#// tried to leave it vague! maybe she knows maybe she doesn't

[cosmiccrushes]

A Crow Underwater

Rook x Lucanis || 5.5k words

on ao3

summary: Crow Rook and Lucanis' first meeting during the Sea of Blood quest, from Lucanis' perspective.

notes: I have half a mind to keep writing this Rook (my og mage Crow Rook) and Lucanis into a longer form fic (maybe a series?) I do have a whole backstory planned for her that I think could be fun to explore but ahhh idk

also humongous shoutout to @ datvtranscripts on tumblr for their incredible work cataloging datv dialogue, massively helpful for this fanfic writer <3

~~~

Lucanis snaps the neck of the last Venatori cultist, letting their body thump to the stone at his feet. Spite’s wings dissipate at his back. 

Someone speaks behind him, voice lilting in an almost playful manner. “I’m guessing you’re the reason we’re here.” 

He turns to the two individuals who are entirely out of place in this underwater prison cell. Their unexpected arrival provided him with just the distraction he needed to burst from the crystal the Venatori had come to him in and dispatch them. He studies the new arrivals through narrowed eyes. One, a dwarf and the other, a Dalish elf, judging by the tattoos feathering around their eyes. 

“Who are you? Who sent you?” His voice is gruff with disuse. A year locked away with nothing but a demon for a conversation companion would do that. 

It's the elf who speaks again. “My name’s Rook. House de Riva. I’m here to bring you home. She’s Harding,” the elf jerks their head towards the dwarf whose hands tighten on her crossbow. 

A fellow Crow? House de Riva. That makes them one of Viago’s. Has his grandmother sent them to retrieve him? The day's surprises continue for Lucanis. “House de Riva. You're a Crow.” 

“Last time I checked.” The elf peers over their shoulder at an ominous groan from the prison’s walls. It appears the sounds of clashing Venatori and demons that Lucanis heard echoing through the Ossuary have resulted in a bit of structural damage. “We need to escape. Then we can talk.” The Crow, Rook, says, bringing their attention back to him. “I’m here to help. I’m breaking you out of here.” 

“Only one of you’s a Crow?” Lucanis is baffled by this situation.  

“And you’re possessed by a demon.” They sound curious, not judgemental, as their eyes trace the empty space around him where Spite's wings had been moments ago. 

“It's complicated.” Lucanis supposes he should get used to people looking at him like he's an abomination. Only, this Rook…doesn't. Their gaze stays open and curious. Their partner's discomfort goes unhidden. But if Rook is alarmed by the presence of a demon-possessed assassin, they don't show it.

“Caterina promised us a mage-killer if we broke you out of here.” Rook says mildly. 

“I can still work.” 

“Good. Because I’m pretty sure more Venatori are on their way. We have to get moving.” 

“Rook…” The dwarf looks to the Crow, her mouth pulled taught with wariness. “He's possessed.”

“It's fine, Harding.”

“Rook-” Harding tries again.

“I said I can work.” Lucanis bites out. 

Harding glares at him. “And I’ll listen to whatever she says,” she gestures with her crossbow at Rook. “But I don’t trust him.” The last bit she addresses towards the elf. 

“Understood.” Rook nods. “And we can discuss that later. Right now, I’d really prefer not drowning at the bottom of the sea.”  

“I can’t leave yet. The Venatori have a vial of my blood. I cannot leave it in their hands.” He notes the staff at Rook’s back, marking her as a mage. She will understand better than any the gravity of a mage who owns your blood. 

“Okay.” 

“And I had a contract when I was captured. One of my targets is here. Calivan.” Lucanis locks eyes with Rook. “You know what that means. Crows don’t break contracts.”

“All right. We'll help,” she agrees easily. “But in return, I want help killing some things.” 

“I’ll owe you.” Lucanis vows, noting the vagueness in her request. But a contract is a contract. Whatever things need killing, Lucanis would oblige. And if Caterina had sent her for a deal, Lucanis would never refuse. 

“I’m sure we’ll owe each other before this is all over.” She pulls blades from her own belt, tossing them to Lucanis. “Let’s go. So, first order of business?”

“Blood first, then my target. Calivan. The prison warden.” Rook immediately takes the lead as they exit his prison cell. Lucanis follows and this provides him with a chance to study his mysterious Crow rescuer.

She's a wisp of a woman. Lucanis does not mean this derisively- he himself is of small stature and it serves him well as an assassin. But he has entire inches on her. She must make deadly use of that in their line of work. As they slink through the corridors of the Ossuary, Lucanis observes the fluid lightness of her steps and knows he’s right. A target would never hear her coming. Her long, silvery blonde hair falls over her shoulders in two, tightly woven braids.

“Where do we find them? Calivan?” 

“In the tower. There’s a bridge.” 

“Not anymore,” Rook replies and Lucanis wonders just how bad of a state the Ossuary has fallen into. “We’ll have to find another way across.” 

A flurry of motion ahead of them as Venatori mages descend upon them in the chamber outside of his former cell. Lucanis refuses to even harbor thoughts that they will not escape this watery hell. He will not go back to that cell now that he is free, even if he must die instead.  

“Good. Mages. My specialty.” Lucanis is so eager to have a blade back in his hand, to cause pain to the Venatori that Rook and Harding are barely needed in this fight. Spite lends his wings and Lucanis stretches his muscles for the first time in a year. He gets the distinct impression that Rook is deliberately hanging back– whether to study his abilities or to offer him a bit of vengeance, he is unsure. 

Rummaging through the pockets of the slain Venatori, Rook raises a key, her triumphant smile spreading wide. “All right! One of them has a key. Must be my lucky day.” 

Lucanis raises an eyebrow. “You have an odd idea of luck.” He glances pointedly at their surroundings. 

Rook shrugs. “Well, I’m not dead yet. Neither are you. And actually, given the circumstances, that probably makes your luck better than mine.” She winks at him. Lucanis is suddenly very aware that these are the first true conversations he’s had with anyone in months. He’s not quite sure he’s doing it right. Is it possible to forget how to talk to people? 

They move forward through the Ossuary. Lucanis wonders how his grandmother finally found his location and why it was this particular Crow she sent to retrieve him. Not a Crow from House Dellamorte. Not a Crow he had even met before, as far as he could remember. And despite the brevity of their acquaintance, Rook imparted a feeling that she was not easily forgotten.  

“So, the Crows sent a mage to free their mage-killer?” 

“No. They sent their best.”

“Did they?” Lucanis is genuinely curious how things may have changed within the Crows during his absence. Who has risen in the ranks, who has fallen. Had his cousin, Illario, moved closer to First Talon?

Rook raises one eyebrow at him, the other scrunching with what must be amusement as her lips curl up at the edges. “No. They sent who needed you and who came looking at exactly the right time. Although I am good.” She winks at him yet again. Lucanis searches his memory trying to recall what it means when people wink at you.   

“Why were you looking for me?”

“Two blighted elven gods have broken free of their Fade prison and want to blight the whole bloody world. You're the Demon of Vyrantium. You're the mage-killer. Hopefully god-killer is in there somewhere too.”

“Blighted gods?” Lucanis must have heard her wrong.

“Yeah. I know, it's a lot. Just what the elven people need.” There’s a hard edge pressing against her words. “So about your target?”

“Calivan. The warden of the Ossuary. He oversees everything here.” 

“Where do we find him?” The dwarf– Harding– asks. 

“He’ll be in the most fortified part of the Ossuary, but first, we have to find where they’re keeping my blood. I cannot touch Calivan until it’s dealt with.” 

Their conversation is interrupted when they enter a new chamber and a swarm of Venatori pop into existence around them. Even as they fight, Harding keeps one eye trained on him, her distrust evident. Still, she is deadly with her bow– her arrows do not miss. 

And Rook– Rook is an artist, raising her staff like a brush against canvas. She paints death over the Venatori and effortlessly falls into step beside him, no longer holding back. Perhaps Lucanis has grown poetic during his isolation. Or maybe, he is simply moved by the welcome familiarity of fighting alongside another Crow. It has been too long since he had a taste of home. Regardless, it is apparent that Rook wasn't being overly braggadocious about being good. She wields her magic with all of the finesse and grace expected of a Crow.

They proceed. Striking down Venatori as they go. Rook pauses when they move through a chamber that served as a workshop for Zara’s tormented creations. She examines the evidence strewn across tables, a strained expression on her face. “Wait… Were they torturing demons? How? Why?”

“They didn’t all start out as demons. Zara made sure they ended up that way.” Lucanis states bluntly. The blood stains would explain his point well enough.  

“Zara?” Rook hasn’t looked away from the workbenches. 

“Zara Renata. There might be a higher-ranking Venatori somewhere, but I don’t know of one. This place is all her.”

Rook stares solemnly at the tables a moment longer. The stillest Lucanis has seen her yet, like the suddenly smooth surface of a lake that normally ripples with currents. Abruptly, she turns her attention to the Venatori crystals blocking their path. She smashes them, her mouth set in a harsh line, her eyes gleaming with a stony anger. A dam broken, an undulating eddy of motion as she cuts through the Ossuary. 

“Corpses possessed by demons. Watch out.” Harding warns, nodding to the undead shambling up the path ahead. 

“Zara Renata’s work. This place exists just for her to make new, worse kinds of demons.” 

“I think I’d very much like to meet this Zara. Show her some of my work.” Rook watches the undead as they take a diverging path around. Attention snapping away as she states, “Venatori ahead.” 

“Mine.” Lucanis steps up, determined to take his pay in blood today. Rook makes space for him. More blood mages crawl out of their rat holes behind them. “Mierda. These guys. Let me hit him first, then you can take him down.”   

“With pleasure,” Rook hums beside him. They fall into sync again, Lucanis’ pulse racing with the adrenaline of long overdue kills. 

Rook steps over the corpses of the dead Venatori and Harding quickens her pace to walk alongside Rook. “Rook. You sure about this? Abominations…” Harding's tone conveys her feelings on abominations. 

“We made a deal with the Crows to bring him back. And don't forget that it's gods we're up against.” 

“Right. Well, abominations never end well. Just remember I warned you.” 

Rook doesn't respond. Lucanis grits his teeth at the way they discuss him as if he's not here. One thing he can say he knows about Rook now though, is that she will complete her contracts– regardless of what she finds on the other end of it. 

The ground shakes beneath them and a macing creak echoes through the Ossuary, stopping them in their tracks. 

“I don’t like this!” Harding exclaims. 

Rook has her arms held out at her sides, steadying her feet. “Can’t say I’m a fan either.” 

Lucanis watches a stream of water trickle down a wall. “We may not have much time.” 

They reach a chasm where a bridge must have once been. Rook stares frustratedly at the open air they need to cross. “Damn it, there’s no path through here.”  

I. Can make. A path. From the Fade. The demon speaks in Lucanis’ head. 

“What?” Lucanis forgets that speaking out loud will draw attention. 

Let. Me. Pull from the Fade. 

“What are you-” NOW, Spite yells. “Fine.” 

“What is it?” Rook asks, considering him with a softness in her eyes.

“He says he can get us across.” 

“Who is ‘he’?” Rook leans slightly to the side to peer around Lucanis, eyes flicking back to him in question. 

“The demon. He says there’s something here. Something he can grab hold of in the Fade. It’s close.” 

“By all means.” Rook waves her hand and stands aside, looking distinctly unmoved by the fact that Lucanis has just confirmed speaking to a demon inside his head. 

Lucanis allows Spite just enough rein to reach out. He’s shocked when the demon’s magic manifests an entire chunk of stone as a makeshift bridge for them. 

“Wow.” The awe in Rook’s voice mirrors his own. “The demon pulled all of that from the Fade?”

“I’m as surprised as you.” Lucanis tries not to think too much about all the demon could do if left unchecked.

They enter another workshop area where Venatori mages and demons brawl. 

“They’re fighting? But the Venatori made all these monsters, didn’t they?” Harding asks. 

“Blood mages. They never learn. Zara can summon all the demons she wants, but they don’t have to obey her.” 

“And it doesn't look like they plan to,” Rook quips before plunging into the fray. 

The ghost of a smile flutters across Lucanis' lips before he charges after her. 

Rook rolls her head side to side, stretching out her neck after the last blood mage– the Fabricator, Lucanis recalls their moniker– drops to the ground, lifeless. “What did Zara want all these undead for?”

“Nothing. Those are the failures.” So many failures. Lucanis' stomach turns at the innocent life lost within these damp halls. He may not be innocent, but he lost life here too. 

“If those are the failures, what does success look like?” Rook questions. 

“She took the ‘best’ results out a few days ago. But some of the demons she created are still here.” 

“Calivan. You said he’s the one in charge?” Rook pauses her exit from the room to look back at him. 

Lucanis shakes his head. “No. He’s a lackey. He runs this place for a powerful magister. He was my target a year ago. Now we both want him dead.” Again, Lucanis feels compelled not to hide what he is now. It almost feels like he's challenging her. This Rook says she needs him to fight elven gods, says she's here to bring him home. But what home could a demon-possessed assassin hope to have? The fighting he could do, but he would have her clear about what exactly it is she's bringing back to Treviso.

“‘We’” meaning…?” Rook trails off expectantly. 

“Demons don’t forgive.” 

Rook’s eyes roam over him. “Neither do Crows.” She pivots, resuming her quick, sure pace. 

They draw nearer the chamber with Lucanis’ blood vial. “We're getting close.” 

“How are we supposed to find this thing?” Harding asks him. 

“I know it’s here. We can smell it.” The thing lurking within him has heightened his senses. 

Entering into an expansive room, Lucanis identifies that the vial of his blood is locked behind a Venatori crystal ward. He informs Rook. 

“If I never see another Venatori crystal…” Rook says darkly. She immediately begins to wind through the room, smashing crystals with a swipe of her staff. Lucanis gets the impression that she is not a very patient person. He imagines that it has probably earned her reprimand in House de Riva. No Talon would allow actions borne of recklessness, but especially Viago.    

In the center of the room are more tables strewn with corpses. 

“Look at what's left of these people… they were tortured. What a terrible way to die.” Harding shakes her head. 

“Very few people survive Calivan’s ‘rehabilitation.’” 

“You did.” Rook says simply. 

Lucanis peeks at her, but she continues her prowl around the room, hunting for crystals.

Rook smashes the last crystal warding the room. She sweeps out a hand in a grand gesture to Lucanis, bowing slightly at her waist. There is a mischief about her that again has Lucanis' lips twitching on the hint of a smile, such a strange feeling after a year of only horrors.

Lucanis’ eyes lock onto the blood vial at the far end of the chamber. “There. That’s the one. It has to be.”

Rook’s graceful steps lead her to the container. Lucanis joins her. She looks at him, shrugs, then shatters the vial with her magic. “All right then, that’s done. Now for our contract.” Lucanis doesn’t miss the way she says ‘our’ contract. Since she appeared before him, she has been fully committed to assisting him. She hasn’t questioned his motives or monitored him out of the corner of her eye like Harding does. Is she reckless? Or has he simply earned her trust so easily because he is a fellow Crow? And not just any Crow. Lucanis is well aware of the weighty pull associated with the House of the First Talon, House Dellamorte. 

Lucanis guides them through the Ossuary’s halls to its heart– where he believes the warden to keep office. His fingers itch to put a blade through Calivan’s heart. They reach a lift, filing inside. 

Harding again voices her concerns in a low, warning tone. “Rook…” The two must know each other well for Harding need not say more to express her thoughts to Rook.

“It’s us against gods Harding-”

Lucanis doesn’t particularly want to hear what Rook will say next so he interrupts. “I am right here, you know.” 

“It’s fine. We can talk about something else.” Rook shoots a pointed glance at Harding. “What’s Caterina like?”    

Lucanis is surprised by the question, even more surprised that he doesn’t know how to answer it. “After so long in this pit… I barely remember.” 

“You’ve been down here for a year?” Rook cranes her neck to speak to him behind her. Her braids slide against her leathers. 

“Mmm,” Lucanis grunts in response. What else is there to say?

“Is there anything we need to know about Calivan?” Harding asks. 

“You want to hear about his torture methods or something else? We didn’t chat.” 

“He might be turning those torture methods on us very soon, so,” Rook’s shoulders shrug noncommittally. She doesn’t rise to Lucanis’ spiteful bait tossed at Harding, though Harding glowers at him.  

The lift stutters to a halt and they are emptied into a cavernous room. 

A voice echoes across the space as they step fully inside. 

“Ugh, this was entirely unnecessary. Zara and her little jests. ‘He’s already the Demon of Vyrantium! Won't this be ironic?’” The man scoffs. “Hilarious. And now look at the mess you’ve made of my facility. She always leaves me to clean up.” 

“So this is Calivan.” Rook sounds unimpressed. 

“He is.” Lucanis confirms. “The target I was sent for a year ago. A Crow never abandons a contract.” His fingers tighten around his blade, well, Rook’s blade. He looks forward to reuniting with some of his own.  

Rook calls out. “Calivan! We’ll help you with the clean up. I think we’ll start by taking out the trash.” A vicious smile twists her lips and then she strikes.

Lucanis falls into the rhythm of the fight. A dawning awareness crests over him that if he is to continue working with Rook, he may have to get used to racing into battle after her. He might be more disgruntled about it if she didn’t wield herself so masterfully. 

Lucanis ignores the savage jabs Calivan attempts to distract him with. What words could hurt him more than the horror of having a demon possession forced upon him? 

Rook, on the other hand, grows increasingly annoyed with Calivan’s incessant insults– despite none of them being directed at her. Upon realizing the need to destroy the barrier protecting Calivan and beginning their coordinated efforts to do so, the prison warden screams at Lucanis, “You will return to your chains!” 

Rook snarls as she toils to bring down the barrier. “Ma halam! You will return to dust!” 

Calivan’s barrier falls and his enraged shouts summon a flood of demons to the chamber. Rook meets Calivan’s rage blow for blow. And despite Harding’s obvious misgivings about him, she too fights fiercely. When a Pride demon stands before them, they do not falter. 

Calivan’s desperation grows as he weakens and their group gains ground. “No! I will not be defeated!” 

“Sorry! We took a vote-” Rook snaps between swings of her staff. “-decided you die today! I’m sure you understand. Being an arrogant prick and all!” Spite guffaws against his skull and a grim satisfaction grips Lucanis. He’s never been particularly crafty with his words and finds that he relishes Rook’s lashing tongue. 

With a final blast of Rook’s magic and Lucanis’ blade through his chest, Calivan is no more. 

Lucanis releases a long held breath as he stands over his contract. “The Crows send their regards.” 

Rook breathes deeply beside him, tucking her staff at her back. “So, we got your target.” 

“Yes. The job’s done.” Lucanis has waited so long to say that. 

Beside him, Spite inhales. Smells like blood. Ashes. Not done. Not yet. 

Lucanis grinds his teeth, staring hard at the demonic manifestation. He must not hear Rook attempting to get his attention.  

“Lucanis… Are you all right? Lucanis? What are you looking at?”

When Lucanis finally registers Rook’s question, he turns to her. She is watching him, head tilted inquisitively at an angle. 

Careful. They know. We’re not right.

Lucanis looks back to Spite, then at Rook. “You cannot see him. I wondered.” So, the disturbing likeness of Lucanis that the demon manifested as was only visible to him it seemed. Mierda. Was that a gift or a curse? 

Rook’s head is still tilted at him. Her eyes shift from Lucanis to the vacant air beside him where Spite stands hidden from her sight. But she doesn’t look afraid nor concerned. “We clearly have things to discuss. Somewhere else.”

Harding nods vigorously. 

“Agreed. I think…it’s time I got some air.” Lucanis feels a nervous thrill run through him at the thought. 

Rook offers him a small smile. “Agreed. A Crow underwater… “ A shiver runs through her. “No thank you. I’m ready to get out of this place.” 

Lucanis returns her smile, the muscles in his cheeks twitching. He cannot recall the last time he used them. “Imagine how I feel.” 

***

The boat glides through the canals of Treviso. Lucanis' heart is in his throat as his city unfolds around him. He had been so close this whole time… He looks back to the rest of the boat's occupants and discovers Rook already watching him.

She smiles, gentle and friendly. “Welcome home.” 

The first warmth Lucanis has felt since being locked in the Ossuary floods through him. Home. 

They climb the steps to the Canatori diamond and he knows from the tense set of Rook's shoulders that he's not alone in sensing something is wrong. Rook glances at him, eyes tight with worry. He gives her a sharp nod. 

Teia’s voice reaches his ears first. “Maker…” 

Lucanis steps into a mess of a room. Broken furniture, strewn papers. Viago notices them first.

“Lucanis?” The Fifth Talon’s eyes flick over him and then to Rook at his side. Viago's clenched fists relax. 

“What happened here?” Lucanis has never seen the Diamond so disheveled. 

Illario slams his fist on a table. “A message. From Zara Renata.” His anger softens as he adds, “I can't believe it. You're home.” 

Lucanis can't reconcile Illario's former words. “Zara… Her people got this close?” 

“The woman who runs the prison?” Rook looks up at him for confirmation. 

“The Venatori witch who captured me.” 

“Revenge for the breakout, maybe?” The skepticism in Rook's tone matches Lucanis' own. How could Zara have moved so quickly? 

“Where's Caterina?” Lucanis searches the faces in the room, but finds his grandmother's missing. His stomach roils with apprehension.  

“She's…” Teia bows her head, her voice thick with emotion.

Viago steps up behind her, placing his hands on her shoulder. “The Venatori got her in the confusion.” 

“I get one of you back, only to lose the other.” Illario sighs.

His grandmother… the mighty, unshakeable First Talon… no, it could not be. 

Rook's tender voice at his elbow grounds him. “Lucanis… I'm so sorry.” 

Lucanis is grateful for her simple words, spoken with earnestness. Her presence also reminds him of Caterina's last request of him. “I need to work.” 

“Are you sure?” Concern squeezes Teia’s eyes. “You should take some time.” 

“I don't need time– I need a target,” Lucanis says harshly. 

His cousin addresses him. “You just got here, and already you want to leave again?” 

Lucanis meets Illario's eyes, willing his brethren to understand. “Caterina gave me a contract. I'm not breaking the last deal she ever made. And I owe Rook. Once that's done… I'll come home.” If his home would still have him, when they learned what he has become.

“I'll return him in one piece.” Rook tells Illario. She sounds as though she wholeheartedly believes it, that she will act as a protector to the, now literal, Demon of Vyrantium. This Crow is a peculiar one. 

“Thank you.” Illario inclines his head towards Rook. Then says to Lucanis, “Cousin, when you find Zara, I want– I need– to be there.” 

Viago interjects. “We’re under attack. Antaam on one side and now Venatori on the other? Forget revenge, we need you-” 

Teia stops him with firm words. “No, Viago. Zara came for us here. She took Caterina from my house. You find her and cut her heart out, Lucanis. VI and I will hold down the fort.” 

“I'll give her your regards, Teia.” 

Teia lifts her chin. “For Caterina.” A chorus of “for Caterina” sounds around the room. Teia's eyes drop to Rook. “And you be careful. Or this one-” A nod towards Viago. “-will lose his head over revenge, whether he admits it or not.” 

Viago huffs but doesn't deny Teia's words. “Do not make a mess of this contract,” he throws at Rook. 

Rook rolls her eyes at the Fifth Talon. Lucanis’ eyes widen at the sight and he waits for Viago’s reprimand but it never comes. “Yes, Viago.” Rook’s tone borders on disrespectful, but still Viago does not react. Lucanis stares between the Fifth Talon and Rook in confusion. 

Viago scowls at Rook momentarily, then directs his frown at Lucanis. His mouth opens like he’s going to say something to him. Instead he glares at Rook one more time, his mouth clamping shut in a hard line before shaking his head and walking away. Teia smiles at Rook before following Viago.

Lucanis very much wants to ask Rook what vital piece of information he’s missing that allowed her to walk away from that interaction unscathed, but Rook’s already moving away. “Let’s go. It’s time for you to meet everyone else.”   

*** 

Lucanis isn’t sure what to make of the Lighthouse. The eluvians were a fascinating bit of magic and the Crossroads were downright bizarre. There’s a confounding peace about the Lighthouse, but Lucanis does not trust a place borne of the Fade. Spite is far less wary, seemingly comforted by the closeness of the Fade– if a demon could even be comforted.

Lucanis’ introductions to the rest of Rook’s team had been made and he had, predictably, been met with skeptical looks and guarded expressions. Bellara– the Veil Jumper and ancient elven artifact expert– seems the least distrusting of him. Her and Neve– a Shadow Dragon detective from Minrathous– sit at the large dining table behind him discussing his possession. Lucanis leans against the fireplace mantel, staring into the crackling flames. 

“They’re the same thing. Mostly. Kind of.” Bellara is explaining. 

“Except one will manipulate you. Or kill you. Or both.” Neve replies. 

“But how do you get rid of them?” Lucanis attempts to not sound as frustrated as he feels.  

“Um…” Bellara’s hands flutter against the table. Lucanis suspects he already knows the only answer the Veil Jumper will be knowledgeable of. He’d come to the same conclusion himself while locked in the depths of the Ossuary.  

“What’s everyone talking about?” Rook draws his attention– and the demon’s, he notes with interest– as she enters the dining hall. 

“Spite.” Lucanis answers through clenched teeth. 

“The demon in Lucanis.” Neve clarifies. “When a person gets possessed, the demon usually takes control.” 

“And they turn into a monster. The spirit just…molds them. However they want.” Bellara adds. 

“I’ve heard of abominations being cured by killing the demon in the Fade. That’s not a sure bet, though.” Spite bristles at Neve’s words. 

“Well, there’s one way. But it’s..well…we’d have to, um…” Bellara stammers nervously. 

“You’d have to kill me.” Lucanis finishes. 

“There’s got to be another way. That can’t be the only solution.” Rook’s hands come to rest on her hips and an unyielding glint sparks in her eye. She looks as if she dares the world to disagree with her declaration. “Can’t we reason with Spite, maybe? Persuade it to leave?” Spite perks up at Rook’s question.

Lucanis gapes at the Crow mage who wants to have a chat with a demon. “Talk doesn’t work on Spite.” As the words leave his lips, Lucanis beholds with horror Spite manifesting beside Rook. He has never had to deal with the reality of Spite around other people and fear freezes him in place. 

Spite leers at Rook, a scathing smile on his face. She won’t hurt you. How sweet. The demon’s derision drips through his sentence like honey, sticking unpleasantly to Lucanis’ skin. 

No. Not sweet, dangerous. Lucanis stares into the determination solidified in Rook’s eyes. Very dangerous. If this partnership is to work, he needs Rook to be willing to stop him. Spite moves to Lucanis’ side and he tears his gaze away from Rook in relief. 

I want to talk to them. Spite demands. Lucanis ignores the demon. 

Bellara goes on. “Before we do, well, that. Let’s think this through some more. There has to be a solution.” 

“I have people in Minrathous I can ask, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” 

Rook nods at Neve. “All right. So what’s next?” Rook asks the room at large. 

Spite growls in frustration. Let me talk to them! I want. To. Talk. To Rook! Spite lashes out in Lucanis’ mind and his head cracks to the side. He feels blood wet his nose and he grunts in pain. 

“Lucanis!” Bellara exclaims as she and Neve spring out of their seats. 

Lucanis holds up a hand to them. “No, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

Rook’s fists are curled at her sides. “Don’t pretend this is all right. It wouldn’t be fine if another person did it.” 

She’s angry for him, Lucanis registers. He softens at this. “No, but there’s nothing I can do about it. If it were another person, I could solve this with a knife.” 

“Why did he do that?” She asks. 

Lucanis will absolutely not tell her that the demon wishes to speak with her. His skin crawls at the familiar way Spite said Rook’s name. The demon has never said anyone's name before, not even Lucanis’. “Throwing a tantrum when he doesn’t get his way.”

“Perhaps he needs to learn what happens to Crows who throw tantrums,” she threatens. 

Lucanis smiles. “I would prefer not to relive those lessons.” Rook’s closed fists loosen. “Just… give me a minute. He’ll get bored once everyone leaves.” 

Rook’s eyes jump back and forth between his own. “I don’t like leaving you alone with a demon. I…” 

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Lucanis reassures her, though he’s not sure it’s entirely true. 

“Lucanis..” 

“Please.” He needs to get her– and everyone else– away from Spite until the demon calms down. 

Rook nods and gathers the others to leave.

As the door to the dining hall falls shut behind them, Lucanis addresses Spite. “You’re not speaking to any of them so forget about it.” 

Rook. Wanted to. Talk. To me!

There’s her name again. It grates on Lucanis’ nerves. “Yes. To ask you to leave.” Lucanis spits. 

Spite hisses, but falls silent. Lucanis closes his eyes, the fire in the hearth warming his eyelids. It’s true. Rook had thought to reason with a demon on his behalf. Lucanis sighs, peeling his weary eyes open. He heads towards a door at the back of the dining hall, opening it to find a long, narrow pantry. Oddly, a cot is already tucked into the far corner. Lucanis sinks onto it, letting his head rest against the stone wall at his back.

Rook will have questions for him eventually. But for now, he soaks in the fact that she respected his request, that she trusted him enough to leave him alone. He mulls over his own questions of what that could mean for a man who has truly become a demon.  

[tewwor]

about to file his fangs down ( accepting ) — @gollldrush

"I feel sick—" No, he feels great. But that's the sickening part of it, isn't it? Even if this is all done for the 'greater good'.. Blood is still blood is still blood, no matter who or what it comes from. The heavy taste of it still coats his tongue, thick and warm and too much. His stomach churns, or rather — it's rejoicing, finally being filled with some sustenance at long last.

[cadashly]

So all those times Spite took control of Lucanis' body and attempted to leave the Lighthouse, he was trying to free Lucanis from the mind prison. Or at least free himself. But I think he was trying to help as best he could.

Lucanis mentions to Emmrich that they stopped sleepwalking because now Spite understands physical space. Spite thought they were still trapped in the Ossuary, which in a way they always were; to Spite, a being of the Fade, there was no discernable difference between Lucanis' prison in his mind (thoughts, emotions, fears, trauma) and the material world, especially since Spite had almost no control over their body and a pretty vague idea of what a body even is.

When he says Lucanis hasn't upheld his part of the deal, that he wants to be free and live like he promised, that's what he meant.

So what's a demon to do? He tries to escape. Walk through a door and be free but there are just more doors, more locks, more pain he can't touch or comprehend. Spite gets frustrated, sure, he lashes out and he hurts Lucanis because that's all he can really do. He probably doesn't fully understand that physical pain and emotional pain are different. He starts to think maybe Lucanis lied, maybe he's choosing to stay there trapped. To trap them both.

Spite focuses on Rook and demands to talk to them because the one thing he knows about Rook is they are Safe, and they open doors. It can't be Neve, because even if Lucanis cares for her, she's still there in his head too representing all of his self-doubts and everything he could have if only he were brave enough to let himself be free, be helped, be loved.

Spite isn't a good demon. His true purpose hasn't changed, not really--he is determined to survive, determined to get revenge, even if he has to drag Lucanis along with him.

[jamesmcalover]

entangled - pt 1

Dimitri Kravinoff x Reader

Warnings: slight angst maybe?? vulnerability, Dimitri is inecure & has daddy issues :(

Summary: Reader was hired to steal something from Dimitri Kravinoff - Part 2

5.2k words

Breaking into a place like this wasn't supposed to be hard.

Y/N crouched by the door of Dmitri Kravinoff's apartment, her lockpicks glinting faintly in the dim hallway light. The silence of the building was oppressive, almost too quiet, but that was exactly how she liked it. The faint smell of expensive leather and something else – something musky, like cigar smoke – hung in the air.

The information her boss had given her was frustratingly vague, just that Dmitri, the youngest Kravinoff, was in possession of an artifact that could 'change the game.' All she'd been told was that it was a 'special knife.' Why it mattered wasn't her concern.

Her job was simple: get in, grab it, and get out. Something she'd done countless times before, slipping into the shadows, taking what wasn't hers, and slipping out without leaving a trace. She'd never failed.

The lock clicked open, and Y/N slipped inside, shutting the door quietly behind her. The place was dark but far from empty. Moonlight spilled through half-drawn curtains, casting shadows on bookshelves, a cluttered desk, and a mounted map on the wall. It was nicer than she'd expected, but it didn't feel like a home.

She found the knife easily enough, displayed in a glass case above the fireplace. There, resting on a velvet cushion, was the knife. It shined in the dim light. The Kravinoff crest engraved on the handle caught her eye, and she frowned. She'd expected something a little less… personal.

Doesn't matter, she reminded herself. Her fingers were already outstretched, reaching for the display case. Just another job. Nothing more.

The lights flicked on.

Y/N spun, her hand instinctively moving toward the small blade strapped to her thigh. But Dmitri, so she thought, was already there, leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and a faint smirk on his face, but the way his hands trembled slightly gave him away.

"You know," he said, his voice low and even, "I'd ask how you got in, but I’m more curious about why you thought you'd get out."

Y/N took a step back, already calculating her next move. "I don't want any trouble, Dimitri," she said, trying to keep her tone even. She wasn't sure why, but there was something unsettling about him. His hands were clenched tight, and there was an edge of desperation in his eyes.

His smirk faltered, and for a moment, his guard dropped. He looked like he was about to say something, but instead, he stepped forward with jerky movements, as if trying to command some authority that wasn’t there. "Who are you?" His voice cracked, and his jaw tightened. He clearly wasn't used to this.

Y/N took a step to the side, ready to dodge around him. Dimitri flinched, but before she could move, he grabbed for her arm, not with the strength of someone who had planned this out, but with the panic of someone desperate to stop her. She easily twisted out of his grip.

"I can't let you leave. Not with-," he said, voice tight. He wasn't fighting with confidence, but with an almost erratic energy, like he was terrified of what might happen if she escaped. His fear wasn’t just physical, it was as if he was holding on to this moment for some other reason.

Y/N hesitated. This wasn't the Dimitri she had expected. She had assumed he would be like the rest of his family. Cold, calculated, a master of control. But here he was, vulnerable and unsteady.

With a sudden, desperate lunge, he reached for her. His movements were jagged and uncoordinated, more out of panic than control. She instinctively stepped back to dodge, but he caught her arm, pulling her toward him with an almost frantic energy.

She tried to twist away, but Dimitri's grip was tighter now, and in a blur of motion, they both went tumbling to the ground. The air was knocked from her lungs as they crashed, and for a split second, everything seemed to slow. But then the edge of a table slammed against the side of her head.

A sharp pain exploded in her skull, and everything went black.

When Y/N's eyes fluttered open again, she was groggy, disoriented. Her head throbbed, a dull ache pulsing with each heartbeat. The world around her was a blur, but she could just make out the dim light of the apartment, the faint scent of leather and smoke still lingering.

It took a moment to register the feeling of rough rope cutting into her wrists.

Dimitri was sitting across the room, picking at the skin on his fingers nervously. He seemed less the confident figure from before, more like someone desperately trying to keep it together.

Y/N tested the ropes around her wrists, her mind clearing faster now. She was in a tight spot, but this wasn't a total loss yet.

"I didn't want to hurt you, Y/N" Dimitri said without turning his head to face her, his voice firm but not unkind. Y/N frowned slightly, almost unnoticeable, when he mentioned her name. He found out who you were. "But you shouldn't be here."

Y/N smirked, even as she flexed her wrists against the ropes. "Did you really think tying me up would stop me?" she asked, raising an eyebrow. "You're not exactly in control here, Dimitri."

He stopped at that, his shoulders stiffening, but he didn't respond right away. When he finally turned, his eyes met hers with a cold resolve. "I'm not trying to stop you from leaving. I'm trying to stop you from taking what's mine."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "The knife? You really think your father's going to notice you for this?" Her voice was softer now, probing.

Dimitri's expression faltered for a brief moment. Just a flicker, but it was there. Why did this woman know so much about his family? "I don't need his approval," he said, though his voice lacked the conviction it had earlier. "Who the fuck sent you?"

For a moment, the two of them just stared at each other, a silent standoff. Y/N's mind was racing, considering her options. She wasn't going to escape from the ropes without help, and she wouldn't give out information about the people who hired her so easily. She still needed that money she'd been promised.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him with renewed interest. "You're not really going to keep me here forever, are you? I mean, we both know you don't want that. You don't want me tied up in your apartment," she said, ignoring his question.

His gaze flicked to the ropes around her wrists, and his jaw clenched. He seemed to wrestle with himself for a moment, the internal battle playing out across his face.

He didn't answer right away, instead taking a step closer to her. The distance between them was still significant, but she could feel the weight of his attention, the way he studied her, as if trying to decide if he could trust her.

"I don't know," he admitted after a long pause. "I don't know what's worse. Letting you go or… keeping you here. But either way, I won't just give up the knife. It’s mine."

Before Y/N could respond, a loud knock echoed from the hallway, followed by the sound of footsteps. Dimitri's body stiffened, his eyes wide. He turned abruptly, his gaze locking on the door, panic flashing across his face.

Y/N's pulse quickened. Dimitri wasn't exactly subtle in his reaction, and she could tell that whoever was coming wasn't someone he wanted to see.

Dimitri quickly moved across the room, a frantic urgency in his steps. "You need to hide," he hissed under his breath, rushing toward her. "Now."

Before Y/N could even ask what was going on, Dimitri was untangling the ropes around her wrists, his hands quick but rough. "Move," he urged, not meeting her eyes. "I'll deal with this. You just- stay quiet."

Y/N blinked, caught off guard by his sudden change in demeanor. She could've run. He wasn't just afraid, he was terrified. But before she could say anything, he half-guided, half-shoved her toward another room. She didn't run.

"Stay in here. Don't make a sound," he whispered, practically shoving her into the room before quickly closing the door behind her.

Y/N stood still in the dark, her heart racing. She could hear Dimitri's footsteps retreating to the living room, just as the front door creaked open. She quickly glanced around the room. It was his bedroom. The big king-sized bed took in most of the space, the faint smell of expensive cologne and cigars lingered in the air, the same as it had in the living room. The windows were big with a great view over London, but the they were no escape; way too high and there was nothing to climb on outside.

There was no way out.

Y/N huffed, turning toward the door. She pressed herself against the wall, barely breathing.

"Dimitri," a voice drawled, deep, and unmistakable. Sergei. Dimitri's older brother.

Y/N could hear the clinking of metal, the sound of someone stepping into the living room she'd been tied up in a minute ago. Dimitri was standing nervously by the big marble table, trying to look casual, but his body language was stiff with tension.

"Sergei," Dimitri greeted, his voice too high-pitched. "What's up?"

There was an amused chuckle from the doorway as Sergei saw the ropes laying on the floor, clearly used. He sniffed the air, his eyes narrowing, his nose twitching. "I smell perfume."

Y/N held her breath now, too scared of giving herself away.

"I don't know what you're talking about," his younger brother said, and Sergei wasn't convinced, but he didn't seem to want to press. Instead, he gave Dimitri a long, sidelong glance and a toothy grin. "You know, I just wanted to check on you on your birthday but you seem like you're having fun. Just make sure it's all consensual."

Dimitri's face went bright red, his eyes darting to the ropes on the floor and then back to Sergei. "It's not-" he started, his voice cracking before he cleared his throat. "I mean, it's not what you think."

Sergei's grin widened, clearly enjoying his brother's discomfort. He leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "No need to explain, little brother. You're a grown man now. Who you bring into your home is none of my business."

Dimitri shifted awkwardly, running a hand through his hair. Y/N, still pressed against the wall in the bedroom, bit back a smirk. She could practically hear the nervous energy radiating off Dimitri, his attempt at nonchalance falling flat. If this was how he usually handled himself, she could see why he was desperate to impress someone or anyone to be honest.

Sergei sniffed the air again, his brow furrowing slightly. He glanced around the apartment one last time, his gaze lingering on the ropes for just a beat longer than comfortable. "Well, happy birthday, Dima. Enjoy your… evening."

With that, he turned and left, the door clicking shut behind him.

The moment Sergei was gone, Dimitri let out a long, shaky breath, leaning heavily against the table. He stayed like that for a moment, his head bowed, before he finally pushed himself upright and made his way back to the bedroom.

Y/N, now sitting on the side of her opponents bed, raised an eyebrow as he opened the door, his face still flushed. "So," she said, her voice dripping with amusement, "happy birthday."

Dimitri groaned, running a hand down his face. "Don't."

"Oh, come on," she teased, crossing her arms. "That was adorable. 'Just make sure it's all consensual.' Your brother thinks you're tying up your dates for fun."

"I said don't," Dimitri snapped, though the crack in his voice and the flush in his cheeks betrayed any attempt at authority. He turned his back to her, pacing a few steps into the room like he didn't know what to do with himself.

He leaned heavily against the doorframe, his head bowed, the flush of embarrassment still painting his cheeks. The air between them was thick with tension, and Y/N could see the cracks in his composure. This was a man teetering on the edge, caught between his desperation to prove himself and the weight of his insecurities.

Y/N tilted her head, studying him carefully. "You're really desperate to make daddy proud, are you?" She teased.

The words hit like a whip. His head turned slightly, just enough for her to see the muscle in his jaw tighten. When he faced her fully, his expression was caught somewhere between fury and humiliation. "Shut up. You don't know anything about me."

"Did I strike a nerve?" she asked, feigning innocence. She didn't back down, even when he took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "I know more about you and your little family than you think."

For a moment, Dimitri said nothing, just stared at her with a mixture of frustration and something else. Something more vulnerable. He stepped back suddenly, scrubbing his hands over his face as if trying to compose himself. "I didn't ask for this," he muttered. "Any of it."

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. "Then why are you doing it?" she asked, softer now.

"Because I have to," Dimitri said quietly, as if the words cost him something. "You wouldn't understand."

Y/N let out a low laugh, shaking her head. "Try me."

He didn't answer. Instead, he turned sharply and left the room, leaving her alone. She considered making a break for it but dismissed the thought just as quickly. She heard Dimitri rummaging around in the other room, muttering under his breath. When he returned, he carried a glass of water and a small first-aid kit. He placed them both on the nightstand and glanced at her, still visibly conflicted.

"You hit your head. I don't need you bleeding all over my carpet," he said gesturing to the expensive looking white rug beneath his bed.

"Aw, you're so caring," she teased. "You're just full of surprises."

He rolled his eyes but didn't rise to the bait. Instead, he opened the kit and pulled out some antiseptic. She couldn't help but notice how his fingers trembled, though whether it was from nerves or something else, she couldn't tell.

"Why didn't you give me up to Sergei?" she asked suddenly, watching his face closely.

He froze, his hand hovering over the cotton swab. "What?"

"You could've sold me out. Told him I was here to steal your precious knife. Hell, you could've made me out to be some assassin sent to take you out, and I bet he would've believed you. But you didn't." She leaned forward, her gaze narrowing. "Why?"

Dimitri avoided her eyes, his jaw tightening as he busied himself with the cotton swab. He dabbed at it with antiseptic, the sharp scent filling the air.

"I didn't do it for you," he muttered, finally meeting her gaze, though his expression was guarded. "If Sergei knew why you were here, it'd be more than just my problem. He'd take over, and then my father would find out. And I…" He hesitated, the words seeming to catch in his throat. "…I can't let that happen."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "So this is about you, then? Self-preservation?"

He flinched at her tone, a flicker of guilt crossing his face. "You don't understand," he snapped, but there was no anger in his voice. Just frustration, layered over something deeper. "If my father finds out I let someone break in here, I'm done. This is my one chance to prove I'm not… worthless."

His voice cracked on the last word, and for a moment, Y/N saw past the posturing and panic to the insecurity he tried so hard to hide.

"Prove you're not worthless by what? Guarding a knife?" she asked, her tone softer now. "Seems like a pretty low bar."

Dimitri scoffed, shaking his head. "You wouldn't get it. My father doesn't care about anything but power, control, appearances. If I can't do this one thing right…" He trailed off, his hands gripping the first-aid kit as if it were the only thing grounding him.

Y/N watched him in silence, piecing together the picture of a man who was just as trapped as she was. Though by very different circumstances.

"Well," she said finally, her voice light but not unkind, "if it makes you feel any better, you did technically stop me." She smirked, gesturing to her still-sore head.

Dimitri's lips twitched, almost forming a smile, but he quickly smothered it. "You don't know when to shut up, do you?" He had almost forgotten to patch up her wound. The blood was slowly drying up, as he slowly dabbed the cotton pad around her temple to clean it up. Y/N scrunched her face up in pain when he alcohol seeped into the small cut. She could've easily fought him now. But she didn't, and Dimitri asked himself why. For a moment, he focused on her wound, dabbing carefully despite the slight tremor in his hands. The silence between them felt heavy, filled with unspoken questions and tension neither of them seemed ready to address. He avoided her gaze, keeping his attention on the task as if it were the most important thing in the world.

She smirked, but there was something softer in her expression now. Something almost curious. She could feel his hands trembling, could see the way his eyes darted to her face when he thought she wasn't looking. He was scared. Of her, maybe, but also of whatever was going on in his own head.

Y/N took a deep breath, the words forming carefully in her mind. "Take me to him."

Dimitri froze, his expression a mix of shock and suspicion. "What?"

"You need proof, right?" she continued, keeping her tone even. "Proof that you can protect what's yours. That you're not just some screw-up who let a thief waltz in and take it. If you bring me to him – alive, empty-handed – you'll have a trophy. Evidence that you stopped me."

Dimitri stared at her, his brows furrowing as he processed her words. "Why would you do that?" he asked, his voice low and cautious. "Why would you help me?"

"I'm not helping you," she said quickly. "I'm helping myself. We make a deal."

"A deal?" He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

"I need money," she said bluntly. "Since I'm not getting it for a failed mission, here's a pitch: you tell your father I broke in, but I didn't find anything because you stopped me before I could take the knife. You get your moment of spotlight and I walk away with cash. From you."

Dimitri's expression hardened, his jaw tightening as he stared at her like she'd just offered him a poisoned chalice. "You think my father's going to be proud of me me for letting a thief break into my apartment? For showing up with you instead of throwing you in some ditch?"

Y/N smirked, tilting her head. "He might. If you frame it right. I didn't let her break in; I stopped her. She didn't get the knife. I captured her, proved I'm not useless." Her voice dropped an octave, mimicking a deep, commanding tone. "You'd look like a hero, wouldn't you?"

Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, his fingers fidgeting at the hem of his sleeve. She could see the flicker of doubt, the hesitation, and maybe, just maybe, a hint of hope behind his eyes.

"I don't need your help to prove myself," he muttered, his voice lacking conviction.

Y/N leaned forward, her voice low and confident. "Oh, but you do. Because I know you, Dimitri. You're not like him. You don't have his power or Sergei's ruthlessness. But you have this-" she gestured toward herself, "and if you play it smart, you might finally get his attention."

His lips parted as if to argue, but no words came out. Instead, he looked away, jaw clenched, the internal battle playing out across his face.

"And what if he doesn't care?" Dimitri finally asked, his tone sharp but brittle. "What if he laughs in my face and says I'm still a screw-up? What happens then?"

Y/N shrugged, keeping her expression neutral. "That's not my problem. You get me the money we agree on, and I disappear. Whatever happens between you and Daddy Dearest after that? That's on you."

Dimitri narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms defensively. "How much?"

"Sixty thousand."

His eyes widened. "Sixty- are you insane?"

"Twice as much as I was offered," she said with a shrug, unfazed. "I figure someone like you can afford it. Or are you telling me the youngest Kravinoff is broke?"

His cheeks flushed a deep red, and he turned away, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he muttered under his breath.

"What was that?" she asked, tilting her head mockingly, her tone laced with amusement.

"I said fine!" he snapped, spinning to face her. His voice cracked slightly, but he quickly regained composure. "You'll get your money. Just- just don't screw this up."

Y/N smiled, satisfied. "Now we're talking."

Dimitri let out a heavy sigh, rubbing the back of his neck as if the weight of their deal was already pressing down on him. He turned away, pacing the room as he muttered something under his breath.

"So," she said, breaking the silence. "What's the plan? Are we just going to march into your father's estate like it's show-and-tell?"

Dimitri stopped pacing, his jaw tightening. "It's not that simple," he said sharply. "If I'm going to bring you to him, I need to make it look… convincing."

"Convincing, huh?" Y/N crossed her arms casually. "What's that supposed to mean? You're not planning on tying me up again, are you?"

His face flushed. "No," he snapped, too quickly. "I mean- I can't just walk in with you looking like this." He gestured vaguely at her, his frustration bubbling over. "You don't exactly scream 'dangerous thief.' You look-"

"Careful, Kravinoff," Y/N cut in, her tone sharp. "Finish that sentence, and I might reconsider our little deal."

"I won't take you to him," he started and Y/N almost interrupted him with protests but he continued before she could say anything. "I'll bring him here. He'll see you, tied up on that chair."

Y/N raised an eyebrow as he paced up an down in his bedroom, puzzling together a plan. "So I'll be tied up again? Great," she said, leaning back on her arms. She was starting to get tired and the bedding felt pretty comfortable under her hands.

"Yeah. You- You'll be unconscious! Or at least play unconscious.

Y/N blinked, barely suppressing a laugh. "Unconscious? That's your master plan?"

Dimitri stopped pacing to glare at her, his cheeks tinged with embarrassment. "Do you have a better idea?" he snapped. "Because if we don't make this convincing, my father will see through it in an instant. He'll know it's a setup, and trust me, neither of us walks away from that."

She tilted her head, studying him. The nervous energy radiating off him, the way he avoided her eyes when he mentioned Nikolai. It wasn't just fear of failure driving him. It was something deeper. Something personal. "Alright," she said after a moment, her tone softening. "Unconscious it is. But if you tie me up too tight this time, we're gonna have problems."

Dimitri let out a breath he didn't seem to realize he was holding, nodding sharply. "Fine. I'll make it believable without… overdoing it."

"Good boy," she said with a smirk, watching as his ears reddened. "Now, what's your big plan for when he actually gets here? You think Nikolai's just going to pat you on the back and call it a day?"

His jaw tightened, his eyes darting away from her. "I'll handle him," he said, though there was no confidence in his voice. "That's not your concern. You just play your part."

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "Bold of you to assume I'll just sit quietly and let you sell this performance without input."

"You'll have no choice," he shot back, his voice firmer this time. "If this goes wrong, you won't get your money. So do us both a favor and keep your theatrics to a minimum."

"Sure thing, partner," she drawled, leaning back on her elbows with an amused glint in her eye.

Dimitri glared at her, but she caught the flicker of amusement behind his eyes.

"Alright," he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now. "Let's get this over with."

Y/N grinned, flexing her wrists. "By all means, Kravinoff. Tie me up. Again."

-

The sharp click of approaching footsteps echoed through the apartment. Y/N, bound and pretending to be unconscious, kept her breathing slow and even, her head hanging low, hair in her face as if she'd passed out. Every muscle in her body was tense, ready to spring into action if needed.

The air shifted, colder somehow, as Nikolai Kravinoff stepped into the room. His presence was imposing, his tall frame casting a long shadow in the dimly lit apartment. Dimitri stood stiffly by the door, his shoulders square but his hands fidgeting at his sides. A nervous habit he couldn't quite suppress.

Nikolai's gaze swept across the room, landing immediately on Y/N. His sharp features twisted into something between approval and disdain. "So," he began, his voice low and gravelly, "this is the thief who dared to challenge our family?" He approached her, his boots barely making a sound against the carpeted floor. "She doesn't look like much."

Dimitri swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. "She got in," he said, trying to keep his tone steady. "But she didn't get out. I stopped her before she could take the knife."

Nikolai turned his head slightly, giving his youngest son a scrutinizing look. "Did you, now?"

"Yes," Dimitri said quickly. "She was fast, but I was faster. I managed to subdue her before she could escape." He gestured to the knife, now prominently displayed on the table beside them. "The knife is still here, untouched."

Nikolai stepped closer to Y/N, his sharp eyes studying her as though she were an insect pinned under glass. He reached out, almost absently, and grasped her chin, tilting her face toward him. Y/N fought the urge to flinch, keeping her body limp and her breathing shallow.

"You tied her up and left her alive," Nikolai observed, his tone unreadable. "Interesting choice. Most would've ended the threat."

Dimitri's throat worked as he struggled to find an answer. "I thought you'd want to see her," he said finally. "To question her. She might have information about who sent her."

His father let the silence hang for a beat, then let out a quiet sigh. "You finally achieved something. I'll give you that." There was no pride in his voice, only the acknowledgment of the bare minimum. "But don't get comfortable. This doesn't change anything."

Dimitri didn't respond, his jaw clenched as he fought to keep his composure under his father's sharp gaze.

"I don't care for information from a little girl." There was an almost unnoticeable pause before he added, "She's your responsibility. If she becomes a problem, it's your head. Do with her what you will, but if she proves to be more trouble than she's worth…"

He didn't finish the thought, but the implication was clear. He turned toward the door, his footsteps heavy and purposeful as he walked away. As the door clicked shut behind him, the room seemed to breathe again, though the atmosphere remained thick with unspoken words. Dimitri stood frozen for a moment, his eyes still on Y/N. He wasn't sure what to feel. His father's words echoed in his mind: You finally achieved something. But it didn't feel like a victory. It felt like he had done the bare minimum, like a child who had only met the lowest expectation.

Dimitri exhaled sharply, his breath shaky as he looked to Y/N. She was still tied to the chair, her eyey fixated on him as if she was trying to read him, but she didn't dare to say anything. The silence between them stretched long.

He should feel proud, right? But all he felt was a gnawing emptiness in his chest, the way he always did when his father's praise was nowhere to be found. No approval. No pride.

Finally, he took a hesitant step toward her, kneeling down in front of the chair. His hands trembled as he began untying the thick ropes. He could feel the tightness in his chest, the heat of unshed tears threatening to spill, and he hoped Y/N wouldn't notice. But of course, she did.

Once her hands were free, she reached up, her fingers gentle as she brushed away a blonde lock of hair that had fallen in front of his eyes. Her touch was soft, almost soothing, and it made the weight of his emotions feel even more suffocating.

"You're not so tough, are you?" Y/N said quietly, her voice low but not unkind. "Not as much as you like to pretend."

Dimitri's gaze dropped, and he clenched his jaw. He didn't want to show it. He didn't want to give her any more reason to see him as weak. But the truth was, he'd been feeling that way for far longer than he wanted to admit.

His throat tightened as he finally looked back at her. "I didn't want this," he said, the words escaping before he could stop them. "But it's like… it's like I'm stuck, Y/N. I can't win, no matter what I do."

Y/N's fingers paused on his face, and she studied him for a long moment. The way he was kneeling in front of her, sad and vulnerable, did something to her. There was something in her eyes, something like understanding, but she didn't speak right away. Instead, she just let her hand linger there, her thumb brushing against his skin in a way that made him feel exposed.

"You're not stuck, Dimitri," she said softly. "You just haven't figured out how to break free yet."

He sniffed, wiping a small tear with the back of his hand without looking at her. Then, without another word, he stood up and left the room for a moment. When he returned, he was holding a stack of cash.

"Forty." he said, his voice almost sheepish. "This is all I've got lying around right now. You can come back for the rest later." He walked over to her, his eyes briefly flicking toward her before he handed her the money, his fingers brushing hers just slightly. She took it, her gaze flickering up to meet his.

She didn't say anything, just glanced at the cash in her hands. The silence lingered, but this time it felt different. Less tense, more contemplative.

Dimitri shifted uncomfortably, looking away. "Just get out, alright?"

Y/N smiled faintly but didn't argue. She could feel his tension, the quiet storm brewing beneath his guarded exterior. There was something else there, something more than just their deal. But she wasn't going to press him for answers Not yet

"Fine," she said simply, slipping the money into her pocket. "But I'll be back for the rest. Don't think you're getting off that easy."

Dimitri didn't reply, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes. Something almost like relief, or maybe resignation. He nodded, his expression hardening once more as he turned away, but for the briefest moment, the distance between them felt just a little smaller.

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁ ⟡ ݁ . ⊹ ₊ ݁.

Part 2

[undreaming-fanfiction]

In honor of Easter...

Eddie Munson can't sleep. Maybe it was the almost expired can of spaghetti that he had for dinner, maybe it's the new campaign he's itching to plan, maybe it's being back in the Hawkins High with yet another fight for graduation he's bound to lose because his literature teacher was yet another victim of Danny Munson's petty crimes, and what better revenge than to repeatedly fail his son that Danny lost to social services ten years ago?

Or maybe it's the weird rustling under his window.

Now Eddie, he's a survivor. He runs, yes, but that's because there's nothing to protect. His honor? Oh please.

But if there's someone trying to break into the only real home he's ever known? That's different.

He grabs an empty beer bottle that he's been intending to throw out for a week or so and heroically - and stupidly - jumps out of his window. He expects to maybe land into a bush. Do a superhero landing or something.

What he doesn't expect is a pained wheeze and "what the fuck?!" yelled by his landing zone.

Eddie scrambles back to his feet and raises the bottle. Perhaps he should have broken it first to make it more threatening? He swings it against the trailer wall and it shatters almost completely, leaving him with a small ring of glass in hand.

The figure he landed on curses again and tries to scramble back on their feet.

Eddie raises the pitiful remains of the bottle. "Uh. Stop you...you scoundrel!" he threatens, except it doesn't sound like a threat, more like a plea. "Or I'll stab you with this..." he looks at the glass ring again, "...with this."

He hopes the intruder will flee. More likely, he's going to be jumped, punched and killed. But what Eddie absolutely does not expect is the town's pretty boy, Steve Harrington, dusting his knees and glaring at Eddie with hands on hips like a pissed off soccer mom. "Jesus Christ, Munson, are you trying to wake up the whole park?" he hisses.

Eddie suddenly feels very stupid. He lets go of the broken bottle and it lands in the dirt with a quiet clink. "Harrington? Uh...dude, I mean no disrespect and all, but why are you under my window?"

Steve's look could kill. "It's Easter tomorrow, what do you think I'm doing? Hiding eggs." He points to the basket full of eggs nearby.

It makes sense. Except it doesn't. Eddie pokes the eggs and they don't explode, so at least that's good. "Why on earth would you, Steve "the Hair" Harrington, be hiding eggs in a trailer park? Don't you have like, a fancy neighborhood to do this in? With Belgian chocolate eggs and champaigne for the bored moms and stuff like that?"

Steve sighs and runs fingers through his hair. Eddie notices with a pang of guilt that it's flattened where his foot landed. That's also a good moment to realize that he's only in his boxers and a t-shirt and barefoot.

But Steve doesn't seem to notice. He just vaguely gestures around. "Those neighborhoods have committees and stuff like that. And it's normal there. Look, I don't think local kids have a lot of good stuff going on. I know one of them, and she deserves to have one day like a normal kid, no worries, no thinking if her mom can afford it. So I'm preparing an egg hunt here. Or I was, before someone half-naked dropped on top of me and shattered a bottle over a pretty good hiding spot I found."

"Shit! Sorry!" Eddie immediately starts picking up the shards, or at least tries to in the dark. At least until a large hand grabs his own.

"Christ, Munson! Stop!" Steve hisses. "Do you want to cut yourself? I will just move the egg somewhere else and pick up the glass before it starts in the morning. And for fuck's sake, stop moving! Do you want to step on a shard?"

That finally calms Eddie down. He sighs and hangs his head down. "You know, Harrington, one might think you're a good dude. If one wasn't careful."

Steve nudges his side. "One should be careful. Now come on, I will give you a boost." When Eddie stares at him, he adds: "to your window. You want to go back to sleep, no?"

Eddie clears his throat. "Actually, I was thinking I'd love to grab my sneakers and help you, I know a lot of good hiding spots. Is that cool?"

Harrington thinks for a moment, then he nods. "Yep, cool. Now, do you need a lift?"

Back in the familiar clutter of his bedroom, Eddie thinks it was a fever dream, a hallucination from a food poisoning, the final revenge of the spaghetti can.

But then he hears Harrington whisper after him: "Don't you dare come out without those sneakers, Munson! No bare feet are getting near shattered glass on my watch!"

And Eddie just snickers, leans out of the window and whispers back: "For you, big boy? I'll even wear pants!"

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

I dont know if you done this already, but what about you logan x fem reader fic, where reader is the little sister of Charles xavier or Eric, and they keep their relationship secret, but then everyone finds out and readers brother gets really protective of her and has a talk with logan trying to scare him off but it doesn't work

.⋆｡Worst Possible Decision｡⋆.

Logan x plus size reader

How could Logan be stupid enough to fall for the little sister of an overprotective metal controlling mutant? As it turns out, very easily.

Warnings: angst, gunshots, burns/fire, fluff, protective!erik, descriptions of pain, reader is german but there’s no further description than vague references WC: 2.7k

A/N: This went a little off of the request but I hope you still like it and I’m sorry for how long it took!

Minors DNI

Library- @hannibals-favourite-meal-library

She was too much like her brother in a lot of ways, but at the same time, they couldn’t be more different. Where Erik could command any room he walked into, she blended, finding a home in the shadows where she could be hidden. He exuded confidence and a suave attitude that could charm anyone. She was meek, shy but with a power bubbling under the surface that felt like an even bigger threat than any her brother could come up with.

Erik shot first and asked questions later, Y/N wouldn’t ask, she would get all the answers she needed with a single look and then dispose of the trash without so much as a flick of her wrist. While Erik controlled metal, Y/N controlled pain.

Logan met the brother and sister duo long before the mutants were fractured. He noted how beautiful she was, even when he only glanced at her through his peripheral vision. She was curvy, with a belly and plump thighs. He told them to go fuck themselves.

The next time she saw him, she was alone. She seemed lopsided without her brother beside her, incomplete. Logan saw the way her hackles raised when Charles screamed at him to leave, calling him a liar. He saw how she flinched when Erik was mentioned. 

Wolverine knew what happened between them, the rift that hadn’t ever been healed, even after her death in the far future. He was stunned by her beauty then, finally seeing her in the flesh after so many years, alive and well. Logan pulled her to the side as soon as they were alone, embracing her. Y/N tried to push him off but when she felt his pain, the raw burning like his nerves were on fire, she wrapped her soft arms around him, easing him.

“Stay alive.” He told her. “Do whatever you have to, you have to live.” He pleaded before he was pulled back to the future but not without kissing her like it was the last time. He stole her breath away as he poured every ounce of love as he could into her lips. 

When Logan strolled into the Manor many years after that kiss, Y/N stayed away from him. He was so much younger, so much more whole. She could see now the pieces of him that would break away over the years and it hurt her. She knew what was going to happen to him, what had happened to him. But he cornered her eventually.

“You seem to already know who I am.” She shivered when she heard his voice call out to her from the infirmary door. 

“You made a very big impression on the school.” Her accent had long since disappeared, snuffed out by the need to be hidden, to be safe. She didn’t look at him, instead concentrating on cataloguing the new medical supplies that had been delivered the day before.

The mutant huffed, clearly not content with her answer. “You avoid me like the plague while everyone else is indifferent.” Her eyes flicked up to him briefly.

“Maybe I have decided that I already don’t like you. You did threaten to abandon a young mutant on the side of the road.” He scoffed at the mention of Rogue.

“She had it comin’.” He shrugged. “So what is it exactly that you do?” His large body lounged against the one hospital bed in the room. She couldn’t help but glance up at him. He was physically older, slight grey in his sideburns, more lines on his face but his eyes weren’t as sad, the deep brown swirling with emotions he was trying desperately to tamp down but hadn’t learned how yet. 

He was still incredibly handsome though. He walked with a confidence that came from youth, that blind faith in himself and his strength that made him cocky and untouchable. Y/N turned away. “I’m the school’s nurse, I thought that was pretty obvious, given I’m in the infirmary.”

Logan grunted, crossing his thick arms over his chest, holding a beer bottle between two of his fingers. “I was talkin about yer power, bub.” That made her smile, the corner of her lips turning up. She wouldn’t admit it out loud but she missed his attitude. 

“I control pain. It’s useful.” She shrugs off the question with a half answer. She picked up the last of the supplies on the infirmary bed, making a note on her clipboard before putting them away. 

She heard him huff and a silence settled over the room but it was not awkward or uncomfortable, it was just… silence. The beer in his bottle swished as he gulped down the last of the brew. The supply closet’s door swung shut with a creak and she chanced another look at the man.

She couldn’t ignore the way his muscles bulged so she forced herself to turn away. It would do her no good to get involved with him in any capacity, even if her heart screamed for him. Logan took the hint, leaving the infirmary with a grumble and a glance back at her.

It was impossible to completely avoid someone like Logan, even in a school as large as the academy. He seemed to appear in moments when her guard was down, lurking in the corner of her vision like a ghost. His blue eyes locked onto her whenever they would be in the same room, both undressing her and observing her with some morbid fascination.

But no matter how hard she tried, her lips still ached from that kiss all those years ago and her heart burned to know what would become of them in the future.

——————

“You seem awfully close with the professor.” The manor was silent, a much needed reprieve after the long day of classes in Logan’s case and lots of skinned knees in Y/N’s. An ancient record player crooned in the corner of the huge sitting room, bathing its two occupants in pleasant song which was quickly becoming more of a lullaby. The older mutant sat on one end of the couch with his companion lying across the rest, a thick book propped up on her chest and her sock-clad feet dangerously close to his lap.

She let the statement sink in for a moment as Logan took another sip from his glass of bourbon he had pilfered from Charles’s not-so-well hidden stash. “Are you asking me something or just talking out loud?” He rolled his eyes.

“What do you think darlin’?” He snapped but his usual condescending tone was replaced with a sarcastic tilt to his voice. Her lips quirked up and she shut her book, letting it rest on her sternum as she met his gaze.

“Yes, Charles and I are very close. I’m the same way with Hank and Alex, we’ve all been here since the beginning.” She knew her answer was one that was far more simple than he would’ve liked but she wouldn’t give him the full story unless he asked. 

Logan dropped his left hand from where it had been resting upon his chest onto his meaty thigh, the edge of his palm now just grazing the tip of her fuzzy socks. “Are you fucking him?” The question was so unexpected that Y/N choked on her own spit. She shot up as she coughed, tucking her legs beneath her. Too caught up in catching her breath, she missed the way his eyes dulled at the loss of her closeness.

“Scheiße.” The German naturally slipped from her lips and she thumped her chest with a closed fist. “God no! Having a telepath as a friend is bad enough, I could never imagine dating one.” He smirked, letting out a pleased chuff. 

“So…” He prompted. Y/N leaned back into the couch. They now sat side-by-side and Logan was able to study her profile as she eased the drink from his hand, finishing it off in one gulp.

Her face was solemn, haunted by something he couldn’t quite place, even in his many decades of life. She looked as if she were in mourning. “I traded one overprotective brother for another.” 

——————

Logan’s legs ached as he ran, the smoke from the fires that raged around him singed his senses. Flames licked up the sides of the manor as gunshots still echoed across the fields, even if the fighting had already stopped. They had come in the dead of night, guns and torches lighting their way. 

The school had always been a risk, especially being so close to town. But young mutants needed a place to go. It was inevitable that those who hated them would try to run them out, they all thought they had more time.

It was her voice that pulled Logan from his retreat. Laced with tears, she was comforting one of the older students as he nursed a severe burn to his arm. They were laid out in the grass which was still damp from the early morning dew. Y/N cupped his face with glowing hands and Logan could clearly see the pain that rippled through her.

More students gathered around them, each with an injury of their own, each begging for some kind of relief. Exhaustion painted her face as her body wound tight with agony. The ground shook as Logan dropped to his knees next to her. 

“Give me their pain.” She was withering away right before his eyes, driven only by a need to protect, to give the children comfort in the only way she knew how. She shook her head and instead moved to a girl who was no older than 13. A flesh wound cut across her leg, the edges of the wound burned with residual gunpowder. 

A sob escaped Y/N’s lips as she took the girl’s pain and Logan watched as the woman began to wither away. She was killing herself. 

“Give me their fucking pain.” He yanked her hands away from the girl and laid them on his broad chest. She thrashed in his hold in an attempt to pull away but he wouldn’t budge.

Her eyes met his and she froze. This was the moment that he had warned her about so many years before, a premonition that he would never remember. But to give her pain, her gift, to someone else, she couldn’t even fathom it. “Please.” He begged, squeezing her hands in his own. She was weakening, she doubted she could stop him even if she tried.

Logan felt like he was burning alive as gunshots ripped through his arms and legs. And yet he smiled at her and in that moment, something shifted between them. “That’s it doll face.” Heat rushed to her cheeks and it wasn’t because of the fire that still blazed behind them. 

——————

The sounds of power tools and hammers were almost constant nowadays as the mutants worked together to rebuild the crumbling school. Y/N strolled happily through the halls, the walls still blackened from the fire. The students were gone, taken home by their families or sent to safe houses around the country, leaving only a few teachers who wanted to lend a hand. 

“They’re working quite quickly.” Charles noted from his place where the greenhouse used to sit. A handful of people, including Logan, Hank, Alex and Rogue among others were steadily building a large room across the way- a brand new library.

Y/N chuckled as she handed him a cup of lemonade. “They have a goal to achieve. This school is important to all of us.” He grinned slyly at his long time friend. 

“I’m sure one of them has another motivation for working so hard.” His blue eyes flicked to the love bite that peaked from her collar. 

“Shut up.” She muttered with a kick to his wheelchair, Charles laughed under his breath as she walked away to the man responsible for her tender steps and slight limp. As much as Charles loved to tease, he loved even more that she was smiling again and the pain that always seemed to radiate from her mind was now a dull ache that was easily chased away by the touch of her lover. 

As soon as she was near enough, Logan abandoned his work, his full attention turned to her. Her laugh carried through the summer breeze like a bird song as he wrapped her up in his arms, lathering her face in kisses. The others rolled their eyes and continued their work as the couple embraced.

“I see my absence was not missed.” Erik’s cool tone froze Charles’s blood. 

Rage rolled off the mutant in waves as he glared at the man who was all over his precious sister. His knuckles turned pale and Charles could almost hear the way his muscles tensed. “Erik, what a surprise. I thought you were still on the run.” He looked up at his old friend though he almost didn’t recognise him. His eyes were so much older, his soul so much darker but yet, it was still him. 

Y/N had yet to notice her brother, too wrapped up in the arms of her lover but as she pressed another kiss to his cheek, Erik’s anger mounted. He knew what Logan was, knew exactly what pain he was capable of inflicting. “How long?” He growled.

“A couple months though I suspect that Logan had been pining for her since the moment he met her.” Perhaps it was optimistic of Charles to divulge details of their relationship to Erik, but he was a romantic at heart. “Logan saved her life, Erik.” 

Her laughter did nothing to ease the furrow in his brow but the way that Logan grabbed at her ample backside absolutely did something. 

“Logan?” Y/N asked curiously as the man in her arms suddenly froze and his eyes widened almost comically. “Are you ok?” She cupped his cheek and pain unlike anything she had ever imagined rocketed through her veins. Her bones felt like they were twisting in upon themselves, severing nerves and destroying her body from the inside out. She could feel Logan’s flesh move unnaturally as she pulled him closer to her.

“Logan!” Her hands pressed harder into his jaw in an attempt to steal the violent sensation from him but still, his chest echoed with his suffering.

“Erik enough!” Her head whipped around, as did the attentions of all the other mutants gathered around. The fury in his eyes was like nothing she had seen before, as if he was looking at a roach he had crushed under his boot. His knuckles paled with the force of his power. 

A howl of pain escaped Logan’s lips, finally breaking Y/N from her trance. “Release him or I’ll fucking break you.” She snarled and for just a moment, Erik faltered. 

His hold wavered briefly but it was enough for Charles to grab his wrist and completely break his focus. “This is beyond childish.” He scolded as Y/N pulled her partner behind her but her deadly glare remained firmly on her brother. Erik didn’t bother to respond, instead his shoulders dropped in surrender and Logan collapsed, the pain finally dissipating.

There was a flurry of movement as she fell to her knees and the others rushed to make sure they were alright. “She’s happy, she’s safe. Leave it alone.” But Erik ignored his friend. His Y/N was gone and perhaps she had been for years. This woman that threatened him when he hurt a boy, as he had done dozens of times in the past with no fight from her, was not the girl he grew up with.

She stood up straight all on her own. She didn’t need Erik to balance her nor Logan to push her up, perhaps that’s why her brother slipped out in the dead of night, leaving behind the one thing that kept him tethered to his humanity. Y/N would awaken the next morning in the protective hold of the man she loved and find a single coin, rusted with age and stained with dried blood on her nightstand. She knew that she would not hear from him again, Erik was dead, only Magneto remained.

The worst decision indeed.

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[evilminji]

Know what's been haunting me? And my Yandere loving brain?

What if... an SI-OC? Fffffucked UP™?

Like? STRAIGHT up "....Oh No. I have? GRAVELY miscalculated."? Cause? And I'm probably wrong here, or forgetting nuisances, but? Dooku? Left the order and began his Fall? NOT because he disagreed with the vast majority of Jedi philosophy... but?

Because of what the Jedi had BECOME.

Senate attack dogs. Indentured servants. Following NOT the Force or their Orders Mandate, but a mere GOVERMANT. Politicians. Straight into ruin and slaughter no less! It was vile. Corrupt. A perversion and degradation of HIS beloved Jedi Order.

He was proud and filled with grief, isolated. Palpatine chose well.

But! He was ALSO a Master Jedi with DECADES of Mastery under his belt. You do not become that with out clear vision of what you want. Who you ARE. And Dooku? Very CLEARLY planned on winning. Killing Sidious and taking his place. An unfortunate necessity, really. In his Grand Plan™.

Too?

Start over, obviously.

Instead of just leaving and starting a NORMAL Religious Schism, building a temple on Serrano, and publicly calling his old Council members lil bitchs. Slap fighting in the town square, as is traditional. Maybe sending pass aggressive notes back and forth in the hands of increasingly spoiled Padawan, because OUR temple at least FEEDS these POOR WAIFS. Etc etc?

Dude went the SITH route. Of... you know... "kill everybody".

Bit extreme. Just saying.

However! Dooku? Not well! In fact, DEEPLY unhinged and masterfully hiding it! Because he is, in fact, a MASTER jedi! And know how to fucking DO THAT. So that slow creep of Deepyly Crazy? No one sees it. Gives ya time to miss the countdown to Boom, as it were.

Which leads to our dearly beloved SI. She? Is a well meaning IDIOT. She can't help it. It's the Force, man. All that feel good juice, clogging up her brain! Making her? Optimistic! Vaguely perky! Wanting to see the GOOD in people!!!

Disturbing, she knows. But it is what it is.

And MASTER Dooku? Feels? Stern but warm. Stalwart. Like one of those ancient trees or great temples in a quite moment. Old and powerful, not necessarily KIND, but certainly not UNKIND. Just... fussy, you know? Proper. Collected and self contained. Doesn't like messy and dirty and needless noise.

So... what's an itty bitty Crecheling to do? To stop this Respected Master from falling? Well... Yoda seems to think "babies" works? And SHE is Baby...

Better scrub down so I'm EXTRA not "why are all children so... sticky?" and make my self look as presentable as possible. Then? Plan: Stalk the Respected Master Dooku Like A Duckling is a GO~! Yoda finds this INSTANTLY hilarious. Starts feeding her insider information (One of his many, later Great Regrets).

Dooku likes THIS tea. Meditates in THIS garden. Ask him about THIS subject, no one listens to him rant about it, he'll enjoy lecturing you about it for HOURS. She actually learns quite a lot! Man's a good teacher. And SHE? Is a dutiful, polite, thoughtful, shining young paragon example of what he feels the Jedi SHOULD be.

She LISTENS. Unlike his foolish peers. She tries to better herself, day by day, instead of running around screaming and playing in mud. Asks after etiquette from the courts he's traveled too, so she does not offend in the future. Does not react with blind disgust to questions others would deem heretical!

Instead? SHE comes from a JEDI place of approach with compassion and consultation of the Force. What creates the most GOOD? How can we strive for the kindest, most ethical, most equal social possible? What brings the universe the most Light? Where do OUR duties end and the duties of OTHERS begin, and when is it time to call them on their failings, should there be any?

It is? Delightful~ if he were not already committed to his path, he would seriously consider taking her on as a Padawn. Like the Granddaughter he never had. In FACT? He is conflicted. While he does not wish to lose the bright little light he has become so accustomed too? He should probably do what is best for her.

He IS leaving after all. Eventually. Perhaps after Qui-Gon finally knights his own padawn. He can convince the man to come with him. A talk between them has been so very, very long overdue. And the man is like a son to him. Young Obi-Wan is a fine young Jedi. Upstanding and collected, could use a bit of tempering. Outrageous flirt. It would be hilarious.

It's a good plan.... right up until it isn't.

Until the Council's BLINDNESS lead his SON to dying alone. For Sidious little games. And the place in HIS chosen lineage is USURPED by some WHINY SAND COVERED BRAT who can not CONTROL himself! No. NO.

Absolutely Not.

As far as HE is concerned? HIS lineage? Goes him, Qui-gon, Obi-Wan, and then SI-OC. No Sand Brat. Is he spiraling? Oh yes. Has been for a while. But now? NOW someone just kicked out a major support beam. The building is a'shaking. SI-OC is worried. Knows this could make or break his Fall.

Doesn't realize that ship has sailed LONG before she arrived.

Jedi Master's do not Fall over night. It is the slow erosion that kills them. Death by ten thousand cuts. He was already thousands deep. Bleeding and bleeding, beyond her abilities to heal. Yoda could have changed things. He is a Master. But a mere Crecheling? An untrained child? No. She stood no chance.

Does not realize that, as she stands in the heart of the storm. The center of the bear trap. As composed Master Dooku grieves and rages, hair disheveled and robes a mess. No, he can not come to the comm right now. No, he is not taking visitors, thank you. Please, Master Dooku. Please! Drink some tea? Eat? Something. Anything. I beg you.

It is a focal point. An anchor to cling to, in that great Fall. As SI-OC fusses with blankets and music that might help, pressing her small and fragile light against his shields like a comforting weight. As though trying to protect him from the pain. As though ANYTHING could protect him.

Sits with him, in remembrance.

Comes with him, to the funeral.... where stands the sand brat. At HER Master's side. As though enough has not been stolen. How dare he? How dare THEY? To allow this!? Hatred festers. Rage. The mania that Darkness brings. He sees now. Ooooo ho ho, does he now see.

The Order has become Rotten. It cannot be saved. The Jedi have lost their way.

The old must be purged... and they must begin again.

It's all so CLEAR now. So simple. The path forward. Its so obvious now, HE is not leaving, oh no, THEY are leaving. It would be madness to leave a vulnerable Crecheling in such unfettered corruption. Exposed to the nonexistent mercies of Sidious and his ilk. Not to mention, Force knows what filth they'd attempt to stuff in her head behind his back!

Knight Kenobi is an adult. Can comport himself and defend his person. SI-OC can not. She is just a youngling. Should have BARELY been a padawn. But... things have changed.

SI-OC fall asleep, comfortable and certain she is perfectly safe, in MASTER Dooku's apartments. Just another Tea Time and obscure Force Philosophy lecture. Maybe some hands-on etiquette lessons. There are many, MANY different ways to take tea. And... man... the room is so cozy. Always so comfortable and tastefully inviting. Warm an... an snoozy... feelin... *thunk of a small child falling over, dead to the world*

Drugged? Sleep suggestion? Soothing bedtime tea? Yes. Yes, he did. She stood literally negative chances. He scoops up HIS granddaughter and leaves droids to pack the rest. Tucks her under his cloak. No one thinks to even check. Who would? He is trusted. Respected. It is well known how he dotes upon the child. Old age has softened him, some jest.

The dangers of attachment indeed. But it is not HIM who is in danger. It is HER who his attachment endangers. Because he can not let go. WILL NOT. Because it can crossed from caring to obsessive. Possessive. To mine, mine, mine.

Children are not property. Not toys or trophies. Teddy bears to squeeze until your hurt stops. They are living, breathing, entities in their own right. Which is something a JEDI would be able to accept. The SITH? No. No, see, his Great-grandpadawn is HIS. This is HIS family. HIS Jedi order. HIS plan to "fix" everything.

She done fucked up.

She wakes up on a ship to Serrano with COUNT Dooku.

His... his eyes turn Interesting Colors now. Ha ha... she is... staying Very Calm. It is REALLY important to stay VERY calm. No sudden movements. We Do Not startle the Darksider! Eeeeeeverones FRIENDS here! R-Right?

Oh of course. Nothing to be worried about, dear. You're just going to his Manor until the NEW temple is finished. (Neat. Terrifying. So, SO many horrifying parts of that sentence). And SI-OC? Pulls the good ol "never argue with the crazy person with a gun" technique. Smile and Nod! Mmmmhmmm! G-great! Can't wait!

(Oh god, help me)

War breaks out. She's on THE Separatist planet. But not? Before crazy grandpa? Has hired bounty hunters to find him force sensitive kids. You know, for the NEW Jedi order. Because we're all pretending here. Smile and nod, fellow hostages. For the love of the Force, smile and nod.

She's not entirely even certain half these children were from families that WANTED to give them up. It makes her sick to think about.

She still has to have Tea Time. Because she, a child, is the HEAD of the New Order. And he has decades of Jedi knowledge to impart. Also? Lonely and fixating. We're a happy family. Because I say so and have hostages. That's why you love you, don't you dear? *SI-OC with a wide, terrified hostage smile* mmmmhmm!

The Jedi? Have figured out what happened. Crecheling mysteriously disappeared at the same time a Count Dooku? They originally thought she tried to follow him. Got lost or grabbed by slavers. But now... NOW? Oh Force they know they horrifying truth. The Darksider stole a CHILD.

Everyone remembers SI-OC. She was the sweet little duckling. Well behaved and polite. A kind child. Worried for Count Dooku. And now look at what's happened?! The CIS is trotting out the "head" or their "new order" and it's their lost Crecheling. Now a teenager. Terror in her eyes and a fixed jedi smile.

The Creche Masters have to be physically dragged away from stealth ships. (They're just going to talk! They're jUST GOING TO TAL-!!!) Plo Koon is fucking HELPING and that's NOT helpful! No, your commander do NOT have "a point"! You can not do just a "little bit" of murder as "a treat"!

A certain Quinlan Vos? Never heard of him, of course, rocks up to this New Order with a smoothie. Has betrayed the OLD order and the Republic. Definitely for realisies and not because he's here to spy! Heeeeey, kiddo. How you holding up?

Answer? Oh THANK GOD, AN ADULT JEDI! Halp! Followed by gross sobbing. So... you know... not GREAT. Wouldn't recommend it.

But! The INTEL. Sweet holy shit, kid. Chips. Palpatine. Dooku behind the Clones. Everything ELSE she's quietly been noting down. Uuuuh, yeah. Yeah that WILL be... real useful.... Holy shit. No, seriously, give him a second. Just like that? Huh. Didn't even have to convince you. Wow. Okay.

Well then! Let's fuck over some Sith!

How the Shadows go about it? Probably very action movie and nail biting. High octane. Sweet big budget cgi effects. They get the De-chipped clones involved. Fox gets to finally, FINALLY shoot his boss. Never a happier man. He deserves it.

But that's not important. What IS? Is Quinlan Vos? Showing up to the Temple, with a burger and smelling strongly of smoke, and like.... over 450 force sensitive younglings, teenage and below. And probably a litter of tookas. Because what? Were they supposed to LEAVE them?

She takes One(1) step into the temple and gets hit with like? Three generations of Guilt Complexes. Man Pain. Yoda, Obi-Wan, AND Anikin? Mother FUCKER, you were 9! What were you supposed to DO? Bite him?! You literally JUST GOT HERE. *SI-OC has used Logic against Skywalker Guilt... it is not very effective!*

When? When will she be freeeeeeee? Cannon Yoda had the right idea.

She should go hide in a fucking SWAMP.

@babbling-babull @legitimatesatanspawn @spidori @lolottes @hypewinter @mayfay @hdgnj

[advisorykitty]

Idk if I asked this already but can you do Randal x extremely nice/pushover! reader headcanons

Randal X Pushover Reader

Headcannons!!

You were Randal’s only friend, drawn to his strange but lonely vibe. You started dating because you were too nice to say no.

You agree to everything Randal wants, even his weird hobbies like collecting creepy dolls or exploring abandoned places and playing video games.

Randal will casually say things like “You’re mine forever,” but he says it with a weirdly sweet (yet unsettling) smile.

Unlike everyone else, Randal never tries to scare you. Instead, he just creepily watches you until you notice him. Something like "Oh hey! about time you notice me~"

If someone is rude to you, Randal will offer to make them “disappear,” though you always decline with a nervous laugh.

He gifts you a doll that looks eerily like you. You accept it even though it makes you uncomfortable.

Randal has no concept of personal space. He’ll randomly appear while you’re brushing your teeth or reading, just wanting your attention.

You can’t say no to Randal’s odd requests, like exploring creepy buildings or helping him name his dolls. Sometimes even straight up trespassing .

Randal constantly reminds others that “she’s mine,” in a way that makes people unsure if he’s joking.

Probably explains why no-one longer talks to you in class

Which is great for him since you have more time to spend together!

Sebastian thinks you’re too nice for your own good and encourages you to stand up for yourself, but you never do.

Luther offers you vague, slightly creepy advice like “You can always leave if he gets too much,” which leaves you unsure if you should laugh or worry.

And you find yourself contemplating what facial expressions to make when he says something (like is he trying to be funny or serious?)

Nyen teases you about putting up with Randal, while Nyon avoids being around when the two of you are together, clearly uncomfortable.

You’ll sit through hours of some wierd anime or eat Randal’s questionable cooking, just because you don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Onetime he tried making shitake soup probably saw it in an anime

He used poisonous mushrooms that he found, and you were sick for a week

If you’re stressed, Randal insists, “I’ll handle it, don’t worry,” though you’re never entirely sure what that means.

Another time while you were at school and unbeknownst to you had been getting bullied.

The next day the bullies magically didn't show up to class. Who could of thought 🙀🙀

MINI-INTERVIEWS!!

Nyen: "She’s soft, too soft. I don’t get why she sticks around Randal like that. He’s weird, but she’s worse for putting up with it. If it were me? I’d leave. No one’s worth that much patience. Maybe she likes being treated like one of his dolls. I don’t care. She’s just... there. Nothing special." Shrugs."Whatever." Nyen doesn't really care for you. As long as you stay out his way, he'll stay out of yours. However, he is interested in seeing what it takes to break your facade.

Luther:

"Sie ist... nett. Too nice. I’ve told her—several times—that she can leave Randal whenever she wants, but she stays. Warum? No idea." He shrugs slightly, voice monotone. "Maybe she likes suffering. Patience like hers is rare but fragil. We’ll see how long it lasts. But she’s... not terrible. Just... too kind." Luther enjoys your company. If he can even enjoy it, you're helpful and don't complain?? 5 stars already. He's still confused about how patient you, but humans like your are his favourite!

Randal:

"She’s mine, forever. No take-backs. I love how she never says no, like she’s meant for me. She’s kind of like a doll, you know? Only real, and much better. I won’t let her leave. She’s perfect the way she is, even if she doesn’t know it yet." Loves you alot, maybe to much. You spend majority of your time with him and he makes sure of that! Not like you can say no anyway.

Sebastian:

"She's uh.. okay?? I don't know how she has so much patients with Randal though... atleast it keeps thing off me for a while when she's around."

Similarly to Nyen, he doesn't care much for you, but he is thankful that you keep the heat of him when Randal is busy talking to you.

Nyon:

"She's..... nice.. too nice. Strange, too, not like Randal. Good. Strange.." He's not much of an extrovert, but he does see you as somewhat extraordinary. It's not often you meet someone who isn't cynical. However, he does sometimes feel bad for you when you have to endure Randal daily; you don't see him much, so you can't exactly regulate an opinion.

[sunderwight]

contemplating an SVSSS fic where Airplane transmigrates into Tianlang Jun instead of Shang Qinghua.

he wakes up before Tianlang Jun was about to walk into the HH Palace Master's plot, but too late to really do much about Su Xiyan's situation or the frame job. of course, being Airplane, he doesn't go face down the sects and get sealed under a mountain. but he also doesn't know what to do about the whole situation with Luo Binghe.

he was too vague in his outline and especially in his actual story. finding Xiyan or possibly some random washer woman who lives along the Luo river is a needle in a haystack situation, and he didn't ask for any of this to happen to him, so he just ends up leaving it alone. Tianlang Jun goes back to the demon realms with his confused (but relieved) nephew, and works on consolidating his power there and on thwarting the attempted incursions of Huan Hua Palace.

HHP has egg on their face because they riled up the other sects and got them into this alliance/ambush plot and then the heavenly demon they were supposed to fight didn't even show up. hasn't even been seen in the human world since. while HHP tries to spin it as them being so strong and formidable that they scared him off, the other sects feel like they're just blowing hot air and trying to take credit for something that never even happened. was that head disciple of theirs even involved with a demon at all? suspicious how she just disappeared, too. maybe it's a cover-up. no one's particularly impressed or convinced after the fact that HHP's claims are on the level.

which at least means that there's no concerted effort to wage a war or anything. Tianlang Jun meets a young Mobei Jun and Airplane decides to expend a lot of time and energy in helping the young prince consolidate his own power, so that's a whole thing. there's no system so Airplane's not obliged to preserve the plot, but he still knows it's out there and he's gotta skirt the line between giving MBJ absolute power on a silver platter and not setting MBJ up to be killed by the protagonist one day.

there are benefits and problems to TLJ mostly leaving Luo Binghe's whole journey untouched. on the one hand, he anticipates that everything around Luo Binghe will continue just like in the novel, so that's easy to predict. but on the other hand, that means he's in for some trouble when the blackened protagonist emerges all super-powered and unbeatable from the abyss and starts taking revenge on everyone who wronged him (a category which potentially includes the deadbeat dad who abandoned him for years).

so as the time of the immortal alliance conference approaches, Tianlang Jun starts to think that he needs to get ahead of this.

the most logical solution is to prevent Luo Binghe becoming quite as OP of a protagonist as he'd been the first time. since TLJ is plenty powerful himself (one of the things Airplane enjoys! as well as being very rich!) LBH really does need every edge he could possibly get to be a threat to him. so, why let him gain those edges?

this leads to TLJ's brilliant plan: just don't let Luo Binghe get thrown into the Endless Abyss! no blackening, no all-powerful weapon, no gauntlet of monsters to hone his skills, just a run-of-the-mill heavenly demon hybrid who could never in a million years take his old man in a fight!

TLJ decides he can two-birds-with-one-stone this situation by capturing Shen Qingqiu. then, one day if LBH does still make it to his doorstep, he can present him with his hated scum villain as a peace offering. like well son I know I abandoned you to suffer on your own, but plausibly I didn't even know you existed, so here, have your abuser to dismember in cathartic violence as you please! become a filial son and this old man will help fund whatever massive harems you want to build!

genius!

so, shortly before the immortal alliance conference is set to take place, TLJ goes and steals himself a peak lord.

Shen Qingqiu is... kind of different from what he expected? but oh well, it's been years since he wrote the novel and lots of characters have turned out somewhat different in person from how they were on the page, and the guy was always a mess of contradictions anyway. TLJ hands him over to his servants with strict instructions to keep him locked up, but not to harm or kill him (revenge is reserved for the protagonist, after all!)

Zhuzhi Lang, who witnessed the last debacle where his uncle took a sudden keen interest in a cold but beautiful human cultivator, makes entirely the wrong assumption (as do a lot of the palace staff) and figures that TLJ has just become more pragmatic about pursuing his lovers. Shen Qingqiu is given appropriate chambers (and restrictions) and word soon spreads that the Demon Emperor has captured a human cultivator to serve as his concubine.

so, this version of SQQ has actually been Shen Yuan since Luo Binghe joined the sect (and also doesn't have a system and thus had zero plans of throwing LBH into the abyss), and he is desperately trying to figure out what kind of changes he has unwittingly invoked here that Luo Binghe's father should be still alive, and free, and also kidnapping him to be his goddamn concubine?! that has to be a misunderstanding, right?!

Mobei Jun is mad. and jealous. and mad. but a concubine isn't an empress, so that job posting is still available, right? it better be, he has been waiting more than a decade for the official proposal!

TLJ meanwhile decides he's going to go secretly watch the immortal alliance conference just to make sure that the universe doesn't contrive to drop LBH into the abyss anyway, but weirdly enough, Luo Binghe isn't even there. listening to rumors, he gathers that uh... some stuff has changed? like Luo Binghe is head disciple of Qing Jing Peak? and apparently went crazy when Shen Qingqiu disappeared? except that some people think they might have eloped???

maybe he shouldn't get his rumors from Xian Shu disciples, those girls remind him of rpf conspiracy theory shippers from his old life. they're probably just way off base! hahaha... ha...?

well at least TLJ did a pretty good job of covering his tracks, so there's no reason for anyone to suspect that he captured Shen Qingqiu. or there shouldn't be, until he goes back home to find that every single demon seems to believe that Shen Qingqiu has been taken by him to be his lover. where did anyone even get that idea?! TLJ has been dutifully pining in his unrequited and inappropriate love for the young Mobei Jun for years now! whenever anyone asks he insists he's still mourning Su Xiyan! it's been a whole thing!

but oh shit, truth aside, there's no way those kinds of rumors have remained strictly contained to demon ears. both demons and cultivators have their spies after all, and even if they didn't, news moves along the borders.

sure enough, TLJ barely has time to try and dismantle this misunderstanding before a young Luo Binghe arrives on his doorstep, along with Yue Qingyuan and the very-much-still-alive lord of Bai Zhan peak, for some reason, all of them extremely pissed off at him!

[magics-neptunes-things]

Part Of Me

Alexia please come back, the kids and I miss you 💔

No request for this one, only from my imagination. Enjoy!

TW : Mention of abusive relation, a little of angst I guess

______________________________________________________________

Since joining FC Barcelona a few months ago, you have become the biggest plot for your teammates. Before signing in Barcelona, you were under contract with PSG but you had not set foot on the football fields since months because of an injury. Your signing with the Barcelona club surprised a lot of people since you had not proven yourself for a long time, your absence falling at the worst time, just before the eventual renewal of your contract in the French capital.

But it's now in Barcelona that you evolve and your discretion foolproof intrigues your teammates a lot. You are almost never present at organized parties and if you didn't arrive late at regular intervals, you would probably be almost transparent. Not in the field that said and fortunately. Since you're goalkeeper and a turn is made between the other goalkeepers and you, you don't participate in all the matches and you are not called every week. This undoubtedly adds to the shadow that characterizes you.

Alexia cannot tell if it's this part of the mystery that draws her gaze irremediably on you. But still, she regularly surprises herself by letting her eyes slide on you during training, something that Mapi hasn't missed. She doesn’t hesitate to tease her best friend on the subject, Alexia standing up to her every time by telling her that it’s just that she's intrigued by the shadows around you.

It's the truth, but but there is more. When you aren't officially summoned to the matches, you nevertheless attend them in the stands. This is where you exchanged your first words with Alexia, first turned on football before the conversations became lighter. You’ve noticed that Alexia sometimes tries to learn more about your private life, but you’ve always managed to avoid her questions.

********

"Sorry, sorry, I’m late" you apologize to Jonatan, coming running into the weight room, jumping on one leg to put on your second shoes.

Mapi bows an eyebrow towards Alexia who shrugs her shoulders, when your coach apologizes you with a vague wave of the hand before asking you to join Ona to be her training partner. She greets you with a little smile and Alexia can hear her ask you if everything is okay. You answer her with a positive smile, before focusing on the requested exercises.

"It’s so weird. No one ever scolds her" mumbles Mapi towards Alexia. "When I'm late I have to run at least five laps."

Alexia shrugs her shoulders without answering, turning her gaze on Mapi when she elbows her.

"Stop staring at her for two seconds, everyone will catch you"

"Leave her alone, Maria" Ingrid scolds her, triggering a little cute argument between the two.

Alexia takes advantage of the exchange between the two women to shift her attention back to you. You look tired this morning and she wonders what made your night complicated. Do you suffer from insomnia? She doesn’t know anything about your life, doesn’t know if you have a boyfriend or girlfriend.

"Did you offer to come tonight?" Ingrid asks Alexia nicely.

"She received the message about the Whatsapp group like everyone else, but I don’t think she replied"

"Go ask her directly. Maybe she’s just shy?"

Alexia bites her lip as she hears Ingrid’s attempt to guess your behavior. It’s true that if we compare you to Mapi or Lucy, you are rather the opposite of them in terms of character. Alexia herself doesn't participate in parties when it involves going to a nightclub, but comes willingly when it comes to film evenings organized at someone's house.

"I can try" ended up answering Alexia thoughtfully, her eyes on you again.

As usual at the end of the training, you are the first to be dressed and ready to go. You are always polite and smiling with everyone, but you give the constant impression of having hundreds of things to do outside of games and practice.

But Alexia beat you in speed this time and she catches you when you walk along the corridors to return to your car.

"Hey, Y/N?"

You turn to her and smile at her when she arrives at your height, giving her an interrogative look.

"I was wondering if you were coming to Aitana’s tonight? You didn’t answer in the groupchat."

"Oh… no, I don’t think I can, I'm sorry"

You feel a little guilty about saying no, but you don’t really have a choice. Your regrets are sincere and it seems to have caught Alexia’s attention. The blonde bites her lip when she resumes speaking, playing nervously with her bracelet.

"It’s sad. I just… I mean, I’d really like you to come."

This surprises you and you look at her for a few seconds as you continue to walk, wondering if she's mocking you. But no, she seems sincere and you even find yourself blushing a little.

"I’ll see what I can do to free myself if that can makes you happy" you end up answering in a low voice.

"Really?"

"Yeah"

You are surprised by the big smile that appears on your captain’s face, but it's nothing compared to the one you feel when she approaches you to put a kiss on your cheek. Alexia turns her heels and in a whirlwind of blonde hair, she disappeared.

"So?" Mapi asks Alexia when she drops by her side, back in the locker room, putting her head in her hands.

"It’s a disaster. She’s gonna think I’m the weirdest person in the world."

"What are you other than that anyway?" snorts Mapi, before receiving a slap behind the head from her girlfriend.

********

When you arrive in front of Aitana, you find yourself hesitating before pressing the bell. You have never participated in this kind of party and even if everyone is very nice to you, you don't know if you will feel comfortable with them outside the field.

"Can’t find the doorbell?"

Lucy’s amused voice sounds behind you and you turn to see her arrive in the company of Ona. You find yourself mumbling some excuse, but you are quickly diverted from what you want to answer by the quick embrace that the English offers you before ringing. You also greet Ona and finally you are happy not to arrive alone.

Aitana comes to open you shortly after and greets you in turn with an embrace to each. A big smile spreads on her face when she sees you and you find yourself having the right to a full visit of her home. This allows you to see those who are already present and until you enter the living room, you feel a slight disappointment not to see Alexia. But the blonde is installed on the sofa in the living room, next to Irene, when you get there.

Your eyes cross quickly and you respond timidly to her smile before answering Aitana that you want to drink anything as long as it's not alcoholic. Your Fanta in hand, you return to the living room without really knowing where to sit. But you don't hesitate long since you suddenly find yourself facing Alexia, also a drink in the hand.

"It’s great that you could come" smiled Alexia looking at you

You nod, not being able to stop yourself from realizing that Alexia is as beautiful off the field as in her football kit. Her blonde hair falls out of cascade around her face and her dress look is particularly attractive to your taste.

"I wouldn't have wished to grieve my Captain" you answer with a slight smile.

Alexia doesn't answer and an emotion that you cannot describe passes through her eyes, before she continues on another topic of conversation. Some of your teammates will come to mingle with you, Cata and Sandra in particular, as you train together as goalkeepers, but you will mainly spend your early evening with Alexia. The rest too, since you find yourself sitting next to her when the film you have gathered for begins. Usually, you don’t allow yourself to think about any attraction that you might have for someone else, but you have to admit that if you have to put someone at the top of the list, it would be Alexia. You find yourself struggling with sensations that you shouldn’t feel when her knee grazes yours, making you feel like a teenager experiencing her first crush. At the end of the film, you get up to join Aitana in her kitchen, embarking on the passage of dirty dishes to facilitate her task. "I’m sorry, but I have to go" you announce with a slight smile. You don’t like the idea of leaving first, but you don’t really have a choice. "Don’t worry, it’s good that you could come. It’s a pleasure to have you with us" she assures you before offering you an embrace. "Are you leaving already?" Alexia’s voice resounds behind you and you turn in her direction, to explain to her too that you have no choice. "For once it's not you who leaves first" Aitana laughs in the direction of Alexia. The Spanish woman smiles and puts dishes in Aitana’s sink before resuming speaking. "I’ll leave too. I have an interview tomorrow before practice." With that, you find yourself saying goodbye to your teammates at the same time and leaving Aitana’s home together. When you find yourself outside, you offer a hug to Alexia to say goodbye, finding you troubled by her smell. You shiver when you feel her stroking your back and you suddenly realize the warmth of her body against yours, the softness of her skin, her hair that pleasantly caresses your face. And more intimately her chest against yours.

"It was nice to spend time with you outside the stadium" says Alexia.

Her mouth is right next to your ear since she still hasn’t released you. You quickly detach from her, feeling how disturbed you are by her closeness. But Alexia doesn’t release you completely, as if she wanted to enjoy this embrace a little longer. Your faces are only a few inches apart when your eyes cross and you wonder how you could never get lost in her honey-hazelnut eyes before that.

You don’t know how long your eye exchange lasts or what Alexia can read in yours. What you know is that when she slowly approaches her face from yours, you can’t resist the call of her lips. The kiss is sweet and delicate, Alexia gives you the impression that you are made of glass and ready to break into a thousand pieces. Which is probably the case.

You are breathless when you end the kiss, amazement taking precedence over the rest. Alexia Putellas has just kissed you.

"I.. I have to go" you stutter before you run away to your car.

The implicit rule asking everyone to send a message about the group when they come back, you simply send a "Home!" when you are, but you hurry to ignore your phone after that.

********

"It’s been three days and she never came back to training"

Sitting at the kitchen table of Mapi and Ingrid, Alexia ruminates her mixture of despair and questioning. She doesn't understand why you reacted in this way to your kiss, especially since you answered it and even extended it. She doesn't understand your disappearance after that and how you can be so traumatized that you simply decided to skip training.

Thanks to her title of captain, Alexia knows that it's officially for illness reasons that you didn't put a finger in the Barcelona stadium. But she can’t believe it.

Alexia is seated facing Mapi in front of a cup of coffee that she has not touched while Ingrid prepares a meal for them to regain strength after their training. The couple take Alexia here, touched by her distress.

"Maybe you're a very bad kisser?" laughs at Mapi, before abruptly shutting up when she receives a slap behind the head from her girlfriend.

"Stop doing that!" whines Mapi.

"Stop teasing your bestfriend!" answers back Ingrid

"Do you think so?" asked Alexia, ignoring their little fight, turning her head sharply towards the tattooed woman.

"Of course not, I'm sure it has nothing to do with it" intervenes Ingrid by raising rolling her eyes.

"How can you know that?" Mapi sulks, crossing her arms on her chest.

"I should never have kissed her" sighs Alexia before letting her forehead go against the wooden table in an alarming thud.

Mapi rolls her eyes in front of her best friend’s despair as Ingrid puts three plates on the table.

"What is done is done, you cannot change anything. On the other hand you can move your ass a little to make things better" replies the blonde, grabbing her cutlery.

"What do you mean?"

Alexia’s curious gaze rises on her best friend, but it is once again Ingrid who answers, the other blonde now having her mouth full of food.

"Go to her. You don’t need an excuse, just tell her the truth. That you’re worried about her."

Mapi simply agrees with Ingrid’s proposal and points to the Norwegian with her fork, nodding harshly. Basically, Ingrid isn't wrong, at least that’s what Alexia says when she looks out the window. "It’s still strange this behavior, to want to go home as soon as she finished training or matches." Alexia sighs thoughtfully before widening her eyes. "What if she’s married? You think I kissed a married woman?" "Oh god" sighs Ingrid as Mapi stands up on her chair abruptly. "Imagine she’s married to someone abusive? That would explain why she has so little freedom." "Okay, stop now" Ingrid intervenes again. "Alexia eats and goes to see her. And you, shut up" Mapi groans and shifts her attention to her plate, but nevertheless obeys quickly. Alexia also grabs her fork, thoughtfully thanking the brunette for her cooking. A few hours later, Alexia finds herself in front of an apartment on the ground floor of a residential area, where you live. It’s a bit out of town, but that doesn’t surprise her. In her opinion, it fits well with the discretion that characterizes you. After hesitating for a few more seconds, Alexia finally presses the doorbell button. It takes you a few minutes to answer, your surprise displayed on your face when you find yourself facing Alexia. You don't open the door entirely, sliding only your face by the interscice, which once again intrigues the blonde. She runs through your face with her eyes and it's true that you look tired. You have dark circles, drawn lines and your hair is styled in a messy bun. "Ale?" "Sorry to barge in like this without warning but uh... can we talk?"

You bite your lip while looking at her, apparently hesitating how you will answer her. This again makes Alexia mad with worry. What if Mapi was right? But you end up nodding, before going out the apartment after taking a look inside and gently closing the door behind you. It wasn’t what Alexia expected.

"I just wanted to make sure you were okay"

Alexia talks nervously, realizing that you will not speak first.

"Oh… yes, I'm okay. I mean… the disease, all that" you mumble and shrug.

La Reina remains silent for long seconds, so long that you end up looking up at her face. You see her looking at you attentively and you find yourself foolishly blushing. The memory of your kiss has stuck in your head all these days and you have to use all your concentration capacity not to look at her lips.

"Listen Y/N, if your absence is related to what happened at the end of the evening…"

"Oh… no, I… it’s nothing to do with that, I promise"

You find yourself stuttering again and you hate yourself for it. If you wanted to give Alexia a good impression, you can hardly do worse.

"So what is it? To be honest, I can’t believe you’re sick. If something happens or you need help, you know we’re here for you? The others and myself, too"

You find it hard to support her gaze and you find yourself looking over her shoulder again. Without knowing what to say.

"Y/N"

The way she says your name in a mixture of tenderness and affection would have been enough to give you chills, but the fact that she touches your cheek with her fingers supports the sensation. That works though, your eyes quickly turning over on her face. But you step back, remembering that you can’t let go with her that way.

Which is terribly frustrating. Alexia seems to think the same, her eyes letting pass a burst of disappointment or rejection before she recovers. "I can’t. Not yet." You speak as well of any rapprochement with her as of a confession on your part. But Mapi’s assumption quickly comes back to Alexia’s mind and she gently takes your arm in her hand. "Is someone hurting you?" The surprise that appears on your face is so sincere that Alexia quickly understands that they have gone wrong. But it’s a relief and it’s comforting a few seconds before the frustration comes back. What would stop you from confiding in her if it wasn’t that? "No one is hurting me" you answer softly, though touched by Alexia’s level of worry. "It’s just that I don’t think I’m fit to get into a relationship right now, Ale. It wouldn’t be interesting for you for one second, much more annoying and constraining than anything else." "You can’t or you don't want to?" Alexia asks, almost ignoring what you just said. The answer you’re going to give Alexia will probably change a lot what she’s going to tell you in return, you know it perfectly. You could lie to her, but when you find yourself once again immersed in hwe eyes, you are incapable. Sighing slowly, you decide to tell her the truth. "I can’t." Obviously, this is the answer Alexia was hoping for, you realize it quickly when she steps in your direction. As delicately as before, her fingers stroke your face and you briefly close your eyes to reopen them when you feel her forehead leaning against yours. "Whatever it is, Y/N. I’m sure you’re worth it." When you shake your head in a negative way, it doesn’t seem to impress her. "Let me decide?" adds Alexia.

The seconds that pass while your brain turns a thousand an hour are torture for Alexia, but for you too. You know perfectly well that Alexia will leave when she understands. But the blonde adds a "Please" begging and you can no longer stand up to her.

So you finally accept, gently opening the door of your apartment to invite Alexia to enter. From your point of view, your apartment isn't exceptional, but you surprise the captain to look around in an intriguing way. However, this is not where she will understand what keeps you in many things in your life.

Without really thinking about your gesture, you take her hand to take her upstairs and open the door of a room. And the least we can say is that Alexia didn't expect that to be in front of her.

A children’s room in beige and sky blue colors in which there is the complete necessary for a baby. A changing table, a wardrobe, pictures of animals and a cradle with a mobile installed above. The cradle is occupied, Alexia realizes it quickly. She looks at you to ask your permission to approach and you smile at her to confirm that she can do so.

You will never forget the first time Alexia laid eyes on your son. A mixture of wonder and tenderness that takes your breath away. Deeply asleep in his bed, unlike the previous three nights, his stuffed rabbit tight against his face and thumb in the mouth, your baby seems particularly relaxed. Alexia spends long seconds looking at him before shifting her attention to you.

For your part, you didn't leave her sight for a single second, regretting not being able to read her thoughts. You signal her to follow you outside the room with a nod and Alexia obeys without being asked.

Back in the living room, you feel like you’re hearing her brain scrambling.

"I guess you have questions?"

Alexia sat in front of you on one of your sofas and looked at you thoughtfully for a few moments. Her fingers mechanically caress her lower lip, which you’ve noticed she does when what she thinks is intense.

"You have a child"

"Yes"

"And you’re married?"

You’re just shaking your head negatively this time.

"In a relationship?"

"Nope"

"I don't understand"

You sigh softly and let yourself go against the back of the sofa on which you were installed on the edge so that you can better observe Alexia. The situation is complicated and that’s partly why you didn’t tell anyone.

"His father left as soon as he learned of the pregnancy. It was not planned at all and my former club agreed to mask my pregnancy with an injury. My contract was coming to an end and it was the deal we made. I was thinking about quitting my career after giving birth, but Barcelona contacted me to offer me a contract before the summer. I refused without explaining why and they insisted" you explain, slightly frowned. You still don’t understand their interest. "So I finally told them the truth. The leaders and Jonatan are aware and they offered to help me rather than give up"

Alexia remains silent throughout your explanation but a small smile is drawn and accentuated as your story. You deduce that it's because of the behavior of her club who is in line with her own personal values, until she resumes speaking.

"Well thanks for sharing this with me, but that’s not what I don’t understand" she said without masking her amusement, before getting up to sit next to you. You follow her with your eyes, in turn a little lost. "What I don’t understand is why you think the fact that you have a child would stop me from being interested in you"

So this one, you didn't expect it. You remain frozen on your sofa, blinking at her.

"Well… I barely have time to come train with you, I can never join you for evenings… How could I have time for you?"

"Is it now that I remind you that I am the most homebody of the team and that I am called Grandma because I go to bed early?"

You smile softly as you hear her answer punctuated by a touch of humor. Her amused smile increases your own fun and you feel a heat wave spread throughout your body as she mixes her fingers with yours.

"What’s his name?"

"Romeo" you answer

"It's cute" she smiles before resuming speaking. "But I'm sure we can make it work. I don't mind if our dates are in your house and I can still pass time with you when your son is here... If you're ok with that of course"

When she sees you bite your lips, Alexia take both of your hand in hers, searching for your eyes.

"I really like you and I don't think that your son will make things complicated. I can't wait to meet him. I'm serious with it, if you let me in, I won't let you down. Never."

"Just kiss me again."

Alexia looks shocked for two seconds, before leaning in and obliged. People always talk about the first kiss, the sensations it gives. But you find that the second one is underestimated too much. That of the confirmation. The second kiss Alexia offers you is as tender and delicate as the first, without the fear of being pushed back. Which you obviously don’t do this time, even shyly sliding a hand on his neck to prolong your exchange.

This lasts a few minutes, before baby crying sounds upstairs, interrupting your moment.

"I hope you’re ready, because it’s only the beginning" you smile maliciously against his lips.

********

alexiaputellas

liked by ingrid_engen, yourinstagram, ona.batlle, marialeonn16 and 260 202 others people.

alexiaputellas We fell in love in October 🤍🎶

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YourInstagram ❤️

irene.paredes amo a ambos

fan1 Who's hand is it? ↳ fan3 it's me don't worry ↳ fan5 I feel like it's Y/N, they seems really close in the lasts after games ↳ fan6 she put an heart in the comment section too ↳ fan7 So is Mapi ↳ fan5 Mapi is with Ingrid, don't be stupid ↳ marialeonn16 Yeah, don't be stupid

fan2 I thought she was single?!

fan4 Alexia you naughty secret girl

yourinstagram

liked by alexiaputellas, lucybronze, janafernandez, __cata13 and 250 197 others people.

yourinstagram You look so pretty and I love this view 🎶❤️

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marialeonn16 please send thanks to your photographer ↳ alexiaputellas muchas gracias Mapi ↳ fan1 OMG WAIT WHAT ↳ fan3 I TOLD YOU I FUCKING TOLD YOU FDKSFHJAFKJAL

alexiaputellas 🤍🤍🤍

fan4 Not Y/N and Alexia breaking the Internet

ona.batlle ❤️

yourinstagram and alexiaputellas

liked by alexiaputellas, albaputellas, ona.batlle, irene.paredes, ingrid_engen, __cata13 and 590 154 others people.

yourinstagram The loves of my life 💙❤️

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alexiaputellas te amo mucho 🥹🤍 liked by you

ingrid_engen 🫶❤️

elialexiaalba mis corazones

alexiaputellas

liked by yourinstagram, claudia.pina, ona.batlle, marialeonn16, lucybronze, __cata13 and 473 154 others people.

alexiaputellas Ready to watch Mami and Mama tonight ⚽👀

yourinstagram 💙❤️

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jenni.hermoso he's growing up so fast 😭 

marialeonn16 remember me to offer him a Maria Leon jersey for his birthday ↳ alexiaputellas He won't wear it ↳ marialeonn16 of course he will, I'm her favorite ↳ lucybronze We all know that it's Ingrid

______________________________________________________________

For real it was in my draft for so long because I wasn't able to find a name for this baby 😭 

[jjkeremika]

AoT men confess their love for you

i.e., how i think they’d tell you they love you

reader x Eren, Jean, Armin, Reiner, Porco, Erwin, Levi, Zeke, Bertoldt

*unspecified gender reader*

Eren - blurts it out during sex and you can’t convince me otherwise

You and Eren weren’t really dating, per se… more like… hooking up behind your best friend’s back. The fact that Mikasa was his sister and your best friend was enough to keep both your urges at bay for a few months, but when she left for summer camp and he stayed behind, leaving just you two to keep each other company… well… things took on a life of their own.

So for the whole summer you and Eren gallivanted around the districts over, going on unlabelled dates and hiding from those (Armin, Jean) who just might tell Mikasa about the tryst, because maybe telling her was just too fast or too complicated for the easy and noncommittal situationship.

Which felt like exactly that… until you were bouncing on his cock in the back of his car, his mouth attached to your neck and your fingers curled in his hair. He thrusted upwards, evoking a loud moan from you, when Eren suddenly blurted out, “I think I love you,” with a hearty breath, his hips never stuttering as he kept the motion, his mouth compensating for the words by pressing to your neck.

Maybe it was time to call your best friend.

Jean - it slips out and he tries to deflect it but you already knew

You met Jean during volunteer community service, where you and the awkwardly-tall brunette would leisurely walk around the districts and collect litter. The first day everyone was set off in pairs, you two randomly assigned to wander the same district, and you both actively decided to group together every time after that.

Your conversations were rarely of any importance, mostly letting it serve as either a way to pass time or to express feelings and opinions about people the other doesn't know. At first, he talked an awfully lot about some woman who you weren't sure from his stories if she even knew he existed. Over the months of service together, he stopped bringing her up and started talking about this other person of interest instead.

His cheeks and ears turned bright pink whenever you'd ask about how he met this person, usually providing some vague and nondeterministic answer that honestly left you more confused than before. Some stuttered-out answers and a few too-similar-to-your-own interests later, you had a deep suspicion and debated how to delve it out of him.

It wasn't very hard. One week before the holiday break you two were wandering around, discussing future plans with friends and family for the upcoming holiday. "Are you excited for the break?" you asked, nudging his side with your elbow. "Huh?" he responded curiously, "Oh, I... Yeah, I guess." You snorted in response, "Sounds like it. C'mon, the holiday is a time for being with your love ones! Isn't that exciting?"

"But I only see them not on break, during volunteerin--" It was almost like he'd forgotten who he was speaking to, and his entire face erupted in various shades of pinks and reds, maybe even a light purple from the lack of breathing. He was internally kicking himself, berating himself for being so loose and stupid around you, for always struggling to think around you. He was oblivious to the smile on your face. "I, uh, because, I... love volunteering... so much."

Armin - tells you he's in love with you because you've changed his life (he’s poetic without meaning to be)

Armin was unusual from other men you’ve dated. Height aside, he was very in touch with his emotions, intelligent, and capable; but he tormented himself with baseless insecurities and unfounded truths until all of his perks were equally weighed down by his shortcomings. He’d bring himself down until he was impossibly low, until his opinion of himself couldn’t get lower.

He was depressed when you first met, his friends warning you that maybe it was beyond you, that it wasn’t your responsibility anyway. You knew that, of course, but it was Armin, and it’s difficult to watch sunshine be forced behind endless seas of clouds. So you’d remind him as much as possible to be kinder to himself, to speak to himself positively since he’s the only one who he will spend forever with.

It wasn’t a surprise when your relationship advanced; the effort and care you put in him nurtured feelings beyond friendship. The warmth spread inside him like a wildfire from a lit match in dry brush, and he found himself favoring you over any form of logic or reason.

It was a random weekday when he pulled you aside, trying to make time for a brief 5 minute date between lessons. He seemed nervous, which wasn’t necessarily odd, but he’d become significantly more comfortable around you over the years. “I, uh,” he started unsurely, hesitantly, “You mean so much to me. I can't imagine this life without you. I..." He crossed his forearm over his stomach as he anchored his shaky hand on the inside of his other arm's elbow, holding it tightly to stop his body from shaking as he angelically stared into your eyes. "I’m in love with you. And I don’t mean that poetically or sexually or theoretically or logically or figuratively or ideologically or any of that. I mean it literally. I am in love with you.”

Reiner - tried to act like he didn’t care but he was really invested in your response

You had been casually dating around when you first met Reiner, the tall bulky blond with the bordering-arrogant demeanor having approached you at the bar while your date was in the bathroom. He had a confident smirk plastered across his cheeks as he said, “You know, my wallet has been itching to buy the most stunning person in this room a drink, and, well, I think I’ve found them.”

It shouldn’t have worked but you’d had a few drinks already and a new heat burned in your abdomen and he was significantly more attractive than your current date, so you accepted his invitation to buy you a new drink and take the seat. A second first date of the night, completed with a quick fuck in the bathroom and at home.

Your relationship progressed smoothly from then on, with a heavy positive emphasis in the bedroom. And while neither of you ever clarified the relationship and asked if it was official, your eyes and lips and privates were so glued to each other there was no peripheral for any one else. Which was why, while Reiner never explicitly stated how he felt for you aside from daily comments--"My god, baby, you are so sexy,"; "Mmf, you make me feel too fucking good, darlin', fuck,"; "Sexiest person alive, yeah. you already know I'm speaking about you and your smart sexy ass,"--you were never really that worried anyway.

So when you two were laying on your backs in the bed, side-by-side, chest heaving to catch your breaths, and the words slipped from his mouth post-coitus, "Fuck, darlin', I love you," you were shocked, and a, "What did you say?" slipped from your mouth before you could process. He bit the inside of his lip and felt a nervous weightlessness erupt in his stomach. Reiner shrugged and sat upright, blocking his face from your view with his back. "Huh? Didn't hear me?" Reiner asked, forcing his voice to remain confident and steady, and turned to look at you briefly before stirring to stand up. He shrugged, the inside of his cheek rough and chewed up like a dog-toy. "I just said I love you. It's not a... big deal."

Porco - says it like a joke so you aren’t totally sure if he means it

Galliard was your best guy friend, joining you anywhere you didn’t want to go alone and cracking jokes to lighten the mood. He was really good at that, making you laugh, and he couldn’t deny that the sound was like music to his ears, magical notes strung together to create the most beautiful song he’d ever heard.

It was exactly because of how close you two were that both of you feared doing exactly what you wanted the other to do—make the first move. And because it was the other one, every flirty touch or suggestive comments were stripped of all intention, because there’s just no way the best friend would ever be into them too. Instead, it was personally replaced with sarcastic or playful undertones and purposeful reminders of feelings that didn’t exist.

You had convinced him to go to the lake with you, which your friends conveniently bailed on so that it really was just you two. Porco had hopped into your kayak from the dock, taking you by surprise and fearing a capsize. “Porco!” you screamed, giggling, holding onto the edge of the kayak, “What’s wrong with your own kayak? Desperately trying to get close to me?”

You watched the adam’s apple bob in his throat as he swallowed intently, like he was carefully choosing when to breathe and what to say. “Haha, yeah,” he settled on, forcing himself to chuckle lightly, his voice littered with nuanced feelings he couldn’t bring himself to say confidently, “because I’m definitely in love with you…” You noticed Porco’s lack of eye contact, that he was now looking far off into the distance. “Or something like that,” he joked nervously, wiping his sweaty palms against his thighs as he sat down behind you, hoping you couldn’t see through his charade.

Erwin (age gap) - planned it out but everything didn’t go to plan

After six months together, Erwin already knew how strongly he felt towards you. You were everything he could’ve hoped for and everything he’d waited for. He already knew he wanted you as his future spouse (eventually, he knew you weren’t ready to marry). And so he wanted the moment he told you how he felt to be special to you, to be as special as you were to him.

Erwin had your six-month anniversary date planned out to the T: first, a leisurely walk around the park; second, a quick stop at a couple of your favorite shops nearby to browse and buy you a gift (or gifts, really, he’d buy whatever you wanted); third, stop in at the new bistro you’ve been dying to try—“Ooh, Winnie, look, look! We have to go there!”; fourth, walk around and watch the stars until your feet were sore and he could carry you home.

A sudden rainstorm ruined the walk, forcing both of you to run for cover under some trees for quite some time until it passed. Once the rain finally stopped, it was too close to the dinner reservation time to stop in at the shops, and he shuttled you to the bistro. You were both sat next to a loud family with screaming children, barely able to hear the other speak the entire time, staring at each other with morose smiles while munching on mediocre food. The stars hid behind thick dark clouds as you both walked home, and Erwin felt too defeated to ask to carry you because you were finally enjoying that brisk walk.

At your doorstep, when he profusely apologized for ruining your anniversary date—“Ernie, seriously? Stop apologizing! You can’t control the weather! And the restaurant was my idea anyway.” The frown lines on his face deepened and twisted in morose. “No, that’s not…” he sighed, upset that nothing had gone to plan, “I wanted everything to be the perfect night for my perfect person, a wonderful night solely for the one I love…” he added in a whisper, “…and I messed it all up.”

Inviting him felt like the only way to reverse his thoughts, to make him realize that, despite everything he considered so wrong, it was all so correctly wrong to you it may as well have been perfect.

Levi - thinks it should be obvious since he’s still with you

It was about subtlety when dating Levi. At least, that’s what you’d figured out in the year you’ve been together. His face was relatively expressionless, so you’d learned to read his body language, but you honestly worried you’d never be fluent, because you still questioned the presence or validity of his feelings for you on some days.

He said it once, that he felt deeply for you on the day he asked you out. He repeated it on your six-month anniversary, when you asked if he still felt that way and he answered with a monotoned, “Well, yeah. Obviously. I thought it was implied since we’re together and all.”

Your favorite version of him was when he was sleepy, when he was too tired to keep his protective walls up, because he was cuddly and cozy and craved nothing but your presence and warmth and actively showered you with soft kisses.

It was when his guard was down like this that you asked him, on your one-year, if he still felt the same—shielding the fear of his answer by joking that you’ll ask him every six months—and he rolled his eyes playfully and chuckled, wrapping his arm tighter around you, kissing your cheek, and muttering, “Yes, love, and I’ll give you the same answer six months, six years, and six centuries from now.”

Zeke - writes you a love letter (unlike armin he tries to be poetic)

Zeke was into you well before you even started to reciprocate those feelings. There was something so enigmatic about you, a light airy aura that made him feel buoyant, that unchained him from the burden of his father’s wants and wishes. In his eyes, you saved him.

For a debt he felt he could never repay, he always brought you flowers and sweets and gifts; he wrote long poems detailing that your beauty was beyond all beholders, that you put the sun to shame, that you were the spark to start his supernova; he sent you good morning beautiful and sweet dreams baby texts, hoping you started and ended your day with a smile.

After a couple months of exclusive dating, he wrote you a love letter, expressing the extent of what you meant to him—the burning shape of you etched permanently in his heart—, handing it to you with a deep red stretched across his face and asking you to read it privately, to share it with no one.

My dearest beloved, I write as I know my tongue will fail me, reminiscent of all previous attempts where my lips part and only whimsy air escapes. Remember those moments, my dear? How you'd don a concerned expression and question me in my flustered state. Oh, how futile the intention feels when my spiritual body abandons me, rendering my physical body utterly useless in translation as my stoic invulnerability precedes me. Oh, how I yearn for you the way broken skin stitches itself back together, the way fibers of a wire stretch to hold on, to come together and remain as one. Oh, how you complete me the manner punctuation consummates these phrases, embedding the lines with a flourish no words could elicit. All your self-proclaimed flaws are null to the universe, your soul culminating as the true embodiment of pure perfection with flavorful cracks in the profile, cracks that you've offered to my pitiful soul, pristine ledges to hold on to as humanity crumbles from your grace. Oh, how if what you provide me with is god-like pity, how I want nothing more than for that bliss to fuel my burning heart, to further engulf my being with this feverish love, to only be quenched by your will.

Bertoldt - he’s shy, so his friends tell you for him

Look, really, no offense to Bertoldt, but, well, he never said a word. Which, like, what the hell? You could tell—or rather, you were pretty sure—he was into you by the way he tensed up when you were around, by the longing glances he’d cast your direction when you were nearby.

Holding conversations was difficult in an endearing way, because he was shy—painfully shy—around you, making small comments with a smile and pink cheeks, stuttering out small compliments and avoiding eye contact like he’d crossed a line (honestly you wished he’d crossed more).

You were starting to lose hope after months of talking led to little improvements, him still awkward around you, still not telling you how he really feels, if he likes you in that way. And like, how could you really be sure that he did if his hints were shit?

One day you receive a video message from Reiner, in it depicting Bertoldt and Porco sitting on a leather couch and talking—well, Porco wasn’t. Bertoldt was talking. A lot. About you. Talking about how you make him so nervous he freezes, how he finds you so attractive his body doesn’t know how to react, how he gets goosebumps on his neck at just the sound of your voice, how the secret love he had for you took up so much volume in his throat he couldn’t even speak or breathe near you.

[slut4celebs]

Two Superstars in a Room... They Might Kiss

Reneé Rapp x Reader

Word Count: 1,087 words

Trigger Warnings: oblivious Reneé Rapp, but that's not much of a trigger.

Request/Synopsis: Combining this request: "can you do something like actress!reader x reneé" with this request: "Renee x reader where they’re friends and Renee is convinced reader is straight because reader never really makes a big deal out of her sexuality, so Renee keeps thinking her crush is unrequited even though reader keeps flirting with her" because I thought they fit well together.

Requests are: open.

Reneé was starting to believe that she was going insane. (Y/n), her longtime crush and best friend, had just invited her to a movie premier. She was starring in a movie alongside Timothée Chalamet, who happens to be her Sex Lives of College Girls co-star's younger brother. Reneé's problem wasn't with him or the premier, but it was the fact that (Y/n) asked her in the flirtiest way possible. First, she did it like some kind of promposal. She held up a sign asking her if she would like to be her date, then she kissed Reneé directly on the cheek. What was she supposed to do with that? Her cheeks had turned a deep shade of red at both, the way she asked and the kiss. She didn't know how to handle it, and it turned into a two hour conversation with Aliyah. Aliyah claimed (Y/n) was flirting, but Reneé kept denying the fact. (Y/n) had to be one hundred percent straight.

When the day came, the two met up, both already adorned in their dresses and their make-up professionally done. "Wow, Reneé…" (Y/n) said as she took in the way the girl in front of her looked. The way (Y/n)'s eyes travelled her body made her blush, again. The deep shade of red decorating her cheeks despite the heavy foundation and pink blush already put there. She shook away the thoughts that were circulating her head, reminding herself that (Y/n) was, in fact, straight. She probably had a thing for Timothée. A deep sigh threatened to leave her lips, but she instead thanked her and gave her a quick hug before they got in the vehicle that would be taking the, to the premier.

Upon arriving, it was a whirlwind of dating questions between (Y/n) and both Reneé and Timothée as reporters tried to figure out who (Y/n) was into. "You guys are very nosy, huh?" She asked with a playful raise of her brow, making the press knew she was joking and to be played off as coy. One wrong step with reporters and they will tell the world you are rude and you could be seen as someone who doesn't want to work with other. This problem has been especially big for women, take Chappell Roan at the VMA's, for example. "I'll tell you that someone does peak my interest. That's all you get tonight. Now, take some pictures of me and my beautiful date." She winked at the people before posing with Reneé. Reneé tried not to focus on the fact that (Y/n) confessed that someone peaked her interest. Especially when she was so sure it was Timothée or some other guy she probably met on set.

Reneé was starting to feel like she had enough, she didn't understand how (Y/n) could flirt with her so consistently while having a crush on someone else. Though, to be fair, this was something Reneé did, too. She has confessed on multiple occasions that she loves to flirt and to be flirted with. Could that be why (Y/n) is doing this? She felt like maybe she should tell her how she felt in order to create a boundary, but at the same time she was incredibly scared to lose her best friend. This would be so much easier if Reneé knew (Y/n)'s sexuality, but the girl never discussed it at all, never making a big deal of it. "Let's just say, I'm confident in my feelings." Was always (Y/n)'s answer, and it made Reneé feel like she could both fight and kiss (Y/n) for the very vague but emotionally mature answer.

As the two approached her castmates, which consisted of Timothée Chalamet, Rachel Sennott, and Lola Tung (the main cast), they all cheered at (Y/n)'s entrance before wrapping Reneé up in hugs quickly. "So, this is the girl who (Y/n) never shuts up about." Rachel grinned, winking over at (Y/n) who playfully flipped her off. Of course, Reneé had already met Timothée due to Pauline and Lola had already been friends with her (Reneé even sang 'One Less Lonely Girl to Lola before), so she needed no introduction there. She was still pretty excited to meet Rachel, though, due to her acting in Bottoms, which Reneé and (Y/n) swore would be a cult classic after watching it.

"Do not say I talk about her all the time. She doesn't need to know how in love with her I am." (Y/n) raised a brow towards Rachel. In a way, this confused Reneé as she recognized this look as when (Y/n) was like 'Oh my God, if you don't shut up.' Could that mean there was some truth in her comment. A weird fluttering filled Reneé's chest as (Y/n) took her hand and led her to her seats. It was a feeling synonymous to feeling hopeful. She gave (Y/n)'s hand a testing squeeze, only to earn a broad grin being sent her way from the girl in front of her. And things slowly began to click for Reneé. "Okay, so these are our seats… Should we get snacks?"

Reneé stared at their seats for a moment, taking in the barely inhabited theater. Everyone was still taking in the festivities outside with the pictures and interviews. "What if I wanted to kiss you? Right here, right now. I want to kiss you. Would you kiss me back?" Reneé questioned boldly. She was used to being bold in every situation, but this one was making her feel an extreme bundle of nerves build in the pit of her stomach. She would feel mortified if (Y/n) rejected her then and there in front of the couple of people there, whose attention she did pull.

(Y/n) was shocked at first, not caring about the few people in the room with her. Her heart was racing at Reneé's words as she bit her bottom lip to contain her grin, even just a bit. "I'd say to do it. That I want you to kiss me. That I was planning on doing it after the film because I was too nervous to do it before or the day I asked you to come here." (Y/n) admitted softly. At the end of her admission, her senses were taken by the blonde, who allowed their lips to crash in to each other's. She quickly kissed back, bringing Reneé in by the waist as the blonde held her cheeks. More people were pooling in and Reneé pulled away reluctantly.

"So, you were saying..? About the snacks?"

[cecilyv]

Graffiti on my body

(buck/tommy, 9-1-1, mini-fic)

Sometimes being multiple time zones away from @liminalmemories21 sucks, and sometimes you have a vision, you write up the basics, and you wake up to a moment of joy. Today we both got to say, "Good morning to me; and yes, exactly."

++

Tommy’s body has always been utilitarian; built and nourished for what could it do, how far it could be pushed. As much as he thought about it at all, he vaguely considered what it needed — food, water, exercise. Mostly it was a nuisance that never did enough, never as much as he wanted, as his superiors wanted — so he focused on how he could build it to hold more, help more, save more.

But now, wrapped in Evan’s sheets, bolstered by Evan’s body, he wonders, maybe for the first time, what his body wants, what his body can accept, what his body can give. Evan’s hands make him question what he’s been missing, what he could have been wanting, asking for. He wants to see what Evan sees; he wants to look down and see more than a job, a soldier, a firefighter. 

Evan touches him like nobody else ever has — there's desire and hunger, and those he's used to. He’s seen them before; maybe not to this degree, and that’s a trip all of its own.  But Evan touches him with wonder, too — like he's precious, like he could be hurt and Evan wants to keep him safe. Nobody's ever touched him like that. 

Evan lays with his head on Tommy’s chest, drawing on his skin with his finger, intricate swirls and whorls, tracing a pattern that Tommy can't see, but Evan clearly can because it's the same each time  — wants to ask what it is, but also doesn't, just feels it, lets it sink in until he can almost trace it himself. He lies there and takes it, skin still sensitive, flushed and slightly sweaty and, over time, he realizes he needs it, he wants it — Evan marking his place, claiming what’s his.

When he looks down at his skin later, he can almost see the love that Evan has inscribed into his skin. 

And one day, when Evan’s on a 48 and Tommy’s just lying in bed, he traces one of Evan’s favorite spots, the one he always goes back to — and he wouldn’t say he’s impulsive; he’d argue that he has good instincts— he pulls on his clothes and goes to the local tattoo parlor. He stands in parade rest, staring at the art on the wall, abstract colors and details and designs that he doesn’t understand but knows are beautiful. When she asks if she can help, he tries to explain what he wants but he can’t get it quite right. She looks at him with exasperation, with pity, and tells him to come back when he’s sure about what he wants; she doesn’t want him to regret his decisions. 

He leaves, buys a pen and when Evan gets home, when they’re lying in bed again and Evan starts absentmindedly tracing the pattern on his skin, he reaches into a drawer and pulls out the pen and hands it to Evan, and tells him, he wants to see what Evan sees, he wants to wear his mark, he wants to be covered in Evan.

And he goes back to the artist the next day, with Evan sketched on his skin and she examines Tommy in a new way, like he’s a work of art, like he’s changed, improved, special. She sees what Evan sees. 

And Tommy points at the design on his hip, just below his scar, and the woman tilts her head, consideringly, just breathes, “Yes.”

And he lies there and lets her permanently etch Evan onto his skin.

Evan’s eyes go wide when he sees it. “You,” he swallows, voice hoarse, “…show me. “

He knows it was actually pretty impulsive, that they haven’t really been dating long enough for tattoos. But he also knows he won’t regret it if they break up. It’ll break his heart — in so fast he can’t feel the bottom anymore — but he won’t regret it.

“I like the way you see me,” he says simply.

[randomshyperson]

R U Mine? - Heart Shaped Series

Chapter Summary: A game of cat and mouse begins between an Avenger and a criminal. But perhaps there are no winners, as they both fall.

Warnings: mentions of typical canon violence, hints of abusive past and unhealthy work dynamics, some superhero routine lore, more shapeshifter power mentions, mutual pining, forbidden relationship, some teasing, (first) kiss and then a lot of kisses and steamy make out, some fluff and comedy. | Words: 6.965K

A/N-> How many references to Killing Eve can one put in a story. And also, references to the Witch's Road comics. This here is the extra chapter about their first kiss, enjoy reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Series Masterlist

-&-

Before.

"I know what you're doing."

Three weeks prior, Natasha's sentence would have made her jump with fright. Perhaps she would have tried to hide all those files and lie and lie again, until she could convince herself the whole thing was about the job.

But today? Wanda was tired. She had spent the last few hours stumbling into dead ends, no progress on whatever she was trying to do with all that vague information Shield had on you.

So she lifted her face to the redhead who appeared in her room late at night, two cups of coffee in hand, and chuckled weakly at the statement. It was obvious that the drink was an invitation - perhaps even a sign of 'hey, I'm not trying to start a fight. I want to help,' and Wanda accepted without hesitation.

"It's not like I'm doing a good job of keeping it a secret." She retorts to Nat, who smiles before taking the empty space on the bed. Practically all the Shield files - now labeled Avengers - about you are scattered on the mattress. It's a mess, and to Nat, it makes sense that Wanda hasn't made much progress.

"To be fair, for a first-time Investigation, I think you're doing all right." Says the widow after a sip of her coffee. "You covered your tracks and even used an official justification for researching her. Your mistake was involving Vision."

Wanda sighs. "Let me guess, he talks under pressure?"

Nat chuckles, nodding. Wanda rubs a tension point on her forehead. Taking advantage of this, Natasha gestures to one of the files. "I'm not going to tell you what you can and can't do, Maximoff. But this doesn't seem very healthy."

Wanda gives a sad smile, and Nat expects her to defend herself. But instead, the smaller girl sighs. "I know." She murmurs sincerely, forcing a faint smile at the widow. "But I need this, Nat. It's the first time in months that I've managed to think about anything other than Pietro. And I know it doesn't look healthy, but it's all I've got. I'm an Avenger now. Maybe it's just time to get to work, and arrest villains or something."

Natasha frowned at her, absorbing the confession for a moment before rebutting: "Is that what you want to do with Y/N, though? Lock her up?"

Wanda swallows dryly, looking down. "Of course, Nat."

"You're a terrible liar."

The brunette sighs. "I mean it!"

"And I don't believe you." Nat insists in a good mood despite everything. "Look at all this, Wanda. You've been at it for days. Studying her. Did you even remember to eat anything in the last few hours?" Wanda snorts, gesturing to the breakfast leftovers on the dresser in the corner of the room which makes Natasha let out an incredulous laugh. "Wow, a nutritious example you are."

The witch tosses her hair back. "If you've come here to try to babysit me, please leave."

Natasha rolled her eyes and ignored the other woman's stubbornness. She put her coffee down between her crossed legs and started organizing the files.

"You're naturally perceptive and clever, Maximoff. But you lack experience and practice. You need to put together a timeline and find the gaps." The widow began, and masterfully, all the security camera photos, reports from shield agents, and unexplained crimes related to thieves with no identifiable faces began to connect and make sense. "But I must warn you, I did all this years ago. When I started at Shield, your little friend was already some sort of the goose that laid the golden eggs, or stole the gold for the saying to work."

"She's not my friend." Wanda murmured, her gaze fixed on the files so Natasha wouldn't see her blush. The widow ignored the comment and continued talking.

"My point is that I didn't get very far." Nat says with a sigh. "To be honest, it was an insult to my ego. She was just a kid back there. And she managed to flee much more experienced agents. She had endless, untraceable disguises. She doesn't need to impersonate, you know? She can create faces. It makes her almost impossible to monitor. When we met for the first time, it was she who found me." Nat says, swallowing dryly at her own memories. Wanda's eyes widen softly, listening carefully. "I never told this to anyone, but when Clint first met me, he told me that he felt something. As if he knew I wanted to escape. And when I saw Y/N, I had the same feeling."

"What did you do?" Wanda asked and Nat sighed.

"I couldn't do what Clitn did for me, Wanda, I'm sorry." Said the widow sincerely. "She attacked first. And I had to defend myself. It wasn't just protocol, it was all I'd learned to do."

Wanda frowns. "Why are you telling me all this, Nat?"

The redhead sighs. "Because it's important. It means that she doesn't trust easily, and attacks when she feels threatened. She reminds me of both of us, to be honest." Nat comments, getting a small smile from the witch. "Besides, I want you to be really careful if you do dig into this."

"I will."

"I'm serious, Wanda." Insists the redhead. "Careful not to miss a gun hidden in her dress." She remembers the last official report Wanda made, regarding her first mission, the night she simply couldn't stop thinking about, especially after your secret vision to the compound, and the witch swallows dryly. Nat doesn't mind her hesitation. "Careful in a way that you'll use your powers if necessary."

Without looking the widow in the eye, Wanda retorts between her teeth: "I get it, Nat."

"You're not going to carry this on until you look me in the eye, Maximoff. And swear it."

Wanda's stubbornness falters, and she returns her attention to the widow, looking at her seriously. Nat gives her a small smile as she adds, "It's not just Clint who cares about your safety. We all do. I'm not going to allow you to throw yourself headlong into something dangerous just to escape your grief, Wanda. Swear that you'll be very careful, and you'll walk away if it gets too dangerous."

Wanda is surprised by the tenderness, and a little embarrassed. It takes a moment but she finally nods. "I swear." She says before adding. "I want to help Y/N. Like Clint helped you. Not lock her up, like I said before."

Natasha chuckles. "I know, kid. I know."

With the Black Widow’s blessing, she kept digging those files. And Nat didn't lie, you're untraceable. Every time you meet, it's clear that you've let yourself be found. Even with handcuffs on your wrist, you keep smiling as if it was all part of the plan. Judging by the way you always escape from prisons, later going public that some confidential information for the police was stolen, this is easily confirmed.

The Avengers are getting used to the strange persecution, very much because each of them has their secrets. And just like his protégé, Steve Rogers had side missions to pursue Bucky. It would be hypocritical of him to hold anything against Wanda for being after you.

And Wanda couldn't stop. Even after hundreds of dead ends and ridiculous escapes. She had to meet you, and have less than five minutes in your presence with another twelve agents and the whole Avengers present every fortnight when they manage to track you only for you to escape again. She didn't know why, but she had the impression that you looked forward to these moments as much as she did.

Like a little private game of mouse and cat, only you and her were part of.

-&-

There are a hundred things to do in the Capital of Crime.

The most complete list of gambling games imaginable, right down to a mural of targets to be captured.

All these things are at your disposal, and all you can think about is the new addition to the Avengers team.

Wanda Maximoff was born in the country that fell from the sky around the same time that Baron Strucker was playing Pinky and the Brain with your cells in a secret laboratory of the now-destroyed Hydra. A Stark bomb made her an orphan, and after bouncing from orphanage to orphanage, often expelled for getting into trouble with her twin brother, Wanda embarked on protest groups in search of civil rights until she was finally recruited into a human experimentation program that turned her into an enhanced version of herself. She was the only reason for the first time in your life that you wished you hadn't split with Strucker so soon - If you'd still been his puppy instead of the clients he got, you would have met her. You may have become friends.

"She's doing it again." Xu Xialing whispered to Layla, the two engaged in a game of Beat the Hero - a competition of colored cards that contained electronic figures detailing the abilities of real-life superheroes. It was, in a way, training for possible battles in real life, where they learned about their enemies by playing. The two of them were sitting in opposite armchairs, while you were practically lying on the sofa, drinking with a lost look on your face. According to them, fantasizing for the tenth time in a row about the Avenger you met in Italia weeks ago.

Layla giggled when she saw your expression before turning her face to Xu Xialing again. "You know, they say Maximoff has psychic powers. Maybe Y/N is under a spell."

"A love spell, that is." Mocks the Chinese woman, getting a laugh from the other.

You only came out of your trance of thoughts about Wanda with the bell from the private room you were in. Your face changed before the curtain opened, and Xu Xialing was the first to look at the security guard entering, somewhat annoyed at having her private time playing games with friends interrupted.

"Forgive me for intruding, madam. The Countess is here and requests the Sage to join her." The man said, and Xialing nodded in understanding. She turned to you, but there was no need. With a soft leap from the sofa, you got to your feet and took one of Layla's cards from her pile - you threw it on the board and helped her win the game, taking the opportunity to leave the room while the two of them discussed whether the assisted victory had been fair or not.

The Golden Daggers Club was as packed and vibrant as ever. The next round of betting for the fights was due to start soon, and there were a lot of people shouting their bets to the judges, and joining the fight cages, so you had to make some effort to follow the venue's security guard into the special area of the place - where federal agents were given even more privacy to be around.

Contessa Valentina Allegra de la Fontaine was waiting for you alone, but behind a door with six security guards guarding her. Each of them gave you a look of contempt, but you walked past them without any reaction until you were with Valentina in a room with no windows, every inch of which was covered in priceless works of art, many of them stolen throughout history, which you and Layla recovered together in the service of the Ten Rings.

"You wanted to see me, Countess?" was your greeting, softly snarky. You weren't in the best of moods, especially since Valentina had interrupted your rest.

The woman gave you a false smile from the armchair where she was sitting waiting for you. A closed file and a glass of wine lay on the corner table.

"Oh, what a surprise, after your last defeat, I thought you'd given up on Sage." She comments with a certain venom on your disguise, the same one you wore two weeks ago when you went on what she called a streak of bad luck in the Club's fighting competitions, but which Xu Xialing called a distracted lovesick puppy. You try to disguise your clumsiness by clearing your throat.

Checking that the door is closed, you return to your real appearance and Valentina gives you a small but genuine smile.

"What do you want?" you insist, and in response, she pats the file resting on the table. You sigh. "What's this?"

"Last month has been very busy, but I've finally had time to review some of your late missions reports." She begins and you hide your nervousness, knowing full well where this conversation could end. "I apologize for taking so long to check them, darling. I hope you don’t think I’m jeopardizing your learning progress."

"Stop stalling, Valentina, just tell me what the problem is." You retort grumpily but she chuckles, her fingers tracing the paper before she grabs the file.

“Normally, I trust your experience, but I've heard that you've been particularly... antsy in your last few operations. Of course, you've successfully made it out of all of them, after all, we're having this conversation, but for a master of disguise, the increased number of encounters with the Avengers attracted my curiosity. I thought I'd take a closer look at your original encounters with them, and found an interesting passage in your report on Italy two months ago."

The page is already marked and in the next moment, she begins to read;

"My exit was interrupted by the presence of a new Avenger. A woman, perhaps the same age as me. The new, improved one from Sokovia. Average height, brown hair. Green eyes. Intense. Hypnotizing."

You swallow dryly, looking down at your feet. You're grateful to have control over your own body, or Valentina would be able to watch your cheeks blush.

She continues reading. "We faced each other briefly. The girl doesn't have complete control of her abilities, it was a quick fight. I immobilized her and departed in the getaway vehicle. No disguise was compromised, no other witnesses." Valentina narrates, finally raising her eyes from the file to you. "You know what's funny, sweetheart? The Avengers submitted their own report on Sapienza, and Wanda Maximoff describes the encounter with a Shapeshifter in detail. My question is, why are you lying for someone who didn't hesitate to use her special abilities to show her team your real appearance?"

You're caught off guard. A conflict of emotions rises in your chest, from anger to disappointment. It hurts. It's confusing and suffocating, and you feel the urge to start crying. But none of these emotions floats over your expression, your nails digging into your palm are enough to keep everything well buried.

With a soft sigh, you look Valentina in the eye.

"I don't trust the CIA."

Your boss chuckles, closing the file and crossing her legs. It's not exactly her best lie, but it seems to work on her.

"If this is about the Hydra clean-up in the public sector, I can assure you that we're safe." Valentina says. "Besides, your job is to trust me, Y/N. Not the CIA, or the Ten Rings, or any of your contractors. Only me, dear child, must you trust."

You bite your tongue hard, tears almost escaping this time. 

"I just..." You try, not knowing exactly what to say. "There was a conflict, and the girl, she beat me. Effortlessly. That energy she possesses revealed my disguise immediately, I had no chance to try another one. So I made a choice, and I omitted the part that I thought would do me any harm. Isn't that what you taught me to do?"

Right answer. Valentina grins, before sighing and standing up. You don't want her to touch you, but she puts her hands on your arms and you resist the urge to pull away.

"I'm proud of you, you're getting cleverer every day. I want you to be this way, Y/N. Strong-willed, resourceful." She compliments you, her hands moving up to your cheeks. You try to smile, but Valentina squeezes your skin tighter. "That doesn't mean you will lie to me. Understand?" She asks but doesn't expect a vocal response. Your nod is more than enough for her to give you a fake smile and loosen her grip. "You're my most valuable employee. I don't want you to put yourself in vulnerable situations without a reason."

Valentina steps away, and you decide to take a chance.

"She's like me." It's more hesitant than you'd like, but it's enough to make your boss raise an eyebrow at you. Swallowing dryly, you continue. "Wanda and her brother were also Strucker's experiments. We are the same. I thought I could-"

Valentina interrupts with a spiteful chuckle that makes you cringe like a frightened child. "The same? Is that what you think?" She retorts in a mocking tone that makes you feel too ashamed to even broach the subject. Leaning her waist on the table, she looks at you. "I know you've been digging through my files on her, Y/N. I don't blame you for being curious, but by now, I imagine you know very well the conditions of the experiments Miss Maximoff was part of. How she volunteered for all that. How can you say you're the same?"

You hesitate uneasily. "I don't mind that she volunteered. War called for desperate measures. I just... I've never met any other of us. Another who survived the Baron. I've been thinking if I could just see her-"

Valentina bursts into laughter, and you fall silent, concentrating so that she can't see your red ears. "See her? Now what's that, huh? Romeo and Juliet of the supers? What an absurd idea, child!" Refutes your boss, still chuckling as she walks away to the table. She finishes her glass of wine in one long gulp, and to your surprise, throws the file in your direction. You catch the item flat against your chest. "The notes the Avengers made about you are on page 24. Read what she said about you, and draw your own conclusions about who you call an equal. I came here to confirm your mental state, and this conversation was enlightening. I'll arrange an assessment."

"Val-"

"It’s not open for discussions Y/N." She cuts you off, a car key already in hand that makes you groan to yourself impatiently. "You're not going back to work until you talk to Doctor Grand."

She leaves without saying another word and you're left alone with the file in your hands. Without hurrying, you flip to the page mentioned earlier and sigh when you find a photograph of Wanda wearing a uniform with the Avengers crest embroidered on it. Below is her statement about the mission.

You trace your fingers over the passage "An extraordinary and dangerous skill from an equally impressive fighter" but hesitate when you read the passages about how she felt scared and unsafe. About how she thought you were aiming at her. About how she felt she failed by not bringing a high-risk criminal into custody.

Your tears finally fall, staining the page before you quickly wipe them away, closing the file tightly after ripping Wanda's photo out.

It was time to wrap up loose ends and get back to your perfect record.

-&-

In the fake drawer hidden on the floor under your bed - safeguards for someone whose apartment is frequently visited by a two-faced countess - you kept some personal things. Hydra's last record of you, small souvenirs from missions, and a photograph of Wanda Maximoff.

And this morning - and any other morning really - you were supposed to ignore that drawer, leave any weapons at home, put on a presentable outfit, and meet Valentina in the lobby promptly at 10 o'clock. She would take you by car to Dr. Grant's office who would do a standard assessment of your mental state that would tell whether or not you were fit to return to work.

But instead, you took the photo of Wanda out of its hiding place and put it in your pocket. You stood up, walked through your closet, and chose the least flashy backpack you owned. Then you armed yourself with three different types of knives and two pistols in a chest holster, very similar to that of American detectives. And speaking of the police, your drawer of false documentation provided by Valentina was studied without haste until you had in your pockets the identity of a Shield agent who never existed but was meant to be a little tribute to the job you were performing today.

With your disguise ready, you left the apartment two hours before your scheduled meeting with Valentina, and you had barely boarded the ferry when she called you.

"Our appointments aren't something to be skipped, young lady." Stated the woman seriously, but you gave her a weary sigh.

"I don't wish to see Doctor Grant."

Valentina chuckled, as you handed your ticket to the clerk passing in the corridors. On the other end of the line, she then spoke;

"You're not getting away with this, Y/N. I'm not authorizing your return to work until Roland confirms to me that your mental state is stable for you to continue."

You prop your feet up on the seat, switching your cell phone to another ear. "Val, I'm not running away, I promise. I just needed a break. Give me a few days, okay? Reschedule the visit, I'll be there. I'll even be there early."

She pauses thoughtfully, you can hear her breathing. And then she sighs in defeat and you smile. "Okay. If it's any encouragement, your next service is already being prepared. It's something you've never stolen before, and I'd like it to be yours. Of course, if you prove suitable."

A few weeks ago, the temptation would have been too much and you would have turned around and gone to the appointment just to win Grant's approval and be cleared for the job. To prove not only to Valentina, but to the world, and to any other colleague, that you could complete that mission. 

But now you let out a short laugh, and that surprises Valentina enough for her to keep quiet. "Reschedule for the end of the week. I guarantee that I'll have Dr. Grant's approval and you'll have your order in no time."

The promise seems to be enough for her, and after another sigh, Valentina hangs up. You put your cell phone away and return your attention to the now-stamped train ticket to New York.

The trip didn't take long, and within a few hours, you were in the bustling city. Especially today, at the inaugural Heroes of Earth celebration event, Manhattan was almost chaotic.

With fans and journalists from all over the world filling the streets that had been closed off for a sort of open-air Comic Con, you had no trouble at all going unnoticed in the crowd. You wore a disguise, of course, but you didn't have to. A few minutes into the fair, you really did look like a tourist, with your Avengers sweatshirt, cap, and colorful glasses.

The knives in your backpack were well hidden under the amount of superhero souvenirs you got.

You were trying to choose between an Incredible Hulk smash-burger or a portion of Thor's worthy chicken when the bell announcing the photo session with the Avengers was about to start.

Your appetite disappeared, anxiety taking over your whole body at once.

It was time to move.

The queue was huge, as was to be expected. At least, most of them were there for the best-known Avengers. Thor wasn't even on Earth, which meant that the other five originals were competing with each other over who got the most autographs. The new members, like Wanda, the Falcon, or Vision, were given presentation stands but had much more free time at the event.

You tried to ignore the pang of pride when you saw that among the new members, the queue of people to see Wanda was the longest. A considerable number of children were very excited to ask her to do magic tricks.

Your strawberry milkshake - Black Widow's Special - almost fell out of your hand when you finally saw Wanda leave the curtains dividing the dressing rooms and join the autograph table.

She wasn't wearing the soft hoodie with the Avengers symbol from the photograph you sneak a peek at almost every night, nor was she wearing the pathetic disguise she wore the first time you saw her. No, somehow, she managed to look prettier. Like all her teammates, she was wearing an outfit similar to the official fighting uniform, probably designed just for the event. With a black tactical outfit covered by a red jacket, the gloves that didn't cover her fingers were probably your favorite part.

Despite her relatively unfriendly uniform, Wanda offered such lovely smiles to the people who came to greet her that you thought the milkshake made you sick, judging by the way your stomach and heart were unsettled.

When the Meet & Greets began, you had to go to the ticket booth and buy a single ticket in cash; to meet Wanda, of course.

It would take place back in the fair's improvised dressing rooms, and after waiting for almost forty minutes, you were finally guided inside. Your backpack wasn't searched, perhaps because your weapons were hidden by Ten Rings technology, a gift from Xu Xialing on your last assignment, and when it went through the X-ray at the entrance, all they detected were the countless fair toys you had acquired. And the knives hidden in your body, well, it's obvious to say that when it comes to changing aspects of your anatomy for any situation, passing a security search was quite easy.

"Miss Maximoff will be here in a minute. She had a little problem with her costume, the children who came in before you caused a little milkshake accident."

One of the organizers informed you, and you gave her a kind smile, commenting that the Black Widow special was essential, even if it might cause minor accidents. The employee chuckled before going to answer a call on her communicator that could have been your intentional flooding of one of the toilets to occupy as many of the staff as possible.

Wanda's dressing room was the most intimate environment of hers you've ever been in. It didn't have many things, of course, but for someone who only had access to government documents, it was paradise.

Curious fingers traced all the belongings you could reach, from more comfortable pieces of clothing for her to change into during the event, to different types of tea and books, until you found a music device. 

The password protection on a Stark Industries MP3 player made you laugh to yourself. "What a distrustful little witch." You murmured affectionately, stowing the item in your jacket pocket and moving over to the schedule board.

You had already read the row that marked the start of the Meets, probably described there and in all the other dressing rooms, when your gaze caught a small notebook forgotten in one of the armchairs.

You got the chance to take it in hand and smile at the sketches on the first few pages before the item was suddenly lifted and pulled out of your hand.

"Sorry, but this is private." Wanda grabbed the item out of the air, but you stood there, static like a frightened animal, unable to breathe properly under her gaze. She seemed to realize that she had been too harsh and huffed out a laugh, the notebook clutched tightly against her chest. The sound made you swallow. "I shouldn't have kept you waiting, I guess you got bored. Sorry about that. Let me put this away, and we can, um, get started."

She didn't use magic to return the book to a safe place, you didn't know that yet, but Wanda was still learning to trust her powers. And if she could help it, she usually didn't use them.

She approached you, to put the book away in a bag that you didn't have a chance to peek into, and the sudden movement made your body react in alarm. Your back hit the schedule board, and Wanda frowned, stopping in her tracks with an almost hurt look on her face.

"You don't have to be scared. I'm not going to hurt you, you know." She murmured with the tips of her ears red. "I'm just going to put my notebook away, you see." The backpack floated towards her with a tug, and Wanda hardly met your gaze after that. She tossed the bag into a corner of the room and fiddled uncomfortably with the edge of her blouse.

She was no longer wearing the outfit she'd worn before, she was wearing a comfortable set, too soft and domestic for you to be calm-minded about anything.

You forced your brain to work because you thought the whole thing was getting ridiculous.

"I'm not scared." Your voice comes out very hoarse, so you clear your throat. Wanda raises her eyes, finally, and the green irises make your cheeks warm. You don't hide it from her. "As a matter of fact, I'm not the one who usually gets scared when we meet, am I, Maximoff?"

Taking the time she needed to understand, you removed your colored glasses and cap, your face changing back to its original appearance. Wanda sighed shakily as soon as she recognized you.

"Hi, Y/N." She greeted, too sweet for you to do anything but smile shyly, forgetting for a moment exactly what you had come for. 

"Hello, Wanda." You tried to sound just as gentle, but you must have done a poor job, to blame it on your body that doesn't seem to be working properly. Wanda swallows dryly, her hands moving slowly in the air. You watch the unhurried gesture - the way her fingers draw the air, and how the items of disguise float away to the armchair, and in your hands appear handcuffs that don't prevent you from moving them, and don't hurt either. The most you feel is a tickle.

"I've come all this way, just for you to put me in chains, little witch." You try to tease her, and you think it's a victory the way Wanda tries to hide a smile, approaching with her head down until she's close enough to touch you.

Her hands should be gripping the magical handcuffs, but instead, they hold yours. Wanda sighs. 

"You can't be here." She whispers, meeting your eyes, and you think it's ridiculous that you made any plans at all. You could never do anything to harm Wanda, and that was just the truth. "Then why are you?"

Unlike her, you don't hide your smile. You shrug as if your heart wasn't thumping in your chest, and revel in playing with Wanda's buttons.

"I was in the neighborhood. Wanted to say hi." Your casual reply makes her snort impatiently.

Her hands release yours, and you raise an eyebrow at Wanda's audacity to start searching you. 

"Wow, take me on a date first, love." You joke, but despite the new color her cheeks acquire due to the joke, the fond nickname, Wanda doesn't stop. She gropes in your pockets, reaches into your jacket, and grimaces with disapproval at every illegal item she finds. The false documents, the Shield badge, the guns. The MP3 is in the front pocket and Wanda gets a little closer to reach it, enough so that you have to lick your lips trying to control the instinct to break the distance. She just looks so kissable and smells so good.

She offers you an incredulous look at the stolen item, which floats back to the table as she gropes for the other pocket. Finding the train ticket, she lets out a short laugh.

"Six hours of travel is not being in the neighborhood." She comments, raising her eyes to you. 

"What do you want me to say?" You retort with a little smile, discourteously glancing between her eyes and her lips. "That I couldn't help myself and had to get on the first train to see you again? That I can't even go back to work because I can't stop thinking about you?"

There's this thing that Wanda's eyes do. The pupils get huge, and the green darkens. And she looks at you as if you were something to be devoured in every detail as if you were worth admiring. As if you were worth any of her time.

She speaks again, so low and hoarse that you wouldn't be able to hear her if you weren't close.

"Your thoughts are loud. Are you always so hard on yourself?" 

You swallow dry, caught off guard. Your hesitation makes Wanda sigh. She looks ready to apologize when you nod.

"It doesn't matter, every time we bump into each other, you make me feel different. Better. You look at me as if you can see more. What do you see, Wanda?"

She sighs deeply, and her hands move to touch your face. It's too gentle, and affectionate in a real and true way that you never experience. Your body goes rigid, not knowing how to handle the tenderness, but Wanda doesn't catch any request for her to stop touching, so her hands continue to hold your cheeks.

"I can see your anger, just as I can see your fear. I see the thief, and the murderer, but I can also see only you. No disguises, no lies. The person you are underneath it all." She says, swallowing dryly as she lets her gaze fall to your lips. "This is the person I let get away. And the person I'd like to meet, if you'll let me."

Your chest is heavy with confusing feelings. Your traumas beep in unison, your defenses beg you to push Wanda away and flee before the rest of the Avengers decide to show up. 

But instead, you return watery eyes to Wanda and gasp softly; "Why? Why do you care?"

And Wanda tries to lie. "I think you could use a friend."

You chuckle dryly, pulling away from the touch. "Hard pass." You mutter, but Wanda doesn't let you move away entirely. She decides to risk everything.

She grabs your chin and tilts your face towards her. It's a miscalculated kiss, you both flinch and gasp at the first contact of your lips and being taken by surprise makes you lose your balance in the middle of the movement to get away from her.

You fall into the armchair, and Wanda should apologize, but she doesn't even bother. She pushes your tense shoulders and straddles your lap, this time, when her mouth meets yours, it's much hungrier and more determined.

The handcuffs disappear into thin air with the first gasp that leaves her lips, and you waste no time in grabbing her waist, roughly pulling her down and holding her tight against you as your mouths move together. It's a passionate kiss full of urgency, charged with all the tension you've built up.

Your tongue slides into her mouth without warning, more experienced than Wanda, you manage to get a whimper out in no time. She wants to shrink away from the sound, but your hands slide down to grab her ass and pin her down onto your front, and suddenly all she can do is moan.

It seems absurd that you've gone a lifetime without kissing Wanda Maximoff when you both seem molded to do this with perfection.

You don't even move apart to breathe, a battle of restless hands and hungry mouths panting against each other. Wanda begins to grind herself into your lap in search of friction and you let out a sound you didn't know you could make.

Everything is suddenly so hot that Wanda doesn't hear her surroundings. She doesn't hear the curtain or the footsteps. But she definitely hears the machine man's surprised exclamation.

"Oh, forgive me, Wanda." Vision's back is turned the second he catches a glimpse of what's happening in that armchair.

Wanda jumps away as if she's received a jolt, and you groan in displeasure at the interruption. Despite the way every cell in your body seems to be vibrating with euphoria, you manage subtle changes in your face that prevent the Synthesized from recognizing you if he decides to turn around. "I didn't mean to interrupt-"

"Vis, please leave." She demands with ragged breathing, her face bright red. Wanda looks neither at you nor at Vision.

The man clears his throat, stuttering. "Of course, Wanda, I'm so sorry." He says, but although he mentions leaving, he doesn't. Stopping just before the curtain, he risks a glance over his shoulder. "There was a forced distraction with criminal indications in the western sector, the fair has already been interrupted. The captain has asked everyone to gather for a patrol check, in case there's an attempted attack. I just wanted to warn you. It would be appropriate to send your... friend away." explains the machine, exchanging a quick glance with Wanda before leaving the dressing room.

You'd like to kiss her again, but Wanda sniffles at Vision's departure and you frown in a mixture of concern and confusion.

"That's why you're here, isn't it?" She deduces annoyed. "To try a bloody attack on a children's fair? God, I’m so stupid. You’re obviously using me to distract your partners-”

But you stood up with an impatient sigh for the anxious and nervous conclusions of an avenger who has been caught in the act.

You grab Wanda again and kiss her hard enough for her to lose her balance, and she ends up pressed against the schedule board, and then the coffee table, each kiss more desperate and heated than the last.

Your thigh presses between hers, and Wanda practically meows at the friction. You love how responsive she is to your touch, and you try to push a little further under her clothes, quickly addicted to attracting more sounds.

And you're almost to the edge of her bra when you're interrupted again.

"Jesus, Maximoff, what the hell is going on here?" Unlike Vision, Natasha Romanoff is much more serious and determined to put an end to the whole thing. And she cares little about what was happening against the table. You hide the change in your features on Wanda's shoulder, while also trying to control your own breathing, somehow much more aroused than before. "We're working, Maximoff. There may be terrorists on the perimeter and you're here, well, I'm not judging, I'm just saying there's an appropriate time for everything. I'm sure your friend will survive if you let go of her mouth for a few hours. Who knows, maybe next time you can meet in a more appropriate place?" 

When you finally look at Nat, you can see that she's hiding a teasing little smile. You're glad that Wanda is making friends.

And unlike you, who doesn't mind having been caught not once but twice by the Avengers, Wanda looks like an embarrassed tomato who nods quickly while her magic does the work of adjusting your half-open clothes and leaving the objects you bump into in order again. 

"Of course, Natasha, I'll send her away. I'm sorry." Wanda practically pushes you out, dragging you to a more secluded area at the back of the dressing rooms.

She tries unwillingly to resist your eager hands or the quick but intense kisses you steal from her on the way.

"You have to go." She struggles to gasp, her hands pushing your shoulders to stop the whole thing or she wouldn't be able to think.

Wanda with her hair disheveled after a proper make-out session, her face flushed and her lips swollen is too much for you.

"Fuck." You gasp and she swallows.

"What?" 

You don't know what to say, nothing seems enough. She's awakened something in you that you didn't know existed. Suddenly, the idea of staying away from her seems an impossibility.

"When will I see you again?"

She frowns at the question, laughing nervously. "We shouldn't have seen each other even today."

But your hands pull her by the waist. "Nonsense. We should definitely do this again.” Your lips trail down her jaw, to the sensitive points on her neck that you're trying to memorize. She sighs, and struggles to keep her eyes open, but only for a moment before she pushes you away again, laughing shyly.

"Please, darling, I need to get back, my job-"

"There's no attempt attack, I flooded a toilet so I'd have time to see you." You clarify quickly and Wanda has to shake her head and laugh incredulously.

"You're nuts."

"Honestly? Yes. I think I've figured out what was wrong with me over the last weeks. You’re driving me nuts, Wanda Maximoff. I can't stop thinking about you." You retort quickly, not caring about the irregular beating of your pulse, nor the way she blushes heavily. "I need to know when I'm going to see you again."

She looks back into the dressing rooms and can see that Natasha is coming out through the curtain. She approaches you at once to give you one last intense kiss and whispers goodbye on your lips as you part.

With every inch of skin that Wanda touched vibrating and your heart pounding in your chest, you only remember to regulate your powers and return to a disguise a good few minutes after she has disappeared from sight, and hope that no security cameras saw you there.

[haveateadude]

hi em!! if you're comfortable could you maybe write reader relapsing and ellie just comforting her, maybe helping bandage her arms or something? obviously no pressure ,, thank you if you do write it 💗💗

a shoulder to cry on

summary *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ relapses happen... ellie's there to hold you anyway

warnings *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ a somewhat explicit self-harm description?? i tried to keep it as vague as possible but it's definitely there and it's mentioned once

author notes *. ⋆ ⋆·˚ to whoever who sent the request thank you sm for sending it,, i hope you're doing alright. wishing you the best :)) anyway, love youu. oh and also i hope you like this!!

quick disclaimer - i'm not trying to romanticize self-harm or any other mental disorder. having a shitty mental health it's not pretty or enjoyable, it sucks and it's shitty, it ruins lives. don't wish it upon yourself or others and reach out if you need help.

As soon as Ellie steps into the bathroom, you regret calling her.

No one has ever seen you this sad—this depressed, this… vulnerable. It makes you feel dirty, as if you've done something wrong, like Ellie is trampling all over your boundaries and shredding them to pieces when all she's done is look you in the eyes.

Her reaction seems to be in slow motion, at least that's what you think. She doesn't need to change her facial expression; her eyes say everything. You can't tell if it's disappointment, worry, or something else. You're too anxious to think.

In a blink, she's kneeling in front of you, her hands on your knees while you sit on the cold bathroom floor with your back pressed against the wall. Your arms are wrapped around yourself as you avoid her gaze.

"Baby…" Ellie says gently. "Can I see your arms, please?"

You want to say no, but you don't give any sign of refusal, and you don't fight her when she reaches out to touch you. Her hands are cold against your skin. She stays quiet for a moment, looking at your arm, her thumb making absent minded small circles near where it's injured. She gives you a pained look when she sees your shirt, stained with crimson red liquid.

"Wait for me, okay? I'll be back in a second," she says after pressing a kiss on your forehead.

She leaves you alone in the bathroom, so you stand up to look at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes, when you relapse, it's like you don't even recognize yourself—it's like the person in front doesn't look anything like you. It's a face you can't remember, yet it still is yours. It makes you feel guilty.

When Ellie comes back with the first aid kit—the one you always keep in the kitchen—and a new, loose shirt, she doesn't ask why you're standing now. Instead, she tells you to sit on the countertop, right next to the sink. After making sure the blood is already dried, she helps you put on the shirt she brought.

"I'm sorry," you say first, looking at Ellie. You've been avoiding her gaze this whole time, but now you feel like she's ignoring yours as she looks for the things she needs from the kit. "I know you're worried."

She shakes her head as she, very gently, starts wiping the remaining blood on your arm with a cotton towel from the first aid kit. "It's okay, I promise."

You bite your lip. One part of you thinks she's mad, and the other part tells you she's just scared. She must be, you think. Or else she would've probably left by now.

"This'll probably sting, yeah?" she says, looking into your eyes before disinfecting the wounds.

"Okay," you nod.

It does hurt, and every time you hiss in pain, Ellie is there to kiss your cheek.

"You're doing a great job," she says as she starts wrapping your arms with bandages. "I'm almost done."

You sniffle when she finishes with a kiss on top of the bandages.

It's not that you're embarrassed to cry, but Ellie has seen enough for today. She looks up at you, her green eyes searching for any sign of emotion on your face. And she finds it. Of course. You try blinking the tears away, but it doesn't help. You cover your face with both hands as you start crying.

"Hey, don't hide from me, baby," Ellie speaks softly, taking your hands away from your face to hold your cheeks, her thumbs wiping away the tears that fall. She kisses your lips. "It's gonna be okay."

She hugs you, wrapping her arms around you, one arm on your torso and the other caressing your hair as you start to sob. All the emotions you've been holding in suddenly let loose.

"Let it out," she tells you. "It's okay, it's okay…"

"I'm sorry," you say between ragged breaths. "I didn't—I didn't mean to…"

"Shh, I know… I know you didn't."

She holds you close, whispering sweet nothings in your ear, even after you've stopped crying. You're now only hiccuping as she pulls away, her forehead against yours, holding your hands in hers.

"Sorry for calling you," you suddenly say, biting your lip.

She shakes her head instantly, her thumb brushing your bottom lip, gently pulling it away from your teeth. "Don't be sorry. I'm not mad or anything—I'm just glad you reached out. If anything, I was a little scared."

"Still, I just—I didn't mean to worry you."

"I know you don't like that I worry, and I know you never like people seeing you this… vulnerable. But I'm your girlfriend; I want to be there for you always, and I worry about you every time you're hurt. We'll talk about the self-harm issue later, okay? Right now, I just want you to know you can talk to me whenever. I'll always be here for you." She looks down. "I don't think you realize how much you matter to me."

If you both hadn't been so close, you wouldn't have heard that last part. You're the one to initiate the hug now.

"I love you," you say. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I love you too," she replies. "And without me, you'd probably be fine. You're the strongest person I've known."

"Oh, shut up." You laugh. "Since when are you so cheesy?"

[vonabel]

it's always been you, you, you, you.

Link had never been in love as far as he can remember, which honestly isn’t very far. Love has no place in a world like this, not in his mind. But when he thinks about love, it's only natural that he distantly thinks of you.

Link/Reader

true love, very little dialogue, emotional hurt/comfort, open/happy ending, fluff, Link talks, the moon is reader's bff, reader uses she/her pronouns, no smut, short and sweet oneshot, takes place during BOTW

1.5k words | complete

ao3

♡♡♡

Link had never been in love as far as he can remember, which honestly isn’t very far. But he likes to think he’d remember anyone he’d been in love with. He knows and remembers a few girls that loved him. Mipha comes to mind first when he thinks of those girls. He remembers the tight feeling he used to get in his chest every time Mipha said something vaguely romantic to him. He remembers the guilt he held, and still holds, at not loving her back the way she so deeply deserved.

He remembers enough about the love in his life to know he had never loved anyone before now.

His lifestyle, his destiny , isn’t exactly forgiving enough to allow him to love. Not with the way he isn’t even home most days, and certainly not with how often he is extremely lucky that he even got to return home at all. A life like that isn’t a kind one. It isn’t one he’d want to give to someone he loves. The way he can never promise a safe return makes something heavy and dark settle in his chest.

And he distantly thinks about you .

The pretty village girl that didn't want anything from him. Everyone else has a task, a request, something they need him to do. But you're there to offer a break, with a fresh loaf of bread and maybe, if he's lucky, a kiss or two. You have no quests, you just want him. With you he isn't the Hero and the title of Champion doesn't settle heavy on his shoulders. With you he is just Link.

In the beginning, he tried hard to keep you at an arm's length, even when his heart screamed at him to do otherwise. He still aches for a day when he can set his sword down for good, a day where his destiny to the Princess and to Hyrule is complete and he can live a normal life in Hateno Village. In the back of his mind, he knows that's an unrealistic wish. He knows he'll never be able to sheath his sword and pack it away, left to be forgotten and collect dust.

And, okay, maybe he lied. But just a little. He says he kept you at a distance, but truthfully , he hadn’t actually tried that hard. If you happened to slump in through his front door and dramatically collapse over him on his bed to press kisses across his face, all the while giggling, who was he to turn you away?

Despite himself, he begins to look forward to nights like these.

He knows he shouldn’t. He knows that by letting things like this happen, things like dancing around his kitchen with you, after the sun has already set and the stars begin twinkling in the sky, he’s just making things harder in the long run. He'll inevitably have to leave, whether to free another Divine Beast or to eventually go fight Ganon and rescue the Princess. He knows one day he'll leave for good.

But, by Goddess, on nights like these, he doesn’t care. When you’re here with him. Letting him touch you and kiss you and fall in love with you more and more and over and over . He can’t help but not care, for just a moment, about anything his fateful future holds. The only thing on his mind is your smile, your hand in his, your lips on his, you, you, you, you.

And he knows you know.

He knows that you know that this won't last forever, you’re a smart girl. That this - whatever this is between you both - can never be anything more than a fleeting romance, despite how much his heart swells and fills up with you. Because he has a duty to the Princess and to Hyrule. And he knows you think about it far more often than you let on.

And you do know. You're well aware your heart happened to pick the most unavailable boy in all of Hyrule. But, frankly, you don't care. Link says this can't be more than what it is. He says there will come a day where he won't return. And while you know that statement is true in some sense, you also know that he does come back to you. He always has, and you have an inkling that he always will.

You still whisper pretty little lies to the moon on those days. The ones where he leaves, unsure when or if he'll come back. (He always, always comes back.) You pray to Hylia that he's safe and unharmed, though you know he probably isn't. Sometimes you even pray to the Princess, hoping that she can hear you and listens, keeping him safe and protected against the evil in Hyrule.

He's leaving again tonight. He doesn't know how long he'll be gone, he never really does. But something in your chest is twisting and aching and you're more afraid than you've ever been. You watch him wander around his home, taking weapons from the wall and food from the table. He packs his saddlebags quickly, too quickly - the faster he packs, the faster he leaves.

You're standing in the doorway to his house, watching him pull at his saddle and make sure everything is in its right place. Watching him prepare to leave always hurts a little too much, so you tilt your head up to look at the sky. It's warmer out tonight than it has been in weeks, the humidity thick in your lungs and the clouds rolling overhead are a sure sign of an incoming shower. Link says your name and you don't look at him. Your tears will certainly fall if you do, and you don't want him to feel any worse about leaving than you know he already does. So your chin stays pointed toward the sky.

Naydra splits the moon in half, glimmering with snow and ice. She dances her way across the sky, and you watch in muted awe as she disappears into the mountains. Link says your name again and this time you do look. The smile on his lips is the softest you've maybe ever seen. You blink twice, forcing away the stinging sensation behind your eyes as he steps forward to stand in front of you. He doesn't have to say it, you already know. It's time for him to leave. You can guess where he’s going this time. The Divine Beasts have all been freed, the Shrines have all been completed, there’s only one thing left for him to do now.

“Where are you going this time?” you hum and smile, ignoring the burn in your nose. He rarely tells you where he's going, probably to avoid you, or anyone else, trying to find him. So you have a hard time concealing your surprise when he speaks.

“A fairy first,” he says quietly, hand touching at your elbow. You barely suppress your shudder when it slides down until he's holding your wrist, and then he continues, “The one in Kakariko. After that, I'll head west.”

“You're going to the castle,” you say, ignoring the way your heart flips when he nods to confirm, “Come back, okay?”

“I will,” he hums, “I'll always come back to you.”

It's an empty promise, you're well aware. When he saves the Princess, and you’re sure he will, he won’t come back this time. But you let the words comfort you, let them echo in your head as you watch him ride away into the dark, twisting branches of the forest. You wait until he's out of sight completely to turn and step back into his home. His bed still smells like him, warm and melancholy, and you wrap yourself up in it to cry at the moon. The rain begins and the moon is weeping with you, you think, for you and your heartbreak.

And miles away, Link can feel the rain before it starts, humid on his skin with your face burned into his mind. He tilts his chin up, letting the cloudburst wash the salt from his face. It's then that Zelda lets him in on a secret, she tells him that you speak to her, ask her to keep him safe and cry to her when he comes back. She tells him she’s proud of him, says he knows what this feeling is, and Link learns, for the first time in all his years, what love is. Love is the moon, love is the sun, love is Zelda watching over him. Love is you, you, you, you . Allowing himself to love you opens his chest up in a way he's never felt before. This time when he thinks about love, you come right after, no longer held at a distance.

He'll make good on his promise. He will be back for you. Calamity Ganon will fall at his sword, and the Princess will be saved, and Link will come home to you.