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snowcandyz · 2 years

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OM!Mammon, Solomon and Simeon Comforting MC from Panic Attack

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

TW: Panic attack and its associated symptoms. Let me know if I should add any tags. And please be noted that everyone experiences anxiety differently. The following events are based on my past experiences.

Mammon silently observed you beside him as you two were walking home together.

You uttered no words about what happened at the lab earlier, only looking straight ahead on the path back home with a slight smile on your lips.

Mammon gritted his teeth in annoyance, "Are ya seriously gonna let it slide like that? He was too harsh on ya!"

"Well, it's my fault anyway. He's only doing his job as our lecturer."

"But that ain't fair! How come Belphie made the same mistake, but he didn't get scolded like that in front of everybody?! He's taking it too far!"

"Calm down, Mammon. I said I'm fine."

This time, Mammon had no choice but to obey your order. Not because of the pact you two shared but because your facial expression suddenly changed.

Mammon didn't know what to decipher from that expression. Was it anger? Or sadness? Or just plain annoyance?

The walk back home was filled with uncomfortable silence.

Maybe not so much for you since you're suddenly back to your usual cheery self.

But the second-born couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong indeed. Although, Mammon did respect your choice and decided to let it go. His priority right now is to make sure you're okay.

But you're doing just... fine...? Mammon thought you'd be more dejected since he knew how much preparation you've done for the project, only for it to be disapproved by the lecturer because he didn't like your working methods.

Mammon watched you stay up all night for a week just to make sure this project is a success, so it's understandable if you're feeling down from the harsh critiques just now.

But you seemed okay...?

You were laughing just fine with his brothers during dinner just now. And you're well enough to cause trouble with Lucifer right after.

Huh... Maybe you really are doing just fine.

Or so he thought until he caught you sobbing in the middle of the night.

It's a good call that he offered—more like pleaded, actually—to stay with you tonight because if not, he wouldn't have witnessed this.

Turns out, you've been masking yourself from the start, only revealing your true emotions when you're alone.

Mammon lied still, not wanting to scare you if you knew he was awake. His heart clenched tightly as if it could bleed the longer he heard your cries.

And you still had the conscience to cover it, in fear that your sobs may wake him up. Well, not that he's really asleep though.

Mammon quietly glanced at your side, and he could see how your body trembled. You've curled yourself into a ball and tightly clutched the blanket in your fist.

Enough is enough, he thought.

Mammon shifted closer to you, purposely making loud noises to show you that he was awake.

Fortunately, you didn't push him away this time.

He embraced you gently, hands secured in their rightful place as he planted your face on his chest.

If it's one thing he learned about you, it is that you hate it when someone sees you cry. That's the sole explanation Mammon could conclude when you didn't reveal your true feelings to him earlier during the walk back home.

Your cries instantly became uncontrollable the moment you realised that Mammon was here for you, and his heart squeezed once again. It hurt to see you like this, but he knew it hurt you more.

You've been on edge every day because of this project, and receiving such words only did you more harm than good.

At this rate, he could only imagine what was happening inside your head, and truthfully, he blamed himself a little for not being observant enough to know that you were never fine.

The more Mammon thought about it, the more furious he got.

But the anger dissipated when he realised you were still trembling heavily inside his arms.

Mammon pulled away slowly and cupped your wet cheeks, "MC, look at me and breathe."

The pained look on your face worried him more, "It's okay. I'm right here with ya. Deep breathe... hold it in and let it out. Deep breathe... hold it... let it go."

Mammon's soothing voice guided you until he was satisfied with your condition. He then wiped your tears gently before pulling you back into his arm.

You were still crying, but your breathing was more controlled this time. Mammon took this chance to assure you everything will be okay, and your project will succeed despite what the lecturer said.

"You still have another week to send the improvised version, yeah?"

"But what if-"

"No, you'll be fine. You'll do just great because no one's idea was as creative as yours. And if he thinks the other way, then he can shove a stick right up his ass!"

Mammon earned some small laughs from you. Hands still softly rubbing small circles on your back, he continued, "I ain't jokin'. You saw how Lucifer didn't say anythin' about what happened in class? And how annoyed Satan looked after that lecturer said such things to you? Ya ain't in the wrong, MC."

You decided to let his words sink in and embrace the comfort Mammon offered to you.

"I know ya did your best. And that's all that matters. You're important to me, and I want you to know that you can always come to me anytime you want. I'm here for ya," he said before pulling you even closer.

"Good job today, treasure. Ya deserve a good night's sleep. Don't worry, the Great Mammon's gonna be here for ya all the way."

Solomon silently observed you from afar as you quietly finished your experiment.

The whole class was busy with their own work, not paying any attention to your direction.

Was it a good thing? He's not sure. But he thought it's definitely fortunate that no one paid attention to you when the instructor gave you harsh critiques just now.

But having no one paying attention means that no one stood up for you too.

Solomon clicked his tongue in annoyance. Why didn't your team members defend you? And why were you the only one that has to take the blame? Everyone should share the same burden!

As soon as everyone finished their experiments and cleaned up before leaving the lab, he glanced at you again.

Solomon could see your shoulders trembling as you quickly wiped away your tears, fearing that anyone could catch your action.

And as if the whole world came tumbling down to hit him, Solomon froze.

What was he doing, not defending you when he could have? Sure, he's not one of your teammates, but he's there too, for Diavolo's sake! He could've stepped up and said something!

"Alright, that's all for today's lab. You're all free to leave." At the instructor's words, everyone began leaving the lab, chattering with each other happily and totally oblivious about your worsening state.

"MC–" He turned around to look for you, but you were already on your way to leave, accidentally slapping your shoulder with his body.

"Sorry." The reply was curt and sharp, something he'd never expect from you. But your feet never stopped, and you fastened your pace away from him, away from everybody else.

Solomon instantly knew something was very wrong. He then quickly followed you.

You led him to a place distant from the main building of RAD. And there weren't any students nearby even though it was lunch hour and students were free to roam around the school compound.

There, he saw you, hugging your knees with your back against the wall. Your expression was blank, but your red eyes gave away your current state.

When you saw Solomon approaching, you held up a hand, wanting him to give you some space.

So he chose to sit down not too far beside you, respecting your choice of wanting to be alone. He didn't speak or make any noise, just patiently waiting for you to give him some signals—any signs—to indicate that you're ready to talk it out.

"...Why are you here?" you finally spoke.

"I want to make sure that you're okay."

Solomon was met with another long silence after that. Then, he heard muffled cries coming from your way.

You must've tried your best to hold it in; deep down, Solomon felt terrible.

If he wasn't there, you would've cried comfortably, but he knew it wasn't wise to have you be alone in this state.

And so, he stayed there, offering whatever silent comfort he could offer.

Feeling a slight tug on his sleeve a few minutes after, Solomon looked over at you before extending his arms to wrap themselves around your body. His warmth engulfed you from whatever hideous thoughts lingering inside your mind. You needed this hug, and Solomon knew it too.

You two shared the hug in comfortable silence, Solomon not saying a word though his hands never stopped drawing small circles on your back.

"Sorry for burdening you," you said.

"You're never a burden, MC. I would be more than happy to be here with you."

Your grip on his shirt tightened, "...And sorry for acting harshly towards you earlier."

"It's okay, love." Solomon smiled a little before kissing your forehead gently. "Just let me know what I can do to help make you feel better," he said.

Solomon's gentle touches on your body have already helped a lot. But the thought of him wanting to help you overcome this tough phase touched your soul even deeper.

You accepted his kindness instead of pushing him away like you did a few minutes ago. He deserved to be here, with you. You deserve his compassion.

And so, you drilled it inside your mind, trying your best to shoo away those ugly thoughts.

"I'm sorry too, MC," Solomon added, "Sorry for not sticking up for you. You don't deserve that kind of treatment."

"That's okay. It's my fault anyway."

"MC, don't try to take all the blame on yourself. This isn't your fault entirely, and it's okay to make mistakes sometimes. You're no less relevant than other people, I assure you. You've done your best, and that's what truly matters. And one mistake doesn't make you a total failure forever."

Solomon cupped your cheeks warmly before staring deep into your eyes. His eyes spoke warmly to you, and so were his touches. Everything about him spells worry and comfort for you, and you're one step closer to crying again. But not because of anxiety this time.

"I want you to know that I care about you so much. So don't ever push me away. Let me be here to comfort you when you're down. And let me be here to witness you rise back again. I want to be by your side, even if the whole world is against us. So rest assured that you can talk to me about anything. I'll always be here, waiting for you patiently." Solomon took your hand before placing a soft kiss on top of it.

This sorcerer may have inserted a double meaning in those lines he spoke to you, but none of it was a lie. If you're his destiny, he'll do absolutely anything and everything to make sure he's the one by your side until the end, truly supporting you in your journey called 'life'.

You had an awful day today, and you've talked it out with your friends; Simeon included.

Considering you're supposed to stay the night at the Purgatory Hall today, Simeon understands if you decide to cancel the plan and want some time alone.

But that's not the case because you still wanted to have the sleepover at his. You only requested some time alone after school.

The plan was supposed to be you, taking your time off in your own room while the Purgatory Hall members prepared what needed to be done before you arrived for dinner.

But the plan was cut short when you suddenly decided to come over during the evening.

"Sim!" Your voice awfully cheerful at the other side of the line, "Can I come over right now?"

"Now? I thought you said you wanted some time alone. And dinner's not ready yet."

"Well, Asmo took me to a relaxing spa session just now, so I'm already feeling better. It's okay, I can wait for dinner. I just feel like seeing you right now..."

Simeon silently heaved out a sigh of relief at your words. He agreed to let you come over right now and fetch you from the House of Lamentation.

And true, you're already smiling and doing so much better. Simeon only had the demon brothers to thank for. Although, there was a tiny pang of jealousy in him when you decided to seek them instead of him, your lover.

But Simeon knew better than to be jealous right now because he knew how much the brothers meant to you, and they're also your very first friends in Devildom.

Though, that didn't stop him from worrying about you. So Simeon suggested you take a nap and rest while he cooked dinner.

And truthfully, you did have to rest. After such an emotionally and physically exhausting day, a good nap is much needed.

You took up his offer to rest in his room, giving him a peck on his cheek and showing how much you appreciate his effort in taking care of you.

Seeing how easily you went to sleep, Simeon left the room, equally satisfied and relieved to witness that you were resting well. He continued to prepare for dinner while occasionally helping Luke bake your favourite cookies together. (Solomon and Raphael also helped by not disturbing the two and cleaning the hall instead).

And now that dinner's ready, Simeon decided it was time to wake you up from your nap. You were sleeping soundly and truthfully; it broke his heart to even wake you up. But you need to eat, that's a fact.

So he gently sat down beside you and swiped your bangs away from your forehead before placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

"Wake up, starlight. It's dinner time."

It took you only a few seconds to respond by squinting your eyes open, slowly giving him a smile as he guided you to sit up from the bed. His hand rubbed small comforting circles behind your back, "Did you have a good nap?"

"Mmhmm," you nodded.

"Come, everyone's waiting for us."

You were greeted by the sight of your favourite food and cookies in the dining room. Luke smiled widely when he gave you the cookies he made while Simeon and Raphael helped set the table. The environment was very welcoming and comfortable. You thanked everyone for their effort to cheer you up.

But Diavolo knows what or why; when you sat beside Simeon so you could finally eat, a tear slipped down your cheek.

"MC?!" Luke and Solomon were surprised to see you cry.

Heck, even you didn't realise that you were crying.

And once you realise that you actually were, the tears can no longer be stopped. It kept flowing swiftly down to your cheeks. You've tried your best to stop it—to stop ruining the cheerful mode they've helped set up—and to stop being so pathetic.

What's wrong? You've talked it out, acknowledged that you're overwhelmed, unwound and calmed down; you even took a good nap! So why are you still upset?! Why are you still–

Simeon's arms immediately snaked around your body, hiding your face to his chest so you could cry comfortably.

Your sobs then became uncontrollable, and you gripped his shirt tightly.

Seeing your reaction, Simeon gently lifted you up from your seat before saying, "Sorry everyone, you can start the dinner without us. We'll join you later." He smiled a bit, especially to Luke, so the little one didn't worry too much. Simeon then exchanged a few glances with Solomon and Raphael before nodding slightly, making sure they understood the situation you were in—and what they need to do to help keep the situation calm.

He then brought you back to his room, where he gently placed you on his bed and continued comforting you.

"I'm sorry for ruining the dinner," you managed to say in between your sobs.

"You're not ruining anything, starlight. It's not your fault." A gentle kiss to the crown of your head before Simeon hugged you again.

"I–I don't know why I'm like this. I–I... I thought I–"

"MC, it's okay to feel this way. Everything that happened is too much for your emotions to handle, and I understand that. Your feelings are valid."

"But I've talked it out!"

"Yes, and you're still allowed to feel sad about it. It doesn't mean that you have to be strong and never falter after you talk it out." Simeon pulled away for a while to wipe your tears with his thumb, "It's okay, MC. I'll always be here for you."

You could do nothing other than crying your heart out. It hurts. It truly hurts.

And Simeon was there with you—true to his words—throughout the painful phase, reassuring you and making sure you were okay.

You wanted to apologise for burdening him, but his words earlier made you realise how these thoughts you have weren't true at all.

Simeon's still here. The brothers are still with you. Luke even baked your favourite cookies to cheer you up. They all still care for you. You're not burdening anyone—you never were a burden. And most importantly–

You are loved and cherished.

I would like to thank my friends/mutuals who have been there for me during my emotional breakdown phases. My last semester hasn't been exactly kind to me; it's the harshest and most challenging semester (and it'll probably be even more difficult in the future). Thank you so much for checking up on me, reminding me to take breaks, and reassuring me when I'm at my lowest.

I don't want to play favourite and name them because every one of my mutuals is always checking up on me from time to time, so thank you so much. I appreciate you all <3 Hope you all won't be sick reading my rants again in a few months XD

Oh! And special thanks to Noelle @amistytown for helping me figure out the right term to be used in this HC <3 Mwah to you, Noelle >///<

Taglist: @jerw-inne @levia-barisol-irl @rakshamon @firecatvariant @amistytown @sparkbeast20 @highly-functioning-mitochondria @pen-ink-therapy @imalivebarelystriving @everlasting-elegy @poetofthedyingstars @drrkives @rubird--playsotome @uredgelordroomate07

Fill out this form to be included in our taglist, and send in an ask to be removed. However, do note that if we didn’t receive any feedbacks from you in a while, your name will be removed from the taglist.

Thank you for reading! Any kind of feedback is highly appreciated :3

| Masterlist |

#obey me #obey me shall we date #omswd #obey me writing #obey me headcanons #obey me mammon #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me mammon x you #obey me mammon x reader #obey me solomon x reader #obey me simeon x you #obey me simeon x reader #obey me hurt comfort #han writes #tw panic attack #tw anxiety

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oknowkiss · 1 year

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a year in fic!

thank you to @wolfpants for the tag! what a fun idea. see here for their incredible work (340k in a year and each word a banger, like, how!) no pressure tagging @geesenoises @eveningstruggle @corvuscrowned @sorrybutblog @saintgarbanzo @academicdisasterfic @mintawasalreadytaken @vukovich and you!

Rules: Share 1 line from each fic you wrote this year. In 2022 I wrote: ~250k words over 15 fics (lmaooooo)

JANUARY - FEBRUARY

UNPOSTED WIP that I worked on every day for two months and have not touched since, to be posted TBD in 2023 || Drarry || 40K at the moment

Harry hopes when he goes his eyes are open, like Fred’s were, so that the people who are with him then will look down into his face and see not anger or grief or pain, but a constellation of stars, never setting.

MARCH

big hands, i know you’re the one || drarry || 887 || M

The day Hogwarts realised Draco Malfoy, reformed Death Eater (and was that kind of hot, now? Now that he wasn’t trying to kill them all? Sort of a bad boy thing?), had really quite big hands was an unmitigated disaster.

APRIL

any day now || drarry || 17K || E

Draco is aware he comes from a long line of extremely intelligent wizards who somehow, with very few exceptions, haven’t made a single smart decision between them.

scarhead || drarry || 2K || E

He scratches absentmindedly at the scabs on his chest as he imagines them -- his observers -- wandering through the world, their pockets full up with gold and his secret.

a licence to kill || drarry, past-nottpott, past-dramione || 11K WIP || M

The Department of Magical Licences, Permits, and Assorted Permission Granting (or, as it’s more commonly referred as, and always in grumbled utterance: the DOMLPAPG) is located on Level 1, just to the left as you exit the lifts.

MAY

acts of service || drarry || 5.6K || E

Draco had fucked him three times that night –- first in the hallway, to remind Harry what he’d been missing; second in the kitchen, now that Draco knew how much he’d been missed; third in the bedroom, face to face this time, rough and in love –- so when Harry woke up on Monday with a raw throat they both figured it was because that’s where Draco’s cock had been.

jesus, etc || drarry, charlie/draco/harry, charlie/draco || 1.5K || E

They drink at the table where Harry once found it easy, being in love. Where he kissed the tender expanse of Draco’s open palm.

JUNE

the complete idiot’s guide to losing your entire mind || drarry || 10K || E

They weren't to go to Harry's flat, because it was “a cry for help” and made Draco sad.

in between two tall mountains (there’s a place they call lonesome) || drarry, past-hansy || 8K || E

He rests a hand on top of Harry’s, intertwining their fingers so he can lift them up and turn his mouth to the palm, and when he kisses it Harry smells rich like ancient pines and beds of thick moss, and the taste of his skin is lovely, warm despite the rain.

SEPTEMBER

eager for the sky || drarry, background ronarry || 35K || M

Draco had imagined this moment often, in so many permutations, trying to prepare himself for how it might feel, to rehearse in his mind so as not to make a total wang of himself in the actual doing of it. He’d accounted for a variety of extenuating circumstances, but what he hadn’t anticipated was the kindness of Potter’s touch.

the july tree || drarry, hinny || 52K || E

Harry wondered sometimes if being raised in an environment of constant withholding hadn’t developed in him a deep, gnawing avarice, as though instead of a heart he’d been given the Room of Requirement, a space that could never be filled.

OCTOBER

the long ways || drarry, harry/omc || 10K || M

“I should go,” Draco says.

“You should,” Harry says. “Or we could get a last round, before you run out of my life forever, again.”

NOVEMBER

100 beats per minute || drarry, harry/omc(s) || 14K || E

“Ten a day, I figure.” Potter shrugged. “On a circuit weekend? How hard can it be.”

“You tell me.” Draco looked pointedly at the spot on the table where Potter’s lap would be, if he could see it.

DECEMBER

fest fic! watch this space

soon to be posted self-indulgent WIP || drarry, harry/charlie, harry/bill || 10K and counting || E

“Nasty habit of yours, surviving,” Draco says. He puts a hand on Harry’s throat and squeezes, as though testing the veracity of his musculature. “Like a cockroach.”

#my fic #tag game #drarry #drarry wip snip #harry potter #draco malfoy

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waynes-multiverse · 2 years

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To Be Human – Part 01

Squares Filled: Firefighter AU @spndeanbingo // Superhero AU @anyfandomgoesbingo & @taylorswiftbingo

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean Winchester x Reporter!Reader

Series Summary: Dean and Y/N have been best friends and inseparable since they were kindergartners, leading somewhat boringly normal lives in Lawrence City, Kansas. Now all grown up, Dean is working as a firefighter and Y/N as a reporter until one fateful night changes not only their lives but also their friendship forever.

Warnings: +18, strong language, Firefighter/Superhero AU, fluff, pining, slow burn due to idiocy, angst

Word Count: 5.0k

A/N: Welcome to another series, loves! This one is very special to me and might be my favorite one yet. Fair warning, though, Dean’s a bit of an idiot in this & patience is definitely required. (I also wrote a philosophical intro cuz I was feeling fancy, sue me.) Without further ado, let’s start this rollercoaster ride of a journey! 🎢

Feedback is highly appreciated! ❤️‍🔥

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Tag List

There’s been a question going around philosophy for ages, wise old men scratching their beards over it since one poor little fuck at some point in time dared to pose it: What does it mean to be human?

Is it the ability to show kindness and courage? The ability to remember the past, live in the present, and hope for the future? To be special? Unique? Or is it the ability to love and form connections that make us human? Is it the ability to make your own decisions and carry the consequences of them? Or the knowledge that you’ll die someday and see your loved ones die as well?

The truth is: to be human means everything. It can’t be narrowed down to one single trait. It’s the sum of every little part that makes the whole.

Love and hate. Joy and sadness. Empathy and anger. Pride and shame. Hope and fear.

Being human means trying your best, even through loss, heartbreak, and pain. To be human means everything – the good and the bad.

One sunny morning in Lawrence City, KS…

The fire station is pleasantly quiet in the early morning hours, the sun rays flooding in through the big scarlet garage doors providing the green-eyed firefighter with sufficient lighting as he gives the engine a few touch-ups and checks if any of the hoses need patching while sipping blissfully on his coffee. He always enjoys the silence and calm of the mornings, knowing full well how fast the day can quite literally heat up in a city inhabited by two million.

“Good morning, Winchester!”

Her chipper voice echoes through the deserted garage, his head shooting up to her with a wide smile as she saunters towards him with an enthusiastic swing in her hips and a coffee in hand. There’s no doubt Y/N’s his favorite person out of the two million living in Lawrence City.

“Morning,” he chuckles and sets the rag and cleaner aside when she stops so close in front of him he can practically smell the cherry body wash on her skin from this morning’s shower. “What’s gotten you in such a good mood today? You’re not usually a morning person.”

Honestly, Y/N is the kind of person that just glows whenever she enters a room (even in the mornings). No matter where she goes, she instantly makes everything brighter, illuminates even the darkest spots – pure fucking sunshine in a bottle. If she were a drink, she’d probably be marketed as that. Maybe that’s why she’s been his best friend for ages – he’s mostly rain and thunder and he knows Y/N’s probably the only person that willingly puts up with his bullshit. Sam’s just forced to. That’s just how it works with brothers. With Y/N around him, though, even Dean’s darkest clouds always seem to dissipate.

“Well, uh, today I am a morning person and you’d be too if you had a big story coming up,” she announces with that broad grin of hers, showing off her cute dimples that he loves seeing so much. It instantly makes his mornings better. He craves her smile with his caffeine at this point; otherwise, it’s just a bad day guaranteed.

She pulls out her tape recorder and holds it up to his face, no boundaries whatsoever for personal space. Her eyes focus on the little freckles that dust his nose and the way it twitches when he tries to play annoyed but is actually biting back a smile. “Speaking of which, any comment on the fire last night? My sources are saying it was arson.”

Amused over her little trick, he sniggers, “No comment. You know I can’t tell you.”

She frowns and rolls her eyes back dramatically, “Oh, c’mon, Winchester! What’s a girl gotta do to get a good story around here? First Jo, then you. The people of Lawrence City have a right to know what’s going on in their hometown. Freedom of press… all that.”

Laughing, he shakes his head at her. She’s always been like this – eager, tenacious, and never taking no for an answer. “Hey, if your sister, the detective, refuses to give out any info, I sure as hell won’t either. Not falling for that again, sweetheart.”

She playfully narrows her eyes at him and stores her recorder back in her bag, adding another theatrical sigh to her reply, “Fine. Buzzkill… If I get fired, though, I’m blaming you.”

“If you get fired, I’ll buy you a drink at the bar. How does that sound?”

“Drinks,” she corrects him with a smirk.

“Drinks,” he nods resolutely and winks, seeing her cheeks flush a little. He loves he’s had that effect on her since they were little. “Are you coming to Sammy’s birthday party tonight?”

“Duh. Wouldn’t miss it. Can’t believe that little dork is turning twenty-three. We’re getting old, Winchester,” she huffs with a laugh, gracefully guiding the paper cup to her lips without spilling anything on her white blouse tucked into a pair of washed-out high-waisted jeans.

“Speak for yourself,” the firefighter chuckles. “Still don’t feel a day older than twenty.”

“Really? Wouldn’t have guessed by all the wrinkles on your face,” she sasses, smirking.

He glares a little at her, but it’s all fun and games. It wouldn’t be Y/N and Dean if there wasn’t the occasional bickering and bantering. That’s just how they rolled. And honestly, he’s glad she keeps his ego in check, keeps him grounded. He knows he needs that.

“Ha ha. Don’t you have a job to get to? No wonder your editor hates you,” Dean retorts and she raises her hands in surrender, slowly retreating backwards out of the garage with a sly grin.

“Say no more. I’m going… Tell Sasquatch I’m coming a little later. Still have that big event at COSMOS tonight!” she shouts from the curb.

“Oh, yeah, right. Good luck!” he calls after her, trying not to seem too worried whenever she goes out on an assignment. It’s not like her job is dangerous – she’s thankfully not reporting out of a riot in the Middle East – but knowing Y/N as well as he does, she’d find the danger somehow anyway. That girl is trouble through and through. “And Y/N? If you run into trouble-”

“Run away from the danger, not towards it! I know! I got it! You tell me every time,” she shouts back, laughing like a teenager at a worrying father. He can still see the little mischievous twinkle in her eyes from feet away. It’s crazy hot every time she does it and all he wants is to smack her goddamn ass, but alas, he’s left to resort to words alone.

“Never seems to take, though!”

Smiling softly, he leans against the fire engine, a little sigh leaving his plump lips as he watches her disappear down the busy street, her hips swaying with every joyful step.

“Are you ever gonna tell that girl how you feel?”

The firefighter startles and spins around to look into a set of shining blue eyes, “Geez, man, you scared me.”

Benny only laughs wholeheartedly in response, “Sorry, brother. Didn’t mean to wake you from your daydream.”

“I wasn’t-… She’s not-…,” Dean starts to argue, opening and closing his mouth several times, and then stops with a swallow, knowing it’s not going to help his case the more he says. Instead, he fixes a glare at his co-worker, “We’re best friends. She’s just Y/N to me, man. I’ve known her since I was five. She’s like a little sister to me.”

Ouch. That lie even hurt him. He doesn’t want to think of Y/N as his little sister because he’s had way too many R-rated dreams about her over the years to stomach that with a clean conscience. He’d be the worst big brother ever. Not to mention, she’s only seven months younger than him and has always been more mature by like, light-years. So if anything, she’d be more like his older sister or even his mom. Wait… God, no, it’s just getting worse now, isn’t it?

Let’s just say she’s the one and only Y/N to him. She’s unique in her uniqueness, you know? So Dean has always put their friendship on a pedestal and held it close to his heart. She’s been pretty much special to him ever since he saved her from that bullying kindergartner on the playground when they were both only five years old. Maybe it’s because she’s called him her hero after and kissed his cheek, and that just did things to him he can’t explain to this day. It’s like she became his after that and it was just a sealed deal, you know? The gold standard of the best-friends-forever club.

Of course, romantic feelings have surfaced on occasion over the years. When they were six, he asked her to marry him and they even held a ceremony in Y/N’s backyard. There’s still video of it, too. Their moms just loved to haul that one outta the attic whenever Christmas arrived – so much so, he and Y/N ended up calling it Cringemas. Honestly, the video is cute altogether. He still remembers his ‘vows’ word for word, even though it’s been so long. Isn’t that just weird?

Then there is the time when they were sixteen, at the height of teenage hormones, and he almost kissed her during a high school Halloween party at Suzy Lee’s place before a call from his crying little brother luckily prevented him from making a huge fucking mistake. He still doesn’t know what came over him there. It was probably the cheap vodka and he assumes she must’ve looked nice in that porch light when they sat alone outside, away from the party because she knows he hates the crowds, so she kept him company on the steps, their knees softly touching and thighs pressing together. But yeah, he’s still glad Sam puked during apple bobbing. Besides, it was fucking hilarious, too.

And then there is the time when they celebrated their college graduation in his apartment – well, his community college degree and Y/N’s actual degree from the University of Lawrence City, although Y/N would smack his head if she’s heard him saying that out loud.

That night, they almost ended up in bed together. Like, they actually discussed… having sex… with each other, which was mind-blowing at the time. Honestly, it still would be. If she asked him to have sex right now, his head would explode. And granted, they were both hammered that night, like stupidly drunk, obviously. But he recalls being fucking hard because he’s never heard her say so many dirty words before. He didn’t even know she knew that many, but whatever innocence he’s ascribed to her before that night was definitely gone out the window once she opened that naughty mouth of hers. All he wanted to do after that was to just ravage her entire body then and there. He still remembers one of his hands was around her neck and the other…

Yup, his left hand definitely touched a boob. Yeah, okay, so what? It was one boob, sue him. One boob and the nipple a little bit – through fabric. It basically doesn’t count and he never thinks about it.

In all honesty, he thinks about it a lot, actually, and grins like an idiot too while doing it. But he swears he always feels bad right after. (Also, he still remembers it was his left hand. Like why?!)

Anyways, he almost kissed her, again, before Sam, again, burst through the door because the library closed and he couldn’t study for his SATs any longer, so his little brother plopped down on the couch between them and turned on the TV.

Somehow he sounds a little bitter about it now, but he promises he isn’t. Dean’s happy they’ve never crossed the line and ruined their friendship for good, always recovering the next day with a laugh and continuing on as if nothing ever happened. They have always been there for each other – good times and especially bad times. He held her for hours when her dad died and she slept on the ground next to him on the couch for months when his mother passed. They helped each other through loss, heartbreak, and cheaters, their friendship never wavering even during the strongest storm.

One thing is abundantly clear, though, through all their ups and downs: Dean can’t stand the idea of losing his best friend. He just doesn’t want to cover her sunshine with his clouds. It always feels like he could taint her shine.

“Ah, sure,” Benny chuckles sarcastically. “So, you don’t mind if I ask her out?”

Juniper eyes widen and his brow raises in surprise. He almost chokes on his fucking coffee, “You-, uh, you wanna ask out Y/N? My Y/N?”

Great. Could he be more possessive? No wonder all their friends and family think they'll get married someday. Now, he only hopes Benny hasn’t picked up on his mishap.

The blue-eyed firefighter shrugs his shoulders coolly, unfazed apparently by Dean’s wording, “Sure, why not? She’s a great girl. She’s funny, smart, beautiful. And man, that ass surely takes your breath away…”

“Whoa…” Dean’s look darkens so much it becomes a black hole as he stares at his friend, his jaw clenching and the grip on the wrench in his hand tightening. “Slow down, Romeo. Don’t talk about her like that,” he growls warningly and wishes he could keep his emotions better in check, but he can’t help it when it comes to Y/N.

“What? You don’t think so?”

“Wha-… Of course, I do! I mean, not the ass thing… I mean, not that she doesn’t have a great ass. I assume she does, but I don’t look, okay?”

God, he is a fucking liar, isn’t he? Of course, he’s looked at her ass and feels guilty every time he does. In his defense, Benny’s right and she has a fucking great ass, though. Not looking would be a crime to humanity. Like Monet saying, ‘Hey, don’t look at my waterlilies!’

“And that’s not even the fucking point…,” he continues his rant. “The point is… she’s the fucking best,” he defends with a huff, his shoulders tensing. He’s not sure, though, if he’s defending her honor or his own at this point. “Which is precisely why you’re not good enough for her. No offense.”

“None taken,” Benny snickers in amusement before erupting into loud laughter and hunching over as he rubs a few tears out of the corners of his eyes.

Dean frowns, his brow knitting so much he is close to a rage headache, confusion mixing with his anger, “What?! What’s so fucking funny now?”

“You! I’m just messing with you, man. I’m not gonna ask her out. Just wanted to see your reaction. Was worth it,” Benny grins broadly as if he’s just won a boxing match and folds his arms over his chest, his eyebrow arching. “Are you sure you’ve got no feelings for her, brother? Because to me, it looked like you came this close to bashing my head in with that wrench in your hand.”

“Fuck you,” Dean scoffs, furiously shaking his head while Benny just laughs more. Why does everyone always have to taunt him about Y/N? Can’t they just let it be and leave him alone?

So what if he has never liked a single boyfriend of Y/N’s? It doesn’t have anything to do with harboring some secret romantic feelings for his best friend. He only ever wants the best for her and none of her ex-douchebags have ever come close to even being remotely adequate. It is pure, innocent concern that plagues him, far away from any jealousy. He isn’t territorial like a dog defending its toy. If she ever meets a decent guy up to his standards, she can date him all she wants. He would have zero problems with that. Honestly, guys should fucking worship the ground she walks on and kiss her feet, and they don’t deserve sex until like… the hundredth date.

Those are his rules. Really, they’re simple. He’s not asking for too much, right?

So what the hell is so wrong about it? Is he not supposed to care about his friend’s wellbeing and look out for her?

Sure, the vanilla scent in her hair when she softly rests her head on his shoulder whenever they watch TV on his couch, or her adorable and intoxicating laugh whenever he cracks a joke, or her twinkling Y/E/C eyes whenever she looks up at him like he’s the fucking best could quite possibly drive him mad with want. Add to this, the thought of her getting touched by some other guy that isn’t him makes him want to commit murder. Her in some asshole’s arms? It undoubtedly makes his skin crawl, but that doesn’t mean…

Fuck… Is he actually jealous? Is he in love with her? No, right?

The more he thinks about it, the more he knows it, though: he is in deep fucking trouble.

Later…

Rocky’s is buzzing with people as Dean arrives at the bar after his shift, squeezing through the crowd on his way to the counter, hoping to find his friends there. He hates people. He doesn’t mind saving them, but he surely hates being around the masses. He prefers a quiet seat at a booth with a few trusted friends over lavish parties – or whatever is going on here tonight. How many fucking friends can Sam possibly have?

The speakers are blaring music, but Dean is sure the thoughts in his head are booming even louder. He’s put on a red and black checkered flannel, one of his nicer ones (the one Y/N likes so much), his mind reeling with thoughts and decisions since this morning. He still blames fucking Benny for most of it, although his thoughts about Y/N aren’t entirely new. He will admit that much. He’s thought about it before, countless times even (usually when Y/N would drag a new boyfriend into their lives), but always put it on the back-burner as a ‘maybe in his thirties’ kind of thing. When he got his shit together, you know?

Because God knows, he doesn’t have it together now. Right now, he holds the maturity level of a fourteen-year-old, if you haven’t noticed. But what if she can’t wait for him to outgrow his Peter Pan syndrome and finds some actual grown-up? What’s he supposed to do then? Stand idly by at their wedding?

Shit, he will have to walk her down the aisle, won’t he? Because her father died, so he’s the only possible option. Maybe he can get Sam to do it – or Bobby. But then she’ll just end up asking why he isn’t gonna do it and what the fuck is he supposed to say then, huh?

Yeah, he might have to pull his shit together a little faster and hope Y/N wouldn’t mind a few of his deficiencies. Hell, she knows all of his flaws better than he does, anyways. And she’s still by his side even when he fucks up, so what is he so scared of, really? Weirdly enough, running into burning buildings doesn’t terrify him as much as confessing his feelings to his best friend.

During lunch, he even caught himself scrolling through his photos on his phone, almost every picture either with Y/N or of Y/N, realizing he really doesn’t have a life outside of her. She is his life. So he keeps thinking about what life would look like if she were truly by his side. And he has to admit, it would be fucking fantastic.

She knows him better than anyone on this planet, better than Sam, and he knows her better than anyone else too. He knows how to make her laugh, what songs make her smile, and what movies make her cry. He knows her coffee order and her favorite pizza toppings. He knows her dorky dance moves and her nervous ticks. He just fucking knows her, inside and out. (And parts of her he doesn’t know yet he wants to know. Seriously, the curiosity is sometimes killing him.)

There would be no first-date awkwardness, no fights between them that couldn’t be solved, and no hesitations. He’s sure they’d still hang out together like best friends, but he’d also get to do all the other stuff that always feels so natural to do whenever she’s around but he always refrains from doing. Like, hold her tightly in his arms, kiss her pink lips until they were both blue in the face, and feel her smooth skin under his fingertips. He’s always wondered what those things would feel like. All in all, being with her sounds fucking awesome. A dream come true.

Fuck. He really does love her, doesn’t he?

“Hey, man, happy birthday!” Upon seeing his little brother, he hugs Sam tightly and pats him several times on the back with the proudest smile. He can hardly believe the kid is a year older again and graduating college. Y/N was right – he is getting fucking old.

“Thanks. Glad you could make it, man,” Sam smiles and slings his arm around his girlfriend Jess as she joins the men.

The two have met in college and have been inseparable since, causing Dean to wonder how his little brother has turned out more mature than him. He intends to take credit for Sam’s perfection, nonetheless. After all, he’s raised the kid since Sam’s fourteenth birthday and dropped out of college for him, so he gets to. At least Dean thinks he has a right to be proud and call Sam his greatest achievement, even though Y/N would cut in and remind him that his community college degree and graduating fire academy can also be counted as his biggest achievements.

“Dean, you’re here!” Jess greets him cheerfully, almost to Y/N’s degree of cheeriness, before looking the firefighter up and down with an impressed smile, “Damn, you look good tonight.”

“Hey!” Sam throws in with mock upset and kisses her temple, chuckling.

“What? Look at him! Doesn’t he look good tonight?” Jess swats her boyfriend’s arm repeatedly, the baffled smile not disappearing from her lips.

Sam then squints his eyes at his brother, taking a closer look now too, and his eyebrow raises slightly, “Actually, you do. Why?”

In true little brother fashion, Sam’s found an error in Dean’s code and wants to know what caused it, so the older sibling has to scramble for an answer.

“Oh, this? I just threw something on that wasn’t in the laundry basket,” Dean shrugs the nosy pair off, wishing he had a drink in his hand for this conversation.

“Dean, don’t be modest. You got some hot date tonight?” Jess wiggles her eyebrows teasingly.

“Yeah… do you?” Sam questions suspiciously, his tone a lot more serious than his girlfriend’s.

God, Dean really does have a reputation if that’s everyone’s first assumption. It also makes him question tonight’s plan. Should he really ask out Y/N? Because now he’s direly realizing she doesn’t just know him; she knows too fucking much.

“What’s with the Spanish inquisition tonight? Can’t a guy just look good for no reason at all? ‘Sides, I’ll have you two know I would look good in a fucking trash bag. Leave me alone,” Dean huffs, a little too defensive. Now Sam will definitely be suspicious.

“Jess, can you excuse us for a second?”

Yup. Just as Dean thought – his younger brother caught a trail.

“Sure, I’ll order us a round of shots, so we can get this party started,” Jess winks and kisses her boyfriend’s lips, leaving for the bar counter.

“What’s up?” Sam asks bluntly, not letting a single minute tick away on the clock. He has always been like this since the brothers were children and it has always annoyed the shit out of the oldest Winchester.

“Nothing,” Dean shrugs and hates he doesn’t have a beer bottle in his hand to hide his face.

“Dean…”

“Sam…”

The brothers then enter into an intense glaring match, neither wanting to cave. But Sam, shining with maturity and simultaneously rubbing it into Dean’s face, eventually breaks the silence.

“Dean, c’mon, man. What’s going on with you?”

With a deep exhale and a heavy eye roll, the firefighter finally crumples. Not because of Sam’s puppy dog look, though. He just really needs to get it off his chest and he obviously can’t tell Y/N, so his little brother truly is his only option. “Okay, fine, but you’re not allowed to tell anyone, especially Jess.”

“What, are we in kindergarten?”

“Sam!”

The youngest Winchester raises his hands in surrender at his brother’s warning growl, “Fine, I won’t tell anyone.”

“Okay, alright… here it goes, uhm… I think I’m in love with Y/N,” he shares nervously and swallows the gigantic lump that has formed in his throat. Wow. Jesus fucking Christ, how long has that been there? His shoulders feel a million pounds lighter after his confession already.

Sam stares at his brother for a moment, not a single emotion readable on his face before he purses his lips and his brow knits, “So?”

“So?!” Dean wildly flings his arms around, almost hitting several people in his vicinity as heads and bodies duck away from him. He fucking can’t believe Sam right now. Here he is, pouring his heart out and that’s all the little shit has to say?

“Dean, everyone knows that already. That’s not news. It’s like saying the sky is blue,” Sam replies with a twitch of his shoulders and an amused chuckle.

“Well… I didn’t know!” he hisses, flustered and frustrated.

Sam lets out a laugh and grins, “Yeah, that one was pretty obvious too.”

“This isn’t funny, Sam! What am I supposed to do?” As his nerves get the best of him, he starts to pace the sticky bar floor in front of Sam, vigorously scratching the back of his neck in the process. “You think-, uh, you think she likes me… I mean, you think she likes me like that?”

“Uh… I don’t know, man. I mean, I’d ask Jess since they are friends and both girls, but you said I wasn’t allowed to tell her, so…,” Sam trails off and shrugs.

“You aren��t,” Dean emphasizes through gritted teeth and runs a hand over his face, irritated. “You know what? You have been of no help at all tonight. Zero!”

“Maybe because it’s my birthday,” Sam points out innocently.

Dean sighs, knowing himself it’s not the right time and place for this discussion, not to mention Y/N might show up any minute and the thought of seeing her makes his heart race like it never has before. “Yeah, you’re right, man. I’m sorry.”

Sam sends him a patient smile and bobs his head, “Look, Dean… you said you think you’re in love with her, but I think you really need to make sure you are before you say something to her. She’s not one of your flings. I mean, you can’t just ask her out because you’re curious.”

“That’s not-” He closes his mouth as the gears start turning in his head. He wants to say that’s not the reason why, but now he isn’t sure. Sam’s just fucking confusing him more. He’s not that big of an asshole, right?

Fuck. Is he?

Sam just blinks at him innocently. Dean can see his shoulders are itching for a shrug and the corners of his eyes are already forming another puppy dog look. “I’m just sayin’, it’s a very fragile ecosystem. We’re family. Y/N’s kinda the glue that’s all holding us together. I mean, I’ve learned to say Y/N’s name the same time I learned to say yours, you know?”

“Yeah, no, I know, thanks,” Dean mutters bitterly.

Yeah, Sam really isn’t any help at all. The oldest Winchester can’t really blame him, though. Y/N is like a big sister to Sam, who tutored him not only in school subjects but also in girls, not trusting Dean to do a proper job with the latter. Not because he didn’t have any game, but because, in Y/N’s words, he had ‘too much.’ Looking at Sam and Jess now and then at his own empty life, he understands that she was pretty much right in her assumption.

Not wanting to continue this discussion with his younger brother, Dean’s gaze lazily wanders to the TV screen above the mahogany bar, his eyes narrowing at the breaking news report and he asks the bartender kindly to turn the volume up a few notches.

“…the number of casualties is still undetermined as of now. First responders from the Lawrence City police and fire departments are still trying to get as many people out as they can. Our sources at the location are reporting that the cause of the explosion at COSMOS laboratories is still unknown. We will keep you updated as the story progresses…”

Dean’s breath hitches in his throat, his heart achingly constricting as he watches the live footage from the scene, smoke and flames bursting out of the collapsing skyscraper as a few of his colleagues scramble to get every last person out. He tries desperately to find Y/N’s face in the pixelated masses on the tiny screen, but of course, he can’t.

“COSMOS… Y/N, uh, Y/N’s there! I-, uh, I’m sorry… I gotta run,” Dean splutters, trying to collect his thoughts and keep a straight head as his heart is close to detonating. He isn’t even on call, but if there’s a chance Y/N is hurt, he has to be there and make sure she’s okay.

“Go, man,” Sam nods with worry and understanding, watching his older brother rush out of the bar faster than he’s ever seen Dean run in his entire life.

Part 02

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bakugosbratx · 3 years

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Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Sexual intercourse, angst, pregnancy, cursing, fluff, degrading, etc.

Words: 1.6k

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A/N: I just realized there isn’t much talking at all. I’ll make up for it in part four. This shit is sad. I am sad so it’s fitting. I’m sorry in advance. I hope you enjoyed.

Part Two | Finale

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @lanarist @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @lil-miminini @tremendouswolfsaladranch @ssplague @vinny-likes-to-play21

Not every story has a happy ending. Y/N is learning this the hard way.

“CEO of Bakugo Industires, Katsuki Bakugo, shows off his new girlfriend at the Industry Ceremony tonight—“

You turn your phone off. Your red, swollen tear filled eyes could not look at the words and pictures anymore. The press sure did know how to capture the model’s perfect angles. A courtesy they would never give you if you were ever lucky to fill her shoes.

The way Katsuki’s muscular arm snaked around her tiny little waist made you fall ill. The flash of his glamorous smile filled your broken one with rage.

Your ears are filled with the salty liquid that flowed from your orbs. You are not even sure how you are still breathing. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel like this. You are just fuck buddies.

Were just fuck buddies.

The words will not stop replaying in your head. It’s been over a month. It’s spinning on a broken record player. All the emotions you felt in that moment intensify with each passing day. You should hate him for abandoning you, but your heart cannot do so. All you wanted was him.

You knew better than to fall for Katsuki. He told you to keep your feelings out of your sexual relations with him yet here you are, sobbing into your bedroom pillow, a growing fetus inside of you.

The room felt restricting of your oxygen supply. The ceiling fan sent chills down your warm spine. Your body aches and your throat feels dry. Katsuki’s cruel words along with his actions strangle you. You have not been able to see straight since.

The next couple of months of work are pure hell. You did your best to avoid Katsuki and he did the same. You noticed that Katsuki did not look at you as you were the only one in the room anymore. He seemed to look past you. If you dared meet those beautiful crimson eyes for even a slight moment, you were left feeling disgusted with yourself. Katsuki has a way of speaking without actually doing so. You adored and hated that about him.

Whenever he addressed you for business matters, you had trouble formulating sentences. Your eyes always seemed to be puffy from the endless nights of hysterical tears. Katsuki’s voice held more aggression than you are used to. Maybe you wanted him to at least have some sympathy, but that was nowhere to be found. He soon stopped inviting you to meetings.

You two did a wonderful job of finding the long way around the office building. Any precaution there was to take, you both did, but no plan is bulletproof and you are going to see each other at some point.

You two have not seen each other in over a month — almost two — and you have been feeling stronger than before. Less weeping nights, you are back to eating a normal diet, and you are more well rested. The bags under your eyes became less noticeable, but they still lingered longer than one would prefer.

You dried off your hands in the restroom — the one furthest from you and Katsuki’s office — and headed out to get back to work. The hallway is quite vacant around this time of day. Everyone is either on lunch or too focused on their work before packing up for the day. Your heels echoed amongst the marble floor. Looking up, your breath hitched.

Your eyes met the ones you desperately wanted to despise. Yours held sadness and desperation while he held anger and disgust. The way Katsuki viewed you, you started to view yourself. Even if it isn’t your fault.

The glance was only a maximum of five seconds, but those five seconds felt like a decade for you two. A period of time you would come to mentally plead for overtime.

You have not seen him for another three weeks after that. The cycle repeated: you sobbed, and sobbed some more, and then you started to cry less.

Then it happened.

You are coming into work late due to a doctor's appointment. The baby is healthy as are you so that is lovely news. Something you would love to share with Katsuki if he even remembered your name.

The elevator was taking its sweet time getting up to the floor where your office is located. You felt strong. How could you not? Your baby is going to be okay from the looks of it. A little human is excited to meet you and you are becoming excited to meet them.

Maybe things are starting to fall into place.

Elevator doors open. You begin to walk forward but come to a halt with the man standing in front of you; Katsuki Bakugo.

Your heart races with your bottom lip begging to quiver. You do your best to hide it though as you brush past one another. A jolt of electricity shot through you. The slightest graze of his calloused fingertips felt so rigid yet so soft. Your instincts force you to look up to see the stranger peer down at you. The stranger you used to know.

“See me, Katsuki. See me as the woman you used to know.” You mentally beg. You just wanted him to see you as somebody. Somebody he used to want.

Katsuki paused there, speaking to you through his eyes. This time, they did not hold as much disgust as before. Maybe it’s the hormones, but you could have sworn you witnessed longing within the roots of his irises. If Katsuki was capable of processing his emotions and allowing them to show, he would write them on his features. He remains stone cold, preventing his fingertips from latching onto yours. So, awkwardly they lay, both of your breaths caught in your windpipes until Katsuki decides to break free of the shackles.

You attempted to be in Katsuki’s space more. You knew him like a book just like he did for you. You both learned each other’s frequent routines.

Awkward encounters became more frequent and you both secretly looked forward to them. Long stares that withheld unspoken phrases. Katsuki’s gazes turned from disgust to softness. Especially with your stomach starting to show as the months rolled on. Still, not a word was spoken

The corporate office began to talk. Chatter amongst Katsuki’s employees disturbed his peace of mind. He knows he has to address you at some point, but what is there to say? What could Katsuki even begin to formulate for you to understand where he is coming from? You are due sooner than he is comfortable with. There is no hiding your stomach.

You never asked a penny from him. Hell, you have not even tried to speak to him since that night. You only spoke when formally addressed. Even that was rare.

Katsuki replays that night a lot while laying in bed. He claims what you two had was just two coworkers having sexual intercourse, but nothing can hide the way he moans your name when he masturbates or has sex with someone else. The way he sees you in every female he comes into contact with. Nothing can hide the way his natural rapid heartbeat stops by the mention of your beautiful name. Don’t even get him started on the way you purposely would get on his nerves. They are all part of the list of delicate little things he missed.

You have every right to hate him. Katsuki would not blame you if you did. His hatred for himself reflected in his actions which ultimately was passed onto you. You carried that burden. He would search for the reflection of his anger in your orbs, but they held none. They held nothing but sadness and love. Love he refuses to accept.

Katsuki laid in bed, alone, allowing his mind to wander. He cursed you for keeping him awake. He is a busy man with things to do yet your features haunt him. The thought of someone else touching you the way he does killed him. He knows he would have heard muttering by now if you went to his rival yet there is silence.

You are silent.

You are falling deep into your peaceful slumber. Something you have been doing more lately. You no longer need the lullabies of your heartache and unwanted whimpers for comfort. You are more at ease.

A heavy knocking at the door startled you. Groaning and gazing at your cell phone, the time read the time.

1:03AM

The knocking picked up again. You are not expecting company at this hour so you take precautions. Grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep under your bed, you stroll to the door. The knocking echoed through your apartment complex much to your sleeping neighbors dismay. Your adrenaline rises with each step you take towards the door. Gazing out the peephole of your front door, you see Katsuki standing at the door.

Throwing the baseball bat to the side, you open the door.

“Katsuki, what the—“

Katsuki ushers himself in, not even giving you an opportunity to scold him or ask anymore questions. Instead, his lips are entangled with yours. Magnets desperately pulling towards each other. You attempt to push him away as you smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, but Katsuki is much stronger than you are.

Your mind is telling you to hate this, but your heart speaks otherwise as Katsuki pushes you against the beige wall, caging you in with his arms. You did not even try to stop him as he began removing any article clothing on your body. Your lips only disconnected for short seconds before meeting again. Now you are laid on the kitchen table, Katsuki’s thick erected cock deep in your pussy, begging moans escaping your parted lips.

Here we go again.

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#tw pregnancy #tw angst #bakugosbratx #no strings attached #mini series #part 3 #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bnha bakugou #katsuki bakugō #bakugo smut #ceo bakugo #bakugo x female reader #bakugo x you

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avintagekiss24 · 3 years

Text

leave out all the rest | c. beck

→ pairing: chris beck x black!reader

→ word count: 5387

→ warnings: 18+ ONLY, smidge of angst, smut, sex, breeding kink, oral sex (female receiving), vaginal fingering, hand job, explicit language

→ square filled: @badthingshappenbingo

flashbacks

→ request: chris beck + breeding kink + "babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that" + "I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that"

→ author note: dr. space daddy is finally here! this is also the first of my 5k celebration fics! all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. thanks so much for the request @thedarkplume! title from linkin park leave out all the rest (i loveeee this song); line divider by @firefly-graphics; flashbacks are in italics. i also formatted this with the beta text post editor on desktop... so hopefully nothing looks weird and the italics/bold actually work... it is tumblr after all.

oh, hey, there’s a bit of a marvel crossover in this too!

Nervous doesn’t even begin to describe how you feel in this moment. Your stomach hasn’t been settled since you got the call two days ago. It’s been flipping and twisting ever since. Sleep hasn’t come easy either, but you’re used to that. Ever since Chris left, you haven’t slept well. It’s been almost seven hundred and thirty days— well, just three days short.

You follow the two tall military men, decked out in their dress blues, through the secure facility, your black leather combat boots thudding against the tile floors. Everything is white— the walls, the floors, the coats of all the scientists and doctors milling about— except for you and your flowery, thigh length sundress. Dark eyes wide, teeth nibbling on a sore, often bloody bottom lip from all the nibbling, small purse bouncing off one hip as a duffel bag bounces off the other.

Winding through corridor after corridor, pausing as the men lift their badges to keypads to get door after door to click open. An eerie quiet looms throughout the entire building, nothing but random beeps, your breathing, and footsteps.

Nervous doesn’t begin to describe it.

The walk gives you too much time to think about the last seven hundred and twenty seven days. All of the crying. All of the anger— the screaming. Chris trying to calm you down, assure you that they were okay— that he had to do this.

"It’s so easy for you, isn’t it?" You sobbed into the phone, staring up into the stars, knowing that he couldn’t but secretly hoping that he could see you.

"This is not easy for me," he choked back tears, his tongue heavy, "Leaving you is never easy but I have to do this, baby. We have to go back for Mark. We have to."

You didn’t answer his calls for over a week. And when you did, your words were quick and harsh.

"I can’t do this anymore. I’m moving in with my sister."

Chris was silent on the other end of the phone— too silent. He sighed after a while and just said, "Ok. I understand."

That was day four hundred and sixty three.

So you moved in with your sister. Got a job at the local bar, picked up every shift you could, sometimes working sixty, seventy hours a week— just so you didn’t have to think about him. It didn’t work. You’d still stare out the window at night, up into the big black sky and through the twinkling little stars, wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was thinking about you.

Unbeknownst to you, Chris continued to call your sister. Just to check on you.

Day seven hundred was when two Air Force officers walked into the bar as you were cutting up lemons and oranges. Your stomach, in a perpetual state of tight and sour, dropped to your feet. It’s never good when the military comes knocking on your door.

“He’s dead,” you spit out, eyes watering, chest starting to heave, “He’s dead, isn’t he? They’re all dead.”

When they removed their hats, your hands flew to your face, covering your mouth to muffle the sobs. You just knew they were all dead. Humans can’t stay in space for this long. It’s not natural.

“No ma’am,” the taller, brown skinned man answered, a small smile breaking onto his face, showing off the distinctive gap between his two front teeth, “They’re back in our orbit. They’ll be landing within the next seventy two hours.”

It was a flurry after that. Phone calls, you moving back onto the base, protocol gatherings, interviews with local and national media. None of it mattered. You just wanted to see him— you needed to see him.

Not before his mandatory three week quarantine that is.

Day seven hundred and twenty five is when they called to let you know that he was ready to move onto the second phase of his integration back on earth. Two weeks cohabitating with another person of his choice, just to make sure that his body and cells can still tolerate, you know, earth— and that he doesn’t give off anything that could make earthlings sick.

They called to let you know that Chris chose you— if you wanted to, of course. If not, he could call his sister.

You were packing your bag before the call even ended.

After two days of getting tested for everything known to man, it’s now day seven hundred and twenty seven and here you are, passing through the last set of doors and stepping into a large observatory room. One of the General’s starts talking, but you don’t hear a word. You just blink slow, lips falling open as you stare back at Chris as he stands at the little square window of his living quarters. He smiles soft, running his hand through his short, dark hair before waving and placing his palm on the window.

Tears cloud your vision. Your chin trembles as a sad smile spreads on your face. A sob chokes in your throat and a warm tear streaks down your cheeks. Despite the talking man, you step up to the window and press your much smaller hand on the glass, spreading your fingers to match his. Chris rests his forehead to it and you do the same as you really start to bawl— shoulders shaking, face breaking, breath rushing fast and hard.

"Baby, don’t cry. Come on pretty, don’t— don’t cry."

Chris’ voice is muffled by the thick glass, but just hearing it— so close, so familiar— after so longs it’s just… it’s almost too much. It is too much.

“Ma’am, we can’t let you in there like this. We need you to calm down.”

Dense thuds shake the glass as Chris pounds on it, "Open the door, Sam!"

Sam grabs your bicep, gently, guiding you towards the door— Chris following you both, still talking to you through the glass.

"It’s okay baby, I’m right here. I’m right here."

“We need you to calm down,” Sam starts again, “He hasn’t been around—”

"Sam! Goddamn it, leave her alone! Open the door!"

“Beck! You cool it in there!”

"Don’t be an asshole! Open the door! She’s scared!"

You hear a scoff, “Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.”

"I swear to God—"

“Step back from the window, Dr. Beck.” Sam is stern now, pointing his finger towards Chris.

Sam pauses for a few long seconds, blinking slow but keeping his hand around your bicep— and thank God, because you honestly need it, “I’m going to badge you into the hallway, okay? You take this keycard,” he presses it into your palm, “And put it up to the keypad at the second door after I close this door behind you. It’s only good for one passthrough— once you’re in, you’re in until the medical staff clears you both. Understand?”

The second half of his speech is softer, his thumb rubbing the back of your arm. You like Chief Master Sergeant Sam Wilson. You nod quick, rubbing at your face with the back of your hand, sniffling hard and focusing a shaky breath out through your teeth as you step in front of the door. There’s a loud click and the metal pops, Sam reaching past you to push it open.

Your body, on autopilot, takes three steps to the second door, eyes staring at the keypad on the wall beside it. Chris is still talking to you through the windows, one hand pressed to the glass, the other on the door handle.

"Just a few more seconds baby. You’re doing so good."

There’s another click— Sam closing the door behind you. Water fills your eyes again, emotion choking up in your throat at the gravity of it all. All of the screaming. All of the crying. All of the hating him and loving him and missing him for seven hundred and twenty seven days all culminating right here, right now, while he’s just three feet away from you. The sky used to be the thing keeping you apart— now it’s just a wall. A door— that you can’t walk through.

"Baby, Chris says gently, "Come on baby. Open the door, honey."

You’re frozen. Eyes locked on the keypad, fingers gripping the keycard so hard they start to burn. Open the door, honey takes you back. Takes you back to the day that he told you he was going up— that he’d be gone for a year.

“Open the door, honey. Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to talk to you.” You sniffle, staring at your reflection in the mirror in your small bathroom.

“You knew this was coming. I don’t know why you’re so mad.”

“A year? A year, Chris? I’m just supposed to put my life on hold for you for an entire year?”

He sighs through the door, “I’ve worked my ass off for this, you know that.” You do know that, you’re just being selfish. Needy and selfish, “I know we’ve got plans baby, but it’s just a year. One year and then I’m all yours—”

“Yeah, until the next time you decide to go up there. This is what Melissa warned me about. You get addicted to it.”

“I won’t.”

“You will,” you retort, “I know you.”

That makes him laugh, and then you’re laughing because he’s laughing, “Open the door, please.” Chris sighs again.

As soon as you turn the knob, he’s pushing through it, lifting you up off your feet and twirling you around— to make you laugh again.

You were standing on a precipice that night and neither one of you knew it. Your lives, both individual and combined, would change forever and that was the night that set it all in motion.

The keycard digs into your fingers and palm, bringing you back into the present. Back into the hallway, back in front of Chris. You blink, linking eyes with him again, finding them soft and down turned, his head tilted as he presses his fingers to the glass.

"Let me hold you," he says soft. So soft that the glass between you gobbles it up. But you just know that’s what he said. You just know.

The door clicks in your ear, a breeze is in your face as Chris throws it open, and then you’re consumed. Arms wrapped around you, hard chest against yours as you’re lifted right off of your feet. He’s so warm— he’s always been so damn warm.

“Oh my god,” he whispers, leaning back a little as you push your face into his neck, “This moment was the only thing keeping me going.”

“I’m sorry,” you sob, pushing your face into his shoulder, your tears wetting his NASA sweatshirt, “I’m so sorry, I was so selfish,” the words are clipped and broken, heavy on your tongue, “Chris, I—”

“Don’t. Don’t do that, it doesn’t matter.” He sits you back on your feet, rubbing your back with both of his large hands, “I’m the one that should be sorry.”

You cry openly into his chest, wrapping your arms around him and pushing your hands up into his sweatshirt, under the thin t-shirt underneath— just to feel his skin, “I missed you so much.”

One, two, three, four pecks of his warm lips on the top of your head before he rests his cheek there, holding you tight as he takes a deep breath, “All that’s over now, hmm?” you can feel the smile on his face, “We don’t have to miss each other anymore.”

A yawn pushes out of your mouth as you stretch out tight, sore muscles screaming. Eyes flutter as you shift, another deep breath pushing out your nose as you nuzzle your face into the pillows, body cocooned in warmth. You’re drifting again, quick, when an abrupt panic races through your veins without warning. Your stomach drops, skin instantly flushing with heat as you spring up, eyes as wide as saucers as your breath rushes.

That’s when you hear it, an all too familiar sound. A pencil, tapping slowly, methodically, against something. It calms you instantly. It’s real, you’re real, Chris is real, and you’re here. He’s here.

You swing your legs over the edge of the small bed, tucked in the corner behind a small partition. There’s a soft light glowing underneath it and a single red blinking dot emanating from the corner of the room— a camera. You push your hair out of your face but keep your fingers on your cheeks, closing your eyes as you focus on your breathing. In, out, in, out, in, out. There’s a murmur, Chris mumbling to himself and you can’t help but smile.

You stand and start moving towards the noises, padding soft and slow as his mess of brown hair and hunched back comes into view. He stands, switching out an X-Ray on the viewer before he plops back down into the swivel chair, staring at it for a second before he starts flipping through the large, open text book just to his left. There’s a little white board off to the right, leaning against the wall, the days he’s been “gone”, seven hundred and twenty seven, scribbled in his messiest of messy handwriting.

The little slice of time watching him sends you right back to your college years, waking up in his dorm room, finding the bed empty and him huddled over a too small desk, furiously flipping through a thousand page text book. You’d sneak up on him, just as you are now, barely dressed and sleepy eyed. Dig your fingers into his hair, scratch his scalp slow. Giggle as his shoulders slump and his head falls back a little, him moaning all the while.

“God, that feels good.”

“You let me fall asleep.”

“You cried yourself to sleep. Didn’t have the heart to wake you… you look like you haven’t slept in a year.”

“Hmm, more like two. What are you doing?” you ask, pushing around his side and crawling into his lap, nuzzling into his shoulder.

“Looking at our X-Rays from earlier today. I’m working on another paper for the Institute.”

“Trying to see if you guys are still earthlings?”

He laughs, the sound rumbling through you, making you smile, “Kinda, yeah. Our body masses have changed dramatically— our bones are longer, I’m not shitting you.” You giggle again at the enthusiasm in his voice, “It’s just a few centimeters, but still. Our brain waves are a little different, metabolism has sped up… it’s incredible.”

You keep the small smile on your face as your fingertips drift over his chest, rubbing slow as you feel his eyes fall to you, “You should get back in bed,” he says, squeezing your knee gently, “You look so tired, baby.”

“Not without you.”

He laughs again, “My circadian rhythm’s all fucked up, I can’t sleep.”

“Then it looks like you're stuck with me,” you kiss his chin and then cuddle back into him, “Don’t mind me.”

Mind you, he doesn't. He just goes about flipping pages and scribbling down random thoughts, marking up his pile of x-rays and fumbling through his and the rest of the crew's medical charts. You push your hand up into the arm of his navy blue NASA sweatshirt, raking your nails up and down his forearm absentmindedly as you breathe him in. Your other hand wanders too, tracing the band of his dark sweatpants before skipping up into his sweatshirt, brushing over his stomach and up to his chest.

The pads of your fingers outline the muscles that are still there, his pecs, down and across his soft abs, before back up and over a cheeky nipple. He jumps slightly, crinkling his nose as he smiles big and hard, “Babe, I’m never gonna finish this work if you keep doing that.”

“Maybe that’s the point.”

“Oh, is that so?”

You bat two big eyes up at him, the weight of going almost two years without catching up with you right at this moment. A hum vibrates in your throat as you stand, taking a few steps away from him before you toss your eyes over your shoulder, licking your bottom lip before sinking your teeth into it. You hold out your hand, wiggling your fingers after a few moments, watching him drag his big eyes down your bare legs and then back up over your powder pink satin shorts and matching camisole.

“Come to bed, Dr. Beck.”

He’s up and on his feet before the words are out of your mouth. Warm fingers interlace with yours as the two of you move back towards the bed, falling onto the soft twin size mattress. His weight dips into the bed as he sinks his knees into it, pulling his sweatshirt over his head as you crawl towards the headboard. You draw your legs up, swaying them gently back and forth, palms flat on your thighs as you inhale deep, watching as he tosses his shirt to the floor.

The smile on your face grows larger as he crawls over you, pushing your legs open with his soft hands before he settles right between them. Chris takes his time looking at you, smiling soft as his eyes drift over your face, his index finger dragging down the bridge of your nose, over two full lips, and down your chin and neck. You let out a quick breath when the pad of that sneaky finger dips just inside your tank top— right into your cleavage.

He cups your face, his thumb resting on your lips, brushing gently, “I’m never leaving you again,” he whispers, blue eyes filling with earnest as they bounce between yours, “I mean it.”

You turn your head into his palm, pressing your lips into the soft, warm skin, planting kisses, “You promise?”

The delivery is breathless. Quiet. Small. Almost begging him to mean it. He takes a deep breath, pushes it out slow before leaning in, closing his eyes as he rubs the tip of his nose against yours. That’s when he kisses you— slow. Deep. Tongue pushing through your lips and into your mouth. Massaging the roof of your mouth before sliding along your tongue. He even moans a little, lets his body— muscles, bones, brain— relax. Lets himself melt into you because it’s just been so damn long.

It ends slow, the kiss. Chris grabbing your lip with his teeth and pulling gently before he rests his forehead to yours. Eyes closed, his big, skilled hands and fingers flirting with your calves—pushing over your knees and then down your thighs to come to rest on your sides and hips.

“I promise.” You slide your hands up and down his sides, letting your eyelids flutter as he continues, punctuating his words with more gentle kisses, “We can start that life you’re so crazy about,” he laughs when you laugh and wrap your arms around his neck, “Buy you a house.”

“On the base?”

“I thought you didn’t like the base?”

“I don’t… but I kinda... do.”

“Then yeah, on the base if that’s what you want.”

Your eyes are still closed as hot lips press against your face— the crook of your nose, underneath one eye, cheeks, and then chin. You push your fingers up into his hair as he forges a path with his lips and tongue— down your neck, over two collarbones, down your arm— all the while his hands move upward. Up into your silk top, nimble fingers playing with two tight nipples before he rucks the silk top up to your chin.

“Wait,”

“What?”

“What about them?”

“Them, who?”

Pointing with your foot towards the blinking red light in the corner, “Them.”

He laughs and you laugh, covering your face with your hands until Chris pries them away, “They’re nerds, babe. We’ve already made them so nervous they’ve left the control room.”

You honestly can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Not since he left you suppose. It’s a nice sound, for both you and him, filling up the small space, making it alive and lived in instead of clinical and dry, “That’s not nice, Chris!”

He shimmies the thin material up over your head, casting it to the floor, “It’s the truth! I should know. Remember the first time I saw you naked? I couldn’t look anybody in the eye for a week.”

The memory makes you laugh, soft and dreamy-like, “That was so long ago.”

Chris catches the tone. It makes him halt, for just a second, his eyes shifting away from you. Guilt. For holding you at an arm’s length for so long. For making you number two. For making you wait for him for so damn long.

You tilt your head, eyes searching his. Gentle hands claim his face, pulling him back into your strong gaze, “Stay with me,” you whisper, eyes bouncing between his, “You’re buying me a house.”

“Ah, yes,” with one fell swoop, your shorts are pulled down your legs, right over the tips of your manicured toes and thrown to the floor, “One story? Two?” He asks, back up on his knees.

“Umm, maybe just one,” You answer, sitting up, slipping your hands into the dark sweats still covering his bottom half, “A two story house is too much to keep clean.”

You pull, but not all the way. Just enough to see his hips and that little tuft of dark hair underneath his belly button. You can’t help yourself and lean forward, kissing his stomach, giggling when he jumps a little. When you do it again, kiss him, and then a third time, and a forth, he gives in. Sweeps your locs over your shoulders and pulls them into a ponytail in his hand. That’s when you hook your thumbs back underneath the thick band of his sweats and pull a little harder, pushing the material right over his hard cock, making it bounce.

Chris kicks out of the sweats, grabs your face in his hands and tilts it upward. Leans down and kisses you again— soft. Sweet. All while rubbing small circles into your cheeks with his thumbs. He stays there, forehead to forehead, eyelashes spread over his buttery, quickly blushing red cheeks as you palm him, dragging your hand from the base right to the tip.

It doesn’t take much— never has. After a few strokes, he’s wet and red all over. Chest, neck, cheeks. Mouth agape, pulling in ragged breaths as his eyelids flutter. He swallows hard, and then hums quick, deep and throaty before inhaling through his open mouth. You push upward, kissing him as you continue slow strokes, sweeping a thumb over his wet tip.

Fingertips brush along the inside of your thigh, down low, first by your knee. Then, slowly, they skirt upward, not groping or kneading, just brushing— flirting with your skin until they reach their destination. You gasp, mouth falling open as adept fingers— not only just in general, but with your body specifically— push through wet folds.

“One story it is then,” he breathes, hot, unhurried, “A dog and a,” he slams his eyes shut, hissing and grunting when you squeeze him, “Fuck baby,” he swallows again, lips trembling as he nuzzles in, rubbing the tips of your noses together, “A dog and a cat.”

Your free hand wraps around his neck, fingertips pushing into his hair as your head tips back, hips start to shove forward, eager for his touch— wanting those fingers inside. When Chris obliges, sinks his index and middle finger into your cunt— touch starved and needy— you mewl. Making a real sound for the first time in seven hundred and twenty seven days. It enlivens you both.

Chris pushes you back, lays you back onto the small mattress, spreads you out. Keeps his fingers inside, pumping slow, curling, massaging. Thumb pressed against your clit, rubbing. He lays between your legs, coming face to face with your most intimate and blows gently. Warm air sticking to balmy flesh. Big blue eyes flick up to yours, then back to your sweet, licking his lips as a squelch fills the room.

His tongue darts out, slips along the inside of your thigh. Your hips react instantly, jutting upward as a sharp breath fills your chest. A long arm pushes up your body, fingers prodding your breast, tweaking a nipple before he palms the skin, but not for long. Within seconds, his fingertips are pushing into a willing mouth. Your tongue, swirling around thick digits as you grab onto his hand, holding it there.

Warm air tickles damp skin again as he blows on you, “Have some babies,” he offers quick, the words muffled by your flesh as he finally laps at you, tongue slipping through sticky folds, flattening against your slit as he massages the delicate, “How many you want, baby?”

Nothing but a bitten-off groan answers him. It comes for many reasons. His fingers somehow delving deeper, lips brushing over your cunt— the thought of babies. Little brown skinned, curly headed babies running in the backyard with that dog and cat. Wide smiles, complete with missing teeth, loud laughter, declarations of love as they jump into mommy and daddy’s arms.

“Oh yeah,” heavy words breathed into your ear, a hunk of man now laying on top of you, cock pressing at your opening, “My pretty girl wants babies,” the wetness makes it easy for him to slide in— all the way in— bury deep, “I’m gonna give them to you. You’ve been so good.”

He’s moving, hips pushing and pulling as he cups your face in his hands, presses his forehead to yours, “I’m gonna fill you up,” he mutters, swollen lips brushing against yours, “Stuff you— full of— my, fuck,” a deep moan, another quick hiss as he bites his bottom lip, overcome by the warmth, the wet— the tight, “Fuck, you feel good.”

Feverish lips are on yours again, teeth nibbling as his hips shove into you. Soft and swift. A palm covering your breast, fingers pressing, kneading and working sensitive, responsive skin. Nipples hardening, heat blooming across an ardent canvas of skin, pulsing hips eager to meet his.

Chris cups your chin, pushes upward so you're forced to keep slitted eyes on him and him only, “You want my babies? Hmm? Tell me baby,” you can only whimper in response, digging your nails into his sides, drawing your legs up and around him as he plunges deep, “Come on honey, use those words. Tell me how much you want my babies.”

He fucks into you hard, jamming his hips just once— the sound of skin on skin slapping out loud and off the walls. It arches your back, the sudden, quick thrust. Sends you right up into his chest. Chris pulls you into his lap as he falls back on his ass, extending his legs, heels digging into the mattress as he wraps his arms around you, holding you close and tight, fingers spreading out on your back.

Hips roll into one another. Fingers grip his calf as you lean back, hot, sloppy lips on your chest, over and between bouncing tits. A taut nipple pulled right into his wet mouth. Slippery tongue swirling and flicking, teeth nibbling before he sucks on the tight nub, teasing it further.

Then he’s holding your hips, forcing you down onto his cock. More rushed, sticky words falling from swollen, red lips, “You want me to fill you up? Hmm? Tell me.”

Tears slip down your cheeks, overcome by it all. The emotion of it, the physicality of you and him tangled together— the words, how many years you’ve waited to hear those words.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” he purrs, thrusting harder, faster, “You want me to come in you, don’t you? You’d love it if I came in you, huh? Knocked you up? Gave you a baby?”

You kiss him hard. Cupping his face, moaning sweet into his wet mouth, “I want it,” it’s breathy— desperate, “I want it, Chris. I want it.”

“Then I’ll give it to you. I’ll give it all to you.”

It’s feverish after that. Pushing and pulling. Grunting, smacking— lips on lips, skin on skin. Large hands gripping, fingers pressing into the meat of thighs and calves and ass and tits. His fingers grip the meat of your thighs, your ass, slide up your back— around your neck as your head falls back. Those fingers find your mouth, push just inside as he wraps his other arm around your waist, pulling your hips closer, helping them rock.

His fingers are out of your mouth, cupping your cheek now. Smoothing hair out of your face as it strains. You try not to get loud, slam your eyes closed, purse your lips as your toes curl and stomach tightens… heart flutters.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, brushing his thumbs over your closed eyes before prodding at your lips, “Don’t do that, honey. I know for a fact that you can be a hell of a lot louder than that. Come on, let me hear you.”

“No, I—“

“Don’t be modest,” his tone shifts, going stern and deep, and that’s all it really takes for the noise to flow, “I wanna hear you.”

But he knew that.

It’s a sweet little hum, and then a gasp before it’s clipped by an obscenity— a shaky, desperate, filthy word that dissolves away into a loud groan and then… it’s all downhill from there.

You couldn’t hold it in if you tried. It’s been too long. A pent up aggression, a nervous need all finally working its way out of you. You pull him close— crush your chest against his, wrap two liquid arms around his neck, press your face right against his. Chris loops an arm around your waist, squeezing your opposite hip, pressing his fingers right into the soft skin until it hurts.

But it’s good, the pain of the squeeze. It helps you right over the edge, makes you finally cum after seven hundred and twenty seven days. Slow at first. A warmth just taking its time as it spreads. The feeling sort of foreign because it’s been so long— your brain hasn’t caught up just yet.

When it does catch up, brain and body finding each other, dormant synapses kicking on with a jolt, it’s not just a warmth. It’s molten now, searing and stirring, passing through veins and muscles and skin and bone— it’s that deep. Toes curling so hard they go numb, fingertips digging into his shoulders as you throw your head back.

You’re sure the scientists and military guards can hear you three floors down.

Chris leans in, hot, wet, shiny lips pressing against your chest, over your tits with sloppy kisses, hips still churning into yours until they just can’t. Wet walls closing in, clamping down as they spasm, that molten enveloping him. His hips freeze quick with the first spurt, but find a haphazard rhythm as he comes. Fills you up just like he promised.

He pushes those warm blooms of silk deep with now pointed, long strokes. Not a drop escaping— it’s all for you, after all. Supply and demand and all that.

The mattress is a dream beneath you. Inviting and soft as he lays you into it, still rooted deep as he rolls you onto your side. An arm snakes around your hip, a palm and long fingers anchoring in the center of your chest. A hot, flushed cheek presses against yours as lazy wet lips drag along the back of your neck. Languid thrusts at random intervals keeps you gasping as he tucks his knees and thighs into the backs of yours.

“Say it again,” you whisper after a few quiet minutes, breath still heavy, chest still heaving.

Chris plunges into you again, soft and sweet and deep, “Say what, honey?”

“That you won’t,” the words break off, a moan replacing them as he kisses a trail down your arm, fucks into you once, twice, three times, “That you won’t leave me again.”

“I’m not leaving you again.”

When you wake up the next morning, that little whiteboard with the days scribbled on it is erased. All it says now?

Day one.

#bad things happen bingo #5k...holy god #chris beck #chris beck x reader #chris beck x black!reader #chris beck x you #you x chris beck #reader x chris beck #the martian #chris beck fanfiction

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duskandstarlight · 3 years

Text

Embers & Light: Chapter 43.5

Notes: So when I posted last week I realised a few hours later that I hadn’t posted the whole chapter! So, here you go. An early, albeit short, update. Thanks as usual to my beta @noirshadow, who is incredibly patient with all my E&L ramblings and makes sure my writing actually makes sense!

Chapter 43.5

Nesta

Cold air snapped at Nesta’s body as Sala flew her to Lorrian and Frawley’s. Cassian travelled behind her, trailing her path, the beat of his wings grating on her until she wanted to scream.

Of course, he hadn’t let her fly alone. He’d had to make sure that she was safe. That bond again, dictating his desires. Nesta didn’t understand why he couldn’t see that.

By the time she landed, Nesta had whipped herself into a fury that was frantic in its making—quivering with an energy that made her want to roar and sob until she was consumed with it.

“You’ve done your job,” she spat at Cassian, as he landed softly on his feet beside her with a neat retraction of his wings. “Now leave me alone.

They had landed just before the pine trees of the Eastern Steppes, where the forest decided to part for its witch and her home. The pine needles blocked out the sparkling stars above, casting the forest into smudgy shadows that made it near impossible for Nesta to pick her way across the ground, despite her fae eyesight.

When she stumbled, Cassian flared his magic to light the way but, thankfully, he did not dare reach for her. Loose roots and fallen branches created obstacles underfoot, but Nesta let her body tackle them blindly until she cleared the tree line and suddenly she could see again.

Nesta picked up her pace, storming along the paddock fence as the cottage came into view. The building’s shape was blanketed by a coal-night hue, save for the buttery light that fogged around Lorrian and Frawley’s bedroom window. Besides the smoke puffing from the chimney, the night was alarmingly still, as if had taken in a gasping breath in anticipation of what was to unfold beneath it.

The absence of Illyria’s fierce wind in Nesta’s anger felt foreign and infuriating, so Nesta walked faster, creating her own breeze. But the soft caress against her cheeks rather than the hurricane she longed for only served to sharpen the blade of her anger until it was lethal.

“Running away again,” Cassian growled from close behind her, his resolve to stay silent clearly breaking as Nesta stormed past the paddock entrance. He caught her wrist with a leather-clad hand and Nesta’s body jerked backwards as she was pulled towards him.

“Why are you fighting this?” he asked as she snarled at him with such savagery it sounded like a wild animal. His voice cracked like ice over a river. “Why are you fighting something that I know makes you happy. I can make you happy, Nesta.”

“Stop it,” Nesta cut back, the slash in her voice a warning just as much as her words. Because Cassian sounded so agonisingly sad it bruised her lungs, every breath coiled with pain.

“I’m not letting go,” Cassian told her, and they both knew the meaning was figurative as well as literal as he searched her face for something that would tell him to stay. “You can shout and scream and bite all you want, but you are not running away from me again. Not this time.”

Go home, Cassian.

“I don’t need someone to make me happy,” Nesta spat. “I can be happy independently of you.”

“You can have both.”

A cold, cruel laugh bubbled out of her. “Is that what you tell yourself every day when you pretend you can wear me down? Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? That you’re hoping I’ll give in and accept a bond I have explicitly told you I do not want?”

Cassian didn’t let go of her. Instead, he pushed her hand back to her as if it disgusted him to hold onto her. Nesta caught how his black hair sifted, the strands shining in the starlight, just before she turned her back to him.

It wasn’t too late to catch the curl of his lip and the way hurt seized the green and brown of his eyes. “You think I lie to myself? Nesta, you pull the wool over your eyes every damn day!” The last three words were staccato, thudding after her as she all but spirited away from him on a storm wind. “You have wanted me since you met me. Admit it. You want me and I want you. It’s simple. It’s all simple if you’d just stop fighting—”

The audacity to insinuate that Nesta’s feelings were inconsequential was too much. It hurt more than anything else Cassian had ever said, the rest of his barbs merely needles to this blade. Because none of what was between them was simple. It was a tangled web of terror and confusion and a desperate need Nesta did not understand.

The ignorance—the implied slight at her intelligence—had Nesta whirling, cutting Cassian off mid-sentence. Magic thundered through her veins, her power barrelling to her palms. She had to expel it—had to let it out like a curdling scream. Without thinking, she flung out her hands.

Nesta’s magic flew, roaring silver flames closing the distance between them. All she cared about was making Cassian recoil when her fire sizzled into nothing millimetres from his face. All she needed to see was the froth of his anger as it finally boiled over and met hers.

But Cassian moved quicker than Nesta had ever seen him. Red light shot from his siphons but this time there was no shield like there had been all of those months ago. Magic barrelled from his chest, his shoulders, his knees, the backs of his hands to meet hers—all of that magnificent power channelled towards her.

Scarlet and silver lit up the clearing, bathing their surroundings like glistening blood. Nesta braced herself for the slamming impact, expected for them to both be thrown backwards, but that wasn’t what happened. Instead, her body was seized with a sudden vigour—like a wonderful, gasping breath. And their magic… it didn’t clash. No, their jets of power melded together, silver meeting red until it formed a smooth running stream. It glimmered, quiet and calm in contrast, like the calm and tranquil night sky.

It felt right and wonderful and infuriating. Even Nesta’s magic was betraying her. Even her power couldn’t help but want him, even when she was incandescent with rage for the warrior before her.

Unleashing a growl of anger, Nesta dropped her hands in defeat. They hung at her sides, a useless deadweight. She was panting hard, even though what she’d just done hadn’t exerted her—it had been easy and right and thrilling, as if she’d just woken up from a very long sleep.

For a moment, there was only silence. Cassian’s chest was heaving, his hair as wild as hers. His hands were still outstretched towards her, each and every one of his siphons activated and glowing. Like her, he was staring wide-eyed at the magic that hung overhead like a mist, their very own canvas of stars.

When his eyes flicked to hers, the shock in them was still stark. In fact, Nesta could have sworn she spied terror in them. He stepped forward—her Cassian—but Nesta stepped back. A disgruntled growl rumbled in the back of his throat, and then he was striding towards her before she could even think about moving away from him. Stopped when he was a breath away from her.

Pine and musk wound around her body in an invisible embrace and Nesta’s face crumpled at the familiarity of it. She wished she was curled up beside Cassian in bed, her limbs tangled in his, her nose buried in his neck. She wished she’d never challenged him for answers in the bedroom earlier. Wished she was still living in blissful ignorance.

Two calloused hands came to frame her face and Nesta couldn’t find the will to shake them off. Couldn’t.

“Nesta,” Cassian rasped.

Nesta managed to shake her head. Go away. Please.

Cassian’s expression broke even as it remained still. Nesta didn’t understand how, but it did. It was something behind his eyes—the faint flicker of his eyebrows as they dipped in and out of a frown.

But Cassian didn’t drop his hands from her cheeks, as if he knew she didn’t really want him to leave her. Brushed his thumbs over her cheeks—wiping away the tracks of fury that had fallen from the corners of her eyes.

“Do you want me or not?” Cassian asked quietly, after a long while. His eyes searched into her silver eyes—pierced her soul. Flames danced in the reflection of his irises. And Nesta knew that this was taking everything for him to ask it out loud. “Do you want me, Nesta?”

Run, run, run, the Cauldron mused in Nesta’s head, as it cast that sleepy eye on her.

Nesta shrugged out of Cassian’s embrace. Her movements were syrupy, as if the air around her had thickened, but still she managed to turn. Her entire body was shaking—whether it was from that leftover rage, or because her heart was breaking, Nesta wasn’t sure.

A sob heaved through her body but Nesta caught it before she made a sound. She couldn’t let Cassian see it. Couldn’t let him know how much she was affected by him.

Slowly, Nesta walked to the cottage. She was still coated in Cassian’s magic, his scent on her tongue both divine and hellish. And that alone made her want to cry even more. It served as a reminder that she was constantly at war with herself. This battle that had been thrust upon her, chaining her free will and making her question everything.

“Leave me alone,” Nesta ordered flatly, without looking behind her.

Nesta didn’t know why she expected Cassian to stay. To fight. But the sound of beating wings filled Nesta’s ears just as she reached the backdoor. It felt as if someone had closed a fist around her heart, squeezing and squeezing until the blood ran dry and veins popped under the pressure.

Frawley was waiting at the threshold, her expression grim. The witch held the door open in invitation.

But Nesta paused. Turned back to the paddock.

Cassian was gone.

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#acosf #acotar #nessian #cassian #nesta x cassian #nesta archeron #embersandlightfic #nessianfic #acomaf #acowar #duskandstarlightwrites #nessian fic #nessian angst

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frattsparty · 3 years

Text

My Heart Needed You Part 16

An: I’m dumb and posted 17 before this so two in one night ✌️

Warning: language, we’re all sad and struggling.

Tag list: @bellisperennis0 @withmyteeth @lexondeck @redpoodlern @nessamc @chibsytelford @thegirlwhowritesfics

The drive was long and by the time you got in it was late afternoon, Venus had you go straight to her house. When you puked into the driveway you let out a small sigh of relief as noticing that Tigs bike isn’t here. Quickly you unbuckle and all but jog to the door, and before you could knock Venus swings it open and pulls you into her arms. Your whole body begins to shake. “Shh baby, it’s okay, you’re safe here.” She’s rubbing your back trying to calm you.

You stay in her embrace a little longer before pulling away, she immediately goes to wipe your tears away, “What happened Hailey Girl?” Using the sweet nickname that only Tig called you. “Oh my gosh, baby, your arms are bruised. Who did this?”

“He found out what happened, it was a huge blow up,” your tears start again.

“He was mad at the truth?” Venus looked shocked.

You shook your head, “No, we all got detained by this fed who I knew because of SAMCRO. I ruined a case he had that would have brought down the club, the IRA and the cartel, he’s held a grudge ever since apparently.” Taking a deep breath, “He had documents made up saying I got an abortion and then had pictures of me and Jose…” you couldn’t hold the sob in any longer.

She held you tightly moving so the two of you were sitting on the couch. Your body was exhausted, the lack of sleep, the drive, the crying, you couldn’t keep it together any longer.

“I’m just so tired of carrying this, of feeling shame and guilt.” You sobbed.

“I know baby, and you don’t have to feel like that,” she’s gently running her hand through your hair. “You did nothing wrong, you were hurt, don’t ever feel like you are the problem.”

Once you’ve calmed down you gave her a full rundown of what happened, keeping your eyes focused on your hands to get through it.

“Hailey, my sweet girl, look at me,” she places her hands on the side of your face pulling you up to look at her. “Baby, you haven’t done anything wrong, he’s beating himself up for not being there, for thinking the worst of you, and for how he treated you today. But you have not done anything wrong.”

You nod your head wanting to believe her. “The things he said,” sniffling you clear your throat. “That hurt more than any beating I could get, for him to say that about me.”

“I know, and I’m not going to tell you what to do, but I do think the two of you need to have a serious talk.” She grabs your hands, “You have gotten to let one burden off of your heart, don’t carry another.”

“That’s not all,” you whisper, scared to even say this next part out loud. Giving you a reassuring nod Venus takes your hand seeing that you are struggling. “I..I’m pregnant.”

“What? Hailey,” she moves, wrapping you in a big hug, “How do you feel about it?”

“Well I was honestly happy about it when I found out two days ago, I didn’t tell him yet because I wanted to tell him in person.” Letting out a shaky breath, “now I don’t know.” Sniffling, you wipe the stray tear with your sleeve, “I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

The two of you talk for hours, for most of it she sits back and listens, but she provides sound advice. Encouraging you to take a few days to get yourself in order and talk to Nestor, but she also said he needs to come to me. Begging for your forgiveness, because a lady shouldn’t beg a man to be in her life.

That night Venus decided to have the guys over for dinner, she could tell you needed to be surrounded by your people. The two of you were working in the kitchen and you couldn’t help to think about all the dinners you had helped Gemma with.

“I think we are done, Hailey, so we’re all ready for the boys.” She’s wiping her hands clean and takes the final plate to the table. Just as she sets it down the door opens and the loud voices of your favorite men enter the houses

You can’t help the huge smile on your face as they walk in and the pure shock on their faces when they see you.

“Hailey Girl!” Tig is the first to squeeze you tightly. Then Happy, always quiet but holding you too tight, not that you’ll complain to him.

Chibs comes up, and you can see the worry in his eyes. He’s always good at reading people, especially you, “Hey darlin’, you okay?” He’s giving you a tight squeeze, all you can do is nod knowing if you speak you might crumble in his arms.

“It’s not like you to show up unannounced and not come to Scoops, you sure you’re alright?”

Giving him a weak smile, “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Alright everyone let's eat!” Venus announces saving you from this conversation.

Once dinner is done Tig and Happy go in the kitchen to clean up, Venus runs a tight ship here forcing the boys to help.

“Come for a walk with me, Hailey.” You look up and Chibs has his hand out to pull you off the couch.

The two of you walk along the neighborhood, it’s quiet and peaceful - and thankfully cooler than Santo Padre!

“So what happened? I can see the marks on your arms, your eyes are swollen and red, you've clearly been crying.” He scoots closer to you giving you a light nudge.

“I was engaged before I came here, he was deployed and when he was away I was assaulted by a family friend…” sniffling you wrap your arms around yourself. “I got pregnant, he beat me until I lost the baby, then threatened me that if I said anything he would kill my family. So I ran.”

Protectively Chibs wraps his arm around you and you continue. “I never told Nestor what happened, but when I came home we tried reconnecting. He found out what happened, but the story he was given was a lie. He was angry and he didn’t hold back obviously.”

“I told him the truth and he tried to apologize and I was so angry, hurt, sad that I left and ended up here.”

“Oh my girl, I’m so sorry,” he pulls you tightly to his side.

“I should have just told him the truth from the start but I was so scared, Chibs.”

“Don’t blame yourself, you were trying to protect everyone and yourself. I’m sure deep down he knows that, he’s just hurting and he probably hates himself right now.”

You nod, silence falls as the two of you continue your walk back to the house. Before going in he grabs your hand and pulls you to sit on the step. Pulling out a cigarette from his kutte.

“Hailey, you aren’t my child, but I love you like my own, and I hate seeing you hurting like this. Jackie wanted you to find happiness, that's why I supported you leaving.”

“I know, and honestly, I have been so happy.” Your voice broke as tears made their way down your cheeks. You pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around your knees, chin resting on them.

“You still love him after last night?” He asks as you stare into the night sky.

“With everything I have, Chibs.” You turn so you can see him, “I’ve loved him my whole life, I’ve been planning my life with him since I was 15. I can’t imagine it with anyone else.”

“Has he ever been violent with you before like that?” His voice is full of concern.

“He never even raised his voice at me until after I left, he wanted to know why I left and I refused to tell him. He’s never laid a hand on me ever, nor would he under normal circumstances I know that for a fact.” And you did, you knew that Nestor would never hurt you.

“Can you forgive him for last night? Because Hailey, you may love him but if you hold on to this anger that you feel you’ll never give him a fair chance to be better.”

“I don’t know, Chibs, what he said was hurtful..” you trail off lost in your head, truly you can’t imagine a life without him but you aren’t sure if you can let those words go either.

“Have you thought about how hurtful it was in that moment for him to see that and think one thing, and then have an even bigger bomb dropped. One that I assume hurt deeply for him because he loves you and didn’t protect you?”

Letting out a large sigh you turn to look at him, “no.”

“Hailey, if I would be given those photos that would be my first reaction. And then to find out my love was assaulted and attacked, I would crumble. I would never feel worthy of you again.”

A single tear trails down your face, “I love him so much, and I’m hurting right now, but some of the hurt is thinking that I won’t have him in my life.”

“You need to give yourself some grace, get a good night's sleep tonight, let your body rest. But you do need to talk to him, but you make him earn you.” He squeezes your hand and let’s silence fall.

After a few minutes you speak up, “Do you think anyone will think less of me if they know the truth about Jose? Or if they know I will go back to Nes after what he did?”

“Who gives a fuck what anyone thinks.” Moving he gets in front of you and kneels so you’re eye level “No matter what your past is, you are smart, the smartest person I know, you’re loyal, determined, drop dead gorgeous.” Giggling, you give him a nudge. “That’s who you are, that’s Hailey Teller. The girl who will fight tooth and nail for her family, for those she loves. You aren’t what Jose did to you. As far as Nestor is concerned, from what you’ve told me I know you still love him, and if I had to guess he loves you. What you decide to do is for you and your future, I’ll support you either way. Fuck anyone who makes you feel bad.”

“I don’t want to see you in a relationship where you aren’t loved and cherished, Hailey. But you look like someone who just lost everything.” He pauses taking your hands.

“If you love him and you can forgive him for this, then you be with him. You be with someone who makes you happy, makes you feel safe, someone who makes you feel complete. Someone you can depend on to love and support you through all of life.”

“You’re pretty smart for a motorcycle enthusiast, Chibs.” His laugh fills the porch and causes you to giggle.

“I am more than that, love.” He pats your knee and moves to sit next to you again.

“You are so much more than that, I love you, Filip. Thank you for being the dad I’ve needed these past 6 years.”

“I love you too kid, more than you’ll ever know.” Wrapping his arm around you he pulls you to lean on his shoulder. “You can always depend on me, I’ll be in your corner. Always.”

***

That night as you lay awake in bed your phone went off, illuminating the dark room. It was a text from Miguel.

Miguel: I’m so sorry, Hailey. If I would have known I would have helped you...I’m sorry I let you down…Nestor was ready to come storming to Charming tonight but I made him stay. I’m only going to be able to keep him from you for so long though.

You: Thank you. I want to see and talk to him, but I just don’t know if I’m ready.

Miguel: I know I’m asking a lot of you but I need to have a meeting with the MC and Adalita, and I can’t do it without you.

Leaving him on read, you put your phone down, trying to decide if you want to go back. But being around Nestor will be so hard and seeing Devante again knowing everyone knows makes you nervous.

Me: Miguel, I don’t know if I can come back…but I’m willing to meet with Nestor. But he has to come here where I feel safe and then I’ll decide.

Miguel: Thank you!

Letting out a deep breath you roll over and try to sleep again, however, sleep avoided you, instead you laid there staring at the ceiling willing your body to rest. Tossing and turning most of the night only getting short stints of sleep, none of the peaceful.

As the sun comes up you are startled awake by loud voices. You silently shuffled to the door and opened it slightly and we’re shocked to hear Nestor and Venus going head-to-head.

***

Nestor’s POV

“She said she’s willing to talk to you so she can decide if she wants to come back.” Miguel looks up at you from his phone. “Don’t fuck this up, Nestor, she’s not taking you back right away but at least get her back home to us.”

“Did she say anything else?” The fear you’re feeling, the worry of never getting her back, it’s all consuming, but the regret you have for what you said, for not protecting her, that will be with you for the rest of your life. “I can’t lose her again, Mikey,” your voice broke. “I can’t live without her.”

“I know brother, I know, we’ll get her back here and then you’ve gotta be the you she knows you are the one who loves her more than life itself.” Giving your shoulder a supportive squeeze, he moves to leave the office. “Bring our girl home.”

***

The drive to Charming was long with just your thoughts running wild, what if she refuses to come back with you? You couldn’t survive the loss of her again, it would kill you.

Turning on to the street you tracked her to you spot her car in one of the driveways. Deciding to take a second to catch your breath and get your thoughts in order you park two houses down.

“Don't screw this up Nestor, you need her, don’t be stupid.” You mumbled to yourself.

As ready for this as you’ll ever be you get out of your car, adjusting your shirt and taking one more breath before walking towards the door. Unsure of what was going to greet you on the other side.

You quickly knock, and shove your hands in your pockets, the nerves were mourning.

“You must be the man that hurt my Hailey Girl.” The woman standing in front of you is clearly a force to be reckoned with, and your nerves are multiplying. Before you could react she pulled her hand back and stepped you clear across the face. “I’m sure you’re here to talk to her, beg at her feet for forgiveness, but before I let you see her we’re gonna have a chat ourselves.”

“Who the fuck are you?” You're trying to keep your cool, but who does she think she is.

“I’m asking questions here, but I’m Venus, Hailey and my husband are extremely close as she is with all of the SAMCRO men. She’s like my daughter here, I love her like one and I’ll defend her like one.” She crosses her arms over her chest.

“For a man who swears he loves her, you have a shitty way of showing it. That girl has been through more than you even know, she stayed away from her parents so she didn’t have to cross your path, kept silent about what happened so you wouldn’t get yourself killed. And how do you treat here? You scream at her, push her around, disrespect her, you did that!”

“I know, and I regret it all.” You intersect, but Venus isn’t done with you yet.

“And you should! She suffered at the hands of two men, and then was abandoned and hated by the man she loved. You should feel bad and I hope you're hurting right now because she is. And you deserve to hurt. You sure as hell don’t deserve that girl in there.”

“Look, I know what I’ve done, I'm not trying to deny anything. Let me talk to her.” Pushing back on the attack she’s aimed at you.

“Do you know what you’ve done? Do you understand the magnitude of all of this?” It’s like she is staring right through you and trying to break down your walls.

“Just let me talk to her!” Your anger is boiling.

“Didn’t want to talk to her when she was trying to tell you the truth did you? She was begging you to listen and all you did was berate her.” She scoffs, “And yet, she still loves you. Her heart is breaking at the thought of not having you in her life.” Pushing past you she closes the door and sits at the little table on her porch. “Sit down.”

“I know you love her, I can see it and I could feel it when she told us about you when we all got together for the birthday party.” Her face has softened towards you, but you knew she wasn’t done with you. “She deserves the world, and I think you know that and from what she told me the younger you was ready to give it.”

Smirking you nod your head, “She deserves the world and more, without her…I don’t know if I would have even made it through high school. She was one of the only people in my corner and I didn’t realize until she left how much she did for me.”

“If you could go back and talk to that version of you what would you tell him?” Her question is genuine.

“I would tell him to appreciate everything she did, appreciate who she was and to talk to her about my plans, don’t block her out. Value her like she deserved.”

She lets out a sigh, “Do you still love her? Like truly love her? Want to be with her, have a family with her, wake up next to her each morning?”

“I love her more than anything, I can’t imagine my life without her in it.” A tear slips out, but you don’t even try to stop it, not now. “I felt so incomplete without her, then getting her back, it was like I could breathe again. I’ve only ever envisioned my future with her, with our babies, I won’t be able to live without her.” Your tears keep coming, the brokenness is all consuming. “I’m just so sorry that I made her feel so unloved, I know I don’t deserve her but I love her with everything I have.”

Grabbing your hand, Venus speaks again, softer and more loving than before. “Then you need to say all of this to her baby, because she’s hurting, feels so unlovable, but she still loves you with her whole heart.”

“I’ll go see if she wants to come down,” making her way to the door she turns to you, “If you hurt her again, these SAMCRO men will kill you, especially Chibs. He loves her with every fiber of himself. So I suggest you only go through with this if you’re all in and willing to work to get her back.”

A few minutes passed and you were feeling like she may not come down to see you, but before you got lost in those thoughts the door opened. She looks so small, sad, broken, and the guilt bubbles up even more.

“Hey,” her voice was so quiet you could barely hear her, she’s avoiding eye contact. Her usual confidence is gone, in its place was a girl so unsure of herself. A sight you’ve never seen with her.

“Hey, Hails.” Standing, you signal for her to sit down with you, “I was hoping we could talk.”

“Honestly, Nestor I don’t really want to talk right now, I have…a lot of feelings and thoughts that I can’t…” you can see her thinking of the right words, “that I can’t express right now. I know Miguel needs me and I want to go home, but I’m afraid to go back.” She whispers that last part, causing you to furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are you afraid to be there? Nobody will hurt you there.” You reach for her fiddling hands trying to calm her nervous tick, but she quickly pulls her hands away from you. “Are you afraid of me?”

She shakes her head, “Not you, or Miguel.”

“Then who, Hails?” You are racking your brain trying to think of who she could be scared of, and then it hits you. “Devante?”

Her eyes met yours for the first time since she came out, and she simply nodded her head. Not saying a word.

“Did he hurt you too?”

“He got me to Mexico, told me that Jose needed me, had one of the guys get me, watched Jose do what he did…” a stray tear rolls down her face and she sucks in a ragged breath clearly trying to hold the emotion in. “He put me in a room that night and the next morning brought me to him again, let him…you know again and took the pictures. He threatened me that if I told anyone he would kill them, you, my parents, anyone.”

“What?” Your anger is boiling and you are doing everything you can to keep it in check.

“I was so afraid, Nestor, I told Niko and begged him not to say anything. I wanted to tell you but I knew if you knew or my dad, that you would end up dead and I couldn’t live with that.” Her hands were shaking and sobs wracked her body. Moving quickly you wrap her in a hug, she’s so tense and you don’t feel her relax like she usually would in your arms.

“I won’t let him near you, Hailey. I swear to you, I’ll protect you.” Pulling away so you can look at her, “I’m going to call Miguel, if you really don’t want to come back I understand and I’ll make him understand.”

She looks up at you, “Do you promise that I won’t be left alone with him? Or have to see him?”

“I will be with you, or Miguel, I won’t let him near you alone, I promise you.”

Nodding, “I’ll go back.” She whispers and you aren't sure if she is just saying that to please you and Miguel, or if she really feels safe going back.

Taking a hold of her chin you pull her face up to look at you. “Hails, only come back if you feel safe, don't do this to make us happy.”

“I am trusting you to not let him near me.” She sounds more confident, “If I feel uncomfortable I’ll go to my parents.”

“Do you promise to tell me if you’re uncomfortable or don’t feel safe so I can help you?” You look at her seriously, ensuring she knows you aren’t joking.

She simply nods.

“I’m going to call Miguel then, let him know what’s going on, and you can get your things together.” You told her as you began dialing Miguel’s number.

“Well I didn’t really get the chance to bring anything with me so I just have my purse and car, so when you’re ready I guess I am too.” Shrugging, she goes inside.

You can’t help feeling guilty for that too, knowing she had a bag packed and you ripped it from her. All you can think is how you have to do better for her.

You're lost in thought and don’t even realize Miguel has answered your call, “Nestor!”

“Mikey, we’ve got a problem.” You let out a large sigh, “Devante knew everything that happened, he is the one who made her come to Mexico, who took the photos, he threatened her.”

The line was silent, you know that means Miguel is planning, “Does she want to come back?”

“I don’t think I would say she wants to, but she’s going to. I promised she wouldn’t be around him alone, and we would be there.” Trying to reign in your emotions, “She’s so broken, Miguel.”

“Bring her home, we’ll take care of her, and him. If she’s not comfortable here, take her to your house. You’re in charge of her protection.”

“Got it, we’ll get on the road once she’s ready.”

Waiting on the porch you turn quickly when the door opens, but instead of Hailey it’s Venus, “she’ll be out in a second, don’t worry. I just wanted a few minutes with you.”

“When you take her back there you better take care of her, don’t you let anything happen to our girl. Because these men love her like their own. If she’s hurt again, it will kill all of us. You have to protect her, and if you’re going to love her give her the love she actually deserves.” She ends her speech wiping a tear from her cheek.

“I will, I promise.”

#nestor oceteva #mayans mc #nestor oceteva x hailey teller #nestor oceteva x oc #nestor oceteva imagine #mayans mc imagines #mayans mc fic #Mayans mc imagine #mayans fic #mayans fanfic #Mayans mc fx #venus van dam #tig trager #chibs telford

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cazimagines · 3 years

Text

Never break the chain

Synopsis: You were Zemo’s devoted girlfriend, he would take you all over the world and treat you to everything you want in life however that all changed the day Sokiva fell. Consumed by anger Zemo went off the deep end trying to avenge his fallen country and you last saw him being escorted to prison. Years later you became really ill and there was only one thing that could save you. After a lot of searching you finally managed to get your hands on some super soldier serum which saved you however Zemo is now out of prison as is determined to finish what he started no matter what stood in his way.

Warnings/Tags: Bad Zemo, Mentions of guns, Toxic relationship, Almost cried while writing this, Hits in the feelings, Lots of angst, So much angst, Mentions of death

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: Hello my fellow masochists *cough* Markiplier *cough*, I for one thrive on sad moments in fics, ones that break my heart. I live off angst and I am sure I am not the only one in this so I have written this angsty Zemo fic. There is no fluff here just sadness so you have been warned. I’m going to write a really sweet and fluff filled one shot after this as an apology. Also warning this relationship is toxic so like obviously I don’t condone Zemo’s behaviour in this, he’s meant to be a dick here.

I got inspired to write this from a song so like if you want extra emotions listen to this: https://youtu.be/1A8YpV1tfsQ

This is also being posted on my ao3 account under the name Casmad

The wind blew sharply against you, the coldness of it scratching your skin. Your eyes water up slightly at the harshness of it and you wrap your arms around your body trying to warm yourself up. You looked out over the cliff, looking over now the deserted area you once called home. Sokovia. Its beautiful landscape is broken and torn apart. An echo of how magnificent it once was. You raise your hand to touch the chain that hung around your neck. A reminder of the past.

“Darling I would be honored if you wore this for me. I have a similar one I’ll always keep around my neck so that even when we are apart, there’s a part of us that will always be together” Zemo asks nervously, swallowing and glancing from the necklace in his hand to your face.

You put your hands onto his, taking the necklace, “I’ll never take it off”

Zemo’s face broke out into a smile, his eyes shining as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into his chest. He holds you closely as you close your eyes melting into his presence. He kisses the top of your forehead and rests the top of his head on yours. “My beautiful moon” he murmurs

A tear slowly slipped down your cheek as you thought back to better times. You had been so happy with him. You two had planned your whole lives out together. The Baron and Baroness.

“Would you care to accompany me to the ball?” Zemo asks, holding his arm out to you.

“Oh I don’t know should I?” you joke, holding your chin in your hand as if questioning it, making Zemo chuckle.

“If you do I promise you can be in charge in the bedroom tonight,” he says as he leans into you. You grin back at him, raising your hand to his suit jacket and pulling him towards you for a kiss. As you feel his lips on yours and his hand rests on your hip you smile into the kiss. As you pull back you swell with happiness seeing a rosy tint to Zemo’s cheeks.

“I suppose turning up to to a ball on the arm of a Baron has its perks”

Zemo laughs and pulls you into a side hug placing a kiss on your temple.

“What would I do without you” he hums to himself as he admires you “My moon”

Everything made sense, everything fit. You couldn’t imagine a life any different till it happened.

You and Zemo had been away visiting a local country when you heard of the news. You collapsed on the floor screaming at the tv as Zemo was on the phone already organizing a trip back home. When you arrived your heart broke seeing all the destruction. Zemo was holding your hand but he let go. It was all gone. Everything. Your whole life had changed just like that.

You wipe the tears away from your cheeks yet they continue to flow as you remembered what happened after. The madness and desire for revenge had consumed Zemo. You tried to stop him. You really did but what could you have done?

“Helmut, please. This isn’t healthy...this...this isn’t you!” you cried as Zemo was preparing his attack on the avengers

“Y/n I have to do this. There is no other way” he angrily replied, refusing to look at you.

“I can’t support this” you whisper, grabbing a hold of his arm. “I can’t watch you do this”

Zemo looks at you, his face forlorn as he watches the tears fall from your eyes. He pulls you to his chest wrapping his arm around you and kisses the top of your head, stroking your hair. “I’m not asking you to moon”

You leave the warmth of his arms and watch as he grabs his bags and walks out of your room, giving you one last glimpse of goodbye before he walks out of your life.

That was the last time you saw him in person. The next time it was on the news as he was being arrested. In the end, his plan had succeeded. He split up the avengers but then what? It didn’t bring anyone back. Sokovia was still dead and you were left behind while he was locked up for life.

You close your eyes, squeezing out the remains of your tears, preparing to leave this cliff looking over your deserted town when you hear the sound of a click. You let in a sharp breath of recognition. Slowly turning around your eyes adjust to the barrow of a gun and the person standing behind it.

Zemo.

He still looked the same as you remembered. Though if you stared closely you could see lines showing his age starting to appear, the bags under his eyes were bigger than what they once were however after all this time it was still him. He even wore that ridiculously over-the-top coat that you always stole from him.

His eyes however were different, when you always looked into them in the past they seemed warm, like the feeling of drinking hot chocolate. You could melt in them but now they were stone cold. Emotionless. Like he wasn’t even there.

“Zemo…” you breathed out focusing on him

“I planned to eliminate all superheroes” he states

You shake your head at him, “Zemo please”

“I’ve almost completed my plan to rid the world of superheroes, of ‘super soldiers’”

“Please let me explain,” you say starting to take a step forward to him but he quickly raises his other hand grasping the gun, holding it in both hands now and pointing it at you making you stop in your tracks.

“How could you,” he spits, his lips drawing back in a snarl “How could you become one of them!”

“I had no choice” You rasp, tears starting to flow from your eyes again, “I would have died otherwise”

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED THAN TAKEN IT” Zemo shouts

The colour drains from your face, your eyes widen in shock staring at him. His jaw tightens as he glares at you. You both stand there in silence taking in what he had said.

Wiping the side of your tear-stained cheek you smile sadly at him, sniffing, you step forward again resting your forehead against the gun.

“Okay” you simply say, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you utter those words

Zemo glares at you, his finger resting on the trigger. The gun starts to shake as he clenches his face in anger.

“DAM IT” he shouts, throwing the gun to the side. His hands grab onto your shoulders roughly, causing you to hiss in pain.

“Why are you doing this to me y/n. How could you do this to me” He snaps.

You were too shocked to reply to him, causing him to get even angrier. His eyes swarmed with tears and when one threatened to fall he pushed you back and turned away so you wouldn’t see.

You shakily let out a breath you were holding in and collapsed onto your knees. Your heart was beating rapidly against your chest and you clenched the sides of your body with your arms in comfort.

Zemo turns back around to you, hatred in his eyes. “I’ve come so far, killing so many just to be stopped here”

“Because you refuse to kill the woman you love” you implored in hope but he shakes his head, “No. Not that”

“Yes, yes that Zemo!” you say shakily getting back up off the ground. “Zemo I still love you though by gods I shouldn’t. We made a promise to each other” you affirmed holding up the chain around your neck, “We were forever Zemo”

Zemo’s finger brushed up against the chain that had been hanging around his neck for the past seven years. They wrap around the chain and in one swift motion, he pulls it off his neck, breaking the chain and throwing it to the ground.

You stare at the broken chain on the floor, your heart dropping. In just one notion it was like all those moments you two spent together were worth nothing. It had led to nothing.

Zemo grabs ahold of your chain and pulls you closer to him, “The truth is, my darling moon, that you don’t love me either”

You try to argue back to him but he raises his finger to your lips, “ah”

“You want to know how I know?”

You don’t say anything, staring at him confused, he leans towards you and automatically you close your eyes however he instead he puts his lips to your ears,

“You’ve been calling me Zemo instead of Helmut”

He lets go of the chain, pushing you away from him again, the force knocking you to the ground.

You think back over your conversation. He was right. When had you started referring him to his last name rather than his first name? You had always called him by his first name before.

You look back up to him, your eyes watering and noticing the tears starting to fall from his eyes.

“I spent years in that prison imaging what it would be like to finally get out. To hold you in my arms once again. To have what we once had. It was the only thing that kept me going in there. You can’t even begin to imagine the pain I felt when I found out the truth. The pain of your betrayal. I hated you. I...I” his voice cracked as he started to cry more

He keeps trying to stop letting out a sob yet his mouth can’t help but frown and his face contorted. “I thought I could stop the pain by getting rid of you but I can’t. Even though I can’t stand looking at you I can’t kill you”

He swallows and looks away from you to the chain on the ground, “I don’t want to ever see you again.”

You could have said something then. Called out to him. Spoke sense to him. He might have even listened but you didn’t. You didn’t say anything. You didn’t try to stop him. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes.

He turns his back and starts to walk away but stops for a moment, turning his head slightly.

“Goodbye y/n”

#zemo #zemo x reader #zemo imagine #i love zemo #zemo x y/n #tfatws #marvel #mcu #daniel brühl #baron zemo #helmut zemo #zemo x you #angst #Zemo angst

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rae-gar-targaryen · 4 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOT MY GIF

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler hated you for it.

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

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

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

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what was he?” Diego pressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drag them down with their own fear.

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

What the fuck was this shit?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, you thought, and there it was.

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

What were you?

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Pogo?”

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

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

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

Diego sighed, facing his brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, she sounds hot.”

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t left in suspense too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ground out a harsh laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight.

All he had wanted to do was help, right?

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what came out instead was--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were… worried about me? You?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched.

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed in contentment.

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

---

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

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

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

Why couldn't it always be like this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego scoffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was that?" He asked.

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

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

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

Oh, no.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

Ouch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

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

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

Your hand left Diego’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego smiled at you.

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

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

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

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

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?”

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt.

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

At Diego’s urging look, you continued.

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

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

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

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“They’ll like you,” he promised.

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

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

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

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

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

Luther blinked. “How did you know?”

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

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

"Self-important."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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blossomingimagines · 3 years

Text

Of A Broken Heart

Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Stark!Reader

Word Count: 5,339

Summary: You never thought you would see her again. Never thought you would feel your heart skip a beat because of her emerald green gaze again. Never thought that you would let her back in. You also never thought that you would have to think about planning your brother’s funeral either. (Set after and during (sort of) Infinity War.)

Notes: Everyone requested a second part of Requiem... so I thought I would make one. I hope that you all like it. (Also the reader was under the assumption that Tony had returned. She wasn’t aware that Tony wouldn’t have a way back.)

Tag List: @username23345 // @stephanieromanoff // @ima-gi--na-tion // @chickenhavewisdom // @hi-i-1 (I’m not sure if some of you wanted to be tagged but you mentioned a part two in Requiem... so I thought I would do so just in case.)

Warnings: Mentions of alcoholism.

Your gaze was leveled with the sky. Tracing over the sparkling stars and the distant worlds dotted between. Worlds that you would never be able to make out with your naked eye. Even though you knew that they were there all the same.

Was Tony on one of them? Your mind cries out. Tears coming unbidden to your eyes as you tried to quell the incoming sobs. Was he all right? Was he already dead?

The thoughts were familiar to you. Looping constantly within your head like a taunt. Images of your brother’s dead body flashing across your mind. Hollow brown eyes, normally filled with so much life, staring into your own. Never to have the same spark again. To have mischief lurking within their depths as various emotions played through his brilliant mind.

Clenching your hands against the railing you were leaning against, you lower your head as you take in deep breaths. Ever since Tony had disappeared with the ship you had been left in an almost fugue state. Barely being able to interact with anyone. Barely allowing yourself the pleasures of living.

Eating had become a challenge because Tony could potentially not be doing the same. How could you possibly enjoy your meal if Tony was starving? How could you allow yourself the simple pleasures of Earth if Tony was suffering away from it? Away from you.

The thought of Tony truly being gone hadn’t fully set in. You had dealt with this before. Had lived with the knowledge that Tony could be lost to you. Afghanistan had been hell for you and for everyone that loved Tony. You hadn’t given up hope that he would be found. That your big brother, the only family you had left, would be returning to you.

You had less hope now. At least when Tony had disappeared in Afghanistan he had still been on Earth. Now you didn’t know what galaxy he was in… let alone the planet. His absence became more and more obvious the longer it went on. The days slipping past you like water through your fingers. The knowledge that Tony may truly be gone this time crushing you.

It didn’t help that you were surrounded by the people that hurt you the most. The people that you thought were your family but ended up being your biggest heartache. Closing your eyes once more, you crane your neck back. And even if you couldn’t see the stars you knew where you were looking. You had long since memorized the layout of the sky above your terrace in the Compound. It wasn’t the Tower but you didn’t think you could bear to set foot in it. Not without Tony being there to greet you.

You could hear the distant murmur of voices beneath you. No doubt the others trying to figure out what to do. The sound causes yet another stab of pain to lance through your heart. While you wouldn’t wish what had happened on your greatest enemy, you couldn’t understand how they survived when Tony didn’t. How they could be using the things he made for them after everything they had done. Didn’t understand why you had to see them every day and not Tony.

You still remember, with perfect clarity, seeing them again after so long. Remember seeing her again after everything.

You wished that your heart didn’t still react the way it did.

Stepping off of the QuinJet, you pull your jacket tighter against your body. Your eyes taking in the various faces as you went. Desperately searching for something familiar to ground you. You needed something to make sense. You needed to have someone you love be okay.

Spotting a familiar face, you break out into a run. Relief interlacing itself within your shout. “Wombat!”

At your yell, Rhodey whips around and pure relief flashes across his face. His arms are already opening for you as you barrel into him. Burrowing against him as you clung as tightly as you could.

“You’re okay,” you choke out with tears falling from your eyes. “You’re okay.”

Rhodey’s arms tighten around you at your choked statements. The pain he was holding back showcasing itself within the shaking of his arms. By the way, he followed every minute movement of your body as you shifted in his embrace. Finally, after a few moments, you take a small step back. Making sure that you maintained eye contact with him through it all. You needed him in your sights at all times. You don’t know what you would do if he disappeared too.

His pained gaze flits to various points behind you. His throat bobbing up and down as he tried to form his question. “Di-” He clears his throat. “Did Pepper make it?”

You nod. “She’s on her way now.”

Rhodey hums but his gaze still hadn’t returned to yours. Causing your own to narrow as worry started to fill your chest. “Rhodey.” You wait for him to turn back towards you. Even if his gaze wouldn’t stay solely on your own for long. “What’s wrong?”

He shakes his head but doesn’t offer an answer. Something that only causes your worry to grow that much more. Rhodey had made it his life's work to deliver the hard truths to family. You didn’t want to think of what this meant that he wasn’t able to tell you.

Stepping closer, you place a light hand on his chest. “Rhodey,” you implore gently. “What happened?”

There’s a tense silence until he finally meets your gaze. Tears finally begin to fall from his eyes as a pained sound escapes his mouth. “Sam.”

He didn’t have to say anything else for you to understand. You had already seen so many people you knew crumble before your eyes. Seen innocent bystanders disappear with the breeze as their remaining family watched in shock. The screams for help and the mournful howls of grief following soon after. New York City quickly became a desolate wasteland of what it used to be. The City That Never Slept growing quiet.

Wrapping your arms around Rhodey, you offer him another hug. There were no words that you could say that could take away his pain. No words that would ever make the grief go away. That would ever erase the image of ashen faces crumbling against the wind. Faces of loved ones, of people you didn’t even know, forever seared into your brain.

Raising your head, you meet Rhodey’s gaze once more. A small frown furrowing your brow.

“Where’s Tony?”

“We’ll have to take another jet to scope the area for more survivors. I thi-”

Whatever was going to be said was immediately interrupted by your entrance. Not that you cared for anything he had to say. Your gaze honing in on his baby blue one as you made your way towards him. While he didn’t look the same you could still see the self-righteous asshole underneath. Something that caused your anger to grow even more.

You didn’t notice the other occupants of the room. Didn’t notice the way pained green eyes followed your every move-- even though there was worry interlacing the expression. Didn’t notice anything except for Steven Fucking Rogers.

Even the splitting pain that erupted across your hand as you punched him did little to detract from your anger. All you could feel was your pain. Your grief at what had happened. No amount of physical pain could ever measure up to your emotional trauma.

“You asshole,” you snarl. “This is exactly what Tony was afraid of. This is exactly what he tried to protect the world from.”

Steve didn’t make any move to protect himself from your shoves. His blue gaze turning sad; almost remorseful.

“I know, Y/N.” He turns his head away as shame colors his face. “I know that this is what Tony was afraid of.”

“Don’t you dare say his fucking name like you’re still his friend. Don’t you dare act like what you did didn’t happen.” You scoff as you take a step back from him. Your gaze finally looping the room for the first time. Only briefly pausing over Natasha’s silent form. Hating the relief that flared through your body at the sight of her. An emotion that you were sure crossed your face by the way something shifted in her gaze. By the way, her stance loosened ever-so-slightly. Turning away from her, you meet Steve’s gaze once more. “Tony knew this was going to happen. It’s why he fought so fucking hard for the Accords. Why he fought so hard to keep the team together.”

Anger finally graces Steve’s face at your words. “The Accords were going to treat us as servants, Y/N. There was no way we could sign them.”

An incredulous laugh falls from your lips at your words. “This isn’t the forties, Rogers. You can’t just do whatever the hell you want and expect to get away with it. There have to be limitations on what people with your abilities are allowed to do.” You shake your head as you turn your back on him. Moving towards the door. “Tony was going to fight for your rights. He wasn’t going to let your humanity be stripped from you. But there had to be fail-safes in place to protect the innocent people of Earth.” You shoot him a glance over your shoulder. Withering with its intensity-- with your anger. “Or is one person truly worth more than the millions of lives you destroyed? Or the billions, maybe even trillions, that are now gone because you couldn’t see past your loyalty to him?”

“This isn’t my fault, Y/N.” Steve replies. “This is because of Thanos. He is the one we have to stop.”

A small smile quirks your lips at that. “Still the idealist I see.” You shake your head. “We all made mistakes, Rogers. Could have done things in a different manner. But never forget that you were the one that split the team-up. That you were the one that decided Barnes’s life was worth more than everyone else's.” You chance one more glance towards Steve. Your eyes are sympathetic because you already knew what happened to him. “I’m sorry for your loss. No one deserves to see their loved ones perish like that.”

Even though it’s better than not knowing...

Moving closer towards the door, you place a gentle hand against the wooden surface. Your gaze turning somber as you meet Natasha’s gaze once more. Maintaining eye contact even though you were speaking to the room as a whole. “Maybe the people we should have been protecting the Earth from were you.”

You don’t wait for a response as you’re already gone. The thunderous echo of the door slamming behind you being all that was left of your presence.

You find Thor outside with an anthropomorphic raccoon. Something that barely causes you to pause as you settle down beside the god. Your gaze remains level with the horizon even as you felt Thor’s gaze on your face. His electric blue eyes like a weight against your skin.

His deep rumbling voice soon breaks the silence. “Y/N.”

“Thor.”

A silence settles over the three of you. Your gaze never wavering from the setting sun. The silent fields rolling with the wind. A hollowness exuding from the world that left your stomach churning with nausea.

“Is the Man of Iron, all right?” Thor breaks the silence once more. His deep voice is uncharacteristically soft. “I haven’t seen him.”

At the question, your mouth thins into a line. Finally breaking your gaze with the horizon as you met Thor’s. “Tony isn’t here, Thor.”

The revelation causes Thor to reel back. His shock etching itself across his features. “Friend Stark was dusted?”

You shake your head; trying to ignore the pain that struck your chest at the very thought. “No, Thor. He went after Thanos with Peter.”

The God of Thunder’s brow furrows. “So you do not know if he lives?”

You shake your head once more. “No, Thor. I don’t know if Tony is alive or not. I may never know what has happened to him.”

There’s another moment of silence before another voice speaks up. Your gaze shifting towards the raccoons. Deep brown eyes, that reminded you so much of Tony, stare back at you.

“He’ll be all right. If he’s in space then that means he’s run into my team.” His pointed snout looks back towards the sky with a hint of longing across his face. “They’ll take good care of him.”

At his words, a breath of relief falls from your lips. Your shoulders loosen at the sheer confidence within the raccoon's tone. That is until Thor interjected once more.

“But what if they were dusted too, Rocket?’

There was no answer. Only the silence of the world, a world that would never be the same, settling over the three of you. Your eyes once again returning towards the sky.

All with different levels of longing interlaced within.

Staying in Wakanda was stifling. While it was a beautiful country with astonishing marvels, you couldn’t help but be weighed down by everything. From the silent grief that permeated the air because T’Challa was gone. To the dark looks directed towards the sky whenever an airship flew overhead. Not to mention being surrounded by Rogers and his team.

Pepper’s arrival was like a breath of fresh air. You weren’t sure you were still capable of smiling, with true joy, before she appeared. Her bright blue eyes meet your gaze across the yard. Her own bright smile, with unshed tears filling her gaze, appearing as she rushed towards you. Her slim arms wrapping around you in a tight embrace. The familiar floral scent of her perfume calming you.

You hadn’t been around when Pepper had seen Steve again. Hadn’t seen the colossal fallout that had occurred but you had definitely heard about it. Thor had been all too happy to tell you the tale of ‘Lady Potts decimating her star-spangled foe’. Something you were more than eager to hear.

Which is how Pepper had found the two of you. Laughing over Thor’s depiction of events. Her own agitation quickly falling away at your joy. And, while it didn’t last long, you were thankful to Thor for allowing it to appear all the same.

Returning to the United States, to New York City, was like stepping into a nightmare. At least while you were in Wakanda you could pretend that billions of people weren’t dead. That it hadn’t been something that affected half of the universe. Seeing the empty cars on the side of the road. The few people littering the street looking lost. Faces pale and emotionless as they shuffled aimlessly from place to place.

It was a sight that you would never forget. Yet another thing that you were going to have nightmares about.

The Compound wasn’t any better. Echoes of days long passed hitting you with full intensity as you made your way through the silent halls. The laughter that sounded so foreign to your ears now ghosting across your ears on a phantom breeze. Distant chattering that only seemed to fade the closer you got to it. Memories haunted the halls of the Compound. But nothing would ever be worse than the Tower. The place that you and Tony had built together. A great marvel that was forever placed within Manhattan's skyline. Knowing that he wouldn’t be there when you arrived caused you to stay away.

You didn’t think you would be able to handle those memories. Of lazy Sunday afternoons lounging around in pajamas while Pepper was taking various calls. Tony doing his best to make her break away from her no-nonsense CEO facade. Only succeeding once before Pepper shot him a withering look that held no heat behind it. The sound of his laughter bouncing off the hallways as he cheated at Mario Kart. Your own expletives joined in soon after as you were hit, once again, with a shell.

Knowing that the Compound did this to you; even though you rarely visited it. How could you possibly set foot in the Tower? The one place that had made you feel truly at home.

Drinking helped ease the pain. Helped quiet the memories that kept surfacing as you stayed in the Compound. You know that it wouldn’t be what Tony wanted. That he never wanted you to have the problems he had, but as the days passed. As the pain, the grief, continued to grow, you found it harder and harder to resist the amber liquid. Tony wasn’t there anymore. He wasn’t there to tell you a joke when you were feeling low. He wasn’t there to tell you that he loved you in his own special way.

He wasn’t there.

So you settled for the numbness and the sound of his voice in the distance. Always there in a dark corner but never obtainable.

Anything would be better than not having him with you.

On the second week of your stay in the Compound, the others appeared. The sound of the QuinJet only pulling your gaze towards the yard for a moment before you looked back down. You knew that they would be coming sooner or later. The world needed protectors. And they had just lost their greatest. The people of Earth needed to have someone to look towards.

It was only a matter of time before they called on them.

You didn’t even raise your gaze when you heard them enter. Their voices petering off when they noticed you sitting on one of the many couches with a StarkPad in hand.

“You didn’t think I would just let you stay here by yourselves, did you?”

Your question was only met by silence. You were hoping that they didn’t question you on how you knew. That they didn’t notice the dark shadows under your eyes from lack of sleep. Or the empty decanter on the glass table before you.

Steve was the one to respond. “We didn’t but I wasn’t aware it was going to be you, Y/N.”

Glancing up, you narrow your eyes. “Well, I’m the only Stark left so it shouldn’t be that much of a surprise, Rogers.”

You don’t wait for a response, suddenly finding it too hard to be in the same room as him, as you stand. Trying to ignore the way the room spun ever-so-slightly at the motion. Easily gathering your bearings as you made your way out of the room.

Trying to ignore the way an emerald green gaze watched you as you left.

You weren’t surprised when she found you-- annoyed maybe but not surprised. Sometimes you hated that she knew you so well. Hated that she could still read you like a children's book.

You didn’t bother to turn towards her as she stepped onto the terrace. Your gaze remains level with the horizon. Hoping, no matter how much it hurt, that you would see something. Anything. A single sign that Tony was coming back to you. That he was alive.

Feeling her warm presence settle beside you should have caused you to tense. Should have caused you to move away at the closeness. It should have caused you to do a lot of things but you don’t. You simply stay rooted to the spot as Natasha leveled her gaze towards the side of your face. Her keen green eyes took in everything that she could see.

You tried not to tense when her eyes flickered down towards your hands. Towards the glass that, by some miracle, hadn’t broken due to your tight grip. The amber liquid glowing softly underneath the moonlight.

She doesn’t say anything for a long while. Simply standing with you underneath the moonlit sky. The only sound passing between you being your breathing.

Until her husky voice finally breaks the silence. “He wouldn’t want you to do this to yourself, Y/N.”

You tense. “And how would you know what Tony wants Natalia?”

You didn’t have to be looking at her to see the wince that you caused. Your own heart feeling heavy at your acidic retort. But, unlike most people, she didn’t shy away from your anger. She didn’t even seem to be fazed by it.

“Because, despite what you may think, I still consider you and Tony my family. I know how much Tony loves you, Y/N. I know how much you love him.” She grows silent for a moment before she continues. Her tone much softer than it was before. “And I know how much I love you.”

Your eyes slip shut at the quiet admission. A painful lurch of your heart telling you what you had been trying to ignore for the last two years. That you love Natasha Romanoff. That you always would… no matter what.

“That’s not fair,” you whisper. Finally turning your gaze to meet hers. “You can’t just come back into my life after two years and say those things to me. You can’t just say you love me like it’s going to fix anything.”

Her eyes flash. Turning razor sharp before your eyes as she steps closer. “It could change everything, Y/N.” Emerald green implores you to listen to her. To actually hear and understand what she was trying to say. “I love you, Y/N Stark. You are the love of my life. You are the only love of my life. I hate myself for hurting you. For breaking us apart because I couldn’t see the bigger picture. You are the only woman that has ever made me feel cherished. The only person that has ever made me feel truly loved.”

You shake your head. “You left, Natasha.”

“Because you told me to,” Natasha cries. Her green gaze grew even brighter because of unshed tears. “Do you think I wouldn’t have stayed? That I wouldn’t have fought tooth and nail to keep you? That I wouldn’t have let this whole world burn if it meant I could be with you for one more moment? You told me to leave, Y/N. I had already broken enough that day. I wasn’t going to stay and break your heart even more.”

“And you think this time will be any different?” You ask with an incredulous frown pulling your brow down. “You think that I don’t have nightmares about my parents death? That I don’t see my mother being murdered while my father couldn’t do anything but watch? You think that I’m not haunted every single fucking day that the love of my life kept that from me. That you lied to my face about one of the single most important things in my life.” Moving away, after setting your glass down, you run a hand through your hair. Your mouth thinning into a line. “You don’t think I wanted you to stay too?”

At your admission, Natasha moves towards you. Her gaze desperate as she took your hand in hers. “This time I will, Y/N. I won’t let you go again. Doing so last time almost killed me. I promise that I won’t ever lie to you again.” She shakes her head as she takes another small step closer, her hand resting gently against your cheek. “I promise that I’ll love you the way you should be loved until our last dying breaths.”

Your eyes flutter shut at the touch. It had been too long since you had felt her. Felt the way her fingertips ran across your cheek. The simple elegance that she always exuded being interlaced with her love for you. But you couldn’t forget what had happened. Your heart lurching in your chest as you remember the sting of betrayal once more.

Pulling away from her, you take a few steps back and fold your arms over your chest. You needed to have distance between your bodies. You wouldn’t be able to think clearly if she was near.

“I need time to think, Natasha.” You finally say after a tense stare off. “I need to come to terms with a lot of things in my life.”

Nodding, Natasha takes a small step back. Even though it looked like everything in her body was telling her to move towards you. Her green gaze glowed with a gentle warmth. “I’ll wait for as long as you need, Y/N. I’ll be damned if I lose you again.” Turning away from you, Natasha pauses at the door. Her gaze meets yours once more with a small smile quirking her lips. “And, just so you know, I had nothing before I found this family. Before I found you.”

Then she was gone. Leaving only you and the echoing of her words behind.

Now…

You haven't truly spoken to Natasha since the exchange. She had kept true to her word about waiting for you. Her gaze always finds yours the moment you enter a room she was in. Always making it clear that you could approach her whenever you wished to. Though she never forced her presence onto you. Maintaining a respectable distance from you at all times. Not far enough for you to not know she was there but not close enough for you to feel crowded.

You had tried to come up with ways why you couldn’t let her back in. Her betrayal being the main factor but even you knew that it wasn’t valid any longer. Even Tony had told you to look past it. That Natasha was so head over heels for you that her reasons had been honorable. Severely misguided, maybe, but honorable.

Oh, Tony, if you were here I wouldn’t feel so lost. You would just tell me what to do. Give me your patented smirk and berate me about my head being up my ass. Lowering your gaze, you run a frazzled hand through your hair. If I get one sign that you’re alright I’ll give her one more chance. I’ll make it work because I know that this is what the universe wants. That you returning to me is a sign that I’m supposed to be with Natasha.

At your eternal declaration, you glance towards the sky. Hope fills your chest as you observe the moonlit sky. Only to quickly be crushed as the minutes ticked by and nothing happened. Your heart breaks even more in your chest at getting your hopes up.

Stepping back from the railing, you decide that it would be best if you headed in. Maybe drown your sorrows with a few glasses of whiskey before turning in for the night. Pressing your hand against the smooth glass of the door, you have to squint at the sudden light from behind you. Your eyes barely being able to focus through the brilliant blaze. Glancing behind you, your eyes widen at the sight of a spaceship being placed down onto the ground. Your breath catching in your throat as you leapt into action.

You didn’t even register your mad dash through the Compound. Didn’t notice the confused looks or the shouts of your name. Didn’t register the cold grass against your bare feet as you rushed across the lawn. All you could see was the spaceship.

All you could see was the hatch opening and two figures exiting.

All you could see was the exhausted face of your older brother. His dark brown eyes meet yours through the darkness. Relief flooding his expression as he hobbled towards you. Disconnecting from the blue arm that was keeping him steady.

All you could register was the feeling of having him in your arms again. Your nose pressing into his neck as you clung to him. Soft sobs rip from your throat as his calloused hands gently run through your hair.

“You’re alive.”

It was like a mantra that you brokenly repeated over and over again. Each time making it even more real that Tony was actually there with you. That he wasn’t gone. That you could still see, touch, and hear him.

His answering response never failed to bring more tears cascading down your cheeks. “I’m here.”

You could hear the others as they approached you. By the tensing of Tony in your arms you know that Rogers was at the front. Pulling back, you touch Tony’s face. A soft sob falling from your lips at how emaciated he looked.

Offering him a watery smile, your thumb gently rubbing against his cheek. “We’ll have to get some food for you. I don’t think the space diet suits you, Tones.”

He offers you a small smile in return. The familiar spark reigniting in his gaze before fading away. His next words came out in a dull whisper. “I lost the kid.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. Your own shock filled you as the devastation in Tony’s eyes became apparent. You had known for quite some time that Tony thought of Peter like a son. That Tony would do anything to keep him safe. You viewed Peter as a little brother you always wanted. A warm presence that filled your life with meaning once more. His childish antics brightening your day and bringing a smile to your face. Knowing that he was gone? That you would never hear his horrible jokes again? Or his anxious rambles? It broke your heart. For both losing Peter and for Tony having to witness it.

“I’m sorry, Tony.” You shake your head. “He was a good kid.”

“Yeah he was.”

Opening your mouth, you’re about to respond but a shrill cry breaks through. “Tony!”

Turning, you could see Pepper rushing towards you both. Her blue gaze locked with Tony as she ran. Without thinking twice you move aside as Pepper takes your spot. Moving away to give her and Tony some privacy. Or however much one could get in an open lawn.

Not realizing how close you were to the others, you flinch at the sudden presence at your side. Your gaze meeting Natasha’s. Her green gaze filled with warmth and happiness. A small smile quirking her lips as she observes the scene before her. Pepper’s strong hold on Tony not wavering in the slightest even as Rhodey appeared too. Both taking their turns in showering the genius with hugs.

Shifting, your hand gently brushes the back of Natasha’s. Her eyes shifted towards yours for a moment before returning front and center. Biting your lip, you deliberate on what to do. As Natasha had clearly just given you the sign that the ball was in your court. That however you reacted to this situation would be all up to you.

You could step away. Pretend like nothing had happened. That it had been a simple accident and nothing more.

Or you could take her hand and finally accept what your heart was screaming at you. What it had been trying to tell your stubborn mind for the last two years. That Natasha Romanoff was the love of your life and you were never going to find anyone like her. That despite all this tragedy you could learn how to be happy again because she was by your side.

I did promise the universe, you muse with amusement dancing across your mind. And I don’t like breaking promises.

So, without breaking eye contact with the scene in front of you, you take Natasha’s hand. Allowing a small smile to quirk your lips at the way she immediately interlaced her fingers with yours. Noticing the warm smile that was now curling her lips through your peripheral.

Squeezing her hand, your heart leapt in your chest at the answering squeeze in response. Your body singing with happiness at having Natasha returned to you.

Despite everything, despite all the hardships you would now have to face, you would be able to do so.

As long as you had Natasha by your side you could get through anything.

And nothing would ever change that.

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #black widow x reader #black widow #avengers imagine #natasha romanoff imagine #black widow imagine #avengers #infinity war #of a broken heart #avengers x reader #reader insert

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whumpy-writings · 3 years

Text

Fed and Watered

Masterlist

The story of 023, aka Henri, and Aldon continues. @thecyrulik asked if Henri's life was going to get better, so here is some comfort and fluff for poor Henri. This post is also dedicated to @whumpsy-daisy , 023's number 1 fan!

CW: Vampires, slavery, dehumanization, anxiety, starvation, disordered eating, mention of past physical and mental abuse, nudity (non-explicit/non-sexual), scars, (and fluff, I promise)

The last thing he remembered was Master telling him to breathe. Now the ground beneath him was soft.. No. Not the ground. A bed. Henri’s eyes flew open in a panic. Humans weren’t allowed on beds. He rolled to the side, falling off the bed and onto the wooden floor. Oof. He rubbed his sore nose, wincing. Henri looked around the room. It was large with dark wooden furniture giving it a sense of finery. The walls were lined with red tapestries which depicted various scenes from folklore.

Henri’s eyes stopped when they reached a small table. On the table was a bowl, and he could see the steam rising from it. Terror swept through him. Master had said it would be a couple days but apparently had changed his mind. Henri crawled over so he could clearly be seen from the door and knelt, heart pounding. Breathe, he told himself. In... out...in...out. His mind started to wander. This was his life, all he was was a meal for his betters. But sometimes… sometimes he still wished for more. He tried to push those thoughts away but they always came back, sneaking into the corners of his mind that weren’t completely dark. Thoughts of a life without fear. A life without pain. He jumped as the door opened, heart in his throat. Master stood in the doorway, his broad shoulders almost filling the entire frame. Master’s eyes fell on Henri, and Henri had to suppress the urge to flinch. A frown.

“You don’t need to do that here, Henri, you can stand up.” Henri rushed to get to his feet, a wave of dizziness hitting him. Next thing he knew, Master was next to him, grabbing his arm so he wouldn’t fall to the floor.

“Careful there.” Master glanced over to the table with the soup, a crease on his brow. “Why haven’t you eaten, Henri? You must be starving.” Henri looked from the soup to Master and back again, confused. He wasn’t allowed to eat yet. Henri tipped his head to the side, exposing his neck for Master.

“No, I don’t want that,” Master said quickly.

Henri let out a sob. He was so hungry, but he couldn’t eat yet. “Please Master, please I’m so hungry and I can’t eat until you have.”

…

Aldon froze, shocked. He had never heard of such a thing. “Was that your old Master’s rule?”

“Yes sir.” Aldon considered this, horror building in his stomach.

“How often did your Master feed?” he asked.

“Usually about three times a week, sir,” Henri replied quietly.

Aldon gaped. No wonder the human was so weak. Humans needed to eat at least once every day, much more often than vampires. Aldon took a deep breath, thinking of what to say.

“Here there is a different rule. I need you to be healthy, and eating three times a week is not going to accomplish that. You’re to eat everyday, whether or not it’s a feeding day. Anytime you’re hungry, let me know and I’ll get you some food.”

Henri looked at him in shock, big blue eyes huge. Then he started to cry. “Thank you for your kindness, Master.”

Aldon’s heart broke a little at being thanked for granting the bare minimum for survival. “Of course, Henri. Now why don’t you eat your soup? I’m going to go draw a bath for you.”

…

The soup was heavenly. It was warm, with potatoes and carrots and onions. There was a slice of bread too, which filled his mouth with yeasty deliciousness. Henri savored each bite. When he was done he leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. He was full. He hadn’t been full in… he didn’t even know how long.

...

Aldon felt the bath water. Not too hot, not too cold. He turned off the tap, drying his hands on the nearby towel. Time to get Henri. Aldon walked down the hall, gently rapping on the door before poking his head in. “The bath is all ready. Did you eat?”

Henri nodded vigorously, a ghost of a smile on his pale face. “Yes Master, Thank you Master.” He got out of the chair, hesitating for an instance. “Master…” he said, face going white, “I’m sorry for using the furniture without permission. Please forgive me.”

Aldon took a calming breath. Henri’s old master was certifiably, undeniably, an awful person. “No need to apologize Henri, you are allowed to use any of the furniture that you want.”

The relief was apparent on Henri’s face.“Thank you, Master.”

Aldon turned around hurriedly so Henri would not see the rage on his face. The ways some people treated their humans were just despicable.

“Come on Henri, let’s get you cleaned up.” Henri followed Aldon down the hall to the bathroom. It was small, with a white clawfoot tub and floors and walls covered in white ceramic tiles. This was one of the few houses in this part of the city that had the luxury of running water. Aldon turned back to Henri, only to find the man already undressed, pants on the floor. Aldon turned away immediately, cheeks burning.

“Is something the matter, Master?” Henri asked, voice filled with uncertainty and a tinge of fear

“No, I just was going to give you privacy to change. You’re allowed privacy here,” he quickly added.

“Oh,” a pause. “Thank you, Master,” Henri said quietly.

“You can climb in the tub now.” Aldon averted his eyes as Henri climbed in, then turned to the human sitting in the tub, bubbles up to his chest. “Would you like help bathing, or will you be able to do it on your own?” he asked carefully.

Henri considered this for a moment. “I would like a bit of help with my back and my hair, if you would be willing to. This hair is… a mess.” he said, gesturing to the greasy blond mop on his head.

“I can definitely help you with that.” Aldon knelt down next to the tub and picked up a cloth. He could hear Henri’s elevated breathing and could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest. “You’re okay Henri, how about we take a couple breaths?” Aldon led Henri through a couple rounds of deep breathing, until the human had calmed down.

“I’m sorry Master,” Henri said, staring down at the water, regret thick in his voice.

“Hey,” Aldon said, reaching out and taking Henri’s chin in his hand, gently making him look up at him. Henri’s blue eyes sparkled, threatening to spill tears. “I know this has been a big change for you. Anybody would be nervous in your place. I’m really proud of how well you’re doing.”

Henri blushed. “Thank you, Master.” he said.

“Of course, Henri,” Aldon said, picking up his cloth and dipping it in the water. He started to gently rub his back. Aldon pressed his lips together. Every single rib and vertebra was visible, creating deep ridges in the skin. Henri was covered in dirt and the water quickly starting to take on a brownish hue. Aldon paused when he glanced at Henri’s neck. There was a scar there, two actually. They were parallel to each other, running from the base of his skull all the way to the collarbone. Almost as if… someone had dragged their fangs down his neck. Aldon pursed his lips, fingers lingering on the scar. Henri froze, beneath his touch. “Henri, who did this to you?”

Henri didn’t respond for a second, and Aldon started to worry that maybe he shouldn’t have mentioned it. Then finally Henri said, “Mas… Old Master” A pause. “I… I tried to run away.” Aldon cocked an eyebrow at that. Henri continued in a rush. “I know I shouldn’t have, that I should have been grateful for his protection. I didn’t make it far. This,” his fingers went to the scars, lightly tracing them “was my punishment. He wanted to make sure I knew who I belonged to. I’ll never try to run away from you, Master. I’ve learned my lesson.”

Aldon couldn’t see Henri’s face, but he could hear the sadness in his voice. Anger bubbled to the surface. How dare someone do that to another creature? Aldon pushed his feelings down. He would deal with it later.

“Thank you for telling me that, Henri.” There was silence for a while, Aldon moving on to Henri’s hair. It was matted with dirt and grease, tangled into knots. Aldon worked his fingers into the knots, slowly loosening them. After a while of working, he noticed that Henri was much more relaxed, his breathing steady. He smiled to himself. “Well, I think I’m done. Can you rinse your hair for me?”

Henri nodded, ducking quickly under the water. When he came up he was smiling. “Thank you, Master. That was wonderful.”

Aldon gave a quick nod, not trusting his voice. He cleared his throat. “You can finish up, and then get changed. There are some clothes for you on the table.” Henri nodded. Aldon left the room, quietly shutting the door behind them. Then he leaned back against it, head tilted back, and smiled.

Tag list: @thecitythatdoesntsleep @whump-cravings @thecyrulik @neverthelass @michelleswhumpyreblogs @whumpsy-daisy

#aldon the vampire #henri the human #vampire caretaker #recovering whumpee #vampire whump #whumpblr #pet whump #comfort #fluff #vampires tw #slavery tw #dehumanization tw #scars tw #disordered eating tw #starvation tw #anxiety tw #physical abuse tw #mental abuse tw #nudity tw

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annie-mit-ie · 3 years

Text

Glimpses: Part 15 (Kathryn Hahn x Fem!Reader)

Part 1 // previous chapter <<< >>> next chapter

Summary: The Aftermath.

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: hello there! hope this makes up for all the drama I caused 😅 also, if the formatting is off: excuse me, this was written AND POSTED entirely on my phone. Have fun!!!

Tag List: @danvers97 @zafirosreverie @srtamercurio @wanatag @pulledbythestars17 @plantowl @spacehahn @sarahp-stan @agentbrownierso @our-blood-is-our-ink @fruityhahn

_____________________________________________________________________________

“NO! No no no no.” Kathryn paces up and down in her hotel room. “HOW DID THEY KNOW?”

Jennifer, who is sitting on the couch, computer in her hands, looks at Agnes, who is leaning against the wall. “I’m so sorry, Kathryn.”

“This is a disaster!” She looks devastated.

“Actually, it’s press and any press is good press. PLUS, Jeffrey is a good catch.” Jennifer scans another article.

Kathryn paces towards her, takes the computer out of her hands and sits down on the couch herself as Jennifer gets up to give her some space. Leaning back into the pillows, the actress looks like a mess. A grey tank top falls loosely of her shoulders and her unbrushed hair frames her face that is in painful distress. She puts the computer down on the tiny desk next to the couch and reads an article discussing if Jeffrey and her are Hollywood’s new favorite couple.

The article promises an update and as she clicks on the link provided, she looks at very private pictures taken of herself in her hotel room. Someone must have added the numbers up and figured out where she was staying to stalk and observe her through the window that she, stupidly, didn’t close right away last night. A short series of pictures shows her in front of the window, Jeffrey behind her. Him right in front of her as he leans in for a kiss. Another one of her getting undressed. Another one of him in just his underwear during a photo shoot for another project.

Stressed and in disbelief, she doesn’t even finish reading the captions and quickly sits up again to smack the device closed. Shaking her head, she stares at the floor.

“Kathryn? Are you okay?” Agnes asks cautiously.

——-

“Honey? Are you okay?” Alex asks as you continuously stare at your screen with empty eyes.

You continue staring. “Y/N! You worry me.”

Alex sits down again and places the phone next to her so you look like you are sitting righty with her on the couch. She has been trying to calm you down ever since she got up this morning. Right as she read the first article, she knew the situation was bad.

“Hey… it’ll all make sense in the end. She wouldn’t do that. You know that! You know the press!” Alex really tries and you appreciate it, yet, right now, it’s hard for you to show your gratitude.

“Hm…” you hum and nod with empty eyes.

Ever since you’ve read the article, you have been waiting for Kathryn to reach out. She must have seen it. Jennifer must have seen it. Maybe they all did and it’s the truth and that’s why no one is saying anything.

Alex looks at you again. “It’s probably rumors! You know how it works.” More than ever before, she wishes she could simply wrap you you up in a long and loving hug and make you feel better. Sometimes, it’s hard for her to believe that you’ve been friends for as long as you have and the actress you are bonding about had more physical contact with you than she did. What a story to tell.

“I know,” you say, but the pictures keep being projected inside your head, “but the pictures. These… the pictures! His hands, the hotel, her not talking to me. It all just adds up.”

Alex sighs. You do, too. You both sit in silence.

———-

Still staring at the floor, Kathryn tenses. “Oh my god.”

The other woman stare at her with raised eyebrows.

“Y/N!! I was thinking about the press and all and totally forgot.. she must have read it! OH GOD. She… she…”

“You should probably call her…” Agnes nods.

Jennifer shakes her head. “Not now. You’re way too emotional over all of this. We should organize the press first. Write a statement if you really want to. But really, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

Agnes turns around harshly and faces Jennifer with a stern look on her face. “Excuse me, can you please be her friend again for a minute?” she points at Kathryn, “does she look like it’s not that big of a deal?”

They both face Kathryn again, who has gotten up to get dressed. Without another word, she walks past her friends and employees and storms out of the door, on her way to discuss the matter with Jeffrey.

Meanwhile, Jennifer decides to take matters into her own hands, since Kathryn seems to be way too distressed to hold a serious conversation today. Rumors about her client being with someone aren’t exactly new, but pictures taken of private situations are unacceptable. Without consulting Kathryn again, she decides to publish the statement right away to help her friend.

——-

It’s been two days since the incident and Kathryn hasn’t contacted you yet. Heartbroken, you got updated on the story as her team released a statement declaring that Kathryn wants to keep her privacy and asks for the pictures to be removed off of the internet.

You wish she would’ve called you, or at least texted, but little did you know that she got into a fight with Jeffrey as his team called the pictures good press for him and decided to not do anything about it. Following that, Jennifer took Kathryn’s phone away so that the actress could fully concentrate on the project for the rest of the week of shooting. A rule written into the contract by Kathryn herself, as she is aware she gets carried away from time to time.

Right as she has her phone back, she runs for an empty space and tries to call you. It’s the early afternoon and you are in an online class as your phone starts ringing. Reading her name, your heart drops to the floor. All the stress adds up and gets combined with the anger you feel inside of you. You take the call.

Her face fills the screen and her eyes widen as she sees the state you are in. “Honey, I’m so sorry.”

There is a moment of silence. A moment of silence where a storm is raging inside you. “NO. No. You don’t get to be like that. You don’t get to break my heart and then come back apologizing, asking me to pretend nothing happened!” Kathryn’s mouths is slightly agape and her even widen even more. She listens. “I gave you my heart, Kathryn! My time. Do you really think I’m whoring around? Staying with older woman to play round just like that? Is that what you think I am? A toy?”

You are enraged and the words keep coming and you want to call her names and scream, hold onto her and look into her eyes. But you can’t. You can’t and that’s why your words are turning into a waterfall of emotions and you yell at her as she doesn’t have a chance to react in any way.

“I can’t believe myself,” you shake your head. “I offer myself to you and there you are. Going out and sleeping with a man. A MAN. Excuse me for not having a career. Excuse me for not having a six pack like your new friend does. What the fuck, Kathryn. What the actual fuck.”

Kathryn realizes you saw the pictures. Of course you did. She raises her hand to give you a signal that she wants to talk. Your mouth, ready to rant again, closes and you look at her.

She takes a breath. “It isn’t true.”

“It…. Isn’t?” You squint your eyes.

“It isn’t.”

————

2 days ago

————

“Come and spend the night with me.”

Kathryn swirls around. “WHAT?”

Before she can help herself, she finds herself pinned against a table that is close to the window. Jeffreys face is only inches away as he slowly starts to lean in.

“STOP.” She says and tries to lean back.

Obviously confused, Jeffrey looks at her. “I thought we had a great night. What’s the problem, sweetheart? Don’t you miss having with… other people?” He smiles.

Kathryn shakes her head. “I’m… I’m seeing someone, Jeffrey. I’m sorry if this came across wrong but tonight wasn’t a date.”

He distances himself from her, utter disbelief plastered across his face. “Oh no.”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a problem. I just… I can’t. You’re a great man, but, no.”

He is still putting space in between them, looking at her with worried eyes. “Kathryn, I would’ve never. I thought you were flirting. I thought you sent signs. God, I am sorry for coming this close to you.. I… I’m just gonna leave, alright? Okay! Good night, Kathryn.”

“JEFF!” She calls for him before he can close the door. “You’re a good looking man. I bet lots of woman would kill to be me right now, but please, ask. Don’t just assume. Yeah?”

He nods and with that he leaves her room. As the door falls into its lock, Kathryn undresses her blazer and shirt and remembers to close the curtains before stripping completely to hop into the shower.

—————-

“It isn’t…..” you repeat.

“No. And I would never do that to you.” She looks at you with sad eyes. “And I can’t believe you would think I do.”

You look at each other for a moment and the sad smile on her face breaks your heart once again.

“I would never….” She repeats, whispering quietly, but loud enough for you to notice. “I would never, because….”

She stops and looks up to lock eyes with you. You are both crying and your heartbeat skips a few beats and you think you might actually pass out any second.

“I would never because I am falling. For you. I would never because I think I am in love with you.”

#kathryn hahn #kathryn hahn x reader #kathryn hahn fan fiction #kathryn hahn x you #kathryn hahn fanfiction #glimpses #groupie #groupie au

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scara-meow-che · 3 years

Text

THE GODDESS' PRIDE

◞⁺ note :

welcome to first arc of my series "to all the boys" ! this is a bit of long and boring (?) for some as an introduction but i always love putting in details into my works so there's still plot in this upcoming all porn work ;) i will update the second part after i post some requests.

◞⁺ tags :

@kitakawass // @stardustt // send me an ask if you want to be tagged !

You always get what you want.

From the gold medals littering your room as a kid right up to the certificates and recognitions plastered on the fanciest paper sheet the academy has to offer and the gifts you so wished every year. You strive for the best you can so desire and achieve, grab a hold on to the reigning glory that satisfies the hunger within you.

There was the hunger for attention, to win the challenges life had given you, that throughout the struggles every human face, in the end, you’d prevail as victorious. And your life had nothing been but an assortment of your stories of triumph, your legends were filled with praise and worship. You thought it was enough to keep in this thirst, this greed slowly corrupting your mind but no, it grew worse.

You seek life’s new trials with a smile, searching new ways to earn dignity to anything that piques your interest.

You were insatiable, nothing had ever satisfied you the way it did from before. It was easy, so easy to please the people around you. It was easy to pass through the standards bestowed to you as a woman, the provocations for you to crumble under their power but no. They thought that you wouldn’t dare reach new heights as a young prodigy in the academe but you always proved them wrong.

The controlling proclivity you have harbored for yourself had always been there to help you through so you let people think that your existence in their lives was to please them but no.

You exist to please yourself, to have the damn right to choose what you want because of how much you worked hard for it. Yes, you worked hard to earn the right to take pride of your life as a human. Pride and greed, those two traits had always followed your name and no one can complain because that’s the beautiful flaw you grew to accept and flaunt to the cowards of this world.

And sometimes, things wouldn’t go in your way.

You clearly remember everything that had happened that day. Every time you’d find yourself dwell on the past had your mind flashing every image of their face, the agony that humans such as you can never escape from.

Death. It was bitter, too much for the sweetness you got so used to.

It was right after your 16th birthday, right after they brought you to watch the amazing swan lake in the theaters. The family you so love had nothing to do with the consequences being punished to you by the gods. You didn’t believe in them but that moment had you so.

“The only child of the L/n Family… How sad can this get?”

Tears you never once shed beyond all the hardships you’ve faced at a young age made its way to your eyes, cascading in hot puddles on your cheeks. You clenched your fists to hold back the screams your throat wants to let go, to stop the heavy tow of air flowing in and out your lungs, to keep in the pain your heart had seemed to suffer from.

You hated how the people around you acted as if you’re someone to take pity from, after all the spiteful words they said on your family when they were still alive. You wanted to curse them, from how they took advantage of you, getting all they can from what had remained from your loving mother and father. The anchor of your anger had drowned you in the seas of desperation and defiance—desperation to seek revenge on how they dare disrespect your late parents and defiance of how they commanded you to follow them, to bow down to them.

“The poor girl, the only one who managed to survive the crash.”

The vehemence of all the unsaid emotions roared inside your heart, you despised them, more than you can put it into words. But in reality, at the end of the day, you were most angry at yourself. You have let them exploit the very best attributes you have as a young child who still has a lot to learn in this world. The naivety and innocence, despite how intelligent you may be, had caused you this downfall.

And you never want that to happen ever again.

“I’m leaving.”

Those were the last words you’ve said after they sheltered you into that hellhole of a house. Those relatives of your never once treated you as their own, wasting all the money that was supposed to be yours but since they took advantage of their custody over you, it wouldn’t take much to explain where they used all that cash.

“Don’t look for me ever again.”

And you turned your back against them, closing the door, ignoring the constant screams of your name, and finally you felt free.

You felt like yourself once more.

That happened in your first year after reaching the 18th milestone in life. They swore to take good care of you until you graduate university but it seems like you can’t stand being too dependent on assholes. The money didn’t matter, you saved enough from the part time jobs you took when you were in high school. You planned everything out—from the dormitory fees, your daily needs, the miscellaneous expenses, everything was sorted out to your liking and the sense of liberation it gave you boosted your confidence.

You once had grasped the feeling you once had from the past, the fever dream from the blazing heart of this young prodigy.

Well, you have no choice but to cope, adapt, and reflect. You didn’t have enough time to spend in enjoying the glitz and glamour of this world. That can wait, you need to earn your degree first and that’s what you’re going to do.

The determination running rampant in your blood had helped you on days that had you breaking down. Of course, your body isn’t meant to easily adapt to the sudden changes you face. You’re bound to get tired but you always held on to your pride.

Pride.

The very pride they deemed to be worthless and vile, they very pride they thought that would get you nowhere but here you are now, on your third year in college as an Accountancy Major. It was tiring as hell but, as always, you get what you want.

You worked for it so you earned it.

You deserve every bit of recognition there is. In fact, people do remember this student who already made a reputation herself in the university and that’s you. No one ever dared to mess with you, even the opulent and spoilt kids sense fear when you were around. This was the respect you’ve gotten from how much you contributed to their lives.

As you always know, people are so easy to toy with, to control once you knew their weaknesses. It happened once in your life so you have the full knowledge on how nasty it felt. There were consequences to be faced and you are more than ready to face its wrath.

The goddess that is you, why would you crumble with just a silly mess up?

Pride, that’s what gets you going, the dopamine in your blood, the sugar in your life.

Then again, things would take an unexpected turn and you need to take matters on your hand.

You just got back from a very hectic shift from your part-time job when you saw the place you stayed in caught on fire. The smoldering flames had engulfed everything you owned and once more, you experienced the feeling of loss.

The university had somehow managed to grab a hold of their precious student and helped you for a month but that wasn’t enough to bring back everything. You were in dire need of a way to earn back what’s left as ashes. You can’t accept how much those people around you tried reaching out to the sharp ice covering your heart.

Pride doesn’t take pity as its foe.

“This is fucking great,” you muttered under your breath, lying down on the bed you were staying in for a couple of weeks now. “Since I can’t have more hours for my shift at Starbucks, I don’t think I can easily find a new place to crash into.”

“Why won’t you take the university’s dorm? It’s quite convenient if I must say.”

“And to actually share the bathrooms at 5 in the morning with perverts? I don’t think I’m ready for that bullshit.”

Ningguang sighs, sitting down beside your tired form. Her eyes don't sparkle the worry felt in her heart but she expresses her emotions through a frown that can outmatch the ones on your face. She’s been your friend since you were kids and she respected your unyielding resolve to live the life you have always told her about.

“With pride, one can overcome a lot of things. You told me those words when I was about to audition for the agency and look at where it got me.” She mutters while smiling down at you. There was a part of you that turned mellow at this moment and your best friend had caught a glimpse of the sign of weakness. “You helped me to be the model that I wanted to be so I want to help you as well. But I know you don’t want that so queen up, F/n.”

Those were enough to make you cry.

“Stop making this bitch so soft,” you mumbled before turning away from her cheeky gaze. Ningguang is literally the only one that you allow to see you break down like this but you can’t take in the look she’s giving you.

“Come be a model with me, you’ve always got the looks and it’s easy to teach you a lot of things.”

“Oh no, I don’t want that. I’d rather stay as a stiff and stressed rock than to be a walking mannequin.” She giggles at how you phrased her job, poking at your side which earned her a whimper from you.

“Yeah, slander my job all you want but I love it.”

“I don’t hate your job, I just hate how I’d be if I ever took part of what you do everyday. I’d choose serving coffee to assholes everyday than to show my walking skills to one. Hey! Tell me about that guy who you told me about last week.” That seemed to have gotten you in a lighter mood, focused on how Ningguang had chuckled at your enthusiasm.

“He’s just a fellow model of mine, nothing of the sorts. But he’s also an accountancy major like you.” You frowned when you didn’t get to have any source out of your best friend, huffing out a breath before she limps out beside you as well.

“And here I thought you’d finally date someone.”

“Says the one who only goes on one date and proceeds to ghost them the next.”

“But they just want to get inside my pants by the time we’re done eating at a shabby restaurant. They don’t even know how to kiss properly. And that’s if they get to meet me on a second date and it only happened three times!”

It was these types of moments that Ningguang sees the adorable but carefree human version of you. You were always high up among a lot of people but the F/n she’s seeing in you at this moment gives her reassurance that you can probably do a lot of things and achieve them.

“I have a suggestion. Why won’t you try selling foot pics?”

“No.”

“That was just a joke!” You two were just laughing the night away, spending each moment to catch up with one another.

“No, but seriously, selling your foot pics online gives you tons of easy cash.”

“And how do you even know that?”

“I just know.” You shoved her at the side with a scowl on your face. The beautiful white-haired woman turns to you with a stern look, trying to fight back the glare you gave her. “I am well-informed to things like this and I can literally help you with anything. Just say the word and I’ll tell you what I know.”

“As if I’d do it.”

“Oh, really? You’re no fun.” She pouted, huffing out a breath as she opened her phone and flashes you something right on your face. “That was how much I made from one foot pic and yet you’re still not up for the offer?”

You gasped to see that she earned a month of your pay at Starbucks.

“What?! How is that even possible?” You knew how the world works and seeing how beautiful your friend is, of course, she’d earn a lot with her looks.

“This is what I learned from your methods. You told me to take advantage of other’s weaknesses and somehow I learned how to use the desire of these men.” You were caught off guard, almost clapping at the revelation she just told you.

“Damn, I am proud of you.”

“Thank you. Now! I have a proposition to make.”

“Is this related to selling foot pics.”

“Um… Yes, but more than that but you can definitely earn more than I do every month.”

You don’t like where this is going. Your heart had skipped a beat when Ningguang showed you this one application on her phone, making you shake your head in disagreement.

“No, I will not take part in that. Never in a million years.”

“Listen to me first.” She sat up and placed both her arms on her hips, asserting dominance on the iron wall that’s you. You knew she wouldn’t suggest this if this wasn’t up your alley but—

“I personally know the guy and I think he’s up to your standards. So if he ever does something to you, I have your back. And, you told me how much you wanted to get laid before you start your OJT—OUCH!—stop poking me.”

“I don’t need to be a sugar baby, thank you very much.” You stood up, decided to walk out the room before she ever suggested something that would have your blood boiling more than it does at this moment.

“Oh, you’re really backing out on the challenge, huh?”

Provocation, it was an easy way to trigger the pride of a person. And since you’re so full of it, Ningguang knew where to hit hard enough to break the walls you built around yourself. You paused, taking in a deep breath before facing her once more.

“Oh, you’re really trying me huh?”

Best friends, yes, you two are best friends and know where to provoke the deepest set of insecurities and flaws that had you two grew strong as you are now.

“Yes, and you don’t have to do what a sugar baby would normally do. But he does need someone that can put up quite a show.” Ningguang always takes the blow of the fire you spit right at her and now, she’s going to give back the favor. “And I know you’re always up for appearances, the goddess that never once turned back on a challenge.”

“Oh, you’re on bestie. Show me who the guy is.”

“Gladly.” And Ningguang scrolls through her phone and tells you what she knew about the guy. “He once visited the agency and met my coworker for lunch. He’s quiet, an eye-candy that he was mistaken to be a model. He’s also young, like really young and yet he already owns a winery all on his own.”

And there you saw a handsome man that seemed to be in his early 20s, with scarlet-hued hair tied in a ponytail. His eyes were sharp and cold despite its fiery hues, showing an unimpressed expression on the person who took a picture of him.

“He takes pride in his work as well that had led one thing after another. He reminds me of you so I know you two would get along well.”

You scoffed and went to look out information about him and there only popped up a few from the search engine. The mystery that veiled the man had piqued your interest and the sparkles of curiosity that slowly invaded your eyes had the model grinned at your thirst for the thrill and challenge of life.

The Goddess’ Pride. It is the beautiful storm that waltzes in the lives of those who dare challenge her. She who had never once knelt down on those who opposed her prowess had been left to watch in awe, letting her reign in this world. Itis both alluring and destructive but what would happen if she ever meets the god that can sway along the tempest in her heart?

Will she lose her throne or she’d finally have someone to rule along with her?

#diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact smut #genshin impact x reader smut #diluc smut #diluc ragnvindr smut #diluc ragnvindr x reader smut #i don't know how to tag this help </3 #💋.after-class

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