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doveypink · 2 years ago

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tried and true blue [kaeya alberich]

summary: a surprise visit at night leaves you and kaeya scrambling to act. word count: 2.4k warnings: gn!reader; description of injuries, blood, & needles; implied violence; established relationship; reader has an electro vision; minor hurt/comfort; somewhat ragbros-centric. a/n: i started this in *checks notes* august of 2022, damn!! this isn't very romance-heavy because i just wanted to see more fics about kaeya and his partner coddling diluc like their shared cat :)

It’s not often that you receive visitors at your shared home with Kaeya. It’s even less often that said visitors would arrive in the dead of night covered in blood. Even so, you happened to wake up tonight at an ungodly hour to the sound of a fist pounding at the door.

You jolt upright instantly, years of training as a knight catching up to you all at once. The sheets are tossed aside as you stumble out of bed, disturbing Kaeya as you do so. He lifts his head from the silk pillow, his eyes blinking tiredly. “What are you—?” he begins, though he is cut off by another round of furious knocking.

You roll your shoulders back and answer, “That.” Kaeya quickly follows after you, snatching his eyepatch from the bedside dresser as you both scamper to the front door. You find your sword — a precaution in case there’s danger — and meet your boyfriend at the door. He holds the knob in hand, looking back at you to silently ask if you’re ready. You nod with your sword raised, to which he slowly twists the knob, turning it until it is unlatched. He waits just a moment before suddenly throwing it open to reveal the mystery visitor:

“Diluc?” you gasp, instantly putting your sword down. Before either of you can speak again, the redhead stumbles into the house, nearly falling over as his brother catches him.

“Are you bleeding?” Kaeya asks, concern evident in his tone. Diluc only grunts in response, mumbling something too quiet for you to hear. From the looks of his unusual outfit, you can safely assume he got into some trouble during his Darknight Hero business.

You shake off your surprise to shut the door and lock it behind you, placing your sword somewhere safe. Rushing to Diluc’s side, you aid your boyfriend in lifting his brother back to his feet.

“Let’s get him to the couch,” you advise. “We need to see what’s wrong with him.”

Kaeya agrees, huffing as you both drag Diluc further inside your home. The older brother is taking clearly labored breaths as he struggles to find his footing, but the cavalry captain hisses at him: “Deep breaths, Luc.”

Though trembling, Diluc seems to struggle a bit less, but he cries out in pain when he’s lowered to the couch. “Careful,” the redhead grunts. You do your best to settle him at least somewhat comfortably before rushing to find a first aid kit. Meanwhile, Kaeya looks over his brother, who appears to be covered in blood; the younger one can’t be sure whether it’s all his or not. “Where are you hurt?” he asks, turning on a nearby lamp and inspecting his brother.

Diluc shakily reaches down to push his overcoat aside and strip back his undershirt. Kaeya’s stomach drops when he sees the blood leaking from the wound on his brother’s side; while it doesn’t look large in diameter, the amount of bleeding means it was a deep cut. Instantly, Kaeya is applying pressure with his hands. “Who did this to you?” he asks in a voice shaking with anger.

The older brother doesn’t get a chance to respond. You rush into the room with the first aid kit in hand, sitting next to Kaeya. “What is it?”

Kaeya rattles off his assessment: “Deep cut. We can’t stitch it right away, there could be internal bleeding. He needs a healer for that.” With a desperate look, your boyfriend pleads: “Can you help him?”

It would be an understatement to say that your healing was abysmal. You’re nothing like Barbara, a natural-born healer with powers unlike any other. You can’t heal like Jean either, the way she could so effortlessly aid her knights in battle. Hell, even Bennett could heal better than you, and his luck was practically nonexistent.

But even so, the circumstances are dire, and you’re not about to let your friend bleed to death on your couch. “I can do it,” you say with faux confidence — it’s meant to reassure your lover, but in an odd way, you find yourself surprised by your own tone. You place your hands over Diluc’s wound, watching the blood ooze out. “This might hurt a bit at first, okay? Just hold on.”

Diluc nods, looking paler than ever, while Kaeya places a tender hand to the small of your back. You take a deep breath, conjuring up the power of Electro as it tingles up your arms, past your elbows, and to the tips of your fingers. You push this power out of you, visualizing the wound healing under your touch.

As electricity begins to spark from your hands, it reaches the open cut and travels throughout Diluc’s body. He flinches, tensing from the discomfort. The sparks steadily become more intense, buzzing under your palms. The redhead bites his fist, breathing raggedly as the pain overwhelms him. Next to you, Kaeya watches his brother writhe in pain. “You’ll be okay, I promise,” he reassures, looking back to you afterwards. “Are you alright?”

Sweat drips from your forehead as you strain to control your powers. “Y-Yes, I can feel it working,” you grunt, muscles aching. You fight past the urge to give up, determined to pour all of your energy into healing Diluc. Your hands tremble from the force of it, electricity crackling more sporadically as your friend heals.

“The bleeding has slowed down, you’re almost there!” Kaeya praises, rubbing your back. You would be elated if it wasn’t for the fact that you’re suddenly feeling more and more tired. The sparks from your hands flicker on and off like a faulty lightbulb, unable to create a consistent stream of energy.

“I can’t…” You trail off, feeling faint.

Kaeya holds you up, his brows furrowed. He looks between you and Diluc, unsure of what to do. If he tries to convince you to keep healing his brother, it could kill you if you drain too much energy; but if you stopped now, the wound would remain open, leaving his brother vulnerable. In a moment of haste, Kaeya took your hands in his and pulled them away. “You’ve done more than enough,” he whispers, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead. You lean against the couch, your head pounding with a headache as Kaeya collects the first aid kit.

“Just let me be,” Diluc mumbles as his younger brother searches through the kit. “I shouldn’t have come here.”

Kaeya scoffs, offended by the notion. “No, you need our help. That’s what you’ll get,” he says, preparing to stitch Diluc’s wound back together. Your healing has luckily stopped most of the bleeding and the wound is not as deep as before, but it will take some serious work to fix it. Kaeya holds a needle in one hand and uses the other to pinch the skin together; he pierces the skin and pulls the needle through, listening as his brother hisses from the sting. Kaeya can do nothing but ignore it even as low utterances become loud yelps of pain.

Just as Kaeya is finishing, Diluc mumbles something unintelligible before passing out. The younger brother jumps up once the last stitch is done, trying to shake his brother awake. “Diluc? Diluc, stay with me—!”

Your partner stops when he feels a tug on his shirt. He looks down to see your clearly exhausted form. “Let him rest. He’ll be fine as long as Barbara sees him in the morning.” Kaeya looks hesitant to let his brother rest, but you only shake your head and sigh. “He lost a lot of blood. He needs to rest. I can try to heal him more if you—”

“No, don’t,” Kaeya interrupts. “He… He can make it. You sealed it up well enough.”

The man sinks to the floor next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. His brother’s blood stains his fingers, and he knows it will be weeks before the dried red flecks disappear from under his nails. Your hand slips into Kaeya’s, pulling his attention back to you so you can say, “We’re okay.”

You fall asleep shortly after, consciousness fading as the ghost of a kiss graces your jaw.

Light floods the room, stirring you from a heavy slumber. You try to collect yourself as you enter the waking world, still exhausted from… something. When you turn to look for your partner, you find that the bed is empty; disappointment blossoms in your chest. A question occurs to you: when exactly did you go to the bedroom? Your memory begins to catch up, recalling the night before. Diluc arrived at your door severely injured, you attempted to heal him, and then you were unconscious.

Before you get a chance to ponder how you made it to bed, Kaeya opens the bedroom door. His eye meets yours, relief washing over him. “Good, you’re awake. I’ve never seen you sleep in this long before. Then again, you put in quite the work last night.” Your lover is holding a glass of water and a bowl of fruit, which he hands to you. Your stomach growls and you pop a grape into your mouth as Kaeya asks you, “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, but nothing I can’t handle,” you say. “How did I get over here? And is Diluc okay?”

Kaeya sits on the edge of the bed next to you. “I carried you in last night. I figured you wouldn’t want to wake up on the floor. Diluc is better, though. I had Barbara visit first thing in the morning, and she healed him right up. The blood loss did a number on him, though — he’s still asleep on the couch. Oh, and I cleaned you both up. Didn’t want to get blood all over our nice sheets, right?”

You laugh, huffing out a light breath of air. “Of course not. So what did you say to Barb when she asked what happened?”

“Late night boar attack,” Kaeya snorts.

Your eyes roll. His brother is absolutely going to hate him for that. You take a sip of water before asking, “Mind if I check on him?”

Kaeya nods, supporting you as you step out of bed despite your complaints that you can walk perfectly fine on your own. When you arrive at the couch, you smile at the sight of your friend dozing away. A blanket has been tossed over him and a pillow situated under his head; he curls in on himself, as peaceful as ever.

“Damn, he’s out cold. I’ve never seen him look so calm,” you whisper in awe.

“Neither have I,” Kaeya agrees. “But we really ought to wake him.”

You frown, furrowing your brows at your partner. “What? Why would we do that?”

“He’s slept long enough. And it would be funny,” Kaeya shrugs.

You sigh and bump your shoulder against his. “Don’t be rude. He’s obviously tired, we should leave him alone.”

Kaeya puts on a look of faux concern. “So you don’t think he should wake up and eat? I’d say you’re the rude one now.”

After another minute of back and forth, you finally give up. “Fine, wake him! Whatever! I don’t care anymore!”

Your partner laughs, kissing your cheek. “Perfect. Okay, so first you’re going to jump on him—”

“I’m going to do what? Kaeya—!”

“Barbara said he won’t be in any pain so you don’t even have to worry about that!”

“I’m more concerned that he’ll try to kill us after.”

“He would never do such a thing,” Kaeya says confidently.

You give him an unimpressed look and tap his eyepatch. “Right. Never.”

He pouts and crosses his arms defensively. “Hey. Not funny. That was different.”

“Uh-huh. Well, I really don’t want to bother your— Hey!” you screech as you’re suddenly picked up and tossed at the couch like a rag doll. You fall on top of Diluc with a graceless augh! while you scramble to get off of him.

Diluc wakes up instantly, of course, his brows furrowed and a deep set frown etched into his face. He already looks about ready to murder you. “What the hell are you—?”

Kaeya is next to throw himself onto the couch, cannon-balling on top of you and Diluc while you both yell obscenities. Your lover has the nerve to giggle, his arms spread over the both of you to cover more surface area. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy,” you grumble. “Let’s see how you’re laughing when I get you for this.”

Diluc glares where his brother’s head rests over your chest. “You must be a child to still pull the same pranks from years ago.”

“It’s called having fun, not that you would know what that is,” Kaeya snipes. “In fact, I recall a time where you would have found this amusing.”

“I have a hard time believing that,” you mumble.

Kaeya looks betrayed, frowning like a wounded puppy. “Really? No support from the love of my life? How could you be so cold?”

“Alright, that’s enough talking,” Diluc groans. “I’m too tired for this. Get off and leave me alone. I’ll be on my way soon after.”

Now is your turn to frown. “Seriously? You bled all over the place last night and had us scared half to death and you just plan to walk out like nothing happened?”

The red-haired man sighs, his eyes softening a bit. “That’s not what I—”

“What an awfully rude thing to say,” Kaeya scoffs. “Even after all my little snowflake went through trying to heal you, you can’t even utter a single word of thanks?”

Diluc’s face goes hot with shame. “Of course I’m thankful—!”

You cut in, wearing your own look of disapproval. “I thought friends were supposed to be more supportive of each other than this. I nearly went blue in the face to keep you alive, and this is how you treat me? Maybe we aren’t as close as I thought…”

The man becomes increasingly exasperated, finally begging for the guilt trip to stop. “Fine, I’m sorry! I appreciate everything you two did for me. I know I worried you both and it’s unfair of me to take your kindness for granted. I am forever in your debt and I will spend the rest of my days seeking forgiveness. Happy?”

“Hm… Not quite,” Kaeya says.

You nod dutifully. “Agreed. I say you should start repaying us by staying right here.”

“I second that notion,” your lover confirms.

Diluc pauses for a moment before releasing a long, exhausted sigh. “Whatever makes you happy. Just let me sleep in peace this time.”

Giddily, you and Kaeya settle in more comfortably, cuddling on the couch and soaking in Diluc’s warmth like a cat in the sun. Soon enough, the redhead is asleep again, snoring with two knights to keep him safe.

#dove writes #c: kaeya #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #genshin x reader #reader insert #kaeya x y/n #kaeya x you #ragbros

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the-mr-hyde-jive · 4 months ago

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dropping my mind by your feet like a cat with a mouse then scampering off

GIVE ME A REF YOU TWAT /silly

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m0uchie · 1 year ago

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𐙚 the girl and the cat

⟡ you rescue a cat from the streets, but it seems he has a lot to hide from you…

— pairing : catboy!scaramouche x f!reader

— warnings : SFW; fluff; angst? ; Childe is gay on this one, but that's only mentioned in the end and no ships LMAOO; self harm and stalking? But only mentioned briefly too

— a/n : it’s almost the same cliché thing everyone writes abt😭 I just thought it’d be cute for valentine's day!! (that's the one draft I deleted by accident. It's not as good as before, but yeah, I stopped working on it bc I got tired)

You've never been a summer person, as the heat made your body sticky with sweat, but you also didn't like it when it rained that much. On this particular night, the drops seemed to fall all at once from the clouds, the sounds were very loud and the drivers weren't worried about the pedestrians who had just gotten off work. No matter how much they tried to walk along the sidewalk, protecting themselves from the rain under the store roofs, cars passed over puddles at full speed, giving those nearby a nice shower. It was impossible not to get wet. In your case, you were one of the poor pedestrians, tired after another busy day, and without an umbrella with you because you were stupid enough to forget it again, even though you had to walk home every day.

The water was overflowing and running down the sidewalk, and your shoes were uncomfortably wet. You sigh and speed up the step, just thinking about the moment when you'd get home soon and take off your clothes the minute you opened the door, jumping into a warm bath. However, your plans may have gone down the drain when you cease your steps, faintly hearing strange sounds of something coming from the alley you were passing in front of.

Your face curiously turns to the side. You don't see anything, but you feel a strange feeling in your chest that tells you it wasn't just in your head.

Taking hesitant steps, you decide to enter there, being greeted by what appeared to be… a cat? And he was lying behind a dumpster. The soaked indigo fur and visible bruises all over his body could be seen, shivering from the cold, as he was only being protected by the torn clothes he was lying on top of, now also wet.

You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand. "Where's your owner, kitty?” You whisper, reaching out to pet him. Crouching closer to the creature, but stopping when he hisses at you, retracting your hand back and smiling faintly. How can I help you if you react like this?…

For now you choose to take him home and try to treat him even if he objects to it. With a little difficulty, you carry him in your arms, getting bitten and scratched the whole way. You just hope it doesn't leave marks for long.

Once there, you take care of the injuries, struggling a little due to how aggressive he continues to be. The situation only gets worse when you say “Good, now you need a shower.” The cat is startled by you picking him up and immediately starts squirming to get free. His claws cling onto you, hissing and growling, his tail lashing against your face.

You let go of him and he scampers under the couch. He remains cautious, a threatening aura directed at you from beneath the furniture. You try to coax him out, offering a treat, but the cat is not having it, he claws at your feet every time you try to get closer. It's hard to be understandable, but you still try to have empathy because he must've had a hard time on the streets.

Finishing taking care of him, you set basic things for him like food and water, for as long as he'd stay with you. Taking a deep breath, you look at your injured arms and bandage them. The cat seems to be calmer now, he just stands in one place, watching you curiously from afar, but if you dared to look back or even touch him, you knew he'd get angry again and make a storm in a teacup for it.

You think maybe it's best to leave him alone for now, but you feel so bad for him. You can see that he is hungry and cold, eating from his bowl nonstop and snuggling under the blanket you left for him after drying his fur. You feel bad for wanting to just leave him alone because of his behavior…

Despite having volunteered to take care of the cat — which you decided to name Kunikuzushi — he was no longer anywhere in the house after a few days of recovery. Even so, you left the pots of food and water at the door of your house in case he came back, which curiously were always empty when you went to check.

The house was empty again. Nothing out of the ordinary, but it made you feel lonely now that the fluffy kitty wasn't there with you. Although at some nights, you could feel a fur ball being caressed by your fingers if you stretched your arms across the bed...

It wasn't strange for you, as you had a bed covered in stuffed animals, they filled that special space in your heart when you went to sleep, so you didn't bother open your eyes to check. And maybe some furniture knocked over or broken the next day if you pushed the supposed "plush" out of the mattress while you slept.

Another thursday afternoon came, and you were returning from work because you'd been released early today. This time it wasn't raining, and you had an umbrella in your hand. Maybe you should look at the weather forecast next time.

You smile seeing that the food containers are empty as always. But you were soon distracted by something else, realizing that something was wrong when you open the door of the house just by simply turning the handle, even before the key got into the lock.

Your dumb self forgot to lock the door again! :(

You enter, being greeted by the usual silence, and now you make sure to close the door properly before throwing your shoes aside and walking to the entrance of your room.

You slowly open the door, eyes wide open in shock by what you see the moment you turn on the lights: a boy, lying on your bed, his body turned on his side and well curled up under the sheet. However, you could tell that he was shirtless. His relaxed appearance while sleeping made him look innocent, as if he hadn't just broken into your house and laid down on your bed shamelessly.

He had a perfect face, long eyelashes, and soft hair (you knew because you couldn't help but reach out and curiously touch it as you sat on the bed). Indigo hair messy from the pillow, shining with the moonlight that invaded through the window, the color reminded you of a certain creature...

And those things above his head were cat ears…?

Should you call the police? You didn't know. You were in panic. This had never happened before, and your heart couldn't stop beating like crazy. With your hands shaking, you holded onto your bag, at the same time trying to reach your cell phone inside it.

It was strange how similar they were…

In a moment of hesitation, your bag flips out of your arms, dropping everything inside onto the floor. You hear the rustling of the sheets along with a yawn, and when you look forward, the boy is now sitting up, looking straight at you with wide eyes. “You came early.” He narrows his eyes, looking a little uncomfortable and worried.

“W-What do you mean?”

He simply stands up, embarrassed and prepared to leave without uttering a word before you stop him. “You’re him, aren’t you?!” you shout in an accusatory tone. It was all too coincidental to be true. The same colored purple eyes, the same hair, the same eyelashes, a tail that you could see moving around, cat ears, and the red bow that he had wrapped around his neck since you first saw him.

Kunikuzushi turns to you, the same look of a child who has just been found out for doing something bad. "…What do you mean? Have you finally gone mad?”

“I know it’s Kuni.” you murmur hopefully.

“Do you even listen to yourself right now? Are you saying I remind you of a cat?” He turns himself in by his words, so naively that you have to hold your breath not to laugh. From the conviction in his tone of voice, one would say he wasn't lying, but they shouldn't know each other and he shouldn't know anything about Kunikuzushi, it was very suspicious.

"How did you know he was a cat?" You question in seriousness, and he makes a clicking sound with his tongue. "B-Because there's cat hair everywhere in this house, and there's a bowl of cat food in front of the door, duh??"

Your eyes wander around the room, thoughtful. That made sense. Still, you were sure it was him, and you weren't stupid. He's been caught. That's why you suggested the following "so how about you stay here for a while so I can prove it to you?" You ask and he opens his mouth in disbelief.

"Are you going to let a stranger stay in your house?"

"Either that, or I call the police." You answer, cell phone already in hands.

"So you're just going to let me stay here to prove that I'm that cat of yours?" You nod, not noticing when he lowers his head to look down in frustration, mumbling something.

"Such nonsense... Aren't you glad I'm a boy like him now?"

"What did you say?" You question and he leaves aside his previous answer, replacing it with another. "That's fine with me, there's nothing to prove."

"Jusk to make sure... if it turns out that I'm not him…"

"Yes, I'm letting you go. You're staying on the couch though." You say, already pushing him to get out of your bed and go to the living room, knowing that tomorrow you'd have work and it'd be a long day for you. He leaves your room, dropping a few insulting words on the way, and you finally find yourself alone to sleep.

The sofa wasn't as uncomfortable as Scaramouche thought it'd be. He changed positions a few times before finding one he could rest in, thinking about this day and your previous proposal. Maybe if it turned out that the cat wasn't him in the end, you'd really be crazy to let someone you don't even know in your house. Scaramouche wondered if you would do this to any other guy who looked like him. Was it really that important that he was your cat? Luckly, he was Kunikuzushi in person!!

The next few days weren't so bad for him. You treated him pretty well, and to be honest, better than anyone else had. He had a house to live in and he had something to eat. The bad part was having to put up with the times he went to the kitchen to just make a sandwich and was watched by your penetrating gaze. The same when he left home and felt goosebumps running down his spine, turning back only to see your silhouette behind the window, watching him. Not to mention the times when he'd to slam the door in your face before you invaded the bathroom with him inside.

But despite everything, you thought he was adapting well.

"What's your name?" he jumps, startled by your movement under his arm. Until now he thought you had dozed off in the middle of the movie. "Uhh… Scaramouche, why?" he hesitantly looks down, being stared at by large, curious eyes.

"It's nothing, you just never told me your name." You shrug it off, trying to return to the warmth of his arms, but he pushes you by the forehead before your head could be buried in his chest again, making you pout.

It was all a waking dream for Scaramouche, and despite the complications, he had you in those moments. He had your attention and affection. He endured your interrogation about him being who he said he was for hours, enduring the emptiness inside his chest of not being able to be as much as someone else already was for you. Because he wasn't human like he was, and his presence would never replace that of a real human. That was until the day you got tired of the game between you. "Drop the act, I know you're him." you threw your things on the table. The day at work had been difficult and you decided to go out with your friends to drink before going home. Although Scaramouche knew that, because he saw you at the bar.

Well, it wasn't like scaramouche could stay home all day. He wouldn't mind not going out, but you complained when he laid down lazily without helping at all around the house.

"Scaramouche, if you have nothing better to do, go wash the dishes or something!", you always said when he started to irritate you. In that case, would you still have anything to complain about if he left every now and then? And after all, he knew your routine that he memorized when he was in his cat form, it wouldn't hurt to accompany you so you stayed safe on the path, would it?

Your job was more boring than he thought. You just sat in front of a computer all day doing who knows what. But despite that, he couldn't leave the window while watching you. The way you simply accepted being overworked just to be polite by not refusing left his blood boiling, staring at the guy who shamelessly came to your desk with a huge stack of papers until he became aware of the purple kitty's threatening presence.

"WAA!!!!-" The guy shouts, dropping some papers on the floor, immediately stretching his spine to reach them. "T-there's something behin-" He gets up almost at the same second, but the cat is strangely no longer there. Scratching his eyes with his hand, the co-worker excuses himself and leaves the place. Could it be all in his head?

At the end of the day, you gather your things to leave. Scaramouche jumps to the ground stealthily, running ahead and waiting for you to reach close to where he was before running further and hiding, so as not to be seen following you and be discovered.

He waits for you, starting to feel strange about how long you're taking to come out. You already had everything ready, you just had to take the elevator down, but why was it taking so long? impatiently, he returns to the window he was at, eyes attentive looking for your figure until he finds you next to the elevator talking to a guy, who is too close to you for his liking.

Oh, it's him again.

A few giggles here and there, and soon you are going out for drinks together. Can't you see he has ulterior motives when you smile so beautifully in front of this creep?! Or was it on purpose?... He didn't wanna know.

The way you got closer to talk in each other's ears due to the loud music, or when his lips brushed against your cheeks when you got too close, or the way you held his shoulder, looking for support. All of this had a negative effect on Scaramouche. Maybe it's a health problem? Why did it hurt so much?

But your giggles get louder with each sip, with each minute. The jumbled words you tried to pronounce without much success, droopy eyes and wobbly legs… you were drunk. At least your colleague was decent enough to drop you off at your doorstep.

He tried to get there as quickly as he could, entering through the window of your room that he left open for that purpose, and sitting on the kitchen counter as if nothing had happened. You get home, tripping over your own steps as you walked and lifting your head only when you fall onto scaramouche, not even thanking him for catching you before directly accusing him again of being the so-called cat. This time, despite your flat voice, it was noticeable that you looked irritated, but he couldn't see it in your face. He just shrugged it off, not being able to read the room and doing what he always did: teasing you back.

"You have no proof~" "I don't care, I'm tired of it." His smile soon faded when he felt something wet staining his clothes. You couldn't be crying, could you? He didn't even do anything wrong!

"I can't take it anymore, that's enough for me." You said in a brittle voice, breaking down in tears in front of him. Perhaps selfishly, Scaramouche's thoughts wandered to only himself at that time, realizing you were serious and that all his efforts would go in vain if you didn't want him anymore.

"Tired of what? You mean me?" He pressures you to respond.

It seemed silly, but Scaramouche really wanted to be human. Knowing that you'd throw him away after all the effort he put in to achieve this, like the time you caught him trying to cut his ears with scissors in front of the mirror, all the times he imitated some human habit even though he hated it, and how he changed the way he walked to make you like him and be polite like you told him. He shouldn't let it happen, he shouldn't let you get rid of him and let it all go to waste.

But despite this, what hurt the most was that you didn't seem to appreciate his efforts at all with your insistent questions. Wasn't he enough? His heart was racing and it was difficult to breathe, no matter how hard he pressed his chest with his hand, it didn't seem to go away. The realization that you no longer had a reason to keep him in your home, that he would never be human in your eyes, and that he would be abandoned again. "Kunikuzushi." he jolts in fright, startled by your hand suddenly touching his shoulder. "Why can't you just be my cat?" you ask, a sweet smile on your face and swollen eyes, not even aware of the impact your words have on poor Kunikuzushi.

Could he really be yours the way he longed to be? The same way he wanted it to be? The same way a real person can receive love? "Because you already have someone like that…" he replies, his voice lowering with each word spelled, touching your face in a loving gesture. Affection, something he didn't display much. Anyhow, you wouldn't remember it the next day, and nothing else would matter. Your head tilts to the side in confusion, "who?" "That dumb ugly ginger you go out with." he responds, his head lowered until he hears a deep laugh coming from you. "So you were following me!" you tease with a smile, making him turn his face to the wall, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "He's just my co-worker." you move closer, linking your arms around his neck as you come face to face. "Unlike you, who I come home to every day." you get closer to his face, gently pecking his lips. "I missed you... Please don't change..." you whine before moving in for a warmer kiss. But he manages to keep his head in place. You smell like alcohol, and you're drunk. He's satisfied with just a kiss from you for now. "I still don't want to see you around him though." he says in a low tone when you separate from each other. "Kuni, he's gay."

#𝜗𝜚 [ m0uchie posts! ]#scaramouche x reader #scaramouche fluff #wanderer fluff #kabukimono fluff #scaramouche imagines #catboy scara #catboy scaramouche #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche angst #wanderer angst

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xxmaddyxx · 3 years ago

Note

So I was daydreaming yesterday and I had this idea for a bakugou x reader where the reader's quirk is to turn into a cat and they don't attend UA so one night when they where having a walk as a cat they say bakugou standing outside the dorms and approached him and ever since that night they both meet at the same spot until one night they actually approach him a human and the turn into a cat in front of him.

The rest can be up to you ^^

okie doks thank u very much for requesting :) masterlist

Bakugou x Reader w/ a Cat Quirk

im sorry muscles??? hello???

It was like any other day, you were casually taking an evening stroll using your quirk. You figured it wasn't a problem because you just turned into a cat, that's all. You usually walked around the UA campus near the dorms and watched how students lived outside of classes. Every now and then, you would hear a fight or eavesdrop on a conversation or two, but nothing too crazy has ever happened.

Once you got to the end of the path, you saw a blonde kid sitting on the steps of the 1-A dorm building. Curious, you pranced up to him and he looked your way.

"Tsk, damn pests." He mumbled as he scrolled on his phone. You cautiously approached him as he looked like he didn't want to be bothered at the moment.

He kept scrolling as you sat near his feet. You started to paw at his shoelaces, trying to get his attention. He slightly shifted his feet in a way that he thought would've made you walk away. But you were persistent.

So, you walked up the steps and put a paw on his bicep. "What do you want?" He said, looking at you. You just stared into his eyes for a moment and climbed onto his lap. He didn't feel like trying to shoo you anymore, so he just let you stay there.

A few moments later, you felt him softly petting your back. You looked up, he was still scrolling. But, you enjoyed the moment.

"Hey, Bakugou!" A red haired guy came out. You quickly scampered away into a nearby bush.

"Tsk, whaddya want shitty hair?" He put his phone away and followed the other guy into the building.

He seemed okay, so the next day you went back at the same time, still in cat form. He was sitting on the steps again, but this time he was just watching the sunset. You pranced back up to him and sat by his foot.

"Heh, you again?" He picked you up and put you on his knee. "One of the only things I can tolerate right now." He murmured as he scratched your head.

For the next week, you kept going back and sitting with him until the sun disappeared and he went inside for the night. He seemed to like cats, but you really wanted to meet him as a person.

So, that night you snuck into the dorm area as a cat and then became a human before emerging from a bush.

There he was, sitting on the steps again. You approached him and he looked up. "Who the hell are you?"

"I'm-"

"How'd you even get in here hah? This place is under tight security and I haven't seen you around UA."

"I'm y/n l/n."

"Okay, but why are you here? You need Aizawa? Or Deku? Everyone's interested in him." He barely looked up from his phone as he spoke.

You then morphed into the same cat that's been visiting Bakugou the past week.

"The fuck did they go?" (bcs he didn't look up from his phone)

"Oh," he started petting you again and put you on his knee.

Bad timing, but you became human again, and where you were positioned caused you and Bakugou's faces to be inches away.

"What the hell? Get off of me!" He lightly pushed you, not wanting to hurt you. You quickly scrambled off of him with your cheeks a glowing red, and sat beside him on the steps.

"So you're that damn cat, huh?" He put away his phone, but his stare remained on the concrete in front of him.

"Yeah." You nervously fiddled with your thumbs.

"You've heard all about my shit, and you turned out to be a person?"

"I guess, yeah."

"Are you working for someone? Trying to get the drop on UA?" He grumbled and looked at you.

"No, no, I swear I'm not. Most of my life, I've gone on evening walks as a cat, and when the dorms were built I started walking through here. I'm just someone who's bored because I didn't have the proper quirk to come to UA."

"Hm." He acknowledged your comment.

"I've actually heard a lot of shit about people. A lot of the citizens I've run into are like you, they start talking about what happened recently while petting me."

"Really? Have you heard anything about an Izuku Midoriya?"

"Oh, no I've only heard about him on the news."

"Dammit." He shoved his phone in his pocket and buried his face in his hands. His whole mood shifted in front of you.

"Why, are you friends-"

"NO I'M NOT FRIENDS WITH THAT DAMN DEKU!"

You slightly flinched at his harsh tone, to which his expression softened.

"Didn't mean to blow up, but no, I just feel like he's hiding something big."

A moment of silence passed.

"Why the hell am I even telling you all this?" He got up and looked at you.

"Y/n, right?"

"Mhm." You got up and looked at him.

"Wanna-" he looked down and mumbled the rest "ugh, you wanna, I dunno, go to a movie or some shit."

"What~" You teased him, "Is the big, bad, Bakugou asking me out?"

"NO DAMMIT, I'm only asking because there's a new movie and thought you could come with me." He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"Yeah, sure I'll come." You smiled

"Hey Bakugou!!" Kaminari's voice echoed through the dorms.

"I should go, see ya." You became a cat again and ran into the nearby bush.

"WHAT YA DAMN PIKACHU??" He shouted as he opened the entrance.

"Who were ya talkin to?"

"None of your damn-" He was cut off by the door closing. You smiled to yourself and made your way home.

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yespolkadotkitty · 4 years ago

Note

another one SO THIRSTY for size kink #2

Part I here

Words: 1290 ~ Warnings: P in V sex, unprotected sex, oral sex, FEELINGS

Pairing: Pero x fem! reader

***********

The Spaniard looks at you as if he cannot quite believe the words that passed your lips. “You mean this, gatita?”

You nod, breathlessly.

“After dark,” he murmurs, and he is impossibly close. His scent, polished leather, lemon oil, and the musky smell of clean sweat, surrounds you. “I will come to you, si? By the tree of sorrow.”

The weeping willow. Pero likely didn’t know the English. You nod. “By the tree. When the moon is up.”

He strokes his thumb along your lower lip. The rough caress of his callused skin sets your nerves alight. You poke your tongue out, a little tasting his skin, salty, warm.

He bites back a curse. “Until then.”

And then he’s gone in a few heavy footsteps, just the memory of his touch remaining. You smooth your index finger over your lip, and wonder how he will feel inside you.

******

The moon hangs heavy and fat in the sky, a near perfect circle, when you slip out of the straw bed you share with Cara.

“Oi,” she whispers, her eyes still closed. “Where you going?”

“Chamber pot.”

“No you ain’t. Going for a poke are you?”

You scoff, although you love her. “Don’t tell on me.”

“Go get him,” Cara mutters and turns over, pulling your side of the thick blanket more fully on to her own body.

You kiss her forehead and open the door very carefully. For once, God - or the Devil, considering your destination - is on your side and it doesn’t creak.

Pero is silhouetted in the moonlight; his expression hidden by the draping branches of the willow tree. Its leaves sway gently in the night breeze, framing him, like a hero in a myth.

But you know better than to believe in bedtime stories. The man kissed by moonlight is no more than flesh and blood, and no less than you want.

You reach him and he holds out his hand. His palm is so large as he folds his fingers around your own.

“Bonita,” he whispers.

“What is that?”

“Pretty.”

You feel heat creep up your face. You’ve been called a lot of things; not usually pretty. You tug his hand. “Come on.”

“Impatient?” he teases. “I like this.”

You grin back at him.

Like children you scamper down to the copse, led by the glow of the moon, gazing down upon you like a blessing or a complicit friend.

Without warning, Pero scoops you up and carries you, and you squeal, slapping your hand over your mouth so you won’t be heard.

“Never been carried like a lady,” you whisper into his neck. His thick stubble tickles your lips and it’s wonderful.

“Then it is past time for this, no?”

That he can look past your dry hair and chapped hands and plain figure and see a lady, warms your heart.

He lays you down in the circle of trees and you tense at the feeling of - a pile of blankets?

“Pretty sure most soldiers don’t supply this treatment,” you smile.

“Perhaps I want to be invited back, gatita.”

“By me?”

“Who else?”

He braces himself over you, and he is so big; so wonderfully broad. You lift your hands and smooth them over his wide shoulders. He feels warm and firm under the tunic and your tummy flips; your lower body pulling with desire; every nerve winding up tight.

You expect him to begin, then, but instead, he kisses you.

Just the brush of his lips over your own to begin with, teasing, light, and then as you tug at his hair and pull him closer, he uses his tongue and teeth, and you open for him. He licks into your mouth, and each stroke of his tongue in that parody of the most intimate act makes you wetter.

“You have done this before, no, bonita?” Pero asks against your lips.

You nod.

“Very well,” he says, moving to kiss your neck, and you are relieved beyond words that he wasn’t expecting an untouched maiden. That isn’t the kind of life you live, you are hardly a gentle noblewoman in a high tower.

You clutch at him as he makes his way down your body, uncovering you one slow inch at a time. Fireflies dance in the long grass between the trees. Your toes curl as he latches on to a nipple, and you clench one hand in his soft, worn dark tunic.

“Little kitten,” he murmurs against your damp flesh. “So perfectly formed.”

You thrill to his touch as he continues to undress you slowly by the light of the moon. You touch him your fair share, too, his hair, his shoulders, feeling under his tunic to trace the fierce scars on his back.

When he finally, finally spreads your legs and slides between them, his mouth biting gently at your inner thigh, you could scream from the need for him.

“This is what you want, no?”

“Yes,” you breathe.

His large hands settle on your hips and he begins to feast on you like a man starved.

When you come, you buck into his mouth and you bite your own hand to keep from crying out.

When you float back into your own body, he is braced over you, rubbing the blunt head of his heavy cock through your wetness, and your muscles clench; the want spirals all over again.

“Pero.”

“I’m here, cielo.”

You don’t ask what the new word is. You want him too much for that. You wrap your legs around his broad, firm hips, and dig your feet into his ass. He feels big, and you wonder if you can take him.

He pushes gently into you, letting his forehead drop against yours. The scar over his left eye is bathed in moonlight, curved in sharp relief against his golden skin, and you lift a hand and stroke it gently.

“Beautiful,” you murmur.

“That is my line, is it not?”

“Men can be beautiful.”

He pushes in a little further. The stretch is bittersweet - velvet fire.

“Good?”

“Very good.”

You clench your muscles and he breathes raggedly.

You’ve never had this much power over a man before. You do it again.

“Wretch,” he rasps, but it’s teasing; loving. He moves, then, just a little, and licks of pleasure flit up your nerve endings.

“Again.”

And he complies, over and over, and you clutch him to you as he makes love to you under the watchful kiss of moonlight.

After, you sprawl across him. His torso is littered with scars and so firm and broad that you can use him as a bed.

“Sleep, gatita,” he whispers into your hair. And so you do.

*******

The Spaniard stays.

He stays to make love to you by moonlight - sometimes in the copse, sometimes in a secluded corner of the barracks storeroom, when all others are out on a hunt. One memorable time in the kitchen before dawn, when he drizzled honey over you and oh, so slowly, licked it off.

He stays and ends up semi-adopting the kittens from the barn cat. They trail around after him. His fellow soldier, William, the Irishman, mocks him mercilessly. Pero can often be seen carrying the runt of the litter around in a little pocket you fashion for him, attached to his leathers.

Anyone who questions this receives a death glare in return.

He stays to train new soldiers.

But most of all, he stays because he has won your heart, and because you hold his in your hands.

********

Pedro Pals, assemble! @starlightmornings @skvatnavle @knittingqueen13 @djarinsbeskar @nelba @agirllovespancakes @absurdthirst @usernamesarebitches @casualpalacebagelrascal @greeneyedblondie44 @leonieb @f0rever15elf @autumnleaves1991-blog @littlemissthistle @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @pascalsky @buttercup--bee @astroboots @mourningbirds1 @songsformonkeys @tardisfangurl @the-ginger-hedge-witch @disgruntledspacedad @pedro4ever @roxypeanut @mrsparknuts @mrschiltoncat @pedro-pastel @lunarthoughts @officerbrowneyes @missredherring @myoxisbroken @read-and-rec @dornish-queen @abuttoncalledsmalls @wantingpedropascal @miuola @wheresarizona @ourmotherofyearning @danniburgh @jaime1110 @jaime1110 @insomniamamma @the-feckless-wonder @sarahjkl82-blog @alienprincesspoop @thirstworldproblemss @buckstaposition @lackofhonor @graveyardnails @keeper0fthestars @lilangeldevil006 @kindablackenedsuperhero @heatherbel @thegreenkid @mstgsmy @jasterslegacy @thestrawberry-thief @engineeredfiction @ladylothlorien @poenariuniverse @idreamofboobear @yoditorian @mouthymandalorian

and people who interacted with pt 1: @wildchild1964 @djarinsidebitch @quacksity @its-forevermore @itstheanxietyforme @sirarthurconanchristie @savingreading @someplace-darker @chasingdreamer @javierian @ellenmunn @theamuz @meshlamando androgynousclambonklawyer ew-erin dragcn-queen bonnieonhisside @chook007 @oh-kittykat @goldenholland mudhorn-djarin19 hyacinthsatdawn fulltimefangirl111 killerduckzilla jennajackflash querido-pascal stardust-danvers @codenamewife @kesskirata raindancejodi captainreyloswan iampearlteacup @bonktime

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kangaracha · 1 month ago

Text

DAYBREAK; chapter 13

---

pairing lee know x reader

genre smau, dystopia AU, angst, hurt/comfort, slowburn romance, hope/hopelessness, life goes on, ordinary life during extraordinary times

summary independant entertainment doesn't make money, everyone knows that - not dancing, not boxing. not without a company's name attached to it and the soul ripped out of it so that it can only sit on the stage bleeding. you knew you never should have agreed to get involved in his studio, that the bills would pile up and the income would run dry, that the government would come knocking telling you to shut up and sit down...but it makes him so happy, to be able to dance. it gives him a reason to stay. you don't know what you'd do without that.

taglist OPEN

previous | masterlist | next

---

You keep waiting for the fear and the guilt and your anger at the world to fade away once the investigation closes and the days start to pass by, but they don’t.

Even when you succeed at holding yourself together, the world around you falls apart. Fires and protests and brutality on the streets, new laws and tighter security that watches you at every hour of every day with both eyes open, waiting for you to slip up and admit that you lied and you misdirected and you sacrificed that woman just to save your own skin. Fear won't let you sleep, or eat. Paranoia dogs at you every second moment, a hand constantly turning your shoulder to see if there is a camera on you, or a patrol officer waiting to arrest you, or a rebel approaching, trying to publicly indict you in whatever they are planning.

There is nowhere to hide and nothing you can do, and you are sitting alone in your apartment, listening to the sound of rain falling softly against the window, and the pit in your stomach only grows deeper, and deeper, and-

A sharp yowl echoes from the kitchen, loud enough to wake the neighbours through your paper-thin walls. Hissing and spitting follows it, animals screeching as they collide in a ball of orange and grey fur. That fucking cat, your mind says to you over the spiralling, shouting anxiety of investigation and hiding criminals and guilty - the clearest thought you've had all week. The first time you've found that sharp anger that always clears your head, since the terrifying hour of that interview in the back rooms of your workplace.

The cats hiss again, one of them hitting the cabinet with a loud thunk, and it is that noise that propels you up off the couch and into the kitchen, tearing them apart with hands that don't care if they get scratched in the crossfire. The sharp needle of claws digging into your skin is a welcome reprieve from the black hole you'd been struggling to tear yourself out of, actually, the sight of blood welling in the scratches that result jolting your mind back to the present.

You drop the orange cat back on the floor, letting it scamper away into your bedroom. The grey hisses and struggles against your grip on the scruff of his neck, twisting against you until you drop him on the counter and wrap a hand under his stomach instead, trapping him against your chest.

"Why are you like this?" you ask, to him and the empty room. "You could live such a good life. Why do you always have to ruin it?"

The cat stares up at you, his eyes like big, wild moons in the stormy sky. "You are so stupid," you tell him, the words falling out of your mouth on the wave of anger and frustration and fear that has been welling up inside you. "You know how bad it is outside and you can't just leave everyone else alone? You think I won't get rid of you, you mangy idiot?"

As if he understands the insult, the cat hisses in your face and struggles anew, then hisses at the black cat as she peers out at him from behind the counter.

"Ugh," you huff, holding onto him with grim determination. "I hate you so much." Your feet move of their own volition, carrying you to the door; you blink and you are in the hallway, walking down the stairs, treading the long hallway to the front door of the building. You're sure about it, you tell yourself; you're going to get rid of this stupid, good-for-nothing cat, the way that this world gets rid of everything that is good for nothing. The way that someone will get rid of you, one day. You wouldn't have walked all the way down here for nothing.

The door opens in a blast of cold air and sound, thunder rumbling overhead as rain floods the street. The water runs in rivulets from the balconies overhead; only the top step is sheltered from the weather, though the cold sinks straight into your bones as you step out the door to stand upon it, your eyes roving the empty street. Grey upon grey upon grey, cold and lifeless and miserable. Even the cat has gone quiet, huddled against your coat.

"Fuck," you spit at the world, feeling tears prick at your eyes. You crouch down on the step and draw in a deep, shuddering breath and let the anger leak out with it as it exhales, your arms still wrapped around the cat. It rubs its head against the bottom of your chin in response, pushing itself deeper into your jacket.

"That's what you think?" you ask, hooking your thumbs under his elbows so that you can lift him up. He hangs there like a ragdoll, like he's finally realised that this is the easier punishment than the alternative. "I'm going to leave you out here, you know. You've got one chance to bite me and then you can find someone else to freeload off of."

"Meow," he says in return, as pathetic and innocent as you've ever heard him.

You're not sure what that means. You hope it's an apology. He ends up tucked inside your jacket anyway, warming your skin as you turn back towards the door.

TAGLIST

@kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @keepswingin @rylea08 @puppysmileseungmin

@thatonedemigodfromseoul @bokkiesplace @amyyscorner @dearly-somber @kayleefriedchicken

@realrintaro @estella-novella

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butwhyduh · 4 years ago

Text

Last night thing

Jason todd x reader

Summary: he stopped you from stealing a $25,000 watch but missed something else. Part 2 to Late night Thing.

Warning: kidnap, fighting, smut

As Jason pulled up his pants and contemplated his life choices of sleeping with a beautiful thief on a rooftop, he came to a conclusion. You stole his damn tie clip. He had said that he would break your hand if you tried to steal it and dammit, you had. Somehow it simultaneously made him mad and horny. How the fuck had you managed that?

Jason knew that he wouldn’t find you that night. So he went back to his safe house to lick his wounded pride and plan his next move. He needed to get that clip back. It was a gift from Alfred and he would literally kill for it. Though he seriously doubted that he’d need to do that. And Jason would never admit it but he didn’t want to kill you.

He planned to find you sometime during the next week. His tie clip was expensive but not extraordinarily expensive but you had to find someway to sell it without him finding it, which would take time. Jason just didn’t know that it would be the next day that he would find you.

He heard that Bane was throwing his weight around in the drug trade for some damn reason. Wasn’t his venom addition enough for one man? So Jason was snooping around, or investigating as the bats liked to say. He fully expected a boring night of listening in a warehouse for hours and learning very little but instead almost fell through the glass at the sight before him.

You were strapped to a chair with rope. The pretty dress you wore the night before was in tatters but you were covered. Your eyes were red and your nose had dried blood underneath it. You were shivering like a leaf.

“I’m not here to negotiate with you. I’m here for Cat Woman. You are her child and she will come or you will die,” Bane said casually. You gasped.

“She’s going to be mad. Why would she work with you after this?” You asked, braver than you felt. He turned and coldly looked at you before stalking over. His giant fingers wrapped around your throat and you thrashed in the chair.

Jason stood up and moved to jump into the fight despite the fact that he really didn’t want to fight the brute. But Bane let you go and you audibly gasped and sucked air through open lips. You trembled and heaved.

“If she does not care about you, I will move on to her next kitten,” he said and you gulped. You didn’t know if she would save you. Jason looked through the room for a strategy. 2 exits and the skylight he currently looked through. 3 goons that he could easily take out. Oh, and a 300 pound juiced up super soldier. That broke Batman’s back years ago. Fuck.

“Let me go and I’ll do anything you want,” you said and even Jason up high in the rafters could hear the waver in your voice. Bane turned and stared at you and your mind almost couldn’t comprehend the massive size of him. He was easily half a foot taller than Red Hood and almost 100 pounds heavily and Red Hood towered over you.

“What could I possible want from you,” he asked with an icy curiosity. He was watching you for a reaction. You wanted to shrink away but that would be a failure.

“Anything you could want. Information,” you suggested. “About Gotham.”

“I have my sources.”

“Uhhh,” you breathed. “Gems? Money?” He shook his head. Your heart hammered in your chest. He was a man, right? You could sell that maybe? “Me?” You breathed.

He laughed before looking you up and down. “I do not want you carnally, child,” he said. You almost sagged in relief and Jason’s hand released the gun he didn’t know he was holding. “No. We will wait for Cat Woman and if she doesn’t come in 2 days, you are dead.”

You hummed in fear. Bane sat crossed legged and closed his eyes. He threatened to kill you and then fucking meditated. You helplessly pulled at the ropes on your wrists.

Jason tried to piece together how you got there and how to get you out. He knew that he couldn’t exactly call Bruce. ‘Hey dad, do you want to fight the guy who broke your back over a thief he has tied up. Why? I don’t know! I just like fucking her on rooftops!’ Never saying that.

Nope. Instead he would attempt stealth. Against one of the best trained fighters in the world for a woman that robbed him. Yea, maybe Jason should have stayed 6 feet under because he’s a fucking idiot. He sighed before slowly moving towards them. Bane was sitting cross legged with his eyes closed in a meditation back to you.

You suddenly saw Jason out the corner of your eyes and your eyes widened before going back to normal. Bane didn’t seem to notice the slight change in your breathing. Jason snuck over to untie you. He slowly pulled the rope from around your wrists and you were almost completely untied when the end of the rope barely grazed the ground.

Bane snapped his head around as Jason drew his guns. You gasped as Bane launched himself towards Jason. You ripped your hand out of the rope as bullets flew. You scrambled to the floor but was quickly pulled up by the giant man. He clutched you by the shoulder and you whimpered in pain. Jason suddenly froze.

“This is far more interesting that I first thought. I looked for a cat and found a bat,” he laughed. You squirmed in pain. He sat you down but the hand stayed on your shoulder.

“She’s not important. Let her go,” Jason said. The metallic voice from his helmet sounded bored.

“If she is unimportant, she is better off dead,” he said roughly pulling you in his arms and one hand gently wrapped around your throat but didn’t tighten it. You grabbed at his fingers and sobbed pathetically. Your eyes were wide and terror was plain on your face.

“Let’s not. Put the lady down and we can talk,” Jason said and it was weird to see Red Hood negotiating. He was usually the muscle in the situation. It really showed you how fucked you really were.

“Okay I’m intrigued. I will hear your proposal,” he said sitting you down. You scampered behind Jason. Your whole body trembled.

“I know Gotham underground better than you ever will. Sorry but you’re scary as shit but not in a good way,” he said with a shrug. If you didn’t know any better, he seemed casual. “I can get you the venom you need. No cost for a while.”

“How long,” Bane asked. He was the kind so get all the facts before proceeding. He also had the weakness of being completely addicted to venom.

“A months worth.”

“6 months.”

“3 months.”

“Deal. If you break this deal I will crush her windpipe with my hand,” he said with no emotion. It was a promise, not a threat. Jason felt you move closer to him.

“Deal,” Jason agreed. Bane moved closer and you clung to Jason. You were clinging to Red Hood. How pathetic. Jason stood taller and stared at Bane. They shook hands.

Suddenly Bane slapped Jason violently across the face and you yelped. Jason went to the ground but quickly got up to a defensive crouch. You jumped in front of him with your heart beating so fast you would soon faint.

“For invading my space and my business,” Bane said before walking away. “Leave.” He didn’t turn to watch.

You noticed a little crack in the Red Hood helmet. How hard did Bane hit him? Jason stood up and pulled you out of the warehouse with him. He quickly grabbed you and shot his grappling hook out of the area. About half a mile away, he landed on a building. You clung to him and trembled.

“Hey, you’re safe,” he said. “You can let go.”

You pulled off but shivered like a leaf.

“Shit, you’re cold. Here. Here,” he wrapped his jacket around you and it helped your temperature but not your shivering. “Come here,” he pulled you in his arms and you clung. His heartbeat felt reassuring and he awkwardly patted your hair. You could tell Jason wasn’t used to providing comfort.

“He- he,” you started but stopped. “Can we go somewhere safe?”

“Come on downstairs. This is my place,” he said and you nodded. You followed him inside and it was far warmer but you couldn’t stop the shaking. His jacket was replaced by a blanket and Jason sat you on the couch. The helmet came off but domino stayed on. You practically climbed on his lap to be closer. Your eyes were still wide with horror.

You’d been arrested, harassed, even shot at. But never kidnapped like that. And by the giant Bane at that. Jason could feel the fear and adrenaline coming off of you. He rubbed your back softly. You looked up at him suddenly after a few minutes.

“You saved my life. You put yours in danger to save mine,” you breathed. He shrugged, a little uncomfortable under your gaze. “Thank you,” you added.

“Uh you’re welcome. It’s no biggie.”

“Yes it is,” you said before kissing him. Your pace was dizzying and rough. Jason was in shock at first. Your hands roamed his body before dropped down to his belt and he almost jolted up.

“Not today,” he said, stopping your hand. “I mean, normally I’d love to but not now. Give it a few days.”

“Why?” You said with your voice all breathy. Your lips were swollen and eyes dark and he almost gave in.

“You were just kidnapped. You need sleep. Not sex,” he said sliding away from you. “Are you hungry?”

“Wh- you don’t think I could want you?”

“I’m not in the mood. Almost getting killed by Bane really kills the urge,” he lied. If he thought you were in your right mind, he would have fucked you on the rooftop or against the first surface he found. You jumped in front of Bane for him. He found it all incredibly hot. “You need a shower anyways.”

It was cold and cruel but better than sleeping with a traumatized woman. You shook and nodded before using his shower. Jason felt twinges of guilt but ignored them. He knew it was better this way.

You came in nothing but his t shirt that hung like a dress. “Nothing else fit,” you said awkwardly. He could see the scars that covered your legs and bruises around your throat.

“We can lay in bed,” Jason said just as awkwardly. He might know what to do with a woman who wants to fuck him but not just one sleeping over. “For sleeping.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t try anything,” you said with a little smile and he smiled back. You both laid in the bed and it wasn’t long until you pressed your back against his chest and pulled his arms around you. He was strong and safe. You managed to sleep all night with the anticipated nightmares. They had time later to come up. When you weren’t cradled in his arms.

The next morning you woke up warm. The rise and fall of his chest was comforting. His hand held your waist loosely and you could seriously just stay in this moment. But as soon as you moved, you almost giggled like a teenager. He was hard and pressed against your ass.

“Ignore that,” he mumbled.

“Okay... how?” You said after a few seconds. “Because it’s pretty unforgettable for the man I like to sleep with to have his hard dick pressed against my ass. Have to say.”

“We only did it once in a rooftop. Was it that unforgettable?” He said and you could hear the smirk he wore.

“It was alright,” you said playfully but you couldn’t help but press back into him. Jason grabbed your hip to stop you.

“Trying to get me horny?”

“I think you already are.”

“That’s true,” he said before grinding against your ass. You pushed back to do your own rubbing. “And you’re not even wearing any panties,” he said bunching up the fabric of his shirt you wore. He slapped your ass soundly and you gasped.

“What was that for?”

“My tie clip. I hope you still have it,” he said before slapping your ass again. You reached behind you to grasp his cock through his sweatpants.

“I’ll get it back to you,” you said. His pants were pushed down. Jason hummed and rubbed his dick between your thighs. You sighed at the sensation and arched your back so he was sliding between your folds instead.

“You’d better,” he growled but it had no true heat. Not when he was so close to finally fucking you and had his lips leaving little marks on your shoulder and neck. You tried to press back onto him but he stopped your hips.

“Do you deserve it,” he asked running a finger along your hip, every once in a while dipping between your thighs to barely touch your clit. You jumped and grabbed at his wrist to hold him there but he just chuckled and moved away from where you needed him. His thrusting between your folds felt amazing but not enough and he was purposefully avoiding sliding in your hole. Jason quite liked the way your body panted and curved in desperation.

Finally feeling that you had been tortured enough, and he wanted in your wet heat, he pressed his hips forward and filled you. You whimpered and leaned your head back against him.

“Yes,” you breathed. Jason took his time slowly thrusting, letting you fill his full length. His free hand moved from pinching your nipple to circling your clit. You were practically clenching him from the start and he loved it. You were so receptive.

It didn’t take long for him to find a pattern that just got you a little more vocal and focused on that. “God, you’re fucking wet,” he breathed in your ear and you whimpered. You seemed to like what he had to say.

“Taking me so well. Acting like such a good girl,” he said and you breathed out a “Hood” in response. Oh yeah, you didn’t even know the name of the man that you let fuck you. You trusted him enough to sleep in his bed and you’d never even seen his eyes.

His finger circling your clit and cock angled to drag along your g spot had you seeing stars as you came around him. Jason grunted and held your hips tight before quickly pulling out to cum on your ass. He looked as the pretty white beads covered your skin. He wasn’t forgetting that image any time soon. He reached for a towel to clean you up.

Afterwards you turned in his arms and kissed him soundly before lying your head on his chest. You reached up to play with his hair with a little smile on your face. Jason could get used to this. As soon as he thought it, he had the urge to jump up and kick you out. He didn’t do permanent. You were just having fun.

“I need a shower,” he said roughly, getting up. Jason couldn’t help but notice the disappointment on your face that you quickly hid.

“I should get going before my walk of shame gets any later,” you said with an awkward laugh.

“Borough anything you need,” he said before disappearing into his bathroom. While in the shower he had time to think. Yeah, I’m totally not broken to be cool with fucking a woman but not being able to hold her. Not a sign of being fucked up at all, Jason thought. Probably got that from Bruce. Though my real dad probably did it too.

He came out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and immediately saw a note on the bed.

Had fun, Hood. We should do it again sometimes, (your number)

💕 Kitten

His tie clip was set underneath it. Jason smiled. Okay, this could be fun. He was young and sowing wild oats or whatever, right?

There was no way this could go wrong, right?

#friday night smut #jason todd x reader #Jason todd smut #red hood x reader #red hood smut #batboy x reader #Jason todd x thief!reader #red hood x kitten

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feralthoughtdump · 4 years ago

Text

Love Me Harder

CW: swearing, smut, reader calls Bucky “Sergeant”, spitting, choking, restraints (with a necktie), spanking, dom!Bucky

Word Count: 2.3k

“Oh you’re really testing me, aren’t you?”

She giggles at Bucky’s words. Her plan was working, and it was working well.

From giving him a quick peek at her lacy black panties while getting ready, to the teasing touches, to her giving the bartender one too many flirty looks, it was all to rile him up. Get him angry, and hopefully end their dry spell.

Well, calling it a dry spell was a bit dramatic. It was just a little over a week without Bucky fucking her. Nevertheless, she was still irritated.

It wasn’t necessarily Bucky’s fault, nor is it hers. They’ve been busy. With him going on back-to-back missions, and her having a jam-packed schedule, neither of them had the time.

But right when they found some time to take a break, Sharon threw a party and insisted that they’d come.

The final straw was when she had taken her panties off in the bathroom and sneakily tucked them into the pocket of Bucky’s jacket. When his fingers grazed over the lace, he saw red. If they weren’t surrounded by others, he would’ve bent her over the bar and fucked her until she forgot her name.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sergeant.” She purrs into his ear and leaves the table, heading off to talk to Sharon.

It wasn’t until a few hours later when the crowd had dissipated and his watch read 1:03 am when the two of them decided to leave.

She was disappointed when he said nothing, or more so, when he did nothing, as they got into the car, ready to head back to their shared Brooklyn apartment.

She took off her makeup and showered with dissatisfaction on the tip of her tongue. Her plan was working, but it failed miserably.

It didn’t help that his hair had begun to get long again. It hung in his face and was always so soft between her fingers.

She loved to grab onto it when his head was between her thighs and the thought of it made her hornier than ever.

Sure, she could just touch herself and relieve the frustration between her legs, but it wasn’t the same. Plus, if Bucky found out, she would be due for the worst spanking of her life.

She walked out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of his boxers and a thin cami, ready to sleep away the ache between her thighs.

As she crouched down to pet Tux, the little black and white cat they adopted a few months ago, Bucky’s boots crept into her vision, illuminated from the bedside light.

“Look at me, doll.”

His tone was authoritative and demanding so she knew better than to disobey. She looked up into his blue eyes, pleasantly surprised by the anger and lust that glazed over them.

She slowly starts to get up, Tux scampering out of the bedroom door, but Bucky places a hand on her shoulder, pushing her back onto her knees.

He’s still dressed in the party attire, only he’s shed the jacket. Her mouth waters at the sight of his button-up shirt, now untucked from his black jeans with his tie hanging loosely from the collar.

She slowly reached up to unbutton his jeans but he catches her wrist.

“No. Not after the shit you pulled earlier tonight.” He taps his metal fingers on her lower lip. “Open up.”

She parts her lips and lets him slide the metal onto her tongue. They never break eye contact as she sucks, swirling her tongue around the digits.

He lets his other hand caress her face, gently stroking her cheek.

“Good girl.” He murmurs.

She closes her eyes and whines around his fingers.

“You’re such a needy little thing, aren’t you?” He cocks his head. “Already so desperate just from sucking my fingers.”

She nods, giving his big doe eyes.

He pulls her fingers from her mouth and hooks his thumb over her teeth.

“Answer me!” He commands.

“Yes!” She struggles to speak with her open mouth.

He bends down and stares daggers into her.

Without speaking, he spits, letting it land on her tongue.

“Don’t you dare swallow until I tell you.”

She nods her head.

He observes her with an amused smirk, watching her eyes water and her jaw tremble. After about a minute, he unhooks his thumb from her jaw. Gently, he taps his fingers against her chin, signaling her to close her mouth.

“Swallow.”

He says nothing as she obediently swallows, then latching his lips onto hers. It’s rough, slopping kissing with teeth knocking into each other and gentle bites at her lips.

When he pulls away from her, she pouts with spit-slicken, swollen lips, the only thing on her mind being Bucky and his cock.

The hardwood floor digs into her knees and she shifts, trying to relieve the pain.

“Do your knees hurt?” He asks, voice low and gentle.

She nods her head.

“Yes Sergeant.”

“I guess I should do something about that.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Yeah, you really should.”

She’s taken by surprise at the feeling of his hand grabbing her neck, the metal squeezing at the sides.

“You really need to fix that attitude of yours.” He growls, pulling her up to stand on wobbly feet. “You think that you can flirt with the bartender like a little slut? You think that you can tease me all night in front of Sharon and all her friends?”

“If it’s enough to make you fuck me,” She retorts with a gasp “then yeah. Yeah, I do.”

She realizes that she should’ve just kept her mouth shut when he slams her down onto the bed, her feet bouncing on the mattress.

His grip on her neck tightens and her eyes roll into the back of her head. A whine escapes her lips when he takes his hand away.

“Hands above your head.” He orders. When she doesn’t comply, he lands a hard slap on her thigh, making her cry out. “Now!”

She hurriedly obeys and watches with excited eyes as he loops his tie around her wrists, binding them together with a tight knot.

Her mouth stretches into a smile when Bucky shrugs off his dress shirt. She drools at the sight of his form, especially at the way his biceps flex when he pulls his undershirt over his head.

“Like what you see, doll?”

She bites her lip and nods.

“Such a shame I’m not letting you touch me. You’ve done plenty of that tonight.”

Her heart drops and a whimper slips past her lips.

All she wanted to do was get her hands on him but Bucky is denying her of that. It wasn’t fair.

Well, in retrospect, she probably deserves it.

So she sighs and pouts, hoping that her wide-eyed gaze would be enough to convince him to be nicer to her.

“I’m sorry.” She apologizes. “I just- I just wanted you to fuck me.”

Bucky wraps his hands around her ankles and pulls her down the bed.

“Oh, doll, is that all you wanted?” He gently caresses her calf. “You just wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes Sergeant.” She whines, all gaspy and desperate. “Can you please fuck me?”

He lowers himself onto the bed, letting her legs draw over his shoulders.

“You’ve got such good manners, doll.” He plants a wet kiss to the inside of her thigh.

“Asking so nicely too.” He tugs her (well, his) boxers down her legs and throws them onto the floor. “But I’m not fucking you yet.”

She’s reduced to a panting mess when he eases a finger inside of her.

Her eyes squeeze shut as she takes a deep breath, careful not to whine too loudly. It was far too late at night and she wouldn’t want to wake the neighbors.

Bucky’s done so little to her yet the way he dominates her, the way he’s able to take control over her, it leaves her dizzy.

“Come on, pretty girl.” He murmurs against her thighs. “Let me hear those pretty sounds.”

She shakes her head.

“The neighbors.” she whispers “I don’t want to wake them up.”

He shoves another finger inside of her, making her yelp at the stretch.

“I don’t care if they hear you. In fact,” he curls his fingers up, hitting that spot inside of her. “I want them to hear you. Let them know you’re mine.”

She bites her lip, still reluctant, and Bucky rolls his eyes.

He pistons his fingers in and out of her and swirls his tongue around her clit.

Her resolve is slowly starting to chip away as she lets out a breathy moan.

“Bucky!”

He responds with a hum, the vibrations making her clench down on his metal fingers.

She’s close. Very, very close.

Her chest rises and falls as she struggles to control her volume, biting down on her lip so hard, it’s close to bleeding.

“I’m-” tears pool in her eyes. “I’m gonna-”

He swiftly pulls away from her, slipping his fingers out of her.

“No, you aren’t.”

She tries to sit up, but finds it difficult, given her restrained hands. She collapses back onto the bed with a frustrated groan.

“Please!”

He takes hold of her face, squishing her cheeks together.

“I decide when you get to cum. Now, if you don’t stop being a whiny brat, I won’t let you cum at all. Do you understand?”

She nods her head, tears spilling over her lashline.

“Words, angel, use your words.” He chastises.

“Yes- Yes Sergeant.” She quavers. “Yes, I understand.”

His hold on her chin is released and she inhales a shaky breath. When she thinks he isn’t looking, too occupied with stripping off his jeans, she discreetly tries to rub her thighs together.

She isn’t so lucky.

As a quiet gasp leaves her lips, his belt cracks down on her thigh. Her once quiet gasp turns into a loud yelp.

“What did I just say?”

“I’m sorry!” She wails. “I just wanted to cum!”

He flips her over onto her stomach and smacks her ass with the belt, leaving a bright red stripe on her flesh.

She bites down onto the pillow and lets out a cry, the ache in her tummy growing stronger.

“No, I don’t think you do.” The leather cracks onto her skin again and she pulls at her bindings. “Because if you wanted to cum, you wouldn’t be so disobedient.”

She buries her face in the pillow, muffling her sobs as he continues his assault on her ass, occasionally switching out the leather belt for his metal hand, worsening the sting.

“I knew you’d like this.” She hears him murmur, swiping a finger through her dripping cunt. “My dirty little thing.”

He chuckles at her little yelp when he pinches the burning skin.

“You’re awfully cute, sweet angel.” He coos. “So cute, in fact, I think I’m gonna give you what you want.”

He pulls her hips up, her upper half sliding down the mattress.

“Are you going to fuck me?” She asks sweetly, turning her head to look at him.

“Oh, angel,” He gently pushes her sweaty hair out of her face. “Of course. I think I’ve punished you enough.”

She winces and pulls at her restraints as he slowly pushes his cock inside. She’s taken him before, but she never really got used to the stretch.

When he’s fully situated inside of her, he places a strong hand on her back, keeping her still on the mattress.

“Remember what I said, doll?” He asks.

“You decide when I cum.” She answers.

He pulls out halfway and slams himself back inside of her, making her wail.

“Good girl.”

The way he’s got her positioned allows him to go deeper, each thrust hitting that spot inside of her that would send her toppling over the edge in a few minutes. Normally, this would be a good thing, but now? When she’s so close? Not really.

She’s no longer holding back on her volume. Her pleading sobs and desperate whines ricochet throughout the room, for sure, waking up the neighbors.

As she tightens around his cock, she looks out the window, trying to distract herself with the view of the city skyline.

Her little distraction fails to do anything when he snaps his forward, driving his cock deep into her.

“Fuck!” She curses through gritted teeth. “I’m close. I’m really close.”

“Hold it.” He huffs.

“I can’t!” She protests.

Bucky removes his hand from her back and places it on her tied wrists.

“Yes, you can. Do you know why?”

She shakes her head, tears streaming down her face.

“Because I said so.”

Her mouth hangs open, moaning his name and desperate pleas.

She’s clenching tightly around him, making him curse.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, angel.” He hangs his head, his hair ticking at her skin. “Gonna make me cum.”

He lowers his head to her face.

“You wanna cum? You wanna cum with me?”

She gives him an enthusiastic nod, a quiet ‘yes, please’ spilling from her lips.

“Are you going to be good?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“Gonna misbehave and act out again?”

“No, Sergeant.”

He grins at her.

“Good. Good girl. Come on, cum for me.”

The pressure inside of her snaps and she cums with a loud cry, pleasure wracking through her body.

She feels him release inside of her and she blissfully hums, a fucked out smile forming on her lips.

“Fuck.” He quietly mutters, carefully undoing the tie on her wrist.

When her hands are free, he lies down next to her and pulls her close.

She quietly rests her head on the juncture of his neck and shoulder, nosing at his throat.

“Thanks.” She giggles, her head all dizzy.

“For what, doll?”

“For the sex. I really needed it.”

He brings her wrists up to his lips, gently kissing along the red marks.

“I think we both needed it.”

He turns off the bedside lamp and places a kiss on the top of her head.

“Come on, doll. Get some sleep. It’s late.”

Before they drift off to sleep, she quietly speaks up.

“I love you, Bucky.”

He gives her a kiss on the tip of her nose.

“I love you too.”

#bucky barnes #bucky x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky barnes smut #bucky fanfic #tfatws

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cyberneticlagomorph · 3 years ago

Text

You aren't sure if the sun is rising or setting by the time you come stumbling back into the house and halfway collapse into the nearest chair.

A little pale face with big red eyes peers around a corner, only to vanish before you can get a good look at it, but judging by the sounds of scampering feet and Egg's shrill cry of "NONNA!! NONNA!!" you can guess who it is.

Your Ma, Harley, comes in shortly after with a hesitant relief plain on her face, Egg at her heels with your phone in her mouth.

You weren't even aware that you'd dropped it.

Ma tells Egg to call off the metaphorical search for you while she checks Bibi (you) over.

… you didn't even know Egg could read, let alone type. New child locks will be put into place the moment you don't feel like someone beat you with a spiral ham.

Gentle fingers ghost over a darkening bruise and you hiss like a cat in a trap, Ma winces sympathetically.

You're mostly just bruised up.

The worst injury you've got is a split lip and a broken nose that you've managed to reset by yourself, the bleeding from that has mostly stopped anyway but you feel like you're gonna hork up a clot at any minute probably.

Ma looks you in the eyes, retrieving a first aid kit from nowhere in particular, "Why do you look like me after the first time that bitch Waller recruited me…" she gestures at your face, tube of biofreeze in hand, "not the injuries, but the vibes."

You just smile wryly in a 'you must be fucking psychic' kind of way and watch her eyes narrow as she reads your face like a book.

"Was it fucking Waller? i'll skin her alive." She wipes the gross snot-blood crust from around your mouth and nose, and you suddenly feel like a kid again as you try very hard not to squirm.

"God I wish, her I could at least eat y'know?" Your stomach yells at the concept of food and Ma gives you a smile of her own.

"Oh I think I FELT that. Come, mama's been cookin her tight lil tush off."

She helps you up, just like she used to when you were little and stupid and kept getting in fights with the little clown kids back in Gotham.

It felt just like this.

Like biofreeze and concern, and love.

Your legs are wobbly from lack of sleep and maybe a mild concussion but the promise of Food urges you on, with Egg close behind you.

Ma watches you like a hawk as she guides you into the kitchen and whistles for the Babies, her twin hyenas Bud and Lou.

They appear out of nowhere, spectral beasts of pure emotional energy.

Each the size of a fully grown bull moose before they remember their manners and 'fold up' into mostly regular hyenas.

Bud shoves his muzzle into your face, sniffing and nuzzling as if he hasn't seen you in a thousand years. The markings on his face make him look like he's smiling, even though you can nearly taste his concern.

By contrast, Lou perpetually looks like he's about to cry at any moment.

They're the closest things to brothers you've ever had, and they certainly act like it.

Right now they're doing their best to keep you awake and conscious so you can eat

… and also trying to steal treats when Ma isn't looking.

But mostly the keeping you awake thing!

You talk while you eat, shoveling bread and soup into your face as fast as possible, trying desperately to explain the situation as best you can but you don't have all the details yet so it's harder to form coherent sentences than you initially anticipated.

Ma knows the importance of keeping you talking-- and asks about who worked you over, before talking a lot of shit about them, their bedroom preferences and their mothers.

Your brothers cackle in response.

You smile, all sharp teeth and black gums, "I did manage to take a couple fingers with me before I left," you nudge Lou away from your plate a second too late and watch him inhale your bread roll, "I dunno what they expected, putting their hands in my face like that."

Ma snorts, taking your bowl and refilling it for the third or fourth time, "Idiots! just like arkham."

She goes on a small tirade about cops and the justice system and exactly how many pigs she could demolish with one hammer swing while you continue to eat.

The quantity of food and hydration you consume would be surprising, if you'd eaten anything except fingers since yesterday.

By the time you're finished, the exhaustion is back and tugging at your limbs.

Dragging you down into the depths of sleep.

Making it hard to chew, let alone string a sentence together.

Ma won't let you pass out at the table, bless her, and manages to get you safely in bed before your body can really give up.

You're asleep before your head can hit the pillow, with Lou sprawled across your legs and Bud's big head tucked under one arm like when you were little.

Ma stays to keep an eye on the three of you, and make sure you're not concussed.

And as the dreams prepare to drown you, you realize that this the safest you've felt in a very long time.

#ic #action post #injury #ask to tag

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chatonne-rousse · 4 years ago

Text

Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave

This is one akuma whose intentions are good. After all, who couldn't use an extra dose of courage to overcome fear?

A superhero whose identity will be immediately revealed in the process, for one.

When an akuma causes several secrets to come to light all at once, our heroes will need to drum up some courage to face their fears - and each other.

But what's waiting after that looks like it might be a dream come true. It'll just take a bit of bravery and a lot of heart. Piece of cake.

***

Only eight days late and several dollars short, I’m wishing @jennagrinsoverml a happy belated birthday with this gift, written just for her. ILY, my friend!

Read it on Ao3 here.

***

Ladybug has to give Courageous some credit: she's a rarity, an akuma born of selfless means. A teenager who hadn't mustered the courage to stand up for a younger student being bullied at school, she'd been so ashamed, so angry with herself, that Hawkmoth had found an easy target to ply with honeyed words and promises.

Her power isn't even a terrible one. The beam of light she shoots from her right hand simply causes the person it strikes to relive the last encounter they had when their bravery failed them, this time with courage aplenty. It's admirable, really.

Admirable, but terrifying nonethless.

(The fear of Chat Noir finding out her identity is deep and dark and often floats to the surface of her nightmares with blue eyes and white hair and a drowned, ruined world. He cannot know. The cost is too high.)

"Whatever you do," she calls to her partner, frantic and scared, "don't let her hit you! Please, Chat!"

She hears the desperation in her own voice, and the look on his face conveys that he certainly does. He nods solemnly.

"I'll do my best, My Lady."

She nods back, and off they go into the fray.

For well over an hour, they fight Courageous through parks and plazas, sidewalks and thoroughfares. All around them, the people of Paris have squared their shoulders, lifted their chins, and braved conversations big and small with people only they could see.

Ladybug has to smile as she hears a young man confidently ask for a raise and watches his eyes light up at the response.

That smile fades when she remembers once again that the last time her courage had failed her was just as they were dismissed for lunch break, when she'd tried to invite Adrien to a movie that weekend. His eyes had been so kind as he'd waited for her to gather her words properly, and somehow that had just made it harder.

Then Lila had "accidentally" tripped and knocked into her, sending her to the floor. The memory of Adrien's hand reaching out to her to help her up, those same kind, patient eyes locked on hers, makes Ladybug's cheeks heat even now. But after she was upright again, after Lila had stalked off because no one seemed to care that she "probably would need surgery now because her arthritis would flare", Nino had reminded Adrien about the gig he was DJing on Friday and Alya had led her away to show her something on her phone.

Just like that, her opportunity was gone.

And that would be fine, honestly. Marinette was used to moments of stuttering and botched declarations when it came to Adrien.

But if she's hit by Courageous, Chat Noir - plus the citizens of Paris, Hawkmoth, everyone - will hear Ladybug try to ask Adrien Agreste on a date, and that will be a disaster of epic proportions.

"Ladybug, look out!"

Chat's body slams into hers, sending them rolling on the sidewalk just as a beam of magical light zips over their heads. In a flash, Chat Noir bundles her in his arms and vaults them to the rooftop above, making sure she's steady on her feet once they land.

"Thank you, Ki-" The words die in her throat when she sees over her partner's shoulder that Courageous has followed them.

Chat turns, his baton at the ready, while Ladybug reaches for her yo-yo, but neither is quick enough to stop the akuma's beam from finally finding one of its main targets.

"I'm sorry, Bug," he murmurs as his eyes glaze over.

Using her yo-yo as a spinning shield, Ladybug drags her partner behind the nearest chimney stack just as he begins to speak.

Panic sets in as her mind screams at her over the hum of her yo-yo, the akuma's laughter, her partner's voice.

I can't just leave him!

"Father, may I come in?"

Oh no, oh no, oh no. I can't hear this!

"Yes, Nathalie said she penciled me into your schedule for noon."

Nathalie?

Ladybug's gaze snaps to her partner, yo-yo still spinning to deflect beams of light. She's surprised to find Chat Noir's head bowed in deference, though his eyes shine with a confident gleam.

"I requested this appointment to ask you again if I could attend the event with my friends tomorrow evening. I've already completed my assignments for school and the homework from my Mandarin tutor."

Mandarin tutor? What?!

"Yes, Father, I'm aware that you don't care for Nino, but..."

The panicked scream in her mind gives up any attempt at coherence; by this point, it's no more than a muddled loop of Nathalie, Mandarin, Nino, Father.

Ladybug feints to the left to avoid being hit by the akuma as a mix of terror and adrenaline floods her system. She leaps forward, leaving Chat behind the chimney in the hope that she can engage the akuma just long enough to get her partner back and finally, finally finish this off.

She knows too much already. The cat has bolted straight out of the bag and is running loose on this rooftop beneath her feet, a distraction she can't handle right now.

On hero autopilot, she hurdles one beam after another, then tucks and rolls and pops up to roundhouse kick Courageous in the chest, sending her flying.

She hears the akuma's "oof" just as Chat Noir's jubilant voice rings out from behind the chimney.

"Thank you, Father! Thank you so much!"

She can hear his grin in those simple words, the sheer joy in being given permission to leave the house. Everyone in their class knows what a tight leash Gabriel Agreste keeps on his son. It breaks her heart every time she thinks of it. In fact, she's successfully fought for his release from that marble prison on more than one occasion! So yes, she'd already known with all the clues in place, but there was truly no mistaking it now: that was Adrien talking to his father.

Because Adrien is Chat Noir.

Her heart cracks. Oh, Chaton.

Suddenly, the akuma's progress in clambering to her feet is impeded by the whoosh and subsequent metallic thunk of Chat's overhand swing with his baton.

Relief floods her heart at the return of her partner. No matter who he is, Chat Noir is her other half, and Ladybug is never quite herself without him.

"Maybe we could use a little extra luck, My Lady!" Chat winks at her over his shoulder before facing the akuma again.

"Yes! Right! You bet!"

Get it together, Marinette, she thinks. Her face heats and she scampers away to the safety of the chimney stack where Chat was hidden to call for her lucky charm.

A red and black spotted can opener drops into her hands and she looks at it in confusion. "What am I supposed to do with this?" she grumbles, looking around frantically but seeing nothing to help her decipher how to use the lucky charm.

She takes a deep breath, peeks out from behind the bricks, and promptly takes a light beam to the face.

No, no, no, no!

It feels vaguely like having a water balloon popped on her head, a chill of sensation dripping down her spine and rippling through her nerves. It's a small mercy that being hit by an akuma rarely hurts physically. Her vision swims like a mirage in the desert, the familiar courtyard at school coalescing from vapor around her.

The last thing she sees is her partner's stricken face.

The last thing she hears is the akuma cackling.

"Heylo! Who! I mean," she takes a deep breath, a rush of confidence tingling along her nerves. "Hey, Adrien!" She smiles and gives him a little wave.

His grin takes her breath away. "Hi, Marinette! How are you?"

"I'm great!"

You can do it, you can do it!, her heart sings, and miraculously, her brain listens. Her smile turns coy. She taps her lip with her index finger. Her pulse pounds a bolstering tattoo in her ears. Go for it, girl!

"But I could be better."

Adrien's smile drops a fraction. "Are you okay? Is there something I can do?"

With another deep breath, she squares her shoulders and looks him in the eyes, her very cells imbued with a courage unparalleled even when she's wearing spots. She could do anything, anything, right now, but she has her mind set on accomplishing one thing and one thing only.

"You could join me for a movie on Saturday."

"I could...?" His brows furrow, but his grin grows slowly, bright but incredulous. "Are you asking me....?" He blinks, takes two shallow breaths. "Do you mean just the two of us?"

She nods decisively. "A date."

You did it. You did it! A veritable party erupts in the back of her mind, radiant relief spreading to her fingertips. It feels so good to finally break through her anxiety and fear and ask him that simple question that felt like an impossible task just a few hours ago.

Thankfully, he doesn't keep her waiting. The answer is in his eyes, anyway. "I would love to," he breathes, cheeks pink and smile dazzling.

"Really?" Marinette squeaks, and now it's his turn to nod.

"I'll be there even if I have to sneak out." Adrien reaches for her hand and gives it a little squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods again, her chest so full of emotion she can barely breathe. Not only did she ask him, but he said yes!

Suddenly, blue sky fills her vision and she regains awareness to the sound of a scuffle on the other side of the chimney stack. Ladybug tentatively gets to her feet, reaching for her yo-yo and setting it spinning immediately. This time there's no peeking around the corner; she bursts from behind the bricks on the offensive, ready to finish the fight.

What she finds is Courageous struggling under Chat's baton, twisted up like a pretzel and unable to move for the steel-toed boot resting across her shoulders.

"Just in time, LB!" Chat crows triumphantly. He tosses her a bracelet emblazoned with the words Be Bold, Be Kind, Be Brave that currently pulses with Hawkmoth's dark energy.

In moments, the bracelet is broken, the akuma is freed and purified, and a confused teenager sits where Courageous was restrained a moment ago.

Chat docks his baton at his back and looks at his partner with the softest eyes she's ever seen, a tiny, equally soft smile playing at his lips.

Her heart sighs. Adrien. That's Adrien, and he knows.

The lucky charm sits heavy in her palm. Abject fear makes her hope against hope that she won't remember his identity when she casts her miraculous cure, just as her heart longs to hold on to the knowledge that her precious partner is the boy of her deepest desires, and maybe, maybe they really can have it all.

With a deep breath, she throws the unused can opener into the air, watching magical ladybugs and healing light burst forth and spread throughout the city. She waits, holding her breath, but when pink light swirls around them, the only affect it has is the healing of the twinge in her ankle from when she fell mid-fight.

She looks up, and her partner's eyes say it all.

He remembers, too.

Even as fear grips her heart, radiant joy shines from his face as his grin spreads. It scrunches his eyes behind the mask and pinkens his cheeks, delight seeming to glow from his pores. Ladybug has never seen her partner so happy. That elation is a balm to her soul, and she can't help but smile right along with him.

Ladybug turns to the akuma victim and holds out her hand, offering the bracelet back to her. "I really like that inscription" she says, pointing at the now-silver bracelet as the girl fixes it back on her wrist.

She smiles shyly at the two heroes. "I wish I had the courage to do more. I wish I was brave like you."

"We get scared sometimes, too. Everyone does," Ladybug starts, before her partner nudges her shoulder with his elbow.

"Speak for yourself, Bugaboo. This cat has no fear." Chat Noir throws her an exaggerated wink, and the girl laughs. "But real talk, anyone can be a hero in their own way. Little things, big stuff...you're stronger than you think, I promise. Cat's honor."

She nods. "Thank you for, you know, saving me and everything." Glancing at the street below, she gestures toward the edge of the roof. "Would it be too much trouble to get me back down there?"

"Not at all," Ladybug replies with a smile. Calling on her own courage, she looks at her partner and takes a deep breath. Here goes nothing, she thinks. "The usual spot in five? Or less, I guess, since it...doesn't matter now," she says with a shrug that she hopes looks nonchalant.

And there's that smile that shines like the summer sun. He gives her a jaunty salute. "I'll be there with bells on," he says, tapping the bell at his throat and making it jingle.

Ladybug just shakes her head and giggles.

A few minutes later, when she lands beside Chat Noir on their familiar rooftop, her earrings are beeping a frantic rhythm, signaling mere seconds before she detransforms. Instinct has her looking around the roof, ready to dart behind anything she can use to hide.

Before she can move, Chat steps toward her and quietly asks, "Marinette?"

Her transformation dissolves in a wave of pink light, and she hears him gasp as she catches Tikki gently in her palms. Marinette takes her time retrieving a macaron from her purse to feed her kwami, deliberately moving slowly in an attempt to get herself under control before she looks up at her partner. He knows, and he's thrilled, and that's amazing, but it feels like the entire world will change when their gazes finally meet, and she's just not ready yet.

"I, um...I didn't use my cataclysm, so I can stay transformed if you'd prefer, but..." he trails off.

There's something in his voice that finally makes her look at him. Just like when he talked to his father under the akuma's control, his head is bowed slightly, but instead of confidence, this time his eyes are bright with nervous hope.

Marinette understands both the nerves and the hope, and she'll joke with her partner until the end of time about who's in charge, but it feels wrong for either Chat or Adrien to look at her with uneasy deference.

And that's what she thinks of as courage wells in her chest. Her brave, steadfast partner, the other half of their unstoppable team, the boy with terrible timing who can still make her laugh, her best friend whom she loves so fiercely, should never feel he has to approach her in fear.

"Oh, Minou," she breathes. "Of course, go ahead. I...I already know."

He nods and stands a little straighter, and with a whisper and a flash of green, Chat's magical leather is replaced with denim and cotton poplin.

Predictably, her brain is short-circuiting, hollering in panic and terror, but even as her heart pounds wildly in her chest, it whispers quietly, gently, that this is her partner. Her silly kitty. Her dearest friend. He just happens to look like Adrien Agreste at the moment.

(Okay, this is going to take some getting used to.)

Tikki flies off to join Plagg nearby, while Marinette sits down on the roof with her knees pulled to her chest. She pats the space to her right and Adrien settles in cross-legged next to her.

He's the first to break the silence. "I'm sorry, Marinette. I shouldn't have gotten hit. I shouldn't have let you get hit. I know this wasn't what you wanted, and-"

"No, no, don't apologize," she interrupts, shaking her head. "It happens. It's...not the first time." Marinette sighs and closes her eyes, suddenly feeling a lot less courageous in the face of this world-bending change now that they're in their civilian clothes and it's Adrien apologizing to her. She presses her forehead to her knees and tries to imagine the boy beside her in magical leather and cat ears. It only helps a little, but it's enough. "We, um-" she pauses, licks her lips. "We have a lot to talk about. I just don't know if I'm ready for...all of it."

Adrien is silent for an uncomfortably long moment. "Yeah. We do." She hears him take a deep breath that shakes a bit on the exhale and turns her head a fraction to peek at him. His eyes are on the distant horizon. "I...think I understand some things now."

Abruptly, he turns toward her, a little smile tilting the corners of his mouth when he his eyes meet hers. Fear tells her to look away, but she tamps it down and holds his gaze. His smile widens.

"May I ask you something, Marinette?"

She nods.

"When you came up to me at lunch today, were you...planning to ask me on a date?"

Her pulse pounds in her ears. She could give in to fear, say no and brush it off like Chat had misheard her when she was under the akuma's spell. But suddenly her heartbeat seems to drum, "be bold, be kind, be brave," over and over again, and just as the smile begins to slip from his face, she finds the nerve to nod again.

Just like on the other rooftop a few minutes ago, his face lights up like the first rays of sun after a week of rain, shining splendid even in the early afternoon light.

"Am I--" he whispers, his breath hitching though his joy never dims, "Am I the boy?"

Be bold, be kind, be brave.

She calls on her Ladybug courage and nods once more.

His breath catches again and his eyes fill with tears that he brushes away quickly.

Clarity dawns all of a sudden, sweeping her fears to the corners of her mind to be dealt with later. She understood Chat Noir being happy to know his partner's identity, his excitement in finding out his Lady was his friend, too. But this is so much more. Beside her sits Adrien, wiping tears of joy from his eyes at the knowledge that Marinette is in love with him. This might just be a dream coming true on a random rooftop on a random Thursday afternoon.

"Chaton," she breathes, stretching her legs in front of her and placing a hand on his knee.

His hand covers hers, and she meets his gaze, words caught in her throat at the intensity in his eyes.

"I have a confession to make." He rubs the back of his neck with his free hand and takes a deep breath. "I think everyone in Paris knows that Chat Noir is in love with Ladybug. I...know you know." He shrugs as his smile turns a little helpless. "But no one knows that I might have a little tiny bit of a huge crush on Marinette Dupain-Cheng, too."

"Kid, don't lie to your girlfriend. You know very well that I knew, because I've been telling you forever!" Plagg calls from somewhere behind them. Tikki hushes him loudly.

"Okay, he's not wrong," Adrien says, huffing out a combination of a laugh and a sigh. I'm just very stupid, apparently."

"Hey, don't talk that way about my partner." Marinette bumps his shoulder with hers. "I have a teeny, tiny, huge crush on him, too, you know, and I don't appreciate your tone."

Adrien's surprised laugh rings out across the rooftop, filling her heart with so much love she can barely breathe with the force of it. She could listen to that laugh for the rest of her life. She hopes she'll have that chance.

He brushes tears from his eyes again as his laughter subsides, his grin still shining bright. "I'm so happy it's you, Marinette. Beyond happy." He turns her hand beneath his and threads his fingers through hers. "Honestly, there's no one else I would rather have as my partner."

"Me too, Minou," she murmurs, squeezing his hand lightly as incredulous joy sings through her veins.

Tikki's little voice pipes up nearby. "I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's almost time to go back to class."

Adrien lets go of her hand to fish for his phone and curses under his breath when he sees the time. "She's right, My Lady. Could we meet up this evening? I know we have, um...a lot of things to talk about."

Marinette nods. It feels like she's done a lot of that in the last few minutes.

When Adrien stands, he offers his hand to help her up. Just like in the courtyard at lunch, his eyes are patient and kind, but now they shine with something more. She lets him pull her to her feet, then wraps her arms around his waist in a tight hug.

His soft exhale at her ear as he melts against her makes her smile, scrunching up his white overshirt under her cheek. Her senses are filled with him, and she's surprised to realize that it's a feeling of comfort and safety instead of the usual panic.

Maybe loving Adrien and being loved in return will be easier than it seemed all this time. Her fears seem so silly when his arms are wrapped around her shoulders and his head rests on top of hers - a perfect fit.

Even the nightmarish terror of Chat Blanc is diminished. Adrien never told anyone her identity; he knew because he himself was Chat Noir, and there's no way in the world that Chat would hurt his Lady, nor would Adrien ever harm Marinette on purpose. She must have misunderstood. He must have misunderstood. He was an akuma, after all. She sighs into Adrien's shirt. She can never allow that terrible timeline to occur, but whatever happens after this, they'll face it together. Stronger. She'll make sure of it.

"Do you think my father will let me go to Nino's gig in real life?" he asks quietly.

The sad note in his voice breaks her heart. She squeezes him tighter.

"I don't know, Kitty. Do you think we'll be having a movie date on Saturday?"

He leans back abruptly, though his hands still grip her shoulders. "Of course! I'll be there if I have to sneak out!"

Marinette boops his nose, laughing when his eyes cross. "I think that's your answer for Friday night, too."

Suddenly she's in his arms again, this time lifted off the ground and spinning. She can't help but giggle.

"I knew I was in love with a genius!" he cries, jubilant. He sets her down and plants a kiss in the middle of her forehead before calling for Plagg to transform him.

When he turns his masked face back to her, it's like the world is different. She can easily see the brilliant green of Adrien's eyes in Chat's glowing sclerae. The blending of two of her favorite people into one extraordinary boy who - oh my goodness - just said he loves her gives her a shot of courage even before she suits up again.

"You missed, beau gosse."

His eyes widen comically. "I....what?"

Marinette smiles and calls for her transformation, then taps her lips with her gloved fingers. "You kissed me, but you missed."

The sly gleam in his eyes makes her breathing speed up.

"First of all, I would ask before I did that," Chat says, sticking out his thumb before raising his clawed index finger. "Second, I thought I'd save our first kiss for Saturday. Seems like a great way to end our first date, doesn't it?"

Our first date. A tingle runs down her spine. She likes the sound of that.

"I guess I can wait." Her smile turns cheeky. "But it'll be our third--"

"Ah, ah, ah," Chat cuts her off with a grin. He extends his thumb again. "First of all, I don't remember either of those."

Ladybug rolls her eyes, still smiling.

"And second," he says, his voice pitching lower and making her heart skip a beat, "it will be Marinette and Adrien's first kiss."

Oh, this boy, she thinks as her heart soars.

She bites her lip to keep from giggling. "I suppose you're right, even though we both know we're the same people."

Chat gives her a deadpan look. "Just let me have this, Bug."

She bursts into laughter and reaches for her yo-yo, delighting in watching a grin light her partner's face.

"I really am looking forward to Saturday," he says, unhooking his baton from his back. He reaches for her hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. "We'll talk about it later today, okay?"

She nods and watches him vault off toward home.

The wind against her face is exhilarating as she swings back to the bakery. It's amazing how one revelation seems to have changed everything. Even the zip of her yo-yo through the air sounds different to her ears now that she knows, now that he knows.

Marinette detransforms as she touches down on the terrace and sinks into her pink-striped chair while Tikki phases through the hatch into her room in search of food. A quick check of her phone tells her that she has ten minutes before she has to go back to school.

School. One more thing that's going to be different.

Before nerves can creep in, she thinks of Chat Noir and his beaming joy at learning the identity of his beloved partner. That was Adrien. She thinks of the comfort of being wrapped in Adrien's arms, his scent, his warmth. That was Chat Noir.

And when she sits down in class behind him in a few short minutes, that boy with the soft smile and shining eyes will look like Adrien, but now he's so much more.

Marinette stands up from her chair with a lighter heart than she can remember having in a long, long time. She's suddenly looking forward to the second half of the day, even more excited for Nino's event tomorrow night, and positively thrilled that she has a date with Adrien - who is Chat Noir! - on Saturday.

There's so much to experience, so many memories to be made. It feels a bit like a dream. It feels more than a bit scary. But it's going to be great.

It's just going to take a little courage.

She's got this.

#miraculous ladybug #ml fan fiction #identity reveal #adrien agreste #marinette dupain-cheng #ml fic #ml fanfic #adrienette #my writing #happy birthday jenna!#the real power move is posting this on an episode premiere day #thanks for reading it anyway

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rae-gar-targaryen · 5 years ago

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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.

---

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