to separate yourself from her. You didn’t want to do it. She was doing something with you, and you didn’t want to fight it.

The feeling of warmth spread through your body like burning fire, coiling in your arms and legs like vines of grapes in the trees. You felt suddenly calm, like all your worries had vanished with the simple touch of her hand in yours.

As quickly as it came, the feeling of warmth faded. You felt normal again, but different at the same time. Widow separated from you slowly, her eyes shining with relief. You stepped back, stumbling on your own feet.

Widow gave you her blessing, you suddenly understood. You had heard about people with the blessing of Widow; in moments of danger or threat, the blessed person managed to escape unscathed from the situation, or fight like mad person. From now on, no one could hurt you without receiving any harm in return.

You had no idea how to fight or defend yourself, nothing other than the few punches that Clint had taught you when you were younger. However, you felt like a feeling of power was now in you. You didn’t feel as helpless as you had before. 

You had the feeling that if someone came and tried to attack you, you wouldn’t only respond with a few dodge tactics and uncoordinated hits, you would give a real fight. You don’t know where the sudden feeling of defense came from, but you know that from now on you will not be as easy to break down as before.

The realization must have shown in your expression, because Widow smiled with that half smile, slightly mocking, but not malicious. Her smile faded when she looked at Bucky again. She approached you again, but she didn’t try to touch you as before.

"Promise me you'll be careful." The intensity in her gaze let you know how serious her words were. She really cared for you, and you couldn’t help feeling that it was your duty to erase that frown from her face.

"I will, I promise."

Widow looked at you for a few agonizing seconds before her lips broke into another smile. "Natasha. That is my name as a mortal. Call me like that when we meet."

When. Not if. The promise of an upcoming meeting made your heart jump in ways you could not explain. You smiled back as best you could. "Okay, Natasha."

Natasha smiled at you for a few more seconds before turning her gaze to Bucky, who was still kneeling in front of your house. You hoped Clint wouldn’t have noticed your delay, or the people in the front yard of his house.

Bucky stood up and walked up to you, but he didn’t look angry or annoyed. More like worried. You didn’t understand how he left his emotions exposed so openly while he was in front of you, but Natasha didn’t. You turned to Natasha just before Bucky stopped in front of you, but you found yourself with a tall, old tree instead of your new friend. She was gone, just as Bucky had done a few weeks ago.

Bucky straightened up and looked at you expectantly. The realization that he was right there in front of you for the first time in weeks hit you. You hadn’t seen him in so long, but his aura of power still could make you tremble. You didn’t let that intimidate you and you refused to look away.

When he realized that you wouldn’t speak first, Bucky approached you more than he already was and put his hand in your food basket. He ignored your look of disbelief as he rummaged through the food you brought. You reacted when his hand emerged with the carrot he left an hour earlier in the market, bringing it to his lips and giving it a bite.

"What's your problem with taking my carrots off whenever we see each other?" You tried to retrieve that food, but Bucky leaned back, out of reach. His lips curled into a mocking smile.

"What's your problem with letting me take them so easily?"

You tried to reach for the carrot again, but Bucky moved away from you again. You ran after him, but he kept moving back and eating the carrot, making fun of you with his eyes and his smile.

You did a couple of laps around the clearing like that; You chasing him and he running away. You were about to give up and just throw a rock at him when you realized that Bucky was heading straight to the old trunk that you and Clint used as a seat in the afternoons that you took care of your mother's plants together. You opened your mouth to warn him, but it was too late.

Bucky's eyes widened with surprise as his calves collided with the large trunk on the ground and fell backward. You couldn’t avoid outburst in laughter. You approached him doubtfully, laughing and taking care that your food didn’t fall from your basket.

Bucky was on his back on the dirt ground, looking blankly at the sky and chewing on your carrot. His eyes strayed from the blue sky to look at you instead. "This wasn’t in my plans."

You laughed harder than before and sat next to him, putting your food aside, away from the danger of falling. You laughed at him a little more when you brushed the disheveled hair off his forehead. His blue eyes like a storm watches you closely. 

You only looked at each other for several minutes of silence without either of you daring to look away. You thought about what Natasha had told you, and you couldn’t help but be curious to what Bucky would say if he knew about that conversation.

He seemed to read your thoughts, because the smile on his face became softer, smaller. "Natasha already warned you about me." It was a statement, not a question. You sighed loudly and closed your eyes, letting the evening breeze brush your face.

You could hear the sounds of the forest surrounding you; the branches of the trees moving, the squirrels jumping from one side to the other, the birds singing soothing melodies. It was strange to think about how nature followed its course so normally when you had a more powerful being than everything around you right in front of you.

You felt his hand caress your face gently, the tips of his fingers brushing your chin and cheeks. You sighed again, this time for different reasons. You didn’t want to open your eyes and break the spell, but his voice did it anyway.

"You have to know that everything she said could become true." You could hear the doubt in his voice, the hope. He doesn’t want to tell you this, you noticed, but he was telling you anyway. "You deserve to know what you're getting into."

You opened your eyes and looked at him, still lying on his back on the ground, but observing you as intensely as the time in the stream. You don’t know if you would ever get used to a look like that.

You took his hand in yours and squeezed it gently, "I'm not sure if I want to get involved in this, if I'm honest." You confessed. You saw how his expression fell, and you couldn’t avoid yours from doing it too. You hurried to add, "But I'm willing to try, if you are too."

Before Bucky could answer, a sound inside the cabin made you separate your eyes from his. Clint was inside the house, you remembered. You sat up straight when you heard him curse, followed by the sound of something heavy hitting the ground. Surely he had dropped something while looking for something to eat.

You looked back at Bucky, half expecting him to be gone, but he was still there when you turned to him. He sat up too, and he was also looking at the cabin with curiosity. "Is that your brother, Clint?" You nodded. Bucky raised an eyebrow in your direction, "Sam has seen him hunting a few times. I never knew he was your brother. You don’t look anything alike."

You laughed and shook your head, remembering when you were younger and your brother messed with you. "I know. He used to tell me that my mother found me in a nest of snakes and she had taken pity on me, and that's why we lived together. We weren’t more than ten at that time."

Bucky smiled and stood up, helping you to get up. You took your groceries again and checked them to see that everything was still there. The only thing missing was the carrot Bucky had taken from you, but you knew it was a lost cause.

Bucky took a bite of that carrot, the tension of your conversation gone. Or that's what he looked like. "I'd better go now," he said, looking everywhere but you. You tried to keep your disappointment hidden. He didn’t respond to your proposal.

You smiled instead, giving him your best look of mockery, "What? There isn’t a kiss this time?" You joked. Bucky just rolled his eyes, but returned the smile.

You were about to turn around and enter the cabin when you heard him talking again, "I'm going to try."

You stopped all your movements, waiting for him to speak again. Bucky dropped the carrot and took a few steps away from you, like he was preparing to run away. "I will try to not hurt you, if you don’t hurt me first."

"How could I hurt you?" You questioned him. The idea sounded ridiculous in your head.

Bucky let out a chuckle, his composure relaxing like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, but his eyes were sad when they looked at you, "You'd be surprised how easy it is to make me suffer."

Clint made more noise inside the house, attracting your gaze to the cabin again. When you turned to Bucky, he was walking away through the trees, following the path to town, even though you were sure that wasn’t where he was going.

"Don’t wait two weeks to visit me again!" You called to him. For a moment you thought maybe he didn’t hear you, that he was too far away from you, but then he looked over his shoulder, still walking, and even in spite of the distance you still could see the brightness of his blue eyes watching you intently. You almost felt his response against your lips.

"I promise."

You stared into space for several more minutes before hearing Clint's voice from the door behind you.

You backed up to the entrance of your home, feeling the hairs on your neck rise. The feeling of being observed returned, just like in the market. Despite knowing that Natasha wasn’t going to hurt you, the knot in the pit of your stomach didn’t loosen. There was no reason for Natasha to watch you from a distance, observing you. So why you can’t shake the feeling of being in danger?

You went into the house and kept all your purchases in their respective places, with Clint moaning behind your back about how boring ‘I had been without you and how much I missed your food’.

That night, when everything was ordered and clean, and the fire in the fireplace was dying and the moon was shining in the highest of the sky, you lay down in your bed and thought about what Natasha told you, and about the promise that Bucky had made you.

Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel that you entered into the wolf's mouth.

A/N: *evil laugh* Something is about to happen, my loves. And I gonna love every second of it.

Tags: @fandoms-who​ @radi0active-thoughts @scarletthornrose (I can’t tag you, sorry)

[parkerrogersgirl]

Tempting Fate- Chapter 17

Pairing: Sebastian Stan x Reader

Word Count: 1,428

Warnings: LITERALLY SO CUTE @sonofadeanwinchester wrote the best fucking flashback and I love it. tiny bit of sexiness if you squint

A/N: Hey, y’all! @sonofadeanwinchester and I decided it’d be cool if we wrote a series together. SO, HERE’S CHAPTER 17! Please, please, please give us feedback. Feedback is the glue that keeps the writers together. We need the feedback. Send either of us an ask, and we’ll just send each other screenshots. Or you can send it to both of us. Thanks, lovelies.

3You open the front door to an empty house, raising an eyebrow at Seb, “Seb, where is everyone?”

“I may have convinced them to give us the house to ourselves today. I’m going to spoil you. Today is your day.”

You blush, looking up at him, “so then what’s first?”

He heads into the kitchen, putting on Gabe’s apron, “first, you’re gonna go change into pajamas and go to the living room. We’re gonna have a rom-com day. After I make you lunch, of course.”

“And what’s for lunch, dear?” You say as you walk up behind him, wrapping your arms around him.

“If you don’t go get changed and get that cute little ass on the couch, you’ll never find out,” he says with a sweet smile.

You groan and go upstairs, changing into a pair of his boxers and one of his t-shirts, then go back downstairs to get on the couch. You put on The Notebook, which was always your go-to romance movie with Sebastian. You’d even recreated the “tell me I’m a bird” scene last time you’d gone to the beach. The memory stings a little, as it was about a week or two before he left for college. You shake it off and wait for Sebastian, and you recognize the smell of processed, powdered cheese anywhere. You spread out on the couch while Sebastian brings over a tray. 

“I love your outfit, darling,” he says, sitting next to you. He’s already cut up the hot dogs and added them to the pasta. He kisses you softly and you play the movie, taking a bite of your food.

You moan, looking over at him, “I literally haven’t had this since before you left.”

He sighs, moving closer to you to wrap an arm around your shoulder, “baby, you gotta stop talking about me leaving. It happened, but it was five years ago. If we want to move on, we can’t keep bringing up the fact that I left for college. It’s not going to happen. I promise.”

The movie starts and you eat as you lean on him. This movie had always pretty consistently made you cry, but you loved it nonetheless.

Halfway through the movie, you set your bowls back on the tray. He leans on the side of the couch and you lay back on him as the movie plays. He strokes your hair as you watch the movie, occasionally blowing lightly on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. When Noah and Allie are in the house you giggle as you feel him get hard under you, and you grind on him a little. He nibbles your ear, whispering to you in Romanian. You turn your head slightly, glaring at him.

“Stop turning me on, Seb.”

“How can I do that when you’re absolutely delicious when you’re wearing my clothes?”

You shake your head and he stops, letting you go back to focusing on the movie.

You cry at the end when Noah and Allie died in their sleep holding hands and Seb hugs you to him.

“That’s gonna be us one day, darling. We’re gonna grow old together.”

You smile as the movie ends, and you stand up to stretch, “what do you wanna do now, Sebby?”

“Actually I’ll be right back,” he says quickly before disappearing upstairs. You stay standing, super confused. He comes back after a few minutes, stepping toward you.

“Wellll I was thinking we could go upstairs?”

“Oh, really?” You say with a smirk, “and what do you have planned, baby?”

He grins and turns you around, putting on his tie and tying it over your eyes. “What the fuck, Seb?”

“You’ll find out, darling.” He picks you up bridal style, carrying you upstairs. When he goes into the guest room, he accidentally misjudges where your foot is and it hits the door jam with a THUNK. “FOR FUCK’S SAKE, SEBASTIAN.”

“Shit, sorry babe.” He sets you down on the floor so you’re standing, and he takes off the blindfold.

“Seb… what is this?” The room is covered in rose petals and candles, and you turn to look at him.

“It’s a day just for you, baby. I screwed up, and today is me making it up to you.” So I’m gonna give you a massage, and then we’re going to take a bath with some LUSH stuff your mom suggested.”

“WAIT YOU GOT ME STUFF FROM LUSH?!” He laugh, hugging you as he kisses the top of your head, “I knew you would enjoy that. Strip and get on that bed, baby. You’re about to have the best massage of your life.”

----

“Are you sure you wanna wear that?” Sebastian eyed my bathing suit that mimicked one from early 1950s. He cocked a brow. “You look like that girl from The Notebook.”

I laughed. “That makes you my Noah.”

He shook his head, fluffing out the beach towel before lowering himself down on the sand. “I’d be happy to look like Ryan Gosling.”

“Babe, you’re handsome. I’d pick you over Ryan Gosling any day.”

With a hand over his heart, he smirked. “Well, you’re about the only woman on earth that would say that so thank you.”

I wrapped the red bandana around my hair and jogged towards the water. “Sebby! Come in!”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Love, maybe later.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. “Sebastian Stan. Get your cute little ass in the water. Get in the water.” He shook his head. “Get in the water, man! Get in the water!” He cocked a brow, giving me that all too well known look of sarcasm. “No, I’m sorry baby, please just get in.”

Begrudgingly, he stood marching to the water. “You’re lucky that you’re cute.”

I laughed, “how far would you swim out to save me?”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Answer the question, Seb. If i was out in the middle of the ocean, sharks looming around me, threatening to eat me alive. Would you swim out to save me?”

He shook his head, shrugging. “You swam out that far, you can fucking swim yourself in.”

My jaw dropped and he smirked. “You’re kidding.”

Coming close enough to kiss my nose, he laughed. “Baby, I’d swim to the end of the earth for you.”

I smiled, stepping back. I started flapping my arms up and down. “Seb.”

He lifted his sunglasses enough for me to see his blue eyes shine in the California sun. “Mhmm.”

“I’m a bird.” He shook his head. “Say I’m a bird. Say it! Say it now!”

He rolled his eyes again. “You’re a bird.”

I smirked, flapping my arms harder. “Now say you’re a bird too.”

He flapped his arms, chasing towards me and wrapping them around my waist. “If you’re a bird, I’m a bird.”

-----

Seb hadn’t been joking about the massage. It actually had been the best of your life. He’d always been good at massages, but there was something about your commitment to each other that made the experience more intimate. After your massage, you’d taken a bath with him in the bathroom in your parents’ room. Your mom and Gabe literally never used it, and apparently had promised Sebastian that it hadn’t been used since they’d bought the house. Your mom had bought you a bath bomb from Lush along with your favorite soap, and you were ecstatic. She’d bought you “Sex Bomb,” and had apparently winked at Seb when she’d given him the bag. He’d washed you with the soap and you’d felt like you were in heaven. After your shower, you put on pajamas, which he loved. He always loved when you dressed casually in front of him, because it made him feel like you were truly comfortable around him.

You go downstairs and get back on the couch. He puts on La La Land and grins at you.

“Have you seen this, baby?”

“Uhhhhh have I seen this? Of course I’ve seen this. I’ve probably seen this about 8,000 times.”

He gets on the top of you on the couch, leaning down so his face is almost to yours.

“Would you still pick me over Ryan Gosling, baby?”

“Eh, I don’t know. He proposed and I turned him down, but now that I’m with you, I think I’m settling.”

He puts a hand over his heart, “am I at least your favorite Sebastian?”

“You would be, except for my little friend, Sebastian the crab.”

“I hate you.”

“I love you, too, Sebby.”

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[amercsmemoirs]

ZevWarden Week, Day 7: Commitment

OKAY this is quite late;;; my apologies. 

For Commitment Day, I’m posting Bésame! 

"Isabela?" 

Allura Mahariel looked up at Zevran Arainai, someone she was currently not on speaking terms with, and noted his surprised, awed expression. He looked the beautiful, charming, mystery woman up and down, and the woman returned his call with a warm smile. "Zevran! How long has it been?" Zevran sauntered up to this Isabela, standing annoyingly close to her as they laughed and talked. "Time has been kind to you, my friend," Zevran complimented her. "Such a shame I can't say the same for you!" Isabela laughed. Even her laugh sounded pretty, Creators. "Come to think of it," Zevran began thoughtfully, "the last time I saw you, you were -" "Don't bring up old memories, sweet thing," Isabela interrupted. "I prefer my imagination to what really happened." Leliana gasped behind Allura and muttered "Scandalous!" under her breath. Even Wynne tutted disapprovingly. That part didn't bother Allura; she was fully aware of Zevran's colorful sexual history before they met. It was what’s happening right now in front of her eyes that was agitating her. Zevran was flirting with Isabela, right in front of her! Like she wasn't even there! Why did he volunteer to come with them if he was still annoyed about yesterday? Come to think of it, why did he also sleep in her tent if he was so... disgruntled? That word gave Allura pause; she couldn't help but think about how furrowed his brow got when he thought she wasn't looking, or the slight pout when she didn't make eye contact. She grinned despite herself. Adorable, she thought. "Oh? Are we quite amusing, my dear Warden?" That was the second thing he'd said to her all day. She wanted to tell him she was thinking about how cute he looked when he was pouting, how she hated that they weren't talking. But with Leliana glaring daggers into the back of his skull (which he tactfully ignored), Wynne showing off her best "I told you so" face, and Zevran openly flirting with another woman, Allura decided against being overly sentimental. "Not at all," Allura responded nonchalantly. The easy way they flirted, the lack of distance between them as they stood side by side... she put a frustrated hand on her hip, despite herself. "Do you know each other?" "Indeed; this is Isabela," Zevran answered with a coy smirk. There was something about the way he said her name that made Allura uneasy. "Queen of the Eastern Seas, and the sharpest blade in Neverra. And Isabela," he turned to his friend, "you will no doubt be amused to discover that I am traveling with a Grey Warden." "A Grey Warden?" Isabela repeated, impressed. "Charmed." 

"An-" Allira cut herself off and frowned. She wanted to say "Aneth ara," but remembered her fight with Zevran. "It's good to meet you, Isabela," Allura greeted her, ignoring Zevran's quirked eyebrow. "You don't see many elven Grey Wardens," Isabela began, a sly look in her eye. "Is it true what about a Grey Warden's ... endurance?" Allura's heart skipped a beat. Not because of Isabela's obvious charm or her seductive gaze as she closed the distance between them; no, it was because Zevran’s voice echoed in her mind; it was a few weeks ago by now, true, but she couldn’t forget his low voice in her ear, the morning after, whispering his own opinions about her “Grey Warden endurance.” Allura closed her eyes and took a deep breath; when she opened them, Isabela was so close, Allura could practically see her... heartbeat pulsing over her armor. Creators, Allura swore inwardly, and forced herself to maintain eye contact. "I have met... few Grey Wardens in the short time I've been one; I do not have many acquaintances to compare myself to." Allura's face felt like it was boiling, and Isabela's confident smirk meant she could also tell. Allura frowned, embarrassed, and took a deep breath and a step back. "We should get going, Isabela. It was great meeting you." Allura turned towards the door, catching Zevran's annoyed face as he followed behind her. "Zevran, you're leaving already?" Allura could hear the whine in Isabela's voice behind her. "What about sex?" Allura's blood ran cold. Her heart seemed to stop and speed up at the same time. Despite her panic, she refused to look at him. She turned away to leave, but she could still hear his response: "Would if I could, my dear, but I have a... previous engagement." As Zevran and Isabela said their goodbyes, Allura held back rolling her eyes and strolled out of the Pearl. ~~~~~~~~~~ Back at camp, Allura didn't say more than a few greetings before she returned to her tent. He didn't want to admit it, but Zevran was... concerned. He'd never seen Allura flustered over anyone but him before. Of course, they hadn't known each other long, but he liked to think he knew her better than the rest of the team. Zevran let out a breath. He should make sure her meeting Isabela didn’t have any… lingering effects. As he stood, he noticed Leliana staring at him from in front of her tent while whispering furiously to Alistair. Probably about his flirting with Isabela in front of Allura. 'There was no harm in it, dear Leliana' he wanted to say. 'Neither of us want to tie the other down; she's also free to flirt with whomever she pleases.' At that, he frowned. He felt some... pressure? in his stomach. Curious... He instead flashed a smile at Leliana, which made her flush angrily and whisper at Alistair faster. Zevran held back a laugh and continued towards Allura's tent. The tent flap pulled back, and Allura looked up at him, surprised. "Oh Zevran," she said, throwing one hand behind her back. "An- ... Did you need anything?" He raised an eyebrow, curious. That’s twice she’s avoided speaking Dalish in front of him. She couldn’t be that annoyed with yesterday, could she? "Do I need a reason to check on my favorite Grey Warden?" He smirked. Disbelief covered her face, and his heart sank, for some reason. But then she grinned. "Of course not," she replied, somewhat tersely, as she pushed past him. He caught the distinct clink of coins bouncing in time with her steps. "Unless you were worried about something?" "Do I have something to be concerned about? For instance, where you're going with a small satchel of sovereigns?," he added, a smile plastered in his face. She didn't seem surprised he knew, though she'd made an effort to hide it. "I'm going to a bar for a drink," she answered curtly. "You're welcome to join me, not follow, although I would prefer to go alone." Zevran's jaw clenched. If Allura noticed, she didn't react. What was it that he thought earlier? She's allowed to flirt with whomever she likes? "Of course," he muttered after a pause. "Enjoy yourself." Allura smiled, unamused, and called for her mabari Fen'or as she walked out of the camp.

Zevran bit the inside of his cheek; he was sure he’d earned his place in the group at this point. Alistair and Morrigan have even let him cook dinner unsupervised by now, so he was sure he could stay even if he and Allura were no longer …. Well, “involved”. And she was stubborn and immovable but she was also kind at heart; she wouldn’t make him leave. But would he want to stay? If every time someone glanced at him, with every interaction, their eyes were filled with pity?

Zevran was many things, but pitiable was not one of them.

He’d promised Allura when she spared his life that he would be at her disposal until the day she no longer needed him; he would keep that promise. Even if she told him when she returned that she didn’t want him, he’d already decided that he would stay with her until the Archdemon was killed. But afterwards….

Allura had already given him many gold and silver bars during their travels; he’d be set for a few months after everything is finished. Zevran wasn’t sure how this would end, but it may be time to start committing to his contingency plan. ~~~~~~~~ Allura sighed and rested her forehead on the bar counter. Fen'or sat in the foyer, eating the steak she’d bought for him. She'd already had 2 and a half cups of ale - the cups were almost as big as her head - and Creators, did she feel it. But she needed to get the sight of Zevran flirting with Isabela -- She lifted her head and - ignoring the vertigo - finished the rest of her cup. She groaned and held her forehead in her hands. Big mistake. She could feel her brain floating around in her skull. The slightest movement made her head and eyes scream in pain; when was the last time she felt this bad - " .... you alright, sweetheart? I .... had enough...." The barkeep's voice faded in and out, but Allura got the gist; she was cutting her off. "Tel.... telsila... ar'm...." Allura struggled to think an appropriate lie, but the words escaped her - there's was too much noise, too many people laughing and talking for her to think straight - "Don't ... I've got her." Allura recognized the voice next to her - it wasn't that familiar but she knew it, who - ? She turned her head - and did her best to suppress the wince - Isabela smirked down at her and winked, drinking her own cup of ale. Creators. "And put my drink on her tab!" she called out to the barkeep. Then to Allura, "Consider it payment for saving you from the hovering vultures." The exact person she did not want to see, sitting next to her as if they were old friends, why is this happening? "Fenedhis -" The room swirled and suddenly Allura was doubled over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor under her and Isabela’s feet. ~~~~~~~~~ An hour later, Isabela had rented a room and brought Allura copious amounts of water and bread, for which the elf was more grateful than she cared to admit. Allura sat on the couch without much fuss; she'd caused the poor woman enough trouble already. Allura squeezed her eyes shut in a futile attempt to stop the room the spinning. When that didn't work, she held her head in her hands and groaned lowly. "You know, letting your hair down would help with the headache," Isabela advised from behind her. Allura grunted in acknowledgement, but remained still. It probably would help - her bun was always tight - but the movement seemed so extraneous. Allura heard a light chuckle behind her as her hair came undone and her dark brown hair fell around her neck and shoulders. Her head felt cool and light, the pressure falling away. "Ma serannas,” Allura mumbled into her hands. "Ir abelas..." "You speak a lot of Dalish when you're drunk, don't you?" With a short laugh, Allura lifted her head. "Thank you, Isabela. I'm sorry to put you through this." "No worries." Allura could hear the smirk in her voice. "Now you owe me for the save and the room." The elf grunted again, thankful she hadn't spent many of the sovereigns yet. They sat together in silence for a time. Allura wouldn't describe it as comforting, but it was welcome. Allura wasn't even alarmed when Isabela quietly moved from behind the couch to the coffee table in front of it. But then she spoke. "So is there a reason you were getting hammered in a brothel alone?" Allura never understood why it was called a brothel. It's where people go to pay for sex, not eat soup. Although, soup could be served here... "I was not alone," Allura refuted, head back in her hands. "Fen'or is with me." Fen'or, who had been brought in after Isabela reserved for the room, perked up and barked once happily. "You know what I mean." Allura sighed and lifted her head. "Creators, I needed to get the image of Zevran flirting with you out of my head." Isabela's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. It was worth the discomfort moving caused to see this gorgeous, confident woman so off guard. "You and Zevran? You're... together?" "Yes." "Like... together together?" "Yes." She made her annoyance clear with that one syllable. "Wow. I've never took him for a 'settle down' type." Allura had to agree. She'd heard his stories; she's always wondered why such a worldly, charming, deadly elf would be interested in being with her. She couldn't think of anything remotely interesting about herself.

"Wait." Isabela's confused voice broke Allura from her reverie. "Why would you come here if you're trying to forget what I looked like?" "Fenedhis, I spent the whole day killing gang members in every other bar in Denerim. I couldn't risk going to a bar in their territory and running into them alone." Allura sighed. "I may be strong, but I am one elf." She never felt like that before meeting Zevran, or anyone else in the group. She never felt so insignificant before. But as much as she could do on her own, what she can do now, with the people she calls friends, is so much more. There was no comparison. "Not that any of it will matter soon," Allura sighed, returning her head to her forehead. "I'm sure we'll both be single in no time. I guess we're... fighting." "You're fighting?," Isabela asked with the same incredulous tone of voice. "Yes." Allura let out another sigh. "What did you do when you and Zevran fought...?" "Us? Sweet thing, Zevran and I were never together-together. Actually, I've never known him to be serious with anyone - almost anyone." While she didn't like how Isabela said "almost anyone," the confirmation was much appreciated. Allura lifted her head and grinned. "Good to know." Isabela smirked. "Alright, I'll help you out. What's going on?"

Allura had no idea why such a woman would be interested in helping her with her relationship problems, but she was grateful for the offer. So grateful, in fact, she decided not to question it.

"I'm not very... interesting, Isabela. Not like Zevran. But I am Dalish, which may be vaguely interesting to other people." Allura was rambling, which was new to her. She could always blame the ale if Isabela ever spoke about this. "And I wanted to teach him Dalish, even if it's the little bit that I know. But he wouldn't learn it." Isabela tilted her head curiously. "Isn't Dalish dying even among the Dalish already? No one really uses it outside your clan, right?" There it was. The same thing Zevran said. Her heart clenched and she sighed. "Oh... I see. Zevran said that too." Allura was glad her new friend didn’t make her say it. Isabela crossed her legs on the table. "But it wasn't about learning Dalish to use it, was it?" "... No," Allura answered quietly. "I miss my people. The Keeper, my friends, the Halla. Merrill, and," she took a deep breath, "Tamlen." She breathed out, ignoring how shaky her voice was going to be. "I miss them, and if I could share it with Zevran, I would miss them less, and we could talk in secret. We could be closer." The silence this time was a little deafening. Allura peeked at Isabela and saw she was looking at her thoughtfully. The elf raised a curious eyebrow. "What is it?" "What is it that you care about more," Isabela started carefully, "Zevran speaking Dalish, or the both of you speaking the same thing?" Zevran speaking Dalish, Allura thought immediately. But of course that was her answer; she was stubborn and hard headed, and pushed too much. Zevran was the opposite; despite the way he acted, he cared so much, but never forced anyone to do anything they didn't want to. She wanted him to be more open with her, but she needed to give a little too. "I just want us to be closer." Her voice was lower, smaller than it'd ever been before, but she could still hear it echo around the room. It was somehow terrifying and humbling to realize that she just wanted to be with him more when they weren't in combat. "Fine." Isabela's voice cut through the echo in Allura's head. "I'll help you." Allura looked up curiously, and saw Isabela looking smug and confident, but just a little bit softer than earlier that day. "I don't know much Antivan," Isabela began. "But I know enough to fix this." "Really, Isabela? Ma serannas -" "- For a price." Allura deflated just a bit, but there was no way she was going to turn her down. "Five sovereigns a night," Allura offered. "Nine." "Six, and I buy you dinner every night." "Deal! My, Allura. You sure know how to sweet talk a gal." Isabela fanned herself with a grin. "Thank you, Isabela. This means a -" "Yes, yes, you're grateful, have no idea how to thank me, blah, blah." Isabela got off the table and walked to the door, waving off Allura's heartfelt exclamations of gratitude. She stopped briefly to pet Fen'or. "Meet here an hour after sunset for dinner. You're paying for the room too." Then Isabela winked and she was gone. ~~~~~~ Allura made it back to the camp much later than Zevran expected her. Alistair, who was on watch, greeted her as she walked past the fire and entered her tent. She paused at the entrance - maybe surprised to see Zevran curled in the bedroll next to hers? - and she let out a sigh. Disappointment? Annoyance? He should just confront her now - but what would she say? Zevran remained still. Allura disrobed and slipped into her bed roll. She hesitated before laying down. He heard some shuffling, and felt her hand against his back. It was brief but warm, and he could feel each finger pressed against his shoulder blade. He ignored the chill the absence of her hand created. ----- The next morning, Zevran was awakened by the sound of metal against metal and light footsteps. He turned to see Allura was already dressing. "Going somewhere so early?," he asked.

"Oh! Good morning, Zevran." Allura turned and smiled. Her armor - from her helm to her boots - was already on and she was gathering her satchel from the floor. He noticed that it was much lighter than when she left. She couldn't have drunk that much, could she? "How was the bar?" Her eyes widened and darted to the side briefly. "It was... fine. I ran into Isabela. We - had a drink." Zevran's heart clenched - why? He’d asked Isabela to keep an eye on her, why bother getting upset that they had a drink? Because Allura wasn’t telling the whole truth. He forced a smile. "That's great. I'm... pleased you get along." "She's much more agreeable than I thought she was," Allura admitted with a laugh. "We're going out for drinks again tonight." His blood ran cold; he couldn't - no wouldn't - point out why. He sat up, ignoring the dread he felt. "That's... great. I'm - " "Sorry, vhenan, I need to make some money before tonight. I'll see you afterwards." With a smile and a small wave, she slipped out of the tent and was off. She didn't sound angry; she even referred to him by her Elven pet name for him.

Perhaps… she was over the fight. Maybe drinking with Isabela did truly help, and when she returned tonight, everything will go back to normal. ------ Things did not go back to normal. The pattern continued for another three days; Allura would wake up early every morning, leave early, come back to complete group missions to earn money for the night, go for "drinks with Isabela," come back very late, and sleep. She stayed up for her shifts for the night watch and kept up with her responsibilities. But he hadn't seen her eat in days. She had to though; her satchel was full every day before group missions and considerably lighter when she returned at night. If he asked her about her disappearances, or why she needed so much money every day, or why she was drinking with Isabela so often, she would give him a flimsy excuse and wave it off. “I’m allowed time to myself, correct?” “Bars are so much more expensive in human port towns than the forest ones.” “She’s such an interesting person!” It wasn’t in his nature to push and make someone do something. But he would get an answer tonight. ~~~~~~~~ Allura strolled back into camp, late as usual, with a bit more of a skip in her step. Isabela’s lessons were almost over! She’d be able to talk to Zevran privately, even around the group. Sure, her accent still needed work, and she never emphasized the right syllable, but it was something. There was progress.

She was in such high spirits she didn’t notice Zevran perched in the tree above her until he dropped down in front of her. His brow was furrowed, he looked as if he’d been up there all night, and she’d never wanted to hold him more than at that moment.

Zevran did not look like he felt the same, despite the smile he plastered onto his face. “How was ‘drinks with Isabela’?”

Allura’s brows furrowed in confusion. Why was he so obsessed with knowing that answer? What would it matter to him anyway? She’s been in a much better mood since going out for drinks, all to surprise him, and she never lied about where she was or who she was with. What could be the problem?

“I don’t understand why you’re upset…”

Then the reason dawned on her. To him, they were still “in a fight.” She resolved the issue she’d had without telling her partner about it. So, now she’s in a better mood, but she’s not spending any time with him; instead, she’s with someone else every chance she gets. She covered her face, ashamed. This entire plan happened because she wanted to get closer to him, and she forgot to talk to him about it.

“Zevran, I’m sorry - ”

“We began this agreeing not to tie each other down, no? I just imagined we would be adults and talk to each other about this.” He gestured between the two of them. “If you prefer Isabela’s company, then I will not stand in your way -”

“Zevran, no, that is not what’s happening - ”

“Then why else have you spent every night this week with her?”

“Because she has been teaching me how to speak Antivan.” For a second, she was surprised at how quickly she confessed the truth to him. But the frustration on his face fell away to reveal the confusion and loneliness he must have been feeling for days; she needed to fix this as soon as possible.

“But why… would you want that? Why would she agree?” The confusion and disbelief in his voice hurt her for some reason, but she couldn’t act on it.

“I… I wanted her to teach me Antivan so I could spend more time with you. I wanted to do more than train to fight Darkspawn with you when we weren’t actually fighting Darkspawn. Fenedhis, I got caught up in the excitement and didn’t realize I wasn’t spending any time with you at all. I am sorry to have worried you so much.”

She was! She couldn’t express that enough. But she wouldn’t blame him if he didn’t believe her now.

“... What did she teach you?”

Allura flushed; she wasn’t confident enough to actually say it yet.

Her silence must have annoyed him, because the next thing he said was an ultimatum: “If you can’t tell me yourself, perhaps I should ask Isabela personally.”

Allura reached out for his hand. Her fingertips brushed past the back of his hand, and she hesitated before grabbing him. She took a deep breath before latching onto his hand.

“Bésame.”

Her lover turned, disbelief plain on his face. No, she was still saying it wrong. And it's a song, she has to sing it.

“Bésame mucho. Que tengo miedo perderte, perderte después.”

Zevran shook his hand from hers and she wanted to cry. Of course she took too long to realize what she'd done, and he's moved on. She heard him sigh and braced herself for the sound of his footsteps away from her.

Instead, he walked towards her and before she could react his lips were on hers. She froze. His lips were warm and soft and urgent and it pained her when he broke away.

“Your accent is terrible.”

He kissed her again.

“You don't put enough emphasis on the accents.”

He kissed her again. This time, she kissed back.

“You aren't singing in tune with the song.”

Another kiss.

“Your lessons could use some improvement.”

Flushed and breathless, Allura secretly hoped he'd kiss her again. It’d been so long since she’d even held him, his kisses almost overwhelmed her --

“Can you teach me?”

He smirked and held her face in his calloused hands.

“Of course, mi amor.” Zevran rested his forehead on his, and she caught his scent: leather and herbs and sandalwood. She took a deep breath and sighed.

Her lover raised his chin and kissed her again, slowly this time, more deliberately than before. She shuddered, just a little, and pulled him closer to her. She rested her head against his shoulder; she’d forgotten how comfortable the fit was.

“Vhenan?” Allura murmured into his chest.

“Hmm?” Zevran hummed.

“Would you…” She paused. “Would you sing it for me?”

“Ah. But of course,” he began. “If you could do something for me.”

Anything, she thought. “Depends on what it is,” was what she said.

He chuckled. “Would you tell me what ‘vhenan’ means?”

Allura broke away, alarmed. Why would he want to know now? Was he pitying her?

“But you said…,” she trailed off, not wanting to say it.

“I did,” he finished. “I told you Dalish was a dying language. So,” he continued, grabbing both of her hands. “Teach me what you know.”

He waited patiently, holding eye contact, while she pieced this together. What could he gain from learning a dying language? Nothing tangible for sure -

But he could gain her. Assuming she was what he wanted.

She let out a breathy chuckle. She could hope.

“Vhenan is short for ma’vhenan,” she began. “‘My heart.’” Without missing a beat, she asked, “What does ‘amor’ mean?”

She held back a frown when she said it. When he calls her ‘amor,’ the word is light, airy, somehow musical. It sounded flat and dull in her own voice.

Zevran smiled and broke eye contact, briefly. If she didn’t know any better, Allura would swear he was embarrassed.

“‘Mi amor,” he corrected her. “‘My love.’”

So she should hope.

“How about we retire to my tent,” she proposed, “and you can sing for me?”

“Only if you promise to sing for me,” he offered with a sly smirk and a wink.

She felt her cheeks heat up but allowed herself to be led to her tent. She laid in the cot next to her love, and listened to his song.