#david castañeda imagines

[bey0nd-1he-stars]

Okay the final season of The umbrella academy isn’t the best written thing I’ve seen but the acting on the other hand-

Gold stars to all of them, holy shit

[oscarisaacsspit]

he’s just like me fr

[cinebration]

Awww, this was so adorable! Thank you so much!!!! I’ll be rereading this frequently when I’m feeling blue.

I hope you’re well, too!

Congratulations again!!!! I’m here with TWO—count ’em, 2!—requests. Can I get Diego Hargreeves with “I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before” and Laszlo Kriezler with “I don’t need you to tell me who I am!”?

Aww thank you so much! I'm so so sorry this is incredibly late, but I hope you still enjoy! I also hope you've been doing well! 💛

oOoOo

The bar was noisy and the stench of cheap beer filled the air. None of that mattered to you, though, as you concentrated on the task at hand. It was Friday night which meant your weekly, friendly, 'date' with Diego. The same Diego who had challenged you to a round of darts, causing you to poke your tongue out in concentration.

"I don't think I've ever seen anyone screw something up that fast before." Diego teased, laughing into his beer as he watched you throw all three of your darts into the outer rings, losing spectacularly.

Huffing, you threw your arms up in frustration and turned around. "If it's so easy, you show me then." you challenged, hands on your hips.

"With pleasure, sweetheart." Diego said, strutting past you to retrieve the darts, before he lined up his first throw, landing a perfect bullseye. The other two darts followed in quick succession leaving Diego with a smug grin and you pouting in your chair.

You threw back the rest of your drink, grumbling about how unfair it was when Diego had near perfect aim. "If I had superpowers, I'd score a perfect game too."

"Nah, you don't need any powers. C'mere, let me show you." he offered, holding a dart towards you.

Without hesitation, you jumped off your seat and grabbed the dart from his hand, twirling it back and forth between your fingers. Diego then took a step towards, standing behind you. Wordlessly, Diego took your hand in his and manipulated your fingers until you were holding the dart just like he wanted you to. All you could do was pray he hadn't heard the way your breath hitched at his touch.

"That feel okay?" he asked, glancing down at you.

Wordlessly, you nodded, looking over your shoulder into brown eyes. "Getting comfy there, sweetheart?" he teased before returning to the task at hand. "Alright, now you wanna line it up." he started, helping you guide your hand to the correct height. "Then you're gonna throw it back, release, and make sure you follow through." he explained, walking you through the steps without actually throwing the dart. "Take your best shot."

You shook your head to clear it before trying to follow Diego's instructions. Throwing the dart, you were dejected when it didn't hit the center, but did hit closer than before.

"That's not bad at all." Diego offered. "Try one more time."

Once more, you lined up your shot, pulled the dart back, and released. This time, however, the dart sunk right into the bullseye, your eyes immediately going wide.

"Oh my god, I did it!" you shouted, a huge grin overtaking your face. "Did you see that?" you asked, turning to face Diego and engulfing him in a hug.

Before either of you could respond, you were so caught up in the moment that you kissed Diego without thinking. When you realized what you had done, you pulled back frozen in shock. You prayed you would spontaneously combust to avoid an awkward conversation and Diego's rejection.

"I am so sorr-" you began to apologize, before Diego's lips were on yours once more.

This kiss was a surprise, but it was soft and sweet. Not at all what you would've expected from Diego, yet you wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. You found yourself lost in the moment you had been waiting for.

Pulling away, you allowed your forehead to rest against Diego's, a small smile on your lips. "So, that was, uh..." you trailed off with a slight giggle.

"Yeah." Diego smiled. "It was."

"I guess these weekly dates are more than friendly?" you giggled, leaning up to press another kiss to Diego's lips.

[guiltymnd]

DAVID CASTAÑEDA? Não! É apenas ARCHIBALD DIEGO CORTEZ GUTIÉRREZ, ele é filho de DEMÉTER do chalé QUATRO e tem TRINTA E UM ANOS. A TV Hefesto informa no guia de programação que ele está no NÍVEL III por estar no Acampamento há QUINZE ANOS, sabia? E se lá estiver certo, DIDI é bastante COMPASSIVO mas também dizem que ele é ORGULHOSO. Mas você sabe como Hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

LINKS UTEÍS:ㅤㅤPINBOARD.ㅤPLAYLIST.ㅤDESENVOLVIMENTO.ㅤOUTROS.

BIOGRAFIA,

tw, breve menção a suicídio.

Guadalupe nunca imaginou que se apaixonaria tão perdidamente por outra mulher. Ou melhor, por uma deusa. Quando conheceu Deméter, o encontro improvável evoluiu de uma amizade para um amor profundo. As duas tornaram-se inseparáveis, e a humana não conseguia imaginar um futuro sem a bela e misteriosa mulher que havia entrado em sua vida, preenchendo cada espaço e trazendo-lhe imensa felicidade. No entanto, essa felicidade teve um fim, atingindo seu prazo de validade. Os ataques contra elas tornaram-se incessantes, ocorrendo com uma frequência que confundia a deusa. Para proteger a amada, o fim do relacionamento tornou-se inevitável. Antes de desaparecer completamente, Deméter fez seu último ato de amor: tocou o ventre de Guadalupe e, com os últimos beijos apaixonados, a abençoou com uma semente que germinaria ali dentro, dando origem a uma criança descendente de seu sangue divino. Por outro lado, Guadalupe não aceitou bem a ideia. Nos primeiros meses de gestação, tentou terminar com a própria vida, mas algo a impedia, insistindo para que ela continuasse até o fim, levando-a a acreditar que, mesmo na ausência de Deméter, a deusa ainda atuava em intermédio entre elas.

No dia do nascimento, após horas de um parto difícil, nasceu um belo menino chamado Diego Cortez. Guadalupe estava radiante, mas sua alegria logo se desfez. O corpo, ferido e com a alta perda de sangue, não resistiu por muito tempo. Devido à fraqueza, ela faleceu horas depois do nascimento de seu único filho. A mulher foi encontrada sem vida em seu leito no hospital, segurando com força um colar com um pingente que indicava quem lhe havia dado o presente — um pequeno ramo de aveia —, que havia sido um dos últimos presentes deixados por Deméter. Diego foi imediatamente enviado para um orfanato, e não demorou para ser adotado. Um casal sênior de políticos e aristocratas mexicanos viu a oportunidade de realizar o sonho de se tornarem pais após anos de tentativas e espera sem sucesso. Agora nomeado Archibald Diego Cortez Gutiérrez, ele viveu uma vida cercada de luxos e regalias. Por onde passava, era acompanhado por seguranças e, desde muito cedo, era motivo de alegria, especialmente entre os eleitores mais assíduos dos pais.

No entanto, após seu décimo quinto aniversário, a vida do jovem mudou drasticamente. Até então, ele havia levado uma existência pacífica, sem perturbações ou eventos fora do comum. Entretanto, no início da adolescência, ele passou pela sensação de estar sendo seguido. Viu coisas, conseguiu ler outras que iam além de sua compreensão, além de questionar sua própria sanidade por ouvir vozes – vozes que pareciam pertencer a uma mulher e que sempre o alertavam para ser cuidadoso. Em um dia comum, ao voltar da escola, o jovem foi atacado por um trio de gárgulas que repetia incessantemente o nome da deusa do cultivo. Naquele dia, o semideus recorda-se de correr até a casa onde vivia, na bela Guadalajara, clamando por ajuda, apenas para se deparar com uma cena digna de um filme de terror. Havia corpos espalhados pelo chão, todos sem vida. Em desespero, ele voltou a gritar por socorro, desejando que aquele tormento chegasse ao fim. Prestes a sucumbir ao mesmo destino, sem resistir ao ataque das criaturas desconhecidas, Diego, abraçado aos corpos de seus pais, foi surpreendido pelo surgimento de uma silhueta imponente: uma mulher em vestes magníficas que se posicionou à sua frente. Ela protegeu-o dos monstros, ceifando rapidamente a vida dos três, sem dar tempo para que a mente do rapaz processasse o que acabara de ocorrer.

Deméter disse pouco, mas estendeu a mão para ele e sorriu. Ensanguentado e amedrontado, ele aceitou o gesto silencioso, agarrando-se à única chance que tinha. Atingido por um clarão de luz, lembra-se de pouco do que aconteceu depois. Estava exausto, consumido pelo luto. Acordou dias depois em um local completamente desconhecido, cercado por pessoas estranhas. A deusa já o havia proclamado como filho muito antes que ele recobrasse a consciência, deixando todos cientes de sua ascendência divina. Durante um longo período, Diego rejeitou a nova realidade. Entre sofrimento e teimosia, o semideus tentou várias fugas, sendo trazido de volta às vezes por ordem de Quíron, devido à sua incapacidade de sobreviver sem o treinamento necessário, o que lhe rendeu uma reputação problemática entre os outros campistas. Quando finalmente aceitou a situação, já superado, desempenhou seu papel da melhor forma possível. Treinou intensamente, tornando-se exímio no manejo de armas e no combate corpo a corpo, além de aprimorar a habilidade extraordinária que recebeu da sua mãe olimpiana.

No entanto, apesar de adquirir apreço pelo Acampamento Meio-Sangue, Diego declarava-se um espírito livre, sempre buscando missões que lhe permitissem conhecer o mundo além dos domínios mágicos. Em uma dessas missões, decidiu estabelecer-se em Tóquio, no Japão, por três anos, após mais uma tarefa bem-sucedida. Acompanhado de outros semideuses que também adotavam um estilo de vida nômade, ele viveu livremente, sem restrições, respondendo apenas a chamados do acampamento para missões que ele julgasse valer seu tempo. Durante uma dessas missões, ele se viu em um problema que o persegue até então. Após mais uma tarefa bem sucedida, dotado de um ego inflado, principalmente por ter desempenhado protagonismo durante grande parte da ação, Diego achou-se no direito de insultar. Não poupou palavras para exaltar a si mesmo, sem se preocupar com emoções e sentimentos alheios. A espreita, Nêmesis observava a situação, tornando-o alvo de seu mais novo castigo.

Diego não se lembra exatamente como tudo começou, mas a lembrança de uma mulher em vestes tão brilhantes mas pretas apareceu diante dele, cegando-o com sua beleza fria, forçando-o a observá-la. Nêmesis sussurrou, não obstante de também ser categórica, palavras que, mais tarde, ele reconheceu como uma maldição. O filho de Deméter estaria destinado a sofrer sempre que a noite caísse, carregando uma marca mental a qual foi dita pela deusa como o “Fardo da Insolência”. Envergonhado por seus próprios atos, Diego voltou a viver no Japão, mantendo-se incógnito e aproveitando a generosa herança deixada pelos pais adotivos. Receber o chamado de Dionísio foi, ao mesmo tempo, aterrorizante e irritante. Ele não tinha vontade de retornar, tão acostumado que estava à vida que construíra, trabalhando periodicamente em um restaurante típico como cozinheiro, distante da essência dos deuses. No entanto, após muita reflexão, ele concordou e pegou o primeiro voo de volta às terras americanas. Se algo estava acontecendo, ele faria questão de testemunhar com os próprios olhos. Ou talvez o medo, atrelado bastante às noites incertas embebidas pelas consequências da maldição, de se tornar alvo de outro deus tenha falado mais alto, levando-o a tomar a decisão mais “sensata” para a situação.

PERSONALIDADE,

Diego possui uma personalidade moldada por tragédias. Ele carrega uma mistura de resiliência e arrogância, resultado de sua linhagem divina e do modo como foi criado. É intensamente determinado, o que o torna um combatente exímio e um líder natural em situações de crise. No entanto, essa determinação é acompanhada por um forte ego, alimentado pelos sucessos que acumulou em missões ao longo dos anos. Sua relação com o poder é ambígua: enquanto busca constantemente aprimorar suas habilidades e explorar seus limites, ele também teme as consequências de sua própria soberba, especialmente após ser amaldiçoado por Nêmesis. Essa maldição o deixou mais introspectivo e cauteloso, criando uma tensão interna entre seu desejo de se destacar e a necessidade de humildade.

O filho de Deméter também é um espírito livre, frequentemente inquieto e em busca de novas experiências. Ele prefere a vida nômade, longe das amarras de qualquer compromisso duradouro, mas mantém um senso de dever para com o Acampamento Meio-Sangue e seus companheiros semideuses. Apesar de suas viagens e seu estilo de vida independente, Diego é leal àqueles que considera amigos, mas tende a evitar se apegar demais, temendo novas perdas. A maldição de Nêmesis, que o aflige durante a noite, o tornou mais vigilante e introspectivo, forçando-o a confrontar seus próprios demônios internos. Ele luta constantemente para equilibrar seu lado competitivo e ousado com a sabedoria adquirida através do sofrimento. Essa dualidade faz de Diego um homem complexo, movido tanto pela vontade de superar seus próprios erros quanto pelo medo de repetir as falhas do passado.

INSPIRAÇÕES:ㅤㅤRaleigh Becket (Pacific Rim) e Satoru Gojo (Jujutsu Kaisen).

PODER,

Conexão Mútua Ativa — Conectado de forma íntima com a natureza ao seu redor, Diego, como um filho da deusa da colheita, experimenta um vínculo especial e recíproco com as plantas. Para ele, priorizar a proteção da vida vegetal é mais do que um princípio, é uma responsabilidade sagrada. As plantas, árvores e flores respondem de maneira instintiva à sua presença, movendo-se sem esforço aparente para oferecer defesa e assistência quando necessário. Em um gesto de cooperação silenciosa, elas se posicionam estrategicamente, cobrindo pontos cegos e oferecendo apoio, sem que o semideus precise gastar energia para convocá-las.

ARSENAL,

Yoru no Ken (夜の剣) ou “Espada da Noite” —  Katana feita de ferro estígio, presente ganhado de um filho de Hefesto, semideus também nômade e que compartilhou tempo de morada com Diego no Japão. A arma é simples ao olhar, mas eficiente ao ataque. Sua lâmina é extremamente cortante, efetiva para ferir gravemente qualquer criatura mitológica. Quando esta não está visível em seu formato tradicional, a katana ganha a forma de um bracelete, sempre visível como um acessório inseparável, preso ao pulso direito do semideus. Se perdida, o bracelete sempre irá ressurgir.

MALDIÇÃO,

Maldição por Nêmesis  —  Diego enxerga sua imagem refletida de forma distorcida e horrível em qualquer superfície reflexiva. Essa imagem revela suas falhas, medos e verdades ocultas de maneira grotesca e perturbadora, causando-lhe grande sofrimento psicológico e prejudicando sua capacidade de formar relacionamentos e interagir socialmente, especialmente no âmbito romântico. Além disso, o semideus é incapaz de escapar das verdades desconfortáveis sobre si mesmo. Sua mente está constantemente sobrecarregada por uma consciência intensa e implacável de suas próprias falhas e erros, tornando difícil para ele concentrar-se em qualquer outra coisa. Como resultado, ele acaba se expondo, principalmente em momentos de tensão e aflição, sem um filtro para isso. No final, isso provoca intenso embaraço e vergonha.

HABILIDADES,

Reflexos sobre-humanos, durabilidade sobre-humana.

ATIVIDADES,

Membro da equipe azul de Esgrima;

Co-líder da equipe azul de Corrida com Obstáculos;

Membro da equipe azul do Clube da Luta.

[disregardcanon]

no insult to adult travis's actor because we just. do not see very much of him but i always imagine david castañeda playing diego hargreeves as adult travis tbh

[swfichs]

DAVID CASTAÑEDA? Não! É apenas ARCHIBALD DIEGO CORTEZ GUTIÉRREZ, ele é filho de DEMÉTER do chalé QUATRO e tem TRINTA E UM ANOS. A TV Hefesto informa no guia de programação que ele está no NÍVEL III por estar no Acampamento há QUINZE ANOS, sabia? E se lá estiver certo, DIDI é bastante COMPASSIVO mas também dizem que ele é ORGULHOSO. Mas você sabe como Hefesto é, sempre inventando fake news pra atrair audiência.

____________________

BIOGRAFIA, 

tw, leve menção de suícidio.

Guadalupe nunca imaginou que se apaixonaria tão perdidamente por outra mulher. Ou melhor, por uma deusa. Quando conheceu Deméter, o encontro improvável evoluiu de uma amizade para um amor profundo. As duas tornaram-se inseparáveis, e a humana não conseguia imaginar um futuro sem a bela e misteriosa mulher que havia entrado em sua vida, preenchendo cada espaço e trazendo-lhe imensa felicidade. No entanto, essa felicidade teve um fim, atingindo seu prazo de validade. Os ataques contra elas tornaram-se incessantes, ocorrendo com uma frequência que confundia a deusa. Para proteger a amada, o fim do relacionamento tornou-se inevitável. Antes de desaparecer completamente, Deméter fez seu último ato de amor: tocou o ventre de Guadalupe e, com os últimos beijos apaixonados, a abençoou com uma semente que germinaria ali dentro, dando origem a uma criança descendente de seu sangue divino. Por outro lado, Guadalupe não aceitou bem a ideia. Nos primeiros meses de gestação, tentou terminar com a própria vida, mas algo a impedia, insistindo para que ela continuasse até o fim, levando-a a acreditar que, mesmo na ausência de Deméter, a deusa ainda atuava em intermédio entre elas.

No dia do nascimento, após horas de um parto difícil, nasceu um belo menino chamado Diego Cortez. Guadalupe estava radiante, mas sua alegria logo se desfez. O corpo, ferido e com alta perda de sangue, não resistiu por muito tempo. Devido à fraqueza, ela faleceu horas depois do nascimento de seu único filho. A mulher foi encontrada sem vida em seu leito no hospital, segurando com força um colar com um pingente que indicava quem lhe havia dado o presente — um pequeno ramo de aveia —, que havia sido um dos últimos presentes deixados por Deméter. Diego foi imediatamente enviado para um orfanato, e não demorou para ser adotado. Um casal sênior de políticos e aristocratas mexicanos viu a oportunidade de realizar o sonho de se tornarem pais após anos de tentativas e espera sem sucesso. Agora nomeado Archibald Diego Cortez Gutiérrez, ele viveu uma vida cercada de luxos e regalias. Por onde passava, era acompanhado por seguranças e, desde muito cedo, era motivo de alegria, especialmente entre os eleitores mais assíduos dos pais.

No entanto, após seu décimo quinto aniversário, a vida do jovem mudou drasticamente. Até então, ele havia levado uma existência pacífica, sem perturbações ou eventos fora do comum. Entretanto, no início da adolescência, ele passou pela sensação de estar sendo seguido. Viu coisas, conseguiu ler outras que iam além de sua compreensão, além de questionar sua própria sanidade por ouvir vozes – vozes que pareciam pertencer a uma mulher e que sempre o alertavam para ser cuidadoso. Em um dia comum, ao voltar da escola, o jovem foi atacado por um trio de gárgulas que repetia incessantemente o nome da deusa do cultivo. Naquele dia, o semideus recorda-se de correr até a casa onde vivia, na bela Guadalajara, clamando por ajuda, apenas para se deparar com uma cena digna de um filme de terror. Havia corpos espalhados pelo chão, todos sem vida. Em desespero, ele voltou a gritar por socorro, desejando que aquele tormento chegasse ao fim. Prestes a sucumbir ao mesmo destino, sem resistir ao ataque das criaturas desconhecidas, Diego, abraçado aos corpos de seus pais, foi surpreendido pelo surgimento de uma silhueta imponente: uma mulher em vestes magníficas que se posicionou à sua frente. Ela protegeu-o dos monstros, ceifando rapidamente a vida dos três, sem dar tempo para que a mente do rapaz processasse o que acabara de ocorrer.

Deméter disse pouco, mas estendeu a mão para ele e sorriu. Ensanguentado e amedrontado, ele aceitou o gesto silencioso, agarrando-se à única chance que tinha. Atingido por um clarão de luz, lembra-se de pouco do que aconteceu depois. Estava exausto, consumido pelo luto. Acordou dias depois em um local completamente desconhecido, cercado por pessoas estranhas. A deusa já o havia proclamado como filho muito antes que ele recobrasse a consciência, deixando todos cientes de sua ascendência divina. Durante um longo período, Diego rejeitou a nova realidade. Entre sofrimento e teimosia, o semideus tentou várias fugas, sendo trazido de volta às vezes por ordem de Quíron, devido à sua incapacidade de sobreviver sem o treinamento necessário, o que lhe rendeu uma reputação problemática entre os outros campistas. Quando finalmente aceitou a situação, já superado, desempenhou seu papel da melhor forma possível. Treinou intensamente, tornando-se exímio no manejo de armas e no combate corpo a corpo, além de aprimorar a habilidade extraordinária que recebeu da sua mãe olimpiana.

No entanto, apesar de adquirir apreço pelo Acampamento Meio-Sangue, Diego declarava-se um espírito livre, sempre buscando missões que lhe permitissem conhecer o mundo além dos domínios mágicos. Em uma dessas missões, decidiu estabelecer-se em Tóquio, no Japão, por três anos, após mais uma tarefa bem-sucedida. Acompanhado de outros semideuses que também adotavam um estilo de vida nômade, ele viveu livremente, sem restrições, respondendo apenas a chamados do acampamento para missões que ele julgasse valer seu tempo. Durante uma dessas missões, ele se viu em um problema que o persegue até então. Após mais uma tarefa bem sucedida, dotado de um ego inflado, principalmente por ter desempenhado protagonismo durante grande parte da ação, Diego achou-se no direito de insultar. Não poupou palavras para exaltar a si mesmo, sem se preocupar com emoções e sentimentos alheios. A espreita, Nêmesis observava a situação, tornando-o alvo de seu mais novo castigo.

Diego não se lembra exatamente como tudo começou, mas a lembrança de uma mulher em vestes tão brilhantes mas pretas apareceu diante dele, cegando-o com sua beleza fria, forçando-o a observá-la. Nêmesis sussurrou, não obstante de também ser categórica, palavras que, mais tarde, ele reconheceu como uma maldição. O filho de Deméter estaria destinado a sofrer sempre que a noite caísse, carregando uma marca mental a qual foi dita pela deusa como o “Fardo da Insolência”. Envergonhado por seus próprios atos, Diego voltou a viver no Japão, mantendo-se incógnito e aproveitando a generosa herança deixada pelos pais adotivos. Receber o chamado de Dionísio foi, ao mesmo tempo, aterrorizante e irritante. Ele não tinha vontade de retornar, tão acostumado que estava à vida que construíra, trabalhando periodicamente em um restaurante típico como cozinheiro, distante da essência dos deuses. No entanto, após muita reflexão, ele concordou e pegou o primeiro voo de volta às terras americanas. Se algo estava acontecendo, ele faria questão de testemunhar com os próprios olhos. Ou talvez o medo, atrelado bastante às noites incertas embebidas pelas consequências da maldição, de se tornar alvo de outro deus tenha falado mais alto, levando-o a tomar a decisão mais sensata para a situação.

PODERES, 

Conexão Mútua Ativa — Conectado de forma íntima com a natureza ao seu redor, Archibald, como um filho da deusa da colheita, experimenta um vínculo especial e recíproco com as plantas. Para ele, priorizar a proteção da vida vegetal é mais do que um princípio, é uma responsabilidade sagrada. As plantas, árvores e flores respondem de maneira instintiva à sua presença, movendo-se sem esforço aparente para oferecer defesa e assistência quando necessário. Em um gesto de cooperação silenciosa, elas se posicionam estrategicamente, cobrindo pontos cegos e oferecendo apoio, sem que o semideus precise gastar energia para convocá-las.

HABILIDADES,

Reflexos sobre-humanos, durabilidade sobre-humana.

ARMA, 

Yoru no Ken (夜の剣) ou “Espada da Noite” —  Katana feita de ferro estígio, presente ganhado de um filho de Hefesto, semideus também nômade e que compartilhou tempo de morada com Diego no Japão. A arma é simples ao olhar, mas eficiente ao ataque. Sua lâmina é extremamente cortante, efetiva para ferir gravemente qualquer criatura mitológica. Quando esta não está visível em seu formato tradicional, a katana ganha a forma de um bracelete, sempre visível como um acessório inseparável, preso ao pulso direito do semideus. Se perdida, o bracelete sempre irá ressurgir.  

MALDIÇÃO, 

Maldição por Nêmesis  —  Diego enxerga sua imagem refletida de forma distorcida e horrível em qualquer superfície reflexiva. Essa imagem revela suas falhas, medos e verdades ocultas de maneira grotesca e perturbadora, causando-lhe grande sofrimento psicológico e prejudicando sua capacidade de formar relacionamentos e interagir socialmente, especialmente no âmbito romântico. Além disso, o semideus é incapaz de escapar das verdades desconfortáveis sobre si mesmo. Sua mente está constantemente sobrecarregada por uma consciência intensa e implacável de suas próprias falhas e erros, tornando difícil para ele concentrar-se em qualquer outra coisa. Como resultado, ele acaba se expondo, principalmente em momentos de tensão e aflição, sem um filtro para isso. No final, isso provoca intenso embaraço e vergonha.

ATIVIDADES,

Membro da equipe azul de Esgrima, co-líder da equipe azul de Corrida com Obstáculos, membro da equipe azul do Clube da Luta.

____________________ — Permite que a central use seu personagem para desenvolver o plot? Permite que a central use seu personagem em plot drop, eventos, task ou atividades extras sem aviso prévio? Com toda a certeza!!!

[cryptix23]

Imagine, if you will, a reboot of The Lost Room, as a full series with all intended content and maybe a couple more seasons. That's what I've been doing with my weekend -- imagining that, I mean; and also fancasting it because why not.

Doing some character analysis as well so there will be some spoilers. Go watch Lost Room.

Note I'm not super familiar with current TV, the most current thing I've watched was Poker Face, so my pool is limited and I'm open to other suggestions.

Probably won't matter but I'm imagining this still set in the early 2000s, because I choose to and because working modern social media into the story sounds like a headache.

Without further ado, fancasting.

Joe Miller

Original Actor: Peter Krause

Our main man, Joe. Joe Miller is competent, not book-smart but picks up on things fast -- he's an audience stand-in for a smart audience. Yes, he's a cop, but he's fictional so we won't hold that against him. He's the loving single father of a bright eight-year-old girl, whose disappearance becomes his main driving force. Violence is rarely his first resort, and he gets as far as he does often by just talking to people and asking them for help.

Joe has to be curious, charismatic, a little charmingly naive, occasionally intimidating, and deliver the extreme emotions of a man who would absolutely rip the world apart if it would get him his daughter back.

Fancast: David Castañeda

(Listen I told you up front that my most current watch was Poker Face. You were warned.)

I promise I'm not just fancasting Castañeda because he plays one of my favorite tough-yet-pathetic sadboys, Diego Hargreeves.

I am fancasting him because he is incredibly good at having eyes, and I genuinely think he would crush it as every aspect of Joe: The smart detective, the naive newcomer to a strange world, the grieving but determined father, the subdued rage facing Weasel and Ruber.

He'd bring a different vibe, sure, but what's the point of a reboot if you don't do something a little different with it?

Wally Jabrowski

Original Actor: Peter Jacobson

Wally is described by the showrunner (...somewhere, I swear, I think it was a reddit AMA but I can't find it now) as being a sort of chaotic neutral trickster figure. He's a weird little imp who wanders the countryside, consigning people to Hell (New Mexico) for any perceived slight. Joe manages to get on his good side using the Key and some sheer determination, so Wally helps him out and ends up becoming his first ally in the world of Objects. How does Wally know so much? Who knows. He's there to dispense key lore to our hapless hero, not talk about himself.

Wally keeps on helping Joe right up until it starts to jeopardize his own safety and comfort, at which point he backs out, because he is ultimately out for number one -- but he sticks his neck out pretty far for Joe before he hits that point.

The actor for Wally needs to be able to sell that gremlin energy, the self-centeredness undercut by a genuine friendship with this guy who refused to stay gone.

Fancast: Natasha Lyonne

Wait no stop hear me out. Listen. Am I biased because, as already mentioned several times, I just finished watching Poker Face? Absolutely. BUT. Tell me to my face that Natasha Lyonne does not have the perfect chaotic neutral gremlin energy to play Wally. Imagine the diner scene with her. Run any of Wally's lines through her charmingly fried voice. She's perfect.

You wouldn't even have to change the name, just some pronouns. Yeah, her name is Wally. Is it short for something? Maybe. Doesn't matter. Enjoy Hell.

The only further casting choice that I'm confident in is--

Suzie Kang

Original Actor: Margaret Cho

Suzie Kang is an information broker. She can dig up information about Objects in a flash and will sell that information to whoever is buying -- although she doesn't come cheap. She never touches the Objects herself, though. She's smarter than that.

Kang is a self-assured businesswoman who knows what's what and has carved her place into it. She has no interest in morality and actively refuses to work with the Legion given that they keep removing Objects from circulation. She'll happily upcharge if you seem new, or desperate, or if she knows you're good for it.

Fancast: Stephanie Hsu

'Did you just cast everyone from the shit mountain episode' SHUT UP

Stephanie Hsu was amazing in EEAAO and, yes, Poker Face, and I think she'd pull off Suzie Kang's amoral self-confidence really well, not to mention Kang's teenage mall-goth sense of style. I can see her delivering the unironic "Those things'll kill you" line with the cigarette burning in her fingers, and that's important.

I'm not settled on any of my other casting choices, but I have ideas for a couple more.

Howard "The Weasel" Montague

Original Actor: Robert Bart

The Weasel is my favorite character in this show and he is such a specific kind of endearingly pathetic little bastard man that casting him is tricky.

Howard Montague is an ex philosophy professor turned small-time criminal and Object hunter, whose main goal is to find the Prime Object, for unknown purposes. He's the first villain we see and kind of sets the tone for the series with his cocksure attitude and unhesitating, physics-defying double homicide. Weasel isn't dumb, but thinks he's smarter than he is, and has a hard time letting go of ideas he's sure of -- contrasting with Joe's ability to think outside the box.

He's vicious in the way that a little dog is vicious, he will bite but he needs the confidence of a weapon like the Pen to pull off any kind of intimidation, otherwise he's kind of just adorable.

He's also just... made to be a henchman. He falls into working alongside Joe so easily when they hit Kreutzfeld's, this man should not be in a leadership position, he is made to be right-hand man. (I have... many headcanons about this, but I will stick with canon for this post.)

Finding someone to fit this specific concept has been difficult, but here's some of the candidates I've considered (and why they do and don't fit the bill).

Potential Fancast: Aidan Gallagher

Back to casting from TUA. Aidan Gallagher as Five proved that he can absolutely play a weird vicious little man who thinks he's the smartest person in the room and you kinda want to punch him for it. The reversed dynamic with his and Castañeda's characters would be entertaining. Unfortunately Gallagher is nowhere near old enough to be an ex professor, not to mention Joe throwing around someone that much younger would have a much worse vibe.

(Gallagher would be great as a longtime Object user, though. Consider him as Harold Stritzke, perhaps.)

Potential Fancast: Con O'Neill

Izzy Hands from OFMD is another favorite pathetic little bastard man and O'Neill could definitely pull it off. I'd buy him as a philosophy prof, too. The problem is... Con O'Neill is intimidating. I buy that he would murder someone, but he would not need the Pen to do it. (As my boyfriend agreed, "he'd just use a regular pen.")

Potential Fancast: Aldis Hodge

Hodge has the least 'weird little guy' energy here, but his role as Hardison in Leverage proves that he can pull that off. Philosophy professor, sure. Small-time criminal, sure. Smart, but not quite as smart as he thinks he is, sure. My hesitation here is that I don't think I've ever seen Hodge vicious. I struggle to see him committing a casual murder, and that's a pretty important part of the character.

Ah, well. I will think further on it.

Karl Kreutzfeld

Original Actor: Kevin Pollack

Karl Kreutzfeld is a wealthy man, an ex member of the Legion, who began collecting Objects and has amassed a pretty impressive collection. He still needs more, though, with the particular goal of the Eye -- which he needs to cure his beloved son Isaac's leukemia. It's obvious from pretty early on that he's not a good man, but his goals seem reasonable, and he and Joe strike up an alliance over their apparently shared goal of saving their children. What's a little burglary and attempted murder between friends?

Spoilers, but if you've gotten this far into a Lost Room post you know or don't care: Karl is the Big Bad. His son has been dead for some years, and he wants specific Objects not to heal him but to rewrite the universe to bring him back. And if that breaks the universe in the process -- so be it.

Karl serves as a sort of dark mirror to Joe. They're both fathers driven to extremes to protect their children. Joe at one point says that he would break the world to get his daughter back -- Karl has the money, resources, and ruthlessness to actually do it.

Karl can be played by someone who usually plays villains, because him being a bad guy is not a particular surprise. It's the depth to which he is willing to go that comes out of left field and leaves you (and Joe) reeling. Until that twist comes out, though, he has to be ruthless but also charming, a loving father, and someone Joe would reasonably trust despite all evidence otherwise. Someone Joe could physically push around is also ideal, given the kidnapping scene.

I had trouble with fancasting this one, but I really like my bf's suggestion.

Potential Fancast: Giancarlo Esposito

Now, I haven't seen Breaking Bad or Better Call Saul (look, I'll get to it) but I know Esposito by reputation (and by his role in Abigail, which was great). He might be a little too big for a weird genre show these days, but goddamn if he wouldn't kill it as Karl.

I don't have specific ideas for the rest of the cast, unfortunately.

Jennifer Bloom

Original Actor: Julianna Margulies

Jennifer Bloom is in product development for a cereal company, whatever that means, but we never see her at her day job (I somehow got the idea she was in real estate, not that it matters either way.) More importantly, she's a Legion member, one of the two that are ever named (counting Arjun, not counting Karl or Marco). She genuinely believes in the Legion's goals of removing the Objects from circulation, having seen firsthand how they drove her brother insane. Jennifer's goals are loftier than Joe's and she has a little bit of that 'ends justify the means' mentality, but not such that she's willing to hurt him over it, or even refuse him information when he needs it. She's not above a little subterfuge, though. There are hints that she has a temper, and that she's a little more vicious than she lets on (with a particular hatred for betrayal, real or perceived), but those traits don't show through often. She believes in the Legion's code against killing and is strongly affected when she's forced to kill in self-defense, but later when shit goes down with Karl she doesn't hesitate and even has a little quip to go with it.

It might just be me, having rewatched the series too many times, but a few watches in I got the vibe that she was supposed to be a red herring -- that we the audience (or possibly Joe) are meant to think she is slipping information to Karl. She's not, but there's a few scenes where you could get that idea. Hitting a little harder on that could introduce some good conflict and foreshadow the actual mole more.

Should this reboot be a continuing series, Jennifer would have a lot to reckon with in the aftermath of the last episode. Her high-and-mighty organization was sold out, most of them are dead, she's attempted murder, and her boyfriend Santa Claus'd himself into semi-godhood.

Who would play her? No idea. There's a lot of great actors out there who could play this part well. The most important elements, I think, are chemistry with Joe and the emotional depth to show how well she is -- or isn't -- handling her world getting turned upside-down.

Dr Martin Ruber

Original Actor: Dennis Christopher

(Sidenote, finding a picture of this guy was so hard, wtf)

Ah, him. This motherfucker. What a tool.

A forensic scientist, Ruber is initially friendly with our detectives, banters with Lou and Joe, and tries to protect Joe. In the meantime, however, his curiosity leads to him seeking out the Objects, and very quickly dives headlong into obsession before he's even directly interacted with one.

Initially unassuming, witty, kind of mousy, Ruber quickly becomes unhinged enough to kill Lou over the Key. Failing to take it, he sets another man on fire to join the Order, and then backstabs them when he has another chance at the Key. By the end of the series he's well on his way to becoming a full-on cult leader with delusions of prophet-hood, handily setting him up as the next Big Bad after Karl.

A fun role for whoever plays this guy, but no idea who that ought to be.

Anna Miller

Original Actor: Elle Fanning

Anna is a bright eight-year-old girl whose first instinct when presented with a magic door is to throw things in there and see what happens. She also has a beloved stuffed animal named Lester Boneyfish. The kid is a born scientist.

She gets kidnapped and then spends most of the series stuck in the Room, so mostly you need a child actor with good delivery and a decent scream. In a continuing series she might be called on to do more, but as is she could be played by anyone.

(I can NOT find good pictures of any of these other characters and Tubi doesn't allow screenshots, might edit something in later but for now you'll have to take my word for it. Or go watch Lost Room.)

Lou Destefano

Original Actor: Chris Bauer

Joe's partner, a good friend who's encouraging him through his custody issues and tries to keep him and Anna happy and occupied. The only person Joe reveals the Key to, and reacts to it well. A great guy all around. Shame he dies at the end of the first episode.

Since he's the first one to die, he should probably be a white guy. He could be played by a bigger-name actor, too, since he'll only be there for a small part. Otherwise, no ideas.

Lee Bridgewater

Original Actor: April Grace

Another Philly detective. Lee has daughters of her own and is friendly with Joe and Anna. When the two of them disappear, Lee points out how bad it looks for Joe, but Lou still suggests her as the first person they reveal the Key to. She's got a good head on her shoulders and doesn't freak out about things. After Lou's murder, she's the first to be skeptical about Ruber's story.

Joe tries to keep her out of all this, even when she arrests him, but that goes down the drain when Ruber hits her with the Cards. From that point on Lee suffers from contextless nightmares about the Motel. She goes after Ruber and fully would have shot him if he hadn't had the Glasses.

Lee is a tough character going through some serious shit without any of the support network Joe manages to pick up, and in a continuing series would probably go through a lot more -- seeing as that motherfucker Ruber is her only source of information on what the hell is going on. Like Jennifer, this character needs someone with a lot of emotional depth to convey just how much she's going through, and I'm not sure just who that is.

The Sood

Original Actor: Jason Antoon

Like Suzie Kang, The Sood is an information broker who works out of a bookshop in Vegas. He has a somewhat more sophisticated set-up, but he also caters to a more exclusive clientele.

I have no strong opinions on who should play him... as long as they can do the Eyes.

[themovieblogonline]

Ballerina: John Wick Spinoff Faces Challenges but Offers Hope

Well, folks, it looks like the John Wick universe is getting a spin-off, and it's called Ballerina. But hold your applause, because this one’s been hitting some sour notes. Starring the talented Ana de Armas, Ballerina was supposed to be a thrilling new chapter in the Wick-verse. Instead, early screenings have been more of a stumble than a pirouette. Ballerina Movie is set to follow a female assassin, played by de Armas, within the world of John Wick. Imagine all the high-octane action and stylish gunfights but with a dash of grace and elegance. Sounds promising, right? Well, the reality seems a bit messier. Reports are saying it’s more of a “borderline imitation” of the original Wick films, but with a tone that’s all over the place. The Production Rumors The film has faced quite a journey. Originally slated for a June 7, 2024 release, Ballerina got pushed back to June 6, 2025. That’s a whole year’s delay, which usually means something’s up. Enter Chad Stahelski, the mastermind behind the John Wick franchise. He’s been called in to oversee production and even directed some new action sequences. Apparently, the movie needed a bit of a rescue mission. Let’s not forget the additional cast members who joined during these “new shoots.” Yes, they added new characters late in the game. David Castañeda and Sharon Duncan-Brewster are the fresh faces we’ll see in this chaotic ballet. Ian McShane, reprising his role as Winston, didn't hold back on his thoughts. On BBC’s The One Show, he mentioned that the reshoots were more like “newshoots.” Ouch. Stahelski stepped in, supposedly to salvage what he could and protect the franchise. With Ballerina described as tonally inconsistent and poorly directed, it sounds like they had a lot to fix. The film, which began production in November 2022, hit post-production by February 2023. But given the disastrous screening, more reshoots might be in the cards. Lionsgate certainly can’t afford to release a dud, especially with a franchise as beloved as John Wick. Despite the turmoil, there are reasons to be hopeful. Ana de Armas is a rising star, and with legends like Anjelica Huston and Ian McShane on board, the cast is solid. Plus, this film features the late Lance Reddick’s final performance as Charon, adding a bittersweet note to its release. And let’s not forget the cameo from Keanu Reeves himself. A Brief History of the John Wick Franchise The John Wick franchise kicked off in 2014 with Keanu Reeves as the titular character, a retired hitman seeking vengeance for the death of his dog. The film’s unique blend of stylized action, intricate world-building, and Reeves’ performance struck a chord with audiences. It spawned sequels that expanded the lore, introduced memorable characters, and raised the stakes. Directed by Chad Stahelski, the series is known for its top-notch choreography and relentless pace. As the franchise grew, it became a cultural phenomenon, leading to spin-offs like Ballerina and other upcoming projects. Read the full article

[ivycovehq]

welcome to ivy cove, cc! we can’t wait to meet stefan salvatore. please make sure you read through the checklist and send in your account within 24 hours.

scott mccall ( teen wolf ) is reserved for 24 hours

(cc) woah! was that STEFAN SALVATORE walking down main street? i heard they’re not actually from ivy cove but come from THE VAMPIRE DIARIES. they’re VERY OLD and live in FULTON PARK, but watch out because they can be  BROODING + SELF-DESTRUCTIVE but are actually LOYAL + NOBLE despite them HAVING memories, you’ll always think of TRYING TO LIVE A NORMAL LIFE AND ALWAYS HATING BEING A VAMPIRE; DEVELOPED AN UNHEALTHY MECHANISM TO DEAL WITH HIS CRAVINGS; ANGUSHING HIMSELF TO BE NOBLE AND DO THE RIGHT THINGS ALL THE TIME  when imagining them. / David Castañeda, he/hm

&& May I please extent my reserve for Scott McCall (Teen Wolf)?

[buuuuuuuu3]

Loving the fact that u used Elliot instead of Viktor because I can just imagine Elliot saying this out of character and David Castañeda just going with the flow, lol.

elliot: you're so thoughtful.

diego: i agree. it’s my third best quality, right behind awesomeness and humility.

[anythingbutmar]

Christmas cookies

Diego Hargreeves x pregnant!reader

Summary: Pregnancy cravings can suck, specially when they come at unholy hours and you have to make them yourself, but at least your husband’s there to help.

A/N: you already know I’m a sucker for domestic Diego so this was just lovely to write!

Warnings: don’t try to bake cookies the way I just described! Please avoid food poisoning my dears.

“Babe.” You whispered, shaking your husband’s shoulder, only hearing a snore in return.

“Diego!” This time you shook him a little too hard, almost pushing him off the bed.

“Y/N? What? Is the baby coming? I’ll get the car keys!” He instantly stood up, looking for a pair of pants.

“What? No, we still have about 4 months left silly.” You laughed at his messy hair and shaken expression.

“Then why would you wake me at...” He grabbed his phone, looking at the time. “Three AM?!”

“I have a craving...” You chuckled, staring at your hands on your lap.

“Aww, is our baby girl hungry?” He sat back down, placing a kiss on your belly.

“We don’t know what they are yet.” You caressed his cheek, always loving his hopeful smile.

“I just have a feeling!” He gently placed his hand over yours. “So what are you two craving now?”

“Do we still have those cookie molds?”

“Oh no.” He shook his head.

Minutes later you were both wearing an apron over your pajamas as you set the ingredients on the table.

“What should I play?” Diego pointed at his phone.

“Mariah Carey!” You cheered excitedly.

He rolled his eyes but did so anyways. “You do realize we’re well into March, don’t you sweets?”

“You can’t bake christmas cookies without christmas music.”

You started mixing the butter and sugar but Diego took the mixer from your hand, giving you a kiss on the top of your head. “Why don’t you get started on the frosting? I know that’s your favorite part”

He was right, you loved frosting, so as Diego added the dry ingredients to the batter you mixed sugar, water and meringue powder before splitting the mix into two bowls. As you did, Diego had already placed the dough in the oven so you could roll it in an hour. He was surprisingly good at baking for a man who ate raw eggs for breakfast. He grabbed the green food coloring as you did with the red and you both mixed it with the separated frostings.

“Now what?” He asked, hugging you from behind. Ever since your baby bump started growing that became his favorite position, he loved placing his hands on it while also holding you tightly. It was heaven for him, all his world inside his arms.

“Now we wait.” You started swaying to the tune of Mariah’s version of Joy to the World.

He twirled you around to face him and held you as close as he could with your belly between you two. “I can’t wait to be able to dance like this with my little girl.”

“I’m sure she’ll be very happy to know that her daddy is the best dancer in the world.” He lifted an eyebrow in disbelief at your use of the pronouns. “To be honest, I also have that feeling but I don’t wanna get ahead of myself. Do we really want to wait until the birth to know the sex?”

“I mean I used to, but I don’t think I can wait that long, how about we ask on our next appointment?” You nodded excitedly.

“But right now I think I need to sit down, I’m tired.” You said before seeing a wicked smile on your husband’s face as he lifted you up and carried you all the way to the couch, where, once again, he sat on one end with open legs, gesturing for you to lie between them so he could hug you from behind again.

You played the first thing you saw on Netflix but minutes later you were both sleeping like sloths, which meant only two things.

1. The future parent life was already affecting your sleep schedule.

2. You’d have christmas cookies for breakfast.

[yup-thats-me]

— beautiful secret • justin h min

paring: husband! Justin h min x BuzzFeed producer! wife

summary: it's about time that Justin introduces his wife to the world

warning: fluff

some months ago

"I know, baby. I miss you too. I'll be home in a few hours, and I'll cuddle you as many times as you want," Justin spoke into the phone, a bright smile adorning his lips.

Emmy, David and Ritu standing at a distance, staring at Justin.

Emmy scoffed at his stupidness. "Yeah David, when you talk to your mom you blush bright red like Justin is, right?" She smiled sarcastically, making Ritu snicker.

"Who do you reckon he's talking to?" Ritu whispered.

"Prolly his mom?" David answered or more like questioned.

After Justin put down his phone, the three hoped infront of him like excited kids do when free candies are distributed. Justin looked at them, smiling. "What?"

David nudged Ritu signalling her to begin. "We weren't like spying on you or something but..." She drifted, looking away from him.

Emmy sighed taking over. "We saw you talking in the phone and blushing. So aren't you gonna tell us?" Justin looked genuinely confused. "Tell you what exactly?".

"About your girlfriend man! Don't act shy now", David hit him on the shoulder playfully.

Justin immediately looked down after hearing their question.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about."

Ritu smirked. "Oh you do honey. It's about time we find out your secret."

Justin chuckled getting up from his chair. "You'll find out my secret of there's a secret," he told them walking away leaving the trio standing there looking, staring at his back.

"Just you wait and see Justin," Emmy stated smiling, placing her hands over her chest.

"Yeah you wait and see, dude!" David copied Emmy. Ritu did the same, placing her hands over her chest and saying, "You wait and see Mr. Secretive Korean Guy," making the rest laugh.

•••

Emmy, David and Justin sat there patiently as the crew arranged everything for their interview.

The stars were talking among themselves only Justin sat there quietly fidgeting with the thin golden band on his right pointer finger, smiling at it fondly.

David was sitting beside him and took a notice of Justin's actions. "Whatcha doin'?"

David's question pulled Justin out of his trance and into reality. "Huh? What?" Justin asked confused.

"I asked what you doing. Hey, you alright man? You zone out more frequently than normal. I've noticed from the last few months." David stared at him genuinely worried aboht his friend. " All good at home?"

"Yeah yeah. Everything's fine. All is good," Justin smiled.

Emmy bent forward from her chair and instantly noticed the golden ring.

"What's that ring for? Looks good," she complimented.

Emmy's statement made Justin look back down at his pointer finger and smiled yet again. "It's from...someone...", He drifted, avoiding eye contact with any of the two.

David and Emmy eyed him suspiciously

present day

"Oh it's going to be so hard to pay any attention to the tweets when you'll be standing there infront of me," Justin said as he hugged you tightly.

"Okay okay Mr. Loverman. Now go before anyone sees us," you laughed pushing your husband away from the embrace, making Justin stare at you dramatically.

"I didn't know you hated my hugs!" He gasped.

You giggled pecking him on both the cheeks. "You know that's not what I meant. If our pictures are getting clicked right now, your fans will go batshit crazy as to who the secret woman is. And I don't want you to face any troubles because of me."

Without a word, Justin pulled you in for a sweet kiss, taking as much time as he could to savour this moment.

"My sweet wife," he kissed you once more. "God, I love you, Y/n!"

You smiled brightly. "and me you. Now go!" You finally pushed him away from you and walked the other direction into the studio.

You entered the studio sometime after Justin got in as to not cause any suspicion. You saw Justin sitting beside Emmy and smiled at him sneakily. He too smiled back although not so sneakily cause Emmy looked at him like he was crazy.

You snickered, taking your position behind the camera.

"Hi I'm Emmy Raver-Lampman — and I'm Justin H Min — and we're here with BuzzFeed to answer some thirst tweets." With that, the interview began.

All was going well. Some tweets made you giggle quietly and others made you believe all fans are crazy.

"'I bet Justin H Min's girlfriend is as gorgeous as he is'" Emmy read out. "Yeah I too think that. Although me and the rest of the cast haven't figured who it is, yet, but we'll do pretty soon."

Justin stared at you across the room. "Wait," he got up from his seat and walked towards you.

"Ready?" He whispered in your ear when he reached you. You nodded knowing how this will go.

Justin gently pulled you along him and made you stand there in front of the camera. Emmy stood up too.

"We've been hiding for quite sometime now and I, we, think it's time to finally tell the world," he glanced at you for the last time and when you slightly nodded, he spoke again. "This is Y/n L/n, my darling wife."

The news made the entire studio gasp.

Emmy got out of her trance and immediately hugged you. "Oh my god! I'm so happy for you both!" She jumped with excitement.

The filming resumed again after a break.

After the interview, you, Emmy and Justin went to a nearby café to chat.

"I'm not sure, but have I seen you before, Y/n?" Emmy asked sipping her beverage.

Justin smiled, lacing his hand with yours on the table.

You smiled. "Maybe you've seen me the last time you guys did and interview with BuzzFeed? I'm one of it's producers."

"That's how we met. Now nearly three years ago," Justin brought your hands to his lips and kissed it softly.

Emmy stared at the two of you in awe. "You guys are really cute."

Justin and you smiled, looking at each other.

requests are open <3

[ajkesiah]

Masterlist

The Umbrella Academy

Five Hargreeves

Indirect kiss

high five?

A/n: ask for any character and I'll try to write for them

[rae-gar-targaryen]

alight with the lights out | diego hargreeves x reader [tua]

A/N: Thank you for all of your interest after I posted the teaser! It was VERY surprising and humbling; I’ve NEVER had so many people ask for a tag before. I only ask that if you asked for a tag, you interact with this fic SOMEHOW. And go find another story you love and REBLOG IT! LET THAT WRITER KNOW YOU LOVE THEM!

I’ll be honest, I’m very nervous about this one. I’m not sure if it turned out as good on paper as it did in my head. Please let me know what you liked and what you didn’t!

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x vigilante, powered!Reader; this one may read a bit more like an OC because I’ve given the reader backstory, powers. She’s (you’re) a vigilante who regularly runs into Diego. I keep the physical description vague, so I hope you can still imagine yourself! 

Warnings: Language; who doesn’t love getting a little sweary? Violence, fighting, references to a shitty childhood, and separately, implied sexual assault (nothing graphic, I promise); angst and angsty dialogue; SMUT-- 18+ ONLY PLEASE; lots of cocktease dialogue, fingering, pierced nipples (the reader’s not Diego’s-- sorry), biting, rough sex, choking. Romance is its own warning. Fluff.

Word Count: 12.1k of sexy, self-righteous vigilantism, half-baked metaphor and of course, at least one literary reference. 

Summary: Diego Hargreeves, aka The Kraken, is secure about few things in life; one of those things being his vigilantism. He’s a hero. Until he meets a fighter who shares the same hobby, albeit with different methodologies. Diego isn’t quite as certain about her, but her mysterious abilities make him think he and his siblings aren’t the only ones in this world with power. If only she and Diego could just stay out of each others’ hair. It’s a good, old-fashioned ENEMIES TO LOVERS, lads!

Link to my playlist of songs that inspired this fic: here

NOT MY GIF

----

You wouldn't hurt anyone who didn't deserve it. That was rule number one. Hell, if you could get away with it at all, you wouldn’t hurt anyone. 

But Mr. Adler hated children. And he had made it his mission to not understand you. To regard you with the utmost disdain. And unfortunately for you, Mr. Adler had married your mother when you were six years old. 

You had never known another father. Your mother refused to talk about the circumstances of your birth, or of the man who had supposedly been responsible. The lack of identity loomed like a large question mark over certain portions of your life. 

And Mr. Adler, that loud, controlling lout, was not about to fill that void. 

When you were in elementary school, you began to feel like you were different from the other children. Watching them carry about their days with their steel-pressed pop culture lunch boxes and not a care in the world. While you sensed your music teacher’s sadness when her cat had died. You could feel every anxiety that passed through your classmates on the day of a spelling test. You didn’t know why you could feel these things. You just could.

Prominently above them all, you could feel Mr. Adler’s hatred for you, like a thick, toxic wall every time you passed through your front door and into what was supposed to be your sanctuary. 

He shouted at you for inane things, like the pantry door being left open, or the fact that your mother was tired after cooking dinner, insisting you never did enough to help. As a child of eight, what did he expect you to do? You kept your room clean, cleared and set the table, helped your mom water the plants in her garden. What more could Adler want from you?

Still, Mr. Adler’s hate for you colored your every interaction with him, the world you saw him through tinged with an orange-red lens of rage. 

You had never tried expanding upon your grasp of others’ feelings until you had witnessed a boy in your class push your pigtailed classmate, Annabelle, down on the playground. Anna’s shock, fear and sadness had bitten into you from the other side of the sandbox like an unwelcome spider bite, sudden and itchy. 

It didn’t sit right with you. To you, how was this boy any different from Adler? Reigning terror over someone else just because he thought he could. You’d recognize that red-orange tinge in another person anywhere. 

You stood, marching over to the boy, gripping his wrist firmly in your stubby, grubby fingers. Quick as a flash, you were met with every emotion this boy had ever felt -- annoyance at Anna (she wouldn’t share her toys. How selfish, the boy had thought); anger (how dare you grab him!); and finally, prominently, fear. 

Fear looked different for everyone, you had noticed. For some, like this boy, it was an ugly green, so like jealousy. For others, like Adler when he’d been drinking, it was an inky black you could drown in. Fear was clearly the strongest. You knew that now.

You gripped the boy’s fear in your own mind, pushing it to the forefront until he began to cry, his eyes welling with the sudden fear he couldn’t understand. 

“You won’t do that again,” you said. Turning to Anna, you offered a hand to help her up, but she just shook her head, pigtails flying, and scampered away from you. 

Your teachers were clearly afraid of you after that. Could sense that something wasn’t right. Anna? You thought she’d be grateful ... but the chilly pale yellow of her fear, and everyone else’s, followed you wherever you went. 

Fine, you thought. If they wouldn’t be grateful for what you could do, you may as well help yourself. 

From then on, you exploited your teachers’ happiness -- pop quizzes became less frequent. Everytime they wanted to scold you for incomplete homework, they were left grasping at straws and with the daze of an emotion they couldn’t name. 

Adler hated you for it. 

“I knew there was something wrong with you,” he sneered over your mother’s weeping objections. “I don’t know what it is, but I know there’s something.” 

Once you reached 18, you left for the neighboring bustling metropolis and didn’t look back. The world was full of people like Adler, like the boy in the sandbox, like your teachers, who tried to use their own fear to feed their hate, to exploit others. To exercise false power over them. 

Well, you wouldn’t have it. If it meant a few of those assholes got hurt, well, so be it. 

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

"I hope you choke on it," you hissed, watching the smoky black tendrils slither their way around the man, constricting -- bringing him to his knees, hacking and gasping. "I see your fear, I feel it all. You deserve this, you know you do," you lectured, advancing toward the man, your hands raised. 

He was seconds away, you knew it-- and then one more scumbag would be off the streets for good ...

Things were going your way, you were in your favorite position in an altercation-- you know, the one where you had the upper hand? Everything was coming up you, until--

Your ears were met with a whizzing noise mere seconds before a sharp, shiny something nicked your cheek and lodged into the wooden beam just past you. 

Your gaze left the piteous man before you long enough to see what looked like a small, but dangerously sharp, knife embedded in the beam. You reached up and plucked it from its resting place, spinning it in your palm before catching the hilt in a clutching grip. You turned to see where it had come from, your eyes catching a dark blur flipping from the fire escape of the opposite building, before said blur landed at your feet.

Standing at his full height, the blur-- no, the Kraken himself-- towered above you.

You had to admit, the stories didn't do him justice. Standing before you in head-to-toe black and a harness replete with shimmering, twinkling edges and danger, you could've sworn he was your knight in shining leather. His cropped hair and facial scars gave him the air that he was every bit as sharp and deadly as the many blades that adorned his body. His oilslick eyes so like mirthless pits of danger, daring to suck you beneath their surface. He was, in a word, imposing.

Regarding you from behind his Venetian domino mask, he spoke, "Miss I'm gonna need you to drop the knife and let this man go."

You snorted.

"You're joking, right?" Not giving him a chance to respond, you chuckled as you swung at him with the hand still holding what you now knew to be his blade. 

You'd give credit where it was due, Diego Hargreeves, aka Number Two, aka the Kraken, was every bit as fast as they'd said. In this regard, the stories and Umbrella Academy-related media hadn't been wrong. 

Diego dodged your swing, bending his body back before twirling around to strike at your torso, like a snake, with his heavy, hammered fist.

The hit knocked the wind out of you, effectively breaking your concentration, and, devastatingly, your connection with the previously fear-choked man cowering in the alley behind you. As you recovered from Diego's hit and swung around to check your quarry, you could only watch as he shook himself from your fear-induced trance.

He scraped and scrabbled to get up off his knees as Diego shouted at him to "Go, just get out of here!"

You snarled and swung a well-aimed high kick at Diego's head, connecting with just enough of his jaw to drop him. As soon as your proverbial window opened, you turned from Diego to run after the man. But even grounded from a blow, Diego was formidable. He shot his arm out and snagged your ankle, yanking you to the ground. 

The gritty pavement scraped your palms as you attempted to catch yourself on your way down, growling as you glanced up to see that loathsome cockroach of a man slip out of the alley, huffing as his bloated legs carried himself far away from you. 

You tossed a glance over your shoulder to see Diego righting himself as he stood up, looking down at you before shrugging, offering you his hand.

"Not a chance," you scoffed, knocking his hand away. You rolled slightly back, arched up, and used your hands to help you spring as you lept to your feet in one smooth movement. You landed with a thud of your boots, your feet spread apart, and arms raised in a boxer's stance. 

Diego had the decency to look slightly surprised at your obviously-dangerous athleticism. He shook himself slightly as he regarded you. 

Besides, he thought, taking in your stature, it's not as though you were any match for him. No way.

"Why would you get in my way, Umbrella douche?" You bit out harshly, glaring daggers at the knife-wielding Kraken.

"Come on, hot stuff," Diego shrugged. "If you know who I am, you gotta know it's not like I can just let you mug that man with … well, whatever you were doing to him." What he had seen you do in the alley seemed to be catching up with him as he cocked his head and queried, "What exactly were you doing to him, by the way? I mean, other than hurting a civilian?"

"A civilian?" You spat. "You don't know what you're talking about, do-gooder. If you knew what he was, you wouldn't be defending him so staunchly." 

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

“That dickless fuckhead would-be-rapist isn’t worth the shit on your shoe,” you snarled. “And you let him get away. Nice job, hero,” you sing-songed the last word mockingly, taking advantage of Diego’s lowered guard to level a swinging hit to his nose. 

Your punch landed with a satisfying crack, Diego stumbling back, shaking his head. 

“What in the ever-loving FUCK is wrong with you, lady?” Diego shouted. 

“Take your hits like a big boy. Aren’t you supposed to be some kind of ‘Big Deal?’ ” you asked, advancing toward Diego, fists raised. 

“Honey, my reputation precedes me for a reason,” Diego quipped back, blocking your next swing and making one of his own toward your gut. 

The two of you sparred in the alleyway, whirling and spinning in a very violent dance between two unwilling partners -- Diego, clearly pulling his punches, while you were obviously preoccupied with your rage at your escaped quarry. 

Diego flipped and spun and swung his fists with a speed that bordered on unnatural. His jabs and kicks annoyingly landed, as you were really only able to block just about every other hit. Fuck him for being so fast. 

So it was true, you thought, the superpower hype was real. Well, two could play that game. 

At Diego’s next hit, you caught his fist, allowing the contact to create the connection you needed, feeling for Diego and any underlying emotion that would be his undoing, before latching onto your favorite-- past the overstuffed confidence, you tasted simmering rage. Beyond that? A tiny prickle of … was that??…Ah, yes, the stinging, burns-so-good zip of lust... File that one away for later … and beneath it all lay Diego’s stammering, stuttering, suffocating fear. 

You dug your proverbial claws into it once you found it, bringing it to the surface, manifesting it into your signature smoky tendrils. 

Drag them down with their own fear. 

Diego’s eyes widened as he looked down to see his legs wrapped in what looked like snakes. Suddenly, his worst memories of fearful days under his father’s tyrannical reign were the only things in his brain. The shouting proclamation his own inadequacies in his father’s too-posh voice pounded within his skull. It was all he could think about -- Your presence before him seemed to dwindle, he couldn’t focus on you, try as he might-- when he was overcome with the feelings of every bad memory he had ever suffered through bearing down on him like the crushing weight of the ocean, pulling him under with the riptide of his own panic and inadequacies.

What the fuck was this shit? 

He pushed through his sudden indifference toward you to regard you, the woman stood before him. Diego’s fist clenched as he took in your own grip clutching around his wrist. Your eyes were closed as your face was screwed up in concentration. 

Repulsive. You were repulsive, he suddenly thought. How could he have cared so much about hurting you when his own terror and agitation sat heavy on his tongue, like ugly curdled cream?

But he hadn’t always felt this way-- not his usual modus operandi, was it? So what was this? Was this-- you?? Was this what you had done to that man?

Diego began to dredge himself through his own agitation, past his father’s lilting abuse… through the mire of never-quite-being-enough against Luther... dragging his proverbial feet through a bog of his own self-hatred. Just long enough to wrench his wrist from your grip, grabbing you by the shoulders and spinning around, slamming you probably a little too hard into the wall behind him. Your eyes snapped open as your head made a minor thwack off the  alleyway-- you had just enough time to tilt your head to the left as Diego brought one of his knives down, driving it into the wall a sliver from the space your face had previously occupied. 

Diego bore his weight on his toes, leaning his imposing height into and over you, panting and snorting heavily through his nose. You looked at his eyes behind his mask-- hardened flints of pissed-off-superhero glared back at you.

“W-wh-What the F-f-UCK was that?” Diego spit, lip curling over his teeth in a gruesome snarl. 

A fleeting flicker of shame passed through you. He hadn’t really done anything to deserve that, had he? Before you shook yourself out of it-- No! He let that rat-faced motherfucker get away! 

You fixed your face into an impassive mask of your own before you chirped, annoyingly, “What was what?” 

Diego chuckled mirthlessly, shaking his head.  “Nuh-uh. How did you do that?” Diego pressed, leaning even closer to you, if that were possible.

“Do what?” you chimed innocently, tilting your chin up, eyes meeting Diego’s from beneath your lashes. Maintaining your feigned ignorance.

“Don’t do that,” Diego snarled. “Don’t play dumb. I think we both know at this point-- you’re alot of things, and dumb isn’t one of them.” 

“You’d know all about playing dumb, wouldn’t you, pretty boy? Or for you, is it not really playing?” You reached up and ran a finger along his sharp jaw before tweaking his chin and dropping your hand back to your side. You sighed at Diego’s stone face. Honestly, it was so boring when they didn’t bite back.

“I don’t know what to tell you, cutie pie. I can’t help it. People are just drawn to me,” you quirked an eyebrow. “Or repulsed by me. I really haven’t decided.” You fluttered your eyelashes at him, ever the pretty picture. 

Diego leaned further into you, pressing your back further and further into the wall. All the while, his leather-gloved grip creaked around the handle of the knife he’d plunged into the wall next to your head as he gripped it tighter. 

“Huh,” he mused, scoffing at you lightly. “Ya know something, doll? I just don’t fuckin’ buy it.” 

“Babe, if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask,” you smirked as the stone face slid from his features and gave way to "surprised face."

“Honestly, honey,” you slinked up Diego’s body, propping yourself onto your toes and brushing his lips ever-so-lightly with your own as you spoke into his mouth, “Did you really think you and your reject siblings were the only ones in this whole wide world with a little … taste … of power?” you purred. 

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

The warming, zinging hum that your ability recognized as Diego’s lust crept through your fingertips that were currently resting on his chin. You were sure if you took the time to analyze exactly who was feeling what, that this feeling of craving wouldn’t be as one-sided as you’d otherwise have hoped. Diego was, you had to admit, very pretty -- for a man. 

The swirling galaxies in his midnight eyes regarded you with confusionangerwant.  Had you really just -- kinda kissed him?

You took advantage of Diego’s surprised state to knock his grip from your shoulder and shove -- hard. Diego toppled back, and you took off as fast as your enhanced body would carry you, cutting down the alley and away from your fascinatingly frustrating new rival. 

Diego took in your retreating form from his final resting place in the disgusting alley’s concrete. Slamming his fist into the rough-gravel ground, groaning out his frustration and anger.

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

Diego shuffled into Hargreeves Manor, determined to see who else was around. Surely they, or Pogo, would know if there were others like them out there. Had he been the only one to run into one? Was it all a hoax?

As he wandered into the cavernous, but simultaneously stuffy, living room, sure enough-- there was Klaus, sprawled across the couch, arm slung over his face in a restless nap. 

“Klaus!” Diego barked, startling the spindly man from his perch on the couch and onto the floor. 

Klaus looked balefully up at his brother from his spot on the carpet. “Jeeeesus, Diego, really? What do you want that made that necessary,” Klaus grumbled.

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

“I haven’t seen anything but the back of my eyelids for the last several hours, thank you very much,” Klaus replied, “Although, I did have a very good dream about running into an old friend of mine in the grocery store. He was always so convinced he was straight. But I think the rest of my dream calls bullshit.” Klaus chuckled to himself. 

“Yeah, whatever, man. I need to talk to Pogo,” Diego stressed, turning to leave the living room.

“Well, wait, wait, wait. What is so important?” Klaus queried, clambering up and lumbering across the room to catch Diego’s arm.

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

“Do you think … Do you think we’re the only ones like us?” He asked.

“Well, there’s no one like you, brother,” Klaus chuckled, taking on a rumbling, Diego-esque mocking tone, “I’m Number Two!” He cackled to himself for a moment before coming back to himself with a sigh. “And honestly, we all know I’m an original. So I’m not sure I take your meaning.” 

“I mean… it couldn’t just be the seven of us, right? There’s a lot of other people in the world… it just makes sense others could do things like what we can?” Diego pressed.

Klaus started. He had never seen this look in his brother’s eye before. The unhinged mania of a fight? Sure. Crushing doubt? Obviously. But not this … fierce certainty buried beneath a question. This was new for Diego. He must be serious. 

Klaus blinked, regarding his brother, before slowly nodding. “I mean… sure… theoretically, there could be others. But I don’t know any. Why? Did you find someone?” 

Diego drew in a breath, unsure of how much he wanted to reveal to Klaus. After all, you were his nemesis. His pain in the ass. His whatever you were. 

Diego crossed the room again, back to the couch Klaus had previously occupied, before sitting down in a creak of leather and clink of blades still strapped to his harness. Propping his elbows on his thighs, he placed his head in his hands. 

“I don’t know. I think so? I found her while I was out patrolling, and I … I don’t really know how to describe what I saw.” 

Klaus placed himself next to his erstwhile sibling, tucking his feet beneath himself as he sat, reaching up to pat Diego on the shoulder.

“There, there, big guy. Just… tell me what happened,” Klaus crooned.

Diego launched into the story of finding you in the alley, choking the man with your smoke without even laying a hand on him. He described to Klaus how the two of you had fought, and how you had called the man a “would-be-rapist” before knocking Diego to the ground and making your getaway. 

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

“Oh, isn’t it obvious, sweet Dee?” Klaus chimed at the end of Diego’s story. At his brother’s nonplussed look, Klaus continued. “She’s just like you! She likes to put on her Batman underoos and fight crime,” he chuckled. “Even if she is like… us… she clearly can do something different. But I think the most telling thing is how obviously into her you are.” 

Diego sputtered, “Wh-what?? I am not into that … psycho. Whatever she can do, that’s all I want to figure out.” 

“The lady doth protest too much,” Klaus sing-songed. “Whatever you say, brother. But I think the only way you’ll really figure it out is if you run into her again. I mean, we know dad had his secrets. If he knew about other powered children, don’t you think the Umbrella Academy would’ve been a lot bigger? The world is a big place. I’m sure there’s more out there, but, um… we just didn’t know about it until now?” 

Diego sighed deeply. “Oh, joy,” he muttered. Ignoring the tinge of excitement that passed through him at Klaus’s suggestion he seek you out. 

Klaus clapped his hands joyously, cuffing Diego’s shoulder, shaking him. 

“A nemesis, Diego! How sexy! How exciting!” 

---

Your encounter with one of the Umbrella Academy had left you slightly shaken, to say the least. You were so careful when you went out. No one missed those assholes you took care of. Honestly, you were doing the city a favor. 

Patrolling on any given night would yield one or two men who were plotting something less than savory. And all it took was a brush of skin to determine their true intentions. 

You sighed angrily, ripping off your bodysuit and stomping across your apartment to your shower, yanking back the curtain and twisting the knob forcefully. 

Hot water began to pour from the showerhead, steam filling your bathroom. You regarded your reflection in your bathroom mirror, a distinctly palmlike-bruise adorned your shoulder from where Diego had clutched it, not to mention the scrapes that lined your body from your repeated meetings with the concrete during your sparring. 

You met your own eyes in your reflection, regarding yourself as balefulness gave way to venom. 

Honestly, that toadlike little nobody had deserved what you were about to do to him. You had watched him from the back of the bar as he had annoyingly pressed his presence onto a poor girl who was just trying to enjoy her drink. Her drink that the toad had slipped something in when he thought she wasn’t looking. He even went so far as to grab her wrist with his stubby little hands. That was the final straw. 

You steeled yourself, letting the lustful, rowdy feeling of the other bar patrons that permeated the air like thick smoke take you over. Putting on your best, beguiling smile, you crossed the room and brushed your hand over the man’s bare arm, letting him feel the tingling want that you had absorbed. Simultaneously, you felt everything of his disgusting intent-- the hateful, possessive desire for the girl, the hurt he intended to inflict to trample his own inadequacies and sadness. 

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

He looked up at you, disgusting gaze lingering on you, before forgetting all about his intended prey, pushing back from his barstool and venturing behind you out into the alley. 

The rest, as they say, is history. And an annoying vigilante type who had an ass that just wouldn’t quit once encased in black leather just had to rain on your proverbial pain parade. 

Diego Hargreeves… Of course you knew who he was. Everyone knew about the Umbrella kids. And you knew the man once-dubbed The Kraken was still doing his best Caped Crusader (sans cape) and kicking ass by night. Annoyingly self-righteous, really, you thought. Choosing ever-so-delicately to ignore the hypocrisy laden in your thought. Is that not, in effect, what you were doing? Albeit with a little more emotional manipulation and bloodshed. 

As you thought of Diego, your fingers traced the slim, sharp cut his knife had made in your cheek as it surged past you. 

You let the remnants of Diego’s rage that you had felt overtake you, amplified by your own, as you slammed your fist into the small mirror over your sink, letting the shards clatter to the ground around your feet.

Payback was a bitch, and so were you. You didn’t know if Diego Hargreeves was a praying man, but he had better hope to whatever deity would listen that he didn’t run into you again.

You wouldn’t be so kind twice, you told yourself, climbing into your shower and letting the blood and grit from your body swirl down the drain. 

---

As luck wouldn’t have it, your gods were decidedly not on your side. And clearly whatever deity you had mentally implored Diego to pray to was on vacation. 

Because you ran into that maddeningly beautiful dipshit, several times over the following weeks. He would do his best to bust up your party, stopping you from exacting your special brand of vengeance. You’d exchange a few quips and blows before running off before he could ask you the question you knew was burning in his mind. 

You managed to evade prolonged encounters with Diego until about another two weeks later. Too soon, honestly. 

Or not soon enough? God, your inner voice was desperate and annoying. 

You encountered Diego again while you were propped against the wall of a seedy dive on the other edge of town, assessing each person as they passed. While your power worked best if you could touch, some feelings were perfectly easy to pick up from a distance. 

So far, nothing. Just a few gross, horny bikers and depressive barflies. It was a maddeningly slow night. And you doubted you were needed here. 

Just as you were about to call it and head to another hotspot, a familiar prickle passed through you. You glanced up, across the street. 

Sure enough, on the neighboring rooftop, perched Diego Hargreeves in the flesh, surveying you like some kind of Great Value Nightwing. 

You sighed, pushing off the wall and crossing the street. Diego watched as you clambered up the fire escape to meet him on the rooftop. 

“Of course you would be here,” you chastised. “Are you fucking following me? I’ve been a good girl. Haven’t killed anyone in a week. I promise!” You held up your hands in mock surrender, coming to stand in front of Diego’s gloriously firm, leather-clad figure. 

“If you say so, Princess. Maybe I’m just here for a drink?” Diego cocked his head toward the shitty bar whose entrance you were haunting mere moments ago. 

“Doubtful, Underoos. I think…” you trailed off, circling Diego, tapping your finger to your chin in a pondering gesture. “I think you’re babysitting me. Making sure I don’t do your job for you and clean up the streets too well.” 

You ceased your vulture-like circling, coming to stand before Diego. His eyes bore into your own, once again partially obscured behind that stupid mask. As if you didn’t know what he looked like without it. Your eyes weren’t deceiving you when you saw Diego’s eyes flash a quick up-down of your body before resuming his stern visage. 

Oh good, you thought. You recognized the latent feelings buried beneath Diego’s anger. A new one brushed over you-- confusion… He still hadn’t figured you, or, more than likely, your power, out…

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

“Tell me about what you can do,” Diego pressed, advancing toward you. You took a step back to maintain some distance… best if you can perpetuate some veil of advantage. 

“Ah, ah, ah, baby. It doesn’t work like that,” you chided. “You think I’m just going to spill all of my secrets because why? You’re cute? Try again. Ask nicely,” you smirked, pushing your lips into a tantalizing pout.

Diego rolled his eyes. You weren’t going to play fair? Fine, neither was he. Honestly, his fuse was too-fuckin-short for your shit. He wanted answers, even if he had to beat them out of you. Quick as a flash, he strode toward you, jumping into a flip and kicking you down to the ground upon his landing. 

You looked up at him, standing over your body as it lay on the gravelled rooftop, bringing your hand up to touch your jaw, where his boot had collided with your face not moments ago. 

You grinned widely, savagely, around bloodied teeth and split lips. "So that’s how we’re going to play? Do your worst, Big Deal. I like when it hurts."

With that, you swung your leg at Diego’s, causing him to topple beside you, where you promptly rolled over, coming to straddle his hips, bringing your hands to his wrists, the direct contact allowing you to bring his fear to the forefront. 

Just as you were about to choke him with the smoke of his own fear, Diego surged upright, his arms breaking free from the grip of your wrists, his own hands coming to close around your throat. He squeezed insistently, enough to break your concentration-- the smoke dissipating as soon as it had come. With that, he had managed to roll the two of you over, you flat on your back as one of his thighs came to rest between yours. 

You gasped, looking up at Diego with fiery shock looming in your eyes. 

“Wow,” you rasped, “I told you before-- if you wanted to play bad cop, all you had to do was ask.” 

Diego removed one hand from your throat, bringing it to his own head and ripping off his flimsy excuse for a mask. He regarded you with nacreous, tarpit eyes that glowed and glittered with the streetlights, his breath coming in ragged, uneven puffs through his sinfully full lips. His cropped hair was glistening with sweat borne equally from the heat of the night and your encounter. 

“Baby, I think you owe me an explanation first,” He pressed, squeezing your throat lightly, free hand pulling a knife from his harness that he spun in his fingers while gazing down at you. 

You whined, rolling your hips against where his thigh rested between your legs. 

“This would be so much more fun if you’d just do things my way,” you pouted at Diego. 

“Maybe I would, if you would bother to tell me what your way is,” Diego retorted.

“I could tell you, or I could show you,” you purred, rolling your hips again. “I’m all about more fun.” 

Diego sighed. The familiar buzz of lust radiating from your skin-- or was it his own-- that always seemed to hang over your encounters was pressingly prevalent and it was all he could do to not just give in. He gritted his teeth, and shook his head. 

“No. Come on. I know what you’re doing… whatever it is. Just … tell me what it is you can do. Tell me why you’re hurting those people,” he implored.

You scoffed, rolling your eyes, using your free hands to knock his grip from your throat and coming to a sitting position, as Diego remained crouched over you. 

“All you hero-types. You’re no fun. You want to know what I can do? That pleasant little hum you feel? That’s you. Well, it’s me. But it’s you. I don’t make anyone feel what they don’t already… but I can use it against them. That first night at the bar? That,” you shuddered, “That rat was going to force himself on some poor girl. I could feel his every feeling as he was preying on her. I had to stop it. It’s simple, honeybunch. I do what you do, but better. I’ll make them choke in it, their own fear, their self-hatred, their inadequacy, their lust, I’ll drown them in it, and they’ll thank me for it. Because I’m nothing if not merciful,” you gritted out. 

Diego’s mind reeled, jaw slack from your confession. He knew it! You were an empath, an enhanced emotional manipulator. Except you seemed to be able to manifest emotions into something tangible, something harmful. 

Suddenly, the weight of your confession seemed to crush Diego, you had exploited every feeling of his during your encounters to gain an upper hand. And he hadn’t truly known about it until now. 

You felt the surge of his rage, his disgust, his fear with you before he could say it-- 

“You c-can’t-- you can’t do that,” Diego said. “Kililng people who haven’t even done anything yet? It’s w-wrong. Y-you’re w-wro-wrong,” He stuttered out, clearly distressed, but advancing even further into your space.

“As opposed to you?” You bit out. “You wait until someone’s already hurting or hurt someone else to do something. How are you any better? Who are you to judge me,” you spit through gritted teeth. 

“You’re a killer,” Diego pressed, pushing back from you and coming to stand.

“Sticks and stones. So are you. But I don’t hate you for it,” you snarled, jumping into a standing position, squaring your shoulders before Diego’s imposing form. 

“You could always work with me,” Diego offered, “ We could take what you can do and just… re-tool it a bit.” 

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

“Unlikely, you absolutely patronizing dick. You don’t want anything to do with me other than to change me, control me. You’re just like them.” 

With that, you unleashed a slew and flurry of attacks on Diego, swinging your hips around to level a kick at his gut, knocking him to his knees, where your arm was ready to strike a heavy blow against his cheek, your rage fueling the unnatural strength behind the hit. 

Diego sprawled against the concrete of the rooftop, half conscious after blows you’d dealt him. 

You stood over Diego now, looking down at his prone form. 

“I would never want anyone who only means to stifle me. To take me apart until there’s nothing left. Never.” You spit a glob of bloodied saliva at Diego’s feet, leaving him in his semi-conscious, battered state-- the guilt only slightly prickling you. 

His fear-- choking on half-gasped words from behind the tremulous task of tripping over his own tongue-- followed you like a stuttering stormcloud. It stung. Knowing that he was afraid of you.

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

Years alone with your power, the sting of Adler’s rejection as a child, it all weighed down on you like the crushing magnitude of Atlas. You didn’t really want to hurt him. 

You sighed, resolute. You just needed to make sure.

With that, you headed out in the storm. Headed toward Diego. 

---

The rain pounded on the walls of the Fighting Lion, plunking heavily like half-hewn nails tossed onto the small window in Diego’s back bedroom. He could hear as it landed on the brick, the wet stone and stormy atmosphere making the air thick with the scent of sagebrush and rain. 

A kind of whoosh passed through the room, prompting him to turn from where he was folding his laundry on the bed to see you propped against the door, legs crossed at the ankles, looking every bit as if you belonged. 

“Wow, Big Deal. Nice digs,” you said as you sauntered in the room, staring at the case at the foot of the bed that was full of Diego’s knives. “Not what I’d expect coming from a dude who hails from the city’s biggest mansion. But still -- homey.” 

Diego ignored the jab about his upbringing in favor of the real question.

“How did you get in here?” He asked, seemingly --and to you, maddeningly-- disinterested in your presence as he continued stacking his paired socks into their rightful place in his bureau. 

“Uh, have you seen this place? It’s not exactly rigged with ‘Entrapment’ levels of security,” you snarked, folding your arms across your chest.

“Does that make you a cat burglar? Are you Catherine Zeta-Jones in this scenario?” Diego glanced at you from his socks, cocking a strong eyebrow. 

“If you want me to be, sweetie,” you shrugged. “But, uh -- and don’t take this the wrong way, Diego, but you don’t exactly have anything I’d want to steal.” 

“Then I’ll amend the question. What are you doing here?” Diego asked, finally turning to fully face you, taking in your form as you stood by his bed. The sight causing a pleasantly-unpleasant little something to prickle across his skin. 

No, no, it’s not like that, he chided himself. Besides. You were an absolutely monumental pain in his ass. And his head. And basically every other body part of his you came in contact with. Nope, nope... Don’t think about her body parts “coming into contact” with anything of yours, he scolded. 

“Aw, well now, Big Deal. Maybe I just missed you?” You mused. 

“Doubtful. Did you come back to kick my ass with your freaky little homicidal chokehold some more?” Diego snapped.

Ouch. Maybe you had gone too far in your last little encounter. After all, wasn't that why you were there? To check on your favorite knife-wielding antagonist? To make sure you hadn't actually hurt him?

But what came out instead was--

"Is there any other kind of chokehold?" You hummed, arching your brow. 

Before he could stop himself, Diego retorted, “Based on our last meeting, I think you know there is." 

Momentarily stunned into silence, feeling the heat rush to your cheeks at the memory of his hands on your throat, you dropped your arms from where they were crossed at your chest down to your sides, hands flexing nervously. You chuckled.

"Heh. As tempting as that offer is, pretty boy, I only came to make sure I didn't ring your bell too bad."

Diego leaned against his dresser, tilting his head back and looking down his perfect, strong nose at you. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I must be going fuckin' deaf. Did you just say you slunk in here with your little kitten tail between your legs to say you were sorry?" Diego snorted, obviously pleased with himself as he saw the obvious fluster cross your face.

Okay, now he was pissing you off. You came here with good will and he sasses you? Two can play at that, as you two so often do...

"You must be fuckin' deaf, dipshit. I didn't say I was here to say I was sorry. I did say I wanted to make sure I didn't kick your sorry ass into oblivion. Which, you're obviously fine, so I'll just be going." You crossed Diego's room, breezing for the door.

Honestly, why did you think this was a good idea? Stupid, stupid, stupid…

Diego caught your arm as you passed him in your hurried attempt at an exit. You gave a half-hearted tug to pull your arm from Diego's grip, surprised to find how firm it was. You turned your head to meet Diego's gaze, throat closing around your sudden nerves. Diego's eyes were molten, boring into you with quizzical questions and low-burning heat. His grip on your arm afforded you an insight into the unique blend that was his confusion and simmering passion.

"What are you doing?" You asked.

"Come on," Diego drawled. "You clearly know what I'm feeling. But I have no idea what you're feeling. You have me at a disadvantage. I don't like it."

"Every time we meet, I have you at a disadvantage," you snarked. At the brief hurt that flashed across Diego's face, you sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I meant what I said when I told you I was coming to check on you … I just--" 

You looked down at your feet, the laces in your boots suddenly incredibly interesting to you. Diego's other hand gently gripped your chin, his thumb pressing into its apex, fingers curled beneath your jaw.

"D-don't do that-- keep going. Tell me what you're feeling for once," Diego implored, eyes meeting yours once more, lips ever-so-close to yours. “Please,” he added, softly.

Had your heart been thudding like this the whole time?? Was your jacket always this hot? All you could hear was the pounding sheet of rain, pressing itself into your brain, growing fuzzier. Diego's proximity to your person was decidedly distracting. Wholeheartedly overwhelming. 

Could he really not tell what you were thinking? You were certain at this point it must be written all over your face. Were you not being obvious?? Your burning ardor for him creeping through every inch of your person, drowning your intentions and better sensibilities in anything and everything Diego Hargreeves. You swallowed the lump in your throat before speaking.

"I'm feeling-- was feeling … guilty. The last time I saw you.. I h-hit you...  pretty hard. So, you win. I guess I am here to tell you I'm sorry." You brushed your fingers softly over the bruise that adorned his prominent, proud cheekbone. "I… I just wanted you to be okay. Because I think you were just trying to help. And that's stupid. It's stupid. I'm sorry," you hurriedly stammered. 

Diego relinquished his grip on your arm, allowing his hand to travel down your side until it met your waist. He cocked his head and studied your eyes with his own mercurial ones-- searching for any hint of mistruth in your confession, but seemingly finding none. 

After all, he too knew the honesty behind words that struggled to come out.

"You were… worried about me? You?"

"Let's not make a big thing of this, big boy. You're obviously fine. I shouldn't have come… An honest mistake. Won’t happen again," you started to turn your head, breaking his gaze. 

But Diego's grip on your chin firmed, forcing you to look at him again before surging forward and crushing his lips to yours. 

And, oh, this was bliss-- you were just sure of it. Your yearning manifested itself in the hand you had placed on Diego's cheek, cupping your hands to the sides of his face before dragging them back to thread through the closely-cropped hair at the nape of his neck, then passing your hands up through his longer hair toward the top of his head and tugging. You took advantage of the gasp Diego elicited at that sensation, sweeping your tongue into his mouth. 

Your shared lust bled through your connected skin, hands on faces and elsewhere…  washing over you both like warm static, a pleasant buzz akin to drinking just a little too much champagne. 

Diego’s hands tugged at the hem of your rain-dampened hoodie, tugging it over your head. Your newly-exposed skin prickled with goosebumps at the sudden chill. You had run over here in the rain, after all. Diego’s darkened, honeyed gaze reverently took in your form. 

Never one to waste an opportunity, you took the break in action as your chance to respond in kind-- peeling his skin-tight black crewneck shirt from his own gloriously-sculpted body. 

The two of you stood, staring at each other’s exposed torsos, ragged breaths dragging through the air of passion so-stifling the room like incense you’ve left burning for too long. 

Diego stared at your chest, breasts heaving from behind the scrap of lace that constituted your bralette-- were those piercings that made your nipples poke so prominently through the lace? WIth this realization, Diego felt himself harden. He lunged for you with a growl, scooping you by the waist and dropping you with a bounce onto his bed. 

His mouth latched onto your throat, sucking insistently while his powerful hands rested at the edges of the delicate lace trim of your bra, passing almost reverently across your ribcage. 

You gasped as he brushed a thumb over your nipple, feeling yourself growing wet beneath your leggings. You hmm’d a whine as Diego’s mouth found that spot on your throat, his thumb still rolling circles over your nipple. 

“D-Diego,” you gasped, sucking in air like you’d never properly breathed before.

“Yeah, baby?” 

“Take it off,” you glanced down at the scrap of lace that adorned your chest. “Please,” you intoned, sweetly. 

“Since you asked so nicely,” Diego said,” creeping his fingers beneath the lace to lift it off your skin. Suddenly, with that preternatural speed he’d come to recognize as a gift of those who were enhanced, like himself, you seized his wrist and squeezed. 

“It wasn’t meant to be nice,” you ground out. “Take. It. Off. Now.” 

With that, you released his wrist, and Diego gripped the lace where it rested beneath your breasts with this two hands and tugged, ripping your bralette cleanly in two, exposing your tits to his roving gaze. 

“There you go, Big Deal,” you preened in satisfaction, taking your own hands from where they had previously been resting along his strong abdomen, trailing them down to the top of his jeans. You popped the button on his fly and began tugging his zipper down, before Diego caught your hand as quickly as you had just done to him. 

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured. 

With that, he brought his mouth down to your left breast, swirling his tongue around your nipple, taking the hand still clutching your wrist and planting it above your head. He released your wrist, trailing his hand, down your side until it met the waistband of your leggings. He pressed his fingers beneath the waistband, raking his fingers under your panties, to where you wanted him most. 

As he dragged a finger through your wetness, you gasped out a keening sigh. Diego’s long fingers working magic against your center, rubbing up and down your slit before pressing one, long finger inside. He lifted his mouth from your breast, pressing it to yours to swallow your moan with a searing kiss.

After a few more moments, Diego slid his finger from your center, retracting his hand from your pants, his other hand coming to meet it, peeling your leggings and panties from you in one fluid motion. You lifted and wiggled your hips to assist him. As soon as the leggings were free from your legs, you wasted no time in wrapping your bare legs around Diego’s waist, locking your ankles behind him and pulling him to you, dragging your hands up his neck and into his hair, hissing in pained pleasure as you rolled your hips against Diego’s still denim-clad hardness. 

Diego groaned as he felt your hardened nipples press against his chest, the microscopic bite of cold from your piercings as they touched his warm skin made him sigh.

The room felt like it was bordering on a hundred degrees, the previously champagne-drunk feeling of your shared lust now replaced with a frantic urge to taste and mark every inch of the other as their own. 

As you continued to grind your hips into Diego, he kissed you deeply, tongue sliding into your mouth, running along your own tongue and teeth, tasting every bit of your want for him as he succumbed to the heated buzz of the room. 

Your power had its benefits, he reasoned, if it meant this would feel so… resplendent. 

The mutuality of your shared passion was enough to do you in. You couldn’t be imagining that Diego wanted you as much as you wanted him. If that wasn’t the case, you both wouldn’t be burning like this, writhing atop his bed with pent-up passion and aggression. 

Diego broke his hands from where they had previously been digging bruises into your hips, coming up onto his knees to start shucking his own jeans and underwear off. 

And oh, he thought, you were a vision. As he looked at you while he stripped himself, he was overcome. Your half-lidded gaze swimming with hazy, unfulfilled promises, swirling lazily like the drizzle of sinfully sweet syrup over something forbidden. Your lips were flushed, swollen and lightly bruised from the punishing pace of your shared kisses. Your wickedly luscious curves and the glimmering slick between your thighs on display for only him. In this moment, he felt he could die under whatever your power would dish out, if it meant he died feeling like this. 

Now bared to you in his entirety, Diego positioned himself once more between your legs, his impressive length sliding to where he had guided it along your opening. 

You tossed your head back, eyes closed at the glorious feeling of his skin finally meeting yours where you wanted it most… but, still, it wasn’t enough. 

“Di- eh - go,” you panted, your glimmering gaze meeting his lustrously darkened one. “P-please, I need it. I need you,” you cried piteously, clutching his shoulders and grinding your hips once more against him.

Diego chuckled, only to happy to oblige. With a guiding hand and a smooth flex-and-thrust of his hips, Diego entered you with a powerful, needed thrust. You cried out, sound going straight to his cock, twitching from its rightful place inside of you. 

“There, now, baby,” Diego crooned, bringing his mouth back to yours and humming into your open lips. “Doesn’t that feel ... So. Much. Better?” He punctuated each of his last few words with hard, firm thrusts of his hips. 

You nodded, eagerly fusing your mouths together, rolling your hips in kind to meet Diego’s sweet, but punishing thrusts. 

“After all that shit you pulled with me,” DIego ground out, “It’s nice to know-- this is what you really wanted. Fuck--” he broke off as you clenched around him just right. “This is what you needed.” 

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

“Mmmm, I want y-you, as much as you want me,” you gasped out, Diego’s brutal thrusting brushing your clit with his pubic bone, bringing you ever closer, closer, closer to that teetering edge. You lifted yourself up to balance on one hand and meet Diego’s face where he was hovering above you, your sweat-slicked bodies pressing into one another with a delicious, filthy heat. You looked into his eyes, your jaw slack with the stupidly good feeling of everything he was doing to you. 

You turned your head to face his sculpted shoulder, and grazed your teeth there, biting into the apex of his arm. Diego hissed, obviously pleased with the feeling, bringing his hand to your neck, fingers wrapping around your throat and tearing your teeth away from his shoulder, guiding your mouth back to his with the pads of his fingers lightly pressing into your airway.

You gasped, the combined feeling of his kiss, his pressing, insistent touch, and his cock inside you brushing repeatedly against that spot of your inner walls causing you to clench, crying out your sudden, gushing release. 

Diego guided your head back to his pillow, clenching his fist, the same battered-knuckled boxer’s fist that had previously clutched your throat, now clutched around his bedframe as he hammered his final thrusts, pounding into you until he met his release, groaning as he came down from his sudden, bursting high. 

He sighed into your neck, the lovingly sticky heat of your sweaty bodies pressed together as he eased himself from you, pulling you into his side.

You sighed in contentment. 

Was everything Diego Hargreeves did punctuated with such beautiful, forthright power?

---

You both lie in the after, bodies pressed firmly together. It would have been romantically intimate had the primary motivator not been the lack of space on Diego's too-small mattress squeezed along the wall in his room. 

Nevertheless, you lie there in complete contentment, basking in the afterglow and Diego's delightfully even, rhythmic breathing.

Said lothario had his head turned into your cheek, nose brushing against your hair. His arm around you, curling you to him and trailing his fingers up and down your side at a slow, steady pace.

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

After all, fire doused with water still burns brightly at one time, but loses its penchant for destruction, tampered in cool, calming depths and leaving behind cooling steam. So, too, had you and Diego drawn a peaceable, but joyfully sweaty truce. 

In that moment, you could see yourself loving him. You know he'd let you, if you gave him enough time and enough of yourself. The man had not had enough love given to him in his life-- he fought for it, tooth and nail. And had come up woefully empty, like clutching at soft sand that slips through your fingers. He'd had the love of his siblings, sure. But this was -- understandably-- different. You recognized a chasm in him that you often thought you'd never mend within yourself. 

But he was so deserving of love. Whereas you? Well, the jury was still out. 

When you think of Diego, you couldn't help but think of strength. Assuredness. Agility. His aura burned red in your deeper sentiments. Power. You do associate his memory with annoyance, sure, but also a biting wit that he so-oft concealed. And an endearing sentimentality. And an iron will suffused with stubbornness.  

You had gleaned some of this from your foray into exploring his emotions, sure. But you don't use your power at every turn. The rest of it was every impression Diego had devastatingly left you with. You had learned so much of him, you yearned to share a piece of yourself, similarly eager for acceptance. Which then prompted you to share--

“You know,” you piped up in the dark, “You remind me a bit of the main character of my favorite books series-- Ever hear of ‘The Dark Tower?’ You know, the legendary Gunslinger?” 

Diego scoffed at that.

“Guns are for pussies, real men throw knives,” he stated primly, but still unable to conceal the smile in his voice.

“That sounds a little rehearsed, Big Deal. But I’ll let it slide. Besides, you don’t know what you’re missing,” you acquiesced, turning your head to face him, your noses brushing.

“Yeah, sorry, I’m not into all that bookworm stuff. Cuz, ya know, I’m not a fuckin’ virgin,” he chuckled. Obviously pleased with his middle school-grade burn. 

You met his eyes, yours widening in mock surprise. “Oh no?” you gasped. “Well, then why do you dress like one?”

Honestly, it had to be some kind of world record, how fast Diego’s face fell.

"I'm kidding, big boy. You know I dig the black leather," you crooned. Ever eager to smooth the waters of this moment, of his now furrowed brow, back to the placid lake it had been.

"You're goddamn right, you do," Diego chuffed, his grin now prominent in his voice.

You looked at him, your eyes travelling between his shining, ochre eyes and his full lips.

"I do not aim with my hand; he who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I aim with my eye. 

“I do not shoot with my hand; he who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father. I shoot with my mind.

"I do not kill with my gun; he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father. I kill with my heart," you recited.

Diego regarded you for a moment before brushing his lips across yours, kissing you warmly.

"What was that?" He asked.

"'The Dark Tower,'" you replied. "What? I like to read. You really do remind me of him. Surly, but just. Lost, but ever-searching. Pinpoint accuracy. Deadly. But hasn't lost hope." 

Diego kissed you again, running his hand down your body beneath the covers to grip your bum and roll your body over his, urging you to tarry with him on another burning exploration of one another's bodies.

Yes, you think, sighing as Diego's teeth graze that spot on your neck, his warm palm on your breast. You could easily fall in love with him… if you let yourself. You were probably more than halfway in love with him already.

Oh, no.

---

You awoke to the early-morning sun peeking weakly behind the remnants of fat, overstuffed rainclouds from the night before, purpling the sky as sunlight met grey. 

You took in Diego’s, sweet sleeping form-- his long lashes fringing his sweetly-closed eyes, his cropped hair mussed from a night of tugging, rolling, writhing. He breathed deeply, evenly, peaceably, as evidenced by the repetitive motion of his muscled torso, his long-fingered hands resting along his stomach. 

You couldn’t do this. Couldn’t taint someone so noble and beautiful with your special brand of poisonous manipulation. 

You couldn’t stop yourself as you spoke softly to the sleeping man beside you, coming to sit on the edge of his bed and brushing one hand through his soft hair. 

“You wanted to know about my power? It’s a curse. You think I want this? This? It’s isolation, Diego-- it’s eternal damnation. I shouldn’t be able to do what I can do …  No one should. It’s not a gift, it’s a curse. And it dooms me to a life alone,” your voice cracks as your breath catches in your throat, hitching over tears that were now, suddenly pooling in your eyes. “There’s no trust. It’s what I … It’s what I deserve.” 

With that, you left Diego’s room. Leaving him to wake alone to a cold one-half of his bed, fingers clutching over air and the warm memories of the night before. He blinked in confusion, the sting of your rejection settling beneath his skin. 

---

When you saw Diego again, it was nearly a month after your last… encounter. The sharp knife of anxiety and longing you so regularly felt in yourself since that day, you recognized immediately as emanating from Diego as you watched him limp away from what you assumed was a particularly nasty fight. 

“Big Deal!” You shouted across the street and through the darkness. 

Diego’s head whipped up, head turning to the direction of your voice, before meeting your gaze. He shook his head, looked away, and kept walking. Away from you. 

Ouch. 

Honestly, you could understand why he would. You had done the same to him a month ago. Walked away. But the pinging sting of his rejection dug at you, like glass into the thin skin between your knuckles. 

All you had ever wanted was for other people to understand. But mostly, now, you realized… You really only cared that Diego understood. 

You took off after him, enhanced speed helping you catch up to his limping form outside of a boarded-up, long-closed bar. 

“Diego!” You called, stopping in front of him, causing him to halt.

“What could you possibly want with me, after all this time?” Diego spit.

“I.. I deserve that, Big Deal. I do,” you glanced at your boots, scuffing the toe into the pavement. “Please, just… hear me out?” 

You looked up at Diego. Really looked at him. His beautiful, tawny skin damp with sweat from a fight, his usually bright and mischievous eyes sunken under the weight of tired bags that sat beneath them. He looked drawn, more exhausted than you remember. You caught sight of a particularly nasty, jagged cut on the side of his neck that had clearly only recently stopped bleeding, the splotching clot like a raised, splintering cut from a large cat’s claws. A particularly nasty bruise was already forming around his left eye and onto his beautifully-sculpted, prominent cheek. 

You rushed to meet him, your fingers coming to brush along his cheeks, mindful of the bruise. He closed his eyes at your touch, lashes fanning downward in defeat. 

“Who hurt you? What did they do, Big Deal? Who the fuck did this? If anyone hurt you, I would make them hurt. I’ll make them pay”

Diego dropped the knife you now noticed was previously-clutched in his right hand, bringing his hand to meet your wrist. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

“Don’t do what? Kill the fucker who hurt you? Fine, I’ll just break their knees--” you started, before Diego shushed you.

“No,” he said, “Shut the fuck up. D- Don’t act like you give a shit. Someone who gives a shit wouldn’t bounce for a fuckin’ month. Not after a night like that.” 

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

“I… I deserve that,” you said. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.” And with that, you plopped yourself onto the pavement, sitting on the sidewalk at Diego’s feet. Annoying? Sure. Dramatic? Sure. But if something is stupid and it works, then it isn’t stupid. 

Diego sighed at you, rolling his eyes before coming to sit beside you, gasping out in pain and clutching an obviously bruised rib or two on his way down. 

“Fine. Tell me what the fuck happened. Why’d you go?”

“Diego--” you started… “I-- I can’t be with someone when I’m like this. It never works,” you confessed. 

“Like what?” He pressed, bringing his hand to your knee. 

“I’m-- I’m a monster,” you cried. “Adler knew it. Everyone I meet knows it. It’s only a matter of time before you know it too. I just… I don’t know how to stop.” The tears you thought you could hold at bay were now creeping up and causing your throat to close around your words of contrition. 

“You’re not--” Diego began, but you silenced him with a harsh wave of your hand. 

“You don't understand. You wanted to know how it works? I’ll tell you. The power works based on the other's emotion, sure. I amplify what they feel. Cripple them with it, even. But that's not all… it only works, really works, if it's something I can draw on. They feel what I want them to feel-- because I feel it too …" you admitted. “Everything I ever do to someone else I can only do because I know how it feels. If I want someone to hurt, they’ll hurt… I -- I don’t want to do that to you, too.” 

“You won’t. Not with me,” Diego pressed. 

“And how can you be sure? Even now, I feel how pissed you are at me for leaving. It’s humming beneath your skin. I can feel it.” 

Diego nodded, picking up the knife he had previously dropped and beginning to spin it around in his hand. 

“I know it because I felt it. When we were together,” he sighed. “We both, we both can do these things. Anyone else would piss themselves if it was turned against them. But you look the danger of what I am in the face, and you laugh. When we’re together, we’re matched. The way that room felt? I know what that was.” 

You sat, stunned at Diego’s read of the situation. 

“I take back what I said the first night we met,” you said. At the question in his eyes, you continued, “You’re not dumb. That was… that was… something. But I know how to flex my power. I know what fells all men. Fear is a powerful emotion." 

Diego smiled at you. 

“I hate to break it to you, princess, but I’m not scared of you. I know you think I am, but I’m not. And you know what's even stronger than fear? Love."

You looked at Diego, blinked. He blinked back. You then turned your head with a mocking, retching, gag.

"Jesus, Big Deal. They teach you ‘Hokey Catchphrases 101’ at Dysfunctional Superhero Camp?"

“Hey,” he jostled your shoulder with his. “You know I’m right.” 

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

With that, the two of you walked down the street. You matched Diego’s stride, mindful of his injuries. As you walked side-by-side, your fingers brushed. Before you could stop yourself or think better of it, you took Diego’s hand. 

When you reached your door, you turned to Diego, fiddling with your keys. 

“Everyone’s distinct, you know? Everyone feels differently. Wears their hearts on their sleeve, so to speak. But with everyone, it’s a different emotion. Some flaunt pride. Some are more passive. Do you want to know what I feel when I see you?” 

Diego glanced down to where your hands were still joined. He brought them up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. 

“I want whatever you’ll tell me. You’re such an open book,” he admitted sarcastically. You rolled your eyes.

“Come on, I’m being serious here. You feel... you feel...” 

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

"You feel like warmth. Like I could wrap myself in you and never feel the biting cold of my heart again. And when you're not around? The absence of you is worse than any feeling I could ever exploit. I hate it when you aren't here."

Diego stared at you in silence for a moment, before he spoke, “I really think you should open the door now and let me take you inside.” 

You smiled, pleased that your honest confession had gone over well, the smile morphing into a smirk. 

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

And in the morning? Well, In the morning, you and Diego were still wrapped up in one another. 

You looked into Diego’s swimming, honey-and-tar eyes, tracing your palms down the sides of his jaw and cupping his cheeks as you told him, “You have my whole heart. It’s yours -- crush it, hold it, bury it in whatever you feel ... Do whatever you want with it, I don’t care. Just say you want it-- that you want me.” 

“I want you.” With that, he kissed you deeply.

---

You were a master of emotional manipulation. To do that, you had to have a decent handle on your own emotions. For years, you’d rested on your own laurels of your mastery of self, indulging only in the most passing of forays into others’ feelings for the sake of your own.

So why on Earth were you so fucking nervous? Why couldn’t you get it under control?

Yet, here you were, hand in Diego’s, fingers laced, on your way to Hargreeves Manor to meet his siblings, months after your mutual confessions of want. The two of you had been inseparable. 

Diego clearly sensed your unease, because he turned to you, squeezing your fingers in his own, planting a sweet kiss to your forehead. 

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

“How can you be so sure?” You worried, trying to keep all of them straight in your mind based on Diego’s stories, anecdotes and descriptions. 

“Because I like you, and they love to annoy me. So they’ll definitely want to buddy up,” he chuckled with a shrug. “Baby, you’ll be fine.”

With that, you found yourself standing in the ornate living room with five nonplussed persons who introduced themselves to you one by one.

As the largest of the group approached you, you beat him to the punch.

“You must be Luther,” you said, pumping your arm in a handshake where his hand comically dwarfed yours. 

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

"Easy,” you said, “You look like a 'Number One.’ " 

Luther straightened, obviously pleased. "Important?" he asked.

"Self-important."

This caused the lithe one with the smudged eyeliner who had introduced himself with a wink as, “Klaus, darling,” to howl with laughter. 

“She’s fuckin’ got your number, Luther,” he gasped out between his chuckles. He turned to the seemingly-empty air beside himself and said, “I know! She is fun!” 

The group found itself sitting around the living room on the various, overstuffed furnishings, in a fun little Q-and-A circle, which was only getting easier all the time, as you found the Hargreeves siblings’ obvious bond to be so endearing. The glamorous one you knew to be Allison had queried about your power, curious as to how you and Diego had met. 

Diego had recounted your first meeting to the group, and proffered an explanation of your powers with, "She takes the idea of 'wrapped up in your emotions' and makes it literal."

“And how did this come about?” Klaus queried, gesturing his long fingers between you and Diego. “It’s not like that first meeting was full of warm-and fuzzies.”

“I don’t know … We’ve …  run into each other a few times,” you offer with a shrug and a shy grin. 

Klaus clapped his hands, a large grin adorning his face.

“Oh-ho! I like this. Diego’s girlfriend beats the shit out of him on the regular!” Klaus happily sang to the massive living room. “Or is that how you two, you know, keep it exciting?” he intoned to Diego in what must have been the world’s loudest and worst attempt at a whisper.

“She does not beat the shit out of me,” Diego protested, rolling his eyes at his brother’s swaggering antics.

“Right, right, you beat the shit out of each other. Honestly, I get it. Kinda hot. No judgment from me, you crazy kids,” Klaus smiled and held up his hands in surrender, flashing you the “Hello” and “Goodbye” on his palms. “Diego told me about you the day after you first met. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think about it myself when I’m ever-so-alone at night,” he added with a wink. 

All you could do was chuckle. Who couldn’t love Klaus Hargreeves? 

After that, the questioning from the gathered siblings dissipated into a casual little party, with people pairing off to speak in groups of just them, and with drinks from the open bar being passed around amongst the siblings. Even Five. If you were honest, it was strange to see a thirteen-year-old boy drink frozen margaritas. But you’d had to remind yourself that he was actually older than all of you. Honestly, you’d tried not to think about it too hard. 

In between drinks, you found yourself engaged in silly banter with Klaus and Vanya, laughing at Klaus’s stories of eating bagels from dumpsters and his bantering memories with their brother Ben. You responded in kind with stories of your own-- making your elementary school teachers believe they’d had crushes on one another by exploiting their repressed desires, making your classmates piss themselves every Halloween with some prank or another ...

While Vanya was a bit more reserved with her amusement, you’d caught a smile playing at her lips. Klaus outright howled. 

“Oh, you truly belong here, don’t you? Reggie would’ve haaaated you,” he gestured at the stern portrait of their father. “Which means you’re absolutely perfect for our dear Diego,” Klaus proclaimed, lacing his fingers through your own. 

With that, Klaus turned to you with a conspiratorial giggle and hmm'd into your ear, "You know what they say, peaches. 'A scrub is a guy who thinks he's fly.' And if we're being honest, Diego deeeeeeefinitely thinks he's fly." 

You laughed, choking on your sip of margarita. You’d never felt a kind of discordant unity like this one. 

With Diego’s family… with Diego, you felt like you truly did belong.

As you and Diego lay together in bed after the day with his family, he’d asked if you felt comfortable.

“Of course, love.” You pressed a small kiss to the tip of Diego’s nose, nuzzling your own against his. “They were wonderful. You’re wonderful. Thank you for sharing all of this with me.”

Diego gazed lovingly at you, eyes, a deep, endless pit of an eclipse, brimming with golden honey streaks of mischief. 

“I can’t wait to share everything with you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss into your shoulder and settling beside you comfortably. 

Ah. So that’s what that warm, soft, cotton-y, cloud-like feeling you had begun to experience since you’d began your relationship with Diego was ... Comfort. Funny how it blended so seamlessly into the burning, cinnamon-tinged, blooming one you’d come to recognize as his love.

---

Tagging: @ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa @winters-buck @qveenbvtch @forever-rogue @ali-cide @fleetwoodmactshirt @stellarkyun @zeldasayer @ayeayecaptaingally @nappingtopknot @holographic-carmen @mandaloriane @pascalplease @phoenixhalliwell @white-wolf-buckaroo @melon-eyes @pancakepike @noturjacky @johnc0nstantine @amarachoren @outrebanx @yespolkadotkitty @agentpike @cryptkeepersoul @netflixandzayn @deadpoolcouldshootme @manchuria @flhorah @halerune @spideymanreads @athousandbuckys @imagining-constantly @dovesgrangers @ravenoussss @pyrosag @rzrcrst​ 

[davidsnipplering]

When will David come back to us

[wintersoldierwhore]

𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐦𝐬 — diego hargreeves

summary: you and diego have a… complicated acquaintanceship. filled with sarcastic remarks, you both seem like you hate each other — yet he’d save you if you were in trouble. but when you both go back to his family home after the death of his father, you realise you don’t hate each other at all..

warnings: fluff, smut, kinda goofy, swearing

notes: this isn’t following the events of season 1, it’s loosely based on the idea of them reuniting after his father’s death.

“Oh, come on, Y/N.” Allison laughed dryly, “you were my only childhood friend. You knew what it was like to be around him.” The pair of you were in a car, on the way to her old residence. Where she grew up with her siblings, and she was convincing you to tag along. Or at least, trying to.

“It would feel wrong of me.” You replied, focusing on getting through your notifications on your phone. Sure, you weren’t a movie star but you were the movie star’s assistant/best friend. You’d known the Hargreeves siblings for years, Allison and Klaus being the most warm to you. Luther was neither cold nor warm, just an uncomfortable humid. And it seemed Diego, high and mighty number two, hated you. He’d always sneer at your presence, poke fun at you. You were kind of glad to have left with Allison and never see him again. It made your crush on him hard, and non-existent, but it was better this way.

“Please,” she pleaded, holding a tight grip on your forearm, “I can’t do this without you.” You sighed, rolling your eyes at her, which signified a yes. You were happy to have Allison as a friend, she was a sweetheart. And she’s never taken advantage of your friendship by ‘rumoring’ something. Not once.

The next morning, you were stood in front of their childhood home. Even the sight of it knocked you peculiarly. Allison grabbed your hand and had to pull you in, the cold air hitting you on your way in. It was strange, unwelcoming. You wanted to run away and never look back. Making your way to the living room, Klaus was slouched elegantly over the couch, as if a painter was on the other side of the room asking him to be still.

“Y/N,” he cheered, notifying the other two siblings of your presence. Luther just grunted and walked away, Diego scoffing and following suit, in a different direction. As Klaus began to hug you, you smiled brightly at the sight of him. You’d missed him and his attitude dearly. The three of you caught up, but every so often you’d glance around the room. You felt as if someone was walking over your grave, it gave you chills. Your eyes met with the moody man in the corner’s, who rolled them and stormed upstairs.

“I’ll be right back.” You whispered to the two siblings, following the grumpy man upstairs. This mansion was huge, so you had no idea which one of the many rooms he was occupying. It annoyed you. You never had a nice moment with him, even after his dad dying. Now, he was looking at you as if you killed his father.

You’d spotted him in his childhood bedroom, fiddling around with one of the many knives in his possession. Leaning against the doorframe, you waited for him to say something. Or even notice you, but you doubted that day would ever come. You spent years trying to get over him, and it felt more like forgetting about it. Not so much getting over him.

“What do you want?” He huffed, finally meeting your eyes. You strolled over, sitting beside him on his bed, that was too small to even sit comfortably on. You had no idea you’d get this far, so you didn’t plan ahead. You had no idea what to do or say now.

You just sighed heavily, “what’s your issue with me?” It was genuine. You were asking for all of the years he ignored you, made fun of you, made you feel small. You were asking as a younger version of yourself. Diego took a while to answer, presumably going through his thoughts.

“Why are you here?” He questioned. Definitely not the response you were hoping for. In fact, you didn’t know what to hope for with him.

“For my friends.” You replied, and that didn’t mean just Allison, it meant her siblings too. No matter how much they don’t need you, you were there. Diego felt himself falling all over again, he’d been pushing these thoughts and feelings down for years. But you can’t escape it forever, you either face your problems or run. But they’ll always find you.

“I don’t have a problem with you,” he admitted, sounding as genuine as he could, “but I spent years trying to forget about you, only for you to return and make it harder.” His answer did nothing but confuse you.

“Make what harder?” You asked, bewildered as to what you were complicating. You were only Allison’s friend, what else was happening?

“Getting over you. Trying to deny my feelings for you, but it doesn’t work.” He confessed, sounding more tense than before. You weren’t getting it and he wanted you to understand. Little did he know, you did. “You plagued my mind every day, you leaving with Allison broke my heart. I couldn’t see you again, so I tried to forget about you. I told myself I didn’t want you. But I do.”

Years of hidden feelings were coming out, feelings that were masked with hatred and bullying. Sure, he went completely the wrong way about liking you, but you couldn’t blame him. He grew up not knowing about love and how to show it. But now you were both showing it, very well, in fact.

His hands were in your hair, pulling your lips closer to his. His kiss was filling with passion, as if he were making up for all those years of hurting you, making you feel like nothing but a skeleton and skin. He pulled your body onto his, holding you securely and not letting you go. The only time you broke apart was to shed your clothing, then latching back onto each other like leeches on skin.

Diego’s stamina was far more durable than yours. You were a limp mess afterwards, sore in a few places after having sex on his childhood bed. Having sex on a cardboard box would be more satisfying than this. As you were regaining your breath, you turned to see Diego already looking at you.

“You’re beautiful.” He murmured against your skin, wanting to feel every inch of you. All you could do was giggle, it was too much pressure to force out some words. After a while of laying there and listening to Diego’s compliments, you sat up.

“You couldn’t have said any of that years ago?” You joked, seeing him roll his eyes once again. Playfully nudging you, he began pulling clothes on and fanning his face to disguise the fact you just had sex. With a wink, he left you there, sat in his childhood room, to pull on your clothes and act as if nothing happened.