#and i can understand certain pairings that are ''they never met due to circumstance but if they did they would have SO MUCH chemistry!''

[calware]

there is some law of the universe that dictates that homestuck fans will eternally scramble to try and find a random male character to be a boyfriend for dirk that isn't jake, because god forbid dirk doesn't have a boyfriend

[hoseokslefteyebrow]

In which you meet for the first time.

Arranged marriage au.

In which the first years find out you're engaged, and to whom.

An arranged marriage.

You're stunned. But annoyed all the same. 

You're surprised too, even though you know that it's odd and useless to feel that way.

As a member of the L/N clan, you of course would've been forced to be married off sooner or later.

Thankfully, the actual marriage won't happen until years later, when you're grown up, an actual adult.

You're only 13 now.

You can't help the scowl on your face as you enter the room your supposed future 'fiance' is in.

Your eyes are quick to connect with a beautiful pair of purple eyes.

You have to admit, he's cute. If you would have seen him across your school, you might've been interested in him. 

You'd never dare to make a move on him though, not if you had been in the same school or would have seen him elsewhere. And especially not with these circumstances

Currently, the grudge you hold against him due to this arranged marriage is clouding your judgment. You dislike him even when he hasn't spoken a word to you just yet.

Your eyes stray to the symbols on the side of his mouth. Ah right, his family's technique was cursed speech. Powerful, admittedly. You have a vague idea of how it works, but you can't help but wonder if it affects casual speech too.

" L/N Y/N." 

Your introduction is basic.

The boy across from you blushes.

He looks sweet. You shake the thought off.

" Inumaki Toge."

You nod. An awkward silence overtakes the two of you for a few moments.

You don't know what to say.

Your mother had all but shoved you in this room, without further directions or whatsoever.

You awkwardly sit down on the couch in the sitting room, your hands tapping your thighs nervously for a moment.

" Kelp."

You blink as he sits down on a chair across from you, a small coffee table between the two of you.

" What?" 

What was that supposed to mean?

He frowns, searching his pockets before pulling out his phone and typing away.

Great. So he's ignoring you now.

" So, uhm, what's your opinion on our situation-"

You pause as he turns the phone to you.

' Sorry, due to my cursed speech technique I can only talk in Onigiri ingredients to avoid accidentally cursing those around me.'

" Oh." 

You exclaim softly, understanding him better now.

He turns the phone back to himself, typing away again.

" I don't know how to feel about our situation yet. I always knew I have a chance of ending up in an arranged marriage due to my hereditary technique. I understand if you feel different though. I hoped we could see how things go. We can always fight it if either of us dislike it. I won't force you into marriage with me.'

Your eyes widen at his consideration. This was not what you had expected at all.

The only other person you've met who has a hereditary technique is Naoya Zen'In, and you hate that guy with a passion.

You blush softly at Toge's words, smiling as you nod in agreement.

" I have to admit that I thought more negatively about the situation. But you seem nice. Maybe we should see how things go."

Toge blushes slightly as well, smiling softly as he nods.

It was an uncomfortable, odd situation for the both of you. You're only thirteen, and yet both of your parents have already decided that your lives are to be spent with one another.

He takes his phone back, and for a moment, the two of you are silent again.

" Uhm... What's your favorite onigiri ingredient?"

He smiles at you.

" Tuna Mayo."

Before you even realize it, the two of you are talking, (well, mostly you. He's mostly typing, or answering in Onigiri ingredients when it's a yes or no question), getting to know one another.

At the end of the day, you are nowhere near certain about eventually being married to him, yet you have to admit that you enjoyed spending time with him.

And that you looked forward to the next time you're seeing each other again.

[ A/N: Decided to do a small drabble collection of their marriage in little scenarios. Just for the heck of it. Requests about this specific trope are welcome (no guarantee that I'll accept though) ]

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Age Of Consent [part nine]

Summary: Dustin’s older sister thinks Eddie Munson could be a bad influence on her younger brother due to their history. Can he change her mind?

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Henderson!Reader

Word Count: 1,708

What you’ll find in this series: big angst, wholesome fluff, sexual content, drug use, tobacco use, alcohol use, and a lot of profanity. This is a slow burn- buckle up, buttercup.

A/N: Internal screaming for y'all to read this one.

Read Part Eight

It had been three weeks.

For the most part, your life had seemingly fallen back into place.

One of the girls from work was on maternity leave, so you were picking up all of her shifts to make some extra cash and keep yourself busy. It had helped somewhat in keeping Eddie off of your mind. It took Dustin a few days, but he eventually got the memo that under no circumstance did you even want to hear the name Eddie Munson ever again.

You had been hanging out with Robin and Steve more often, which was nice. The best part was that, with them, you didn't even need to remind them to not ask about it- they just knew. Despite the fact that you weren't big on having company other than yourself, you really had begun looking forward to movie night with them, and sometimes after work you would all grab pizza from Antonio's.

"Y/N!" You heard your boss call from behind the counter. "Phone call on line one!"

You furrowed your brows and sat down your price gun before heading over to the cash registers.

"Hello?" You asked, answering the phone.

"Do you think you could give me and Mike a ride home tonight?"

"Dustin," you replied flatly. It was Thursday, the typical day for a certain after-school activity. "I know what you're doing, I'm not stupid."

"I'm not doing anything, Y/N," he replied. "Mom has bingo tonight, Mr. and Mrs. Wheeler are taking Holly to the movies, we asked Steve but he's working, and Nancy said no. We've asked everyone, come on, please!"

"Okay, I'll come and pick you dweebs up. But, listen to me very clearly, Dustin, I don't care what your precious little Dungeon Master says, you are in my car by 8:00 PM or I will dethrone him, do you understand me?"

"Yep, totally understand, thanks sis!"

You heard the phone click and rolled your eyes before placing the phone back on the hook. You sighed, knowing that you should just make them walk or bike home, but it was cold and it had been raining all day. Your mother would never forgive you if precious Dustin got sick because you forced him to find his own way home in the rain.

By the time you got home, your mother was already gone to bingo. There was a note on the refrigerator reminding you that there were leftovers and that she would be home by 9:00. You pulled the cold dish of lasagna out of the fridge and cut yourself a small piece before placing it into the microwave. It was only a few minutes past 5:00, which meant you had a few hours to kill.

Around 8:00, you went ahead and left for the school, just in case the club had conceded earlier than normal- you didn't want to leave those little shits out in the rain without a ride. Parked under a street lamp in the parking lot of Hawkins High, you waited, getting through a few chapters of your novel.

When the clock hit nine, you closed your book and tossed it up on the dashboard. You craned your neck to look over at the double doors, fingers impatiently tapping on the steering wheel as you did not see any nerdy kids exiting the building.

"Five more minutes," you whispered to yourself wanting to be fair.

But five minutes came and went, then ten, then twenty.

You threw open the car door and slammed it shut behind you; annoyed, pissed, and ready to cause a fucking scene. You rounded the corners of the hallways, damp shoes squeaking with each step you took towards that God-forsaken classroom.

"Alright you fuckin' losers, let's go." You came through the door only to be met with silence. The room was empty, save for Eddie who was sitting on top of the table where he usually had the game set up. "Where's Dustin and Mike?"

"They got a ride with Lucas after school," he replied as he slid off of the table. You scoffed. Another set-up. "Look, can we please- just talk to me, hear me out."

"I don't want to talk to you, Eddie." You inhaled a sharp breath and exhaled slow. "I want to get over you."

"I was studying," was his reply.

"What?"

"I was studying," he repeated. "That day in the woods with Kelly. I was out there studying to get some peace and quiet. And yes, she wanted some pot for a party she was having, but I stopped bringing it with me." He was closing the gap between you. "I'm doing everything that I can to get out of here so that you and I-" he took your hands and placed them on his chest. "All I care about is being with you and not fucking it up again."

"Eddie," you said sternly as you pulled your hands back. "I don't care what you were doing. I knew this was a bad idea and I'm done playing this game. I just want to move on from this, okay?"

You turned and began to head out of the classroom but Eddie's voice stopped you. "But you can't move on, can you?"

No. Fuck.

You didn't answer, just stood there for a moment with your back to him before you had the courage to take a step out of the classroom. You didn't turn back to look at him, didn't say anything else, just left. Once again. Just like the first time you had seen him again after two years. And just like then, you should have never been here. If you had only listened to yourself the first time.

It was starting to rain again when you got to the parking lot. It wasn't pouring, but it was drizzling and your breath could be seen in the air. It was dark, the two dim street lamps didn't provide much light as you hurried to your car to not catch pneumonia.

"Hey!" You heard from behind you, the doors to the school slamming open. You stopped, just then reaching your car, and turned around, ready for another argument. "You know, the last few times that we were in this situation I just let you walk away, and last time I stood there in that fucking room and I told myself that I should go after you, and I didn't. I tell myself every time and every time I end up regretting it."

"Eddie, what are you-"

"I knew you were going to try-" He pointed a finger in your direction as he continued to stomp towards you. "I knew you were going to try and walk away. And why? It's because you expect me to just let you, isn't it?" He was closing in quickly and before you realized what was happening he was standing directly in front of you- hands on either side of your face. "Yeah, that's not happening this time."

He kissed you with all of the regrets that he had been holding in for two years. You could feel his heart like a hammer in his chest as he pulled you into him. Your lips and tongue moved in tandem, dancing with a partner they could never forget. No matter how hard you tried, there was no escaping that you loved him. You had always been in love with him.

Breathless, you pulled away; looking up at him with his doe eyes- hair damp from the drizzling rain, the water droplets illuminated in the light like a goddamn halo.

"I didn't come after you at graduation because I didn't deserve you," he said quietly. You went to speak but he continued. "No, I know I didn't. It's a goddamn fact. I was selfish. I pushed you away. But now? Fuck, if I wouldn't do anything for you. I mean, you say 'jump', and I'm- I'm nosediving off that goddamn cliff."

"And I meant what I said about counting the fucking days- every day- for two years. You were burned in my goddamn head. Everywhere I looked, you were there; sitting in the library, the hallway between classes, waiting for me at the picnic table outside of the fucking trailer." He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh. "But you weren't there, you were just-" he tapped the side of his head. "In here."

"Now you- you gave me a chance to show you that I was different- that I wasn't the same, stupid kid." He said. "And I know I succeeded. You want to know how I know?" You raised an eyebrow. "Because you ran. You ran, and you did it because you're scared. You're so fucking scared of love. Well, guess what, sweetheart? So is everyone else! I'm standing here, scared shitless and still confessing my fucking love for you like some goddamn idiot."

"Eddie?"

"Yeah?" He said as he geared up for the disappointment.

"You're right."

"I'm sorry, what?"

"You're right," you said once again a little louder this time. "I love you."

"Hold on," a smile crept to his lips as he cupped his hand behind his ear. "Can you say that one more time, I'm hard of hearing- all those years playing in a metal band, you know." He joked.

"Eddie Munson," you announced loudly. "You are right and I fucking love you!"

"Oh, I knew that!" He was grinning ear to ear. "Did you guys know that?" He jokingly looked around at the empty parking lot. "Everyone knew that, babe."

You gave him a light shove, but he pulled you back into him just as quick; his lips enveloping yours once more.

"Just say it one more time," He asked softly.

"I love you."

"Oh," his lips mumbled against yours. "I don't mean to keep bringing up the past, but I'm pretty sure the last time I saw you, you said you were coming to visit your boyfriend for lunch." His smile was uncontainable.

"Yes," you rolled your eyes. "That is what I said, please don't make me regret it."

"Not a chance in the world, sweetheart." He replied with a sweet kiss. "You're mine for good now."

Tags (closed):

@fangirling-4-ever, @nojamsonmytoast, @munson-burner, @slvdsjjk, @kiszkawagnerwhore, @bitterplacebrokendreamsmaegan, @katxn15, @itswormtrain, @itsallnonsens3, @aashy723, @buginktsworld, @in-this-minute, @peachyxholic, @colbychu, @bilbobag9ins, @cat-mak20, @bumpbeaded, @liv4193, @thisisntmyrightera, @chloepart03, @creativedogs, @simp4fictional, @serrendiipty, @equuleus86, @morganasimp26, @evewithluv, @1980shorrorfillm, @you-makeme-crazier, @icareabouteverythxng, @cyberneticfallout, @eddiemattress, @bethii1, @immybx, @sortafictional, @bbyharlow, @persona-lreference, @michaelfuckinglangdon, @cvmtitss, @1800-fight-me, @brain-of-nekoma, @eddiesgoodgirl, @eddie-swhore, @16bruises

[parkjimin1010smuts]

Breaking Point || Kth

Summary: Taehyung reveals just how he deals with his stress to his best friend y/n and late one night y/n reaches her breaking point and decides to put Taehyungs tactic to the test, but there is a slight problem she has no one to help her out, or does she?

Warnings: daddy kink, overstimulation, thigh riding, virgin reader, multiple orgasms, fingerings, unprotected sex (yalls stay safe out there though this is just a fanfic), dom tae, sub reader, pwp. Enjoy!!

An elbow nudging into the side of your ribcage pulled you back into the conscious realm. A slight gasp leaves your mouth as you jerked your head back up. Now who the hell thought it was the perfect moment to need your attention.

You gathered your surroundings haphazardly, a subtle frown settling upon your face as you realized just who it was, Kim Taehyung. “Morning princess, I almost thought you’d never wake up,” his velvety voice mocked.

Turning towards Taehyung, the frown on your face only deepened, a small sound of annoyance escaping you. With your eyes now in his direction you unintendedly began to check him out. The cluster of blonde hair that was normally nestled peacefully was a disheveled mess exposing his forehead. His plump cheeks were pushed up due to the goofy grin he had plastered on his face nearly concealing his chocolate brown eyes that were now mere crescent moons. I had to admit he had a very attractive smile, reminiscent of a box.

His body was clad in a pair of black slacks that clung beautifully against his muscular thighs leaving very little to the imagination. His caramel chest peeked at me from the confines of the loose summer shirt he wore. I was brought back to reality when the view of his chest was suddenly obscured by the change in his position as he was now bent over packing his things. Releasing I heavy sigh I began to mirror his actions before throwing my bag over my shoulder and making a beeline straight to the double doors. In true Taehyung fashion he was right on my tail, trailing me like the faithful guard dog he pretends to be.

You and Taehyung  have been best friends now for over 15 years, you both met in the early years of preschool and by the grace of the angels above you have not been separated ever since. Through thick and thin, trials and tribulations, Taehyung has been there every step of the way. Everything you have experienced so has he, that’s how close you two are and, in all honesty, you wouldn’t have it any other way with any other person. 

This closeness however was more often than not met with questioning glances and needless two cent comments, most of them romance related. But Taehyung was always so quick to shut them down with a little more fervor and enthusiasm than you would deem necessary.  It was clear to you that Taehyung simply had no interest in you romantically, and you understood. Who cared if you had a tini, tiny crush on him. Not you that’s for sure.

But I mean it was inevitable, the man who was now glued to you side in a steady march that matched your own was a literal god send. He was loyal, attractive and physically in shape. What more was there to ask for.

“What’s up with you lately, every time I see you you’re either lethargic or in one hell of a mood.” My best friend voiced before abruptly coming to a halt in front of his black pick up.

“Nothing I’ve just been up studying for finals and the stress Is finally getting to me I guess,” you say through clenched teeth. You really do feel like you're reaching your breaking point and seeing how well put together Taehyung just riles you up even further. Its really not fair, we are in the same course, the same exams, the same workloads and yet there he is basking in his ethereal beauty, fair skin with no signs of exertion. While you on the other hand are left to wallow in the deep dark bags that have taken residence beneath your forever dropping eyes. Don’t even get me started on the acne that picks the absolutely best moments to choose your face as their next canvas, please note the sarcasm.

Allowing your curiosity to surface you voice the question that has been eating at you for quite some time now, “How do you do it?” Taehyung shots a quick glance your way before reverting his attention back to the bustling road before us but the slight dip of his eyebrows was enough for you to know he wants you to elaborate.

With a deep breath you laid everything that had been forming a cluster in your mind out on the table for Taehyung to digest. When you was through with your mini rant session an eerie silence danced between you two for a good minute before Taehyung finally released a hearty chuckle. With his head thrown back and eyes closed from the intensity of his smile he was unable to see the way your face twisted in confusion.

“You think I’m ethereal?” Of course, that was the only thing his pea sized brain was able to pick. Suppressing all the swear words you had an indescribable urge to throw his way you simply rolled your eyes while sinking further into the leather car seat.

“I release my stress through other things.” He finally said after calming himself.

“Other things,” you said with a raise of my eyebrow. 

“Yeah, other things, or more specifically sex.” your eyes grow tenfold as you choke on your saliva. Sex?! Should this really have been a surprise to you, I mean he’s young healthy and oh just look at him.

However it still does nothing to subside the slight blush you feel creeping up your neck as you avert your eyes to your lap. While he was indeed your best friend and things not discussed between the two of you were few and far between, one thing he never seemed to ask you about was your sex life. Not that there was much to ask about in the first place. You were a virgin, not entirely from lack of trying but still a virgin none the less.

“Oh,” that was the only logical response your mind could muster given the circumstances.

“Oh,” Taehyung retorted as he maneuvered the car to rest in his driveway. Choosing to remain silent you purse your lips into a thin line, you refuse to falter, even when he turns his body to allow his eyes to have unlimited access to scrutinize you with their chocolate depths. The car suddenly feels so hot or maybe that’s just your face which is now beet red.

“What’s with your reaction y/n,” Taehyung presses fully failing to read the room, or car in this situation.

You have never had any problems confiding in Taehyung but for some reason you feel embarrassed to mention that you're still in fact a 23 year old virgin, especially after he just shared details of his very thriving sex life.

The silence drags on for a good three minutes and knowing your best friend you know there is no way he will ever give in and so you cave. “I’m a virgin, okay. There, are you happy now,” you hastily say with an exasperated sigh. Choosing to save yourself from the snarky remarks you know are about to flow like a river from your best friend you hurriedly make your way out of the confines of his car. You mentally curse the universe as you see we are in fact parked outside his apartment complex and any thoughts you had of fleeing the scene are disintegrated in mere seconds. As if adding fuel to the flame the sound of the car door sounds as Taehyung makes his way out of his car and round to my side.

“Please save it, I’m really not in the mood for your bullshit right now,” you cut him off before he can even part his lips. “Hey what’s wrong with you. Did you seriously think I would judge you just because you chose to keep it locked up.” you simply avert your gaze as his words settled in your head.

“Hey look at me, your virginity is nothing to be ashamed of okay, I’m sorry if I made you feel that way, but you know me better than that. You know I would never shame you for anything so insignificant.” The tone of his voice was calm and collected and shame suddenly washed over you from the way you had jumped the gun. You never realised how your reaction could have been perceived, Taehyung was always so understanding and here you were assuming only the worst of him.

Deciding not to push the conversation any further you simply lowered your head in embarrassment before heaving a sigh. You've been doing that a lot lately. Being the attentive best friend that he is Taehyung was quick to pick up on my signals and thankfully refrained from pushing the topic any further. A silence soon settled between us before Taehyung laced his fingers around your own before leading you back to his car.

“I’m gonna take you home and you just get some rest okay,” The soft nature of his voice just made you feel worse while simultaneously lifting your mood.

~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•~☆~•~•

Yet again a frown had found its way onto your face as you stared at the clock that ticked away on your bedside table. It was just past 2am and yet the lights in your room were still on casting shadows over the immense paperwork clustered all over your bedsheets. Yet another sleepless night with your only companion being a cup of coffee made with  three sugars and a gallon of stress.

Grabbing the cup of steaming goodness you throw your head back as you allow the bitter taste to maneuverer its way into your body with hopes of getting your systems back on high alert. You put down the coffee with a soft clang so it’s now adjacent to the ticking demon that serves as a constant reminder of how shit you have it right now.

Fighting the urge to scream you plunge face first into your numerous worksheets. This was it, you had finally reached your breaking point, the tears that stung the corners of your eyes served as confirmation.

Just as you were about to succumb to the severity of it all and just allow yourself to scream and cry to your hearts content a certain blonde haired box smiled adorning goof crossed your mind. Or more specifically a certain conversation shared between the two of you.

Sex.

You felt tingly sensations dance through your veins as the solution to all your problems was now just in front of you. However this feeling of euphoria was only short lived as not long after you realised there wasn’t a single person you could ask for help. Well there was that one guy you met during spring break, but your relationship came to a rocky end as he bumped heads with Taehyung over your relationship with him. He had accused you of slutting around with Taehyung and the man in question did not take lightly to his words. Lets just say his name is most definitely off the table, and so is my relief plan seeing as he is your only ex. Pathetic I know, no need to remind me.

You run your fingers across your laptop giving it a contemplative tap, while trying your hardest to push the most obvious solution to your problem to the back of your head. There was no way you could call him. Seriously, there was no plausible or conceivable scenario in which you went to your best friend, pleading for him to lend you his body to get off. You brought your hands to your face, a shriek of embarrassment escaping you at the mere idea.

This was the guy who had seen you at your worst, stumbling into your apartment with puke all over yourself when you were going through your hard liquor phase freshman year of college. There's no way he'd be interested in having sex with the girl he spent many nights holding her hair back as she hurled into her toilet.

No.

You couldn’t ask Taehyung to partake in such an activity with you. Absolutely not.

No way.

~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡~¤~¤~♡

The creaking of your apartment door sent you five feet into the air as the reality of the situation sinfully settled in your brain and the nerves were finally kicking in.

“Taehyung,” you whirled around to face him as his gaze zeroed in as you  shifted your body from one foot to the other, a tendency you displayed whenever nervous. You couldn't fight down the heat that was creeping up your neck as he stepped into your apartment, eyeing you cautiously as he slipped off his shoes.

“Hey is anything wrong, you sounded really anxious on the phone.”

“What, me, I’m perfectly fine!” You responded forcibly, the enthusiasm in your voice misplaced, given the nature of the conversation.

Taehyung simply nodded back at you, not noticing the awkward timber of your words or otherwise not minding. "Well if nothings wrong why'd you call me over to your place at 2am?" He inquired, like the wonderfully kind best friend he was. You pressed your lips together.

"About that, do you remember how you said you use sex as an outlet for your stress in order to maintain a level head, well would you mind having sex with me as I’m a pathetic excuse of a human who has no one else to turn to for my sexual needs." Oh god, there was no way you could ask that. Taehyung was your best friend, and that would be too unbearably awkward. What the hell were you thinking?

“Well i wanted to watch the conjuring 3 again and I remembered that you hadn’t watched it yet so what better time than now?” You swallowed uneasily, a gesture that unfortunately didn’t go unnoticed by your best friend. Your eyes nearly fell out of your head as the man of the hour suddenly took a step towards you, his eyes unmoving on your face.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" His tone was suddenly low and severe, eyes running all over your burning face as he searched for any physical ailment. There was something off about you, he realized. He wasn't sure what it was, but he could make out how your form was trembling, your eyes wide in panic.

“Do you want to have sex with me.” You reflexively shut your eyes as you allowed the weight if your words to hang heavy between the two of you it's only competitor being the unbearable silence that lingered in the air not long after. You could hear every inhale and exhale of the tall man that stood opposite you. Every passing second of silence made you regret your words and just as you were about to play it all of as a joke and retract your prior request a pair of soft lips pressed gently against your own stopping you right in your tracks.

Just as suddenly as it happened it came to an end. You could feel something stirring in your chest , the feeling of his lips on yours lingered, radiating heat like an old burn. You turned towards him and the look in his eyes nearly knocked the breath out of you, there was a dark sheen to them, one you had never seen. It was intimidating and attractive all the same, the fire in your belly igniting like never before. Before you could even think to stop yourself, you grabbed the collars of his shirt and pulled him down to you before taking his lips with your own.

In no time at all the kiss got heated as tongue and teeth were thrown into the mix. You feel his tongue explore the darkest depths of your  mouth as you fight back the need for air. His tongue reluctantly leaves your mouth all before licking a stripe across my bottom lip before his teeth bite down on it, hard but not enough to draw blood. You let out a whimper as his teeth finally released your lip.

There was a shift in the room, Taehyung could sense it. He knew exactly what you wanted and fuck if he didn't want the same thing. His entire body was on edge, he could hear every heavy exhale you pushed past your parted lips. "You're a virgin." The whine that came from you in response was low. "I don't want this to be something you regret in the morning.  I can't promise I'll be gentle." He licked his lips.

"Please, I just… just this once," Your words were soft and pleading, the sound of your thighs pressing together in search of relief filling Taehyungs ears. "I need you." He could see your hard nipples pressing against the thin material of your white shirt. They were distracting him, and thoughts of his hands cupping your breasts over your shirts, rubbing your cloth-covered nipple between his fingers, corrupted his mind. How easy it could've been for him to cave right then and there.

Your voice was small and dripping in submission. He felt like he was suffocating in the small space you called your living room. Fuck. He felt himself stiffen in his shorts. You were breathing heavily now, hands trembling as you fought the urge to throw yourself against Taehyung and bury your face into his neck. The mere thought of his skin against yours caused your whole body to shudder in want. When did you become like this. Your thoughts and actions almost made you seem unrecognisable but with the heat of the moment you couldn’t careless. You wanted this and how you wished Taehyung would stop being the gentleman he was and just fuck you already.

Taehyung was already heading towards you as he heeded his last warning, "Do you understand? I need to hear your answer."

“Oh god Taehyung just fuck me already!”  you hurriedly said followed by a deep exhale.

Without wasting another second Taehyung plopped himself onto your mustard couch before pulling you onto him. The sudden movement caused you to straddle one of his meaty thighs which had you quivering as your pussy throbbed from the sudden stimulation.  When you finally got comfortable you pulled the shirt over your head quickly, hands coming to fondle your own breasts, desperate for any skin contact.

You let out a cry as Taehyungs palms found the skin of your hips, urging you to grind against his thigh. You whined rocking back against his thigh. “Mm please Tae, I need your cock,” your own words surprised you.

"Hmm? You seem to be doing just fine without me, though." He cocked his head at you, hand coming up to smack the side of your thigh. A sharp moan fell from you, fingers tugging at your nipple as your hips sped up. Then, to your sweet relief, Taehyungs mouth found one of your breasts, taking no hesitation in pulling the hard bud into his mouth. You threw an arm over his shoulder, fingers floundering as they attempted to find anchorage on his sweat-soaked skin. Your other hand reached out to touch his abdomen, preening as his muscles flexed beneath your fingers.

He pulled away from your breast with a loud pop sound. Smirking up at you as your eyes began to flutter shut, he watched in amusement as your orgasm caught up with you quickly, a result of your heightened sensitivity and inexperience. He would have to teach you later how to refrain from Cumming so quickly.

"Fuck, oh god Taehyung" You cried into his shoulder, body jerking as you came unravelled. Taehyung couldn't help but let out a whine of his own, palming over his crotch as he watched you ride out your orgasm. Although he would never admit it the way his name fell from your lips like honey had his cock twitching in his now too tight jeans. " Taehyung, please." You panted once you had caught your breath, bringing your face up to his. “Fuck me" you managed to pant out without breaking eye contact. Thus lead to Taehyung  unconsciously letting out a groan.

"Is that what my pretty girl wants? Want daddy to fill you up, sweetheart?" The intimate pet name escaping him before he could think otherwise. It should have been no surprise to you that Taehyung had a daddy kink. Nonetheless you could feel a new wave of wetness staining his jeans from the pet name, from daddy, right down to the way his thigh was still flexing underneath your heat. It was all too much, you could feel your senses going into over drive.

"Yes daddy, fuck. Fuck me deep and hard until I'm stuffed with your cum.” You breathed into his neck. Taehyung was going to fucking explode. Every damn word you spoke went straight to his groin, his painfully hard cock straining against his Jean’s fabric. And with that in mind, he flipped you over, pushing your legs up into your chest so that he could see your clenched cunt fully exposed for him.

“You don't have any idea what you fucking do to me, do you? I'm so fucking hard for you, and I haven't even felt that lovely pussy of yours." He growled, his fingers coming down to circle your entrance. You didn't even have time to contemplate a response before his fingers rolled over your sensitive bud. His fingers felt so different to yours – your jaw slack as a silent sob fell out, his light but quick motions sending your back arching. Wrapping a hand against his wrist, you groaned, the feeling nearly overwhelming but still too good to pull him away.

Taehyung cursed as your hand came down to rub against the his cock still retrained by his jeans, the small action just gentle enough to have his hips jerking into you. He felt painfully hard and he feared if you didn’t stop he would bust a load right in his pants. His skilful hands were soon lost to his belt as he hurriedly worked to get rid of the only clothing left separating your bodies. "Gonna make a mess of this wet little pussy, okay? Let me know if you want me to stop." Were Taehyungs final words as he pressed himself inside you, hand reaching over to take yours into his.

A cry left you, eyebrows furrowing together as your head fell back, leaving Taehyung breathing heavily through his nose, jaw tense as he fought back a growl. The urge to sink his teeth into your sweat glistened neck was too much to resist and so he bent down and began showering hickeys over the canvas that was your neck.

The stretch stung a bit but he was able to easily slide into you thanks to your prior orgasm and the help of his fingers. You felt full and content, it was such an overwhelming feeling that when he bottomed out and his groin came in contact with your clit you came for the second time.

Eyes rolling to the back of your head you let out a loud moan that had you hiding your face in embarrassment. You could feel the hot breath of Taehyung as he chuckled from his position nestled between your breasts. After deciding you had had enough time to get accustomed to his size Taehyung pulled out almost completely before sliding back into you. You let out a whine as he bottomed out inside you, watching as his expression changed into a lewd one with your walls clamping around his fat cock. "How's that, baby?" You could only moan in response, nails digging into his back as he began to rock himself into you, entirely obsessed with the way your body was readjusting itself as he moved inside you. It was like your body knew exactly what to do, despite the sensation being otherwise strange.

Your fingers found your clit immediately, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to cum, dripping down the couch and stretched out around  Taehyungs cock. "So big. Feels so good." You mumbled, your hair cascading around you as his pace quickened, fucking you hard and deep.

You let out an incoherent whimper, shuddering as Taehyungs thrusts into you deepened, spurred on by the way you continously moaned his name submissively. Your thighs felt wet and slick, the combined mixture of both yours and Taehyungs arousal dripping down onto them. You felt filthy and dirty and you were loving every second of it.

You could feel all your stress diminishing right before your eyes with every thrust of his hips. You felt elated, almost as though you were in another dimension, oh how you didn’t want this moment to come to an end. "My pretty little girl. You're making an absolute mess on my dick, isn't that right?"

"Yes, Daddy." You sobbed, body more than ready to succumb to your third orgasm of the night. "Such a good girl." He praised, a hand coming up to squeeze one of your supple tits. Your fingers found your abused clit once more. You circled around it liberally, the familiar euphoric feeling creeping up on you once more. "My sweet little girl. My precious girl." He cooed into your mouth, earning him an appreciative moan.

He was so close, fuck. “Cum in me daddy, I want you to come in me,” you whimpered desperately all in hopes of finally pushing him over the edge. And it seemed to have done the trick because with a final thrust he nestled himself deep within your warmth, a string of groans and curses tumbling out his mouth as he emptied his load into you. His release was the final push you needed to reach your most intense orgasm of the night. You shamelessly screamed as your back arched off the sofa and your body writhed in overstimulation.

"Fuck, fuck. I love you, holy shit, I love you." He peppered your face with kisses, breath shaky. Whether he let that slip due to the heat of the moment or whether those were his genuine feelings he had kept bottled up within him much like you, you chose to just revel in the moment stress free. "I love you more." You sighed adoringly, revelling in such an intimate gesture from him.

Thank you so much for reading 💜

[thejustmaiden]

So out of nowhere I was tagged and quoted by a SR shipper for a blog of mine posted in August of last year. Talk about throwback but, hey, gotta appreciate that level of snooping. 😉

Back in the day I actually used to encourage discourse amongst Inuyasha fans- both shippers and antis alike- but I've since realized that it's a lost cause. But for you, @feministmetalgreymon , I'll grant this exception. Just 'cause it's been a while so why the hell not. haha

I want to assure you, however, that nothing you say will ever convince me that Sesshomaru and Rin are meant to be together romantically or that the story intended it so. Nor will you find any validation here. You can ship them for all I care, but please for all that is good and holy while I have your attention try- I mean really try- to understand why it is so many of us Inuyasha fans are so against this pairing in the first place (newsflash: it's not about ship wars), and why we believe a romance between the two of them is completely and utterly out of character.

For those of you interested in reading this, the blog of mine in question that the above shipper mentions in their counter-argument is here for reference. It's titled "Jaken = Rin's Dad?" I'm going to try and keep this short, but I'm also making no such promises. After all, I'm not exactly known for my brevity. haha Now let's get crackin'!

Like you, feministmetalgreymon, did for your recent blog here where you took screenshots of mine to address certain parts, I will be doing the same and dissecting yours accordingly.

[Snippet 1]

I worked with kids for many years as a teacher, and many people in my family have too or still do. Two of them happen to be just over 5 feet which is quite short for the average adult woman living here. I've also worked alongside many a women of short stature, and never did I hear any of them complaining of issues with their students having difficulty differentiating them from their own peers just because they were short as well. I'm sorry but that's just ridiculous. Kids are quite smart and pick up on a lot more than you seem to give them credit for. Height is not the only characteristic they look at to determine who's an adult and who's not, and it's foolish to suggest otherwise. So unless you're a babysitter who's still in their teens and/or who has very childlike features or behavior then I'm afraid what you're getting at is total hogwash. This is just another example of how you shippers offer nothing of real substance to your reasoning, it's only ever cherry-picking or strawmanning from you guys. Stop deflecting from the real issues please, because this certainly isn't one and only winds up being a complete waste of time for all parties involved.

[Snippet 2]

Okay, calm down now. I wasn't insinuating that relationships between parents and children can't change over time in terms of how they get along. Of course that's possible, as all families experience their fair share of estrangement and abuse. What I was speaking about was in reference to the overall dynamic between the two. Because a bad mother or father can still be viewed as a parental figure to their child even if say they're not in said child's life anymore. Since Sesshomaru and Rin share a healthy bond- and just a friendly reminder that in my blog I even said that he doesn't have to necessarily be labeled her father but that a romantic relationship later would still be inappropriate- I didn't deem it necessary to address what you brought up. Plus, it kinda, umm, misses the point?? Please, let's stay on topic. And it's not captured in the screenshot, but stop acting like there isn't a small part of them that idolizes their parents at some point during childhood. Just like you mention later on how it's normal for kids to have innocent crushes on adults that they eventually grow out of? Well, guess what, the same concept applies here. Kids eventually learn that their parents are far from perfect and make mistakes too. Rin is so damn young in the OG series though that we never even get to see her reach that maturity level.

[Snippet 3]

LOL! Alright, okay, so the "unbreakable bond" bit you're mentioning was actually me quoting you sessrinners. Did you not catch that? I literally spelled it out. *sigh* The whole point I was making is that shippers like yourself make hypocritical and contradictory statements all.the.goddamn.time. One moment you guys claim that Sesshomaru and Rin were essentially strangers and meant very little to each other, only to say in the same breath a few seconds later that they were destined to be together and their bond is like no other. I agree, their bond is special, but why must that mean they're going to fall in love?

That is the root of the matter here. Too many animes/mangas have romanticized this older adult man & young girl growing up falling in love trope that it's become way too normalized and widely accepted across the world- and yes, in some cultures more than others. Sadly, you lack the awareness to recognize how this all works. You know how we know that? When we see that you shippers are so desensitized to sexualized images of girls in the media that you share posts like this one below which *subtly* imply a future romance although one half of that pairing is still just a child in the pic and then try and pass it off as cute. That's like super fucking problematic and it scares me that you can't see that (or deny you do). 🤢

After all that's said and done, Sesshomaru leaving Rin in the village with Kaede is to me the strongest indicator more than pretty much anything else he's done for Rin that proves he is her adoptive father. It's so funny to me how you somehow see the exact opposite though. 🤔 What I think is happening is that you got yourself on some squeaky clean ass shipper goggles fresh out of your little echo chamber. Because I hate to tell you, but what you're fantasizing is what you want to see and not what's actually there on screen or was written into the story. I'm strictly talking about Inuyasha and the manga of course. [For the TL; DR version skip to the last paragraph.]

Parents looking after their kids is what parents are supposed to do. A good parent will do anything to keep their child safe and ensure they are cared for, so what he did for her by leaving her there was in her best interests clearly. Besides, as a babysitter, you more than most people should understand that parents aren't always able to be there for their kids so sometimes others gotta step in to help. Haven't you heard of the saying, "it takes a village to raise a child?" Which in Rin's case is literally true! 😂 Sometimes kids are even sent off to stay with grandparents and that's who raises them instead. Or maybe they have to temporarily live with an aunt or uncle because their single parent's job requires they work out of town 4-5 days of the week so they're hardly home. But that doesn't mean that the parents care or love their kids any less, and it's foolish to assume that Sesshomaru must have thought very little of Rin simply due to the fact that he made the decision to leave her in the village. Come on, y'all are acting like he abandoned her there!!

It's just given the circumstances Sesshomaru finally came to learn that Rin traveling with him was no longer safe. I also like to think it's because he wished for her to live a more normal life and to learn how to fully trust humans again. Plus, continuing to travel with him as young as she was would have proven dangerous and unwise. Now for you to know all this and still manage to turn his past actions towards her while she was just a child into a romantic gesture is what boggles my mind. Regardless of how you look at it, from my perspective or your own, Sesshomaru is in the wrong. Either he's a father figure who impregnates his daughter at the young age of approximately 14. OR he's this man she used to travel with who maybe isn't a father to her but who nonetheless basically rapes her since kids her age can't consent to sex with an adult. Idk about you but it sounds to me like nobody here wins with either scenario we're given. In other words, you should be just as mad as we are. If only one side didn't choose to forsake their morals they know we both have in common for the sake of a ship. Welp. 🤷‍♀️

I agree, incest is disgusting but that's not the only problem we have with this pairing. A romantic bond forming between Sesshomaru and Rin would also constitute as grooming.

You realize that over the years he visited her in the village that he brought her gifts too and essentially watched her grow up right before his very eyes, right? I mean, I know you do, but I really shouldn't have to explain further why pursuing a romantic/sexual relationship with each other is plain and simple wrong. And before you say it's not because he didn't have any malintent, please understand that considering their history and power dynamic up to then that yes this is still considered grooming even if Rin supposedly "wanted it" or "made the first move." Whether you consider him her father or not, as the adult who took on a role resembling that of a caretaker in her early life- a critical developmental time for a child- Sesshomaru is obligated to turn down any advances by Rin and most definitely should not initiate any himself. As the first close adult figure she's had in her life since her parents died, it's unfathomable to imagine how Sesshomaru could go through with taking advantage of this young girl who was under his care and supervision since they met. To think he could be capable of betraying that trust sickens me to the core.

This. Now THIS is how a parent/guardian or a similar adult caretaker (babysitter, teacher, etc.) talks to a child. And, in turn, this is how some young children talk to adults. You'd be insane and delusional to deny it! We see it in our everyday lives, do we not? From where else do you think our stories draw most of their inspiration? Yes, obviously these fictional universes have aspects of fantasy that don't exist in the real world, but so how then do you suppose we're able to relate to them? The reason for that being is because these stories are written by people for people, so naturally there are going to be real life aspects embedded throughout. Sure, a little escapism doesn't hurt as we don't need to take everything so seriously, but ultimately we all need to recognize that the messages in the stories we tell matter. Most stories possess a combination of both light and dark themes, but when it specifically comes to the latter we gotta be careful with how we tackle this in children's media since kids are far more impressionable.

So if at the center of a story we have two of the main protagonists whose mom is basically their same age and to top it off she knew their dad when she was just a girl and who just so happened to help raise her, wouldn't you say that's beyond fucked up or at the very least so fucking weird? Like why would we think it's even remotely okay for our children to watch this garbage?? Really think about it. Try and be objective for once and think about how it would sound explaining this storyline to an outsider who's never watched IY or HNY. Well, antis have tried this before many times and we always get the same reaction: Ewww!

Like I said earlier, if you wanna ship it then fine, but 1) please stop seeking our approval or trying to change our minds - your ship wish came true didn't it, so why do you need us to validate it? 2) even though it's not canon, respect that we don't support this sequel portraying pedophilia in a positive light. It's harmful af to not only allow but glorify the continuation of sexualized images of young girls everywhere. And I shouldn't have to say this, but just because this trope is popular as you say does not make it right. Lolicon themes in the media have been an issue forever and it needs to stop. Yes, even some people in Japan or "the East" would agree. Shocker!

We're pissed off and rightfully so because Yashahime's TV rating is 14, not to mention it airs at the prime time kids in Japan watch TV after getting home from school. That's Towa and Setsuna's age, true, but if Rin being the mom when she's like only a year older than them (please don't argue w/ me about the math- antis have so far been right every time with it) is straight-up disgusting and not something we should be supporting or endorsing. Rin's a whole ass child!! Please don't start with the "but times were different then so her having kids at 15 is acceptable" argument either, because we've already debunked that and every other single excuse you guys throw at us. Besides, how or why would you expect young viewers to know these historical "facts" anyway, especially if as you suggest fiction doesn't affect reality so what does it matter? Yet here we are, arguing over a fictional show in real life almost a year and a half into the "Sesshomaru fucks?" sequel being announced. My ass, your ass, hell all our asses fiction doesn't affect reality!

Look, I do apologize if the tone of this blog came off as snippy or condescending at times. I do not wish you any ill will, it's just I'm not really sure what you expected to get out of all this besides maybe getting on my nerves perhaps. haha A lot of you shippers have been desperately scrambling to interact with us, lurking in our tags, jumping onto our posts screaming canon and getting so defensive even though you sought us out first. We've been sticking to our tags, so how about you stay in your lane too. By the way since we're on the topic, have you seen Twitter or Reddit?! SR shippers there are the actual worst and many Inuyasha fans (not just antis) have complained of not feeling welcomed to engage in fandom spaces anymore. Shippers swarm them and scare them off simply because fans don't like your ship and refuse to accept it. It's pathetic, really. No one should ever be bullied or harassed just because they don't like something you might. We're all fans of Inuyasha, aren't we? So let's act like it. Yashahime on the other hand, you guys are welcome to that pungent heap of trash. Fans have a right to criticize it too, but if you like it then good for you, so keep on liking it and don't mind us.

I'm almost done, but real quick back to Jaken! Let's not forget about how the official Yashahime website- which came out after my blog, mind you- described Jaken. This translation isn't the best one available but it's the only version a fellow anti friend could track down. They do recall a better one done by a native Japanese speaker who was also an anti, and that member confirmed that Jaken is indeed called Rin's babysitter. So you see, I was right in my interpretation. In the original post I did compare Jaken to a brother, but after talking to others (some comments can be found under said post) I did acknowledge that he's more of a reluctant babysitter who's not related. And if he's not at least a brother to Rin, then he's definitely not her father.

At the end of the day, the creator Rumiko Takahashi has the final word. Which is guess what? Hogosha. 💖 Probably should've just started out with that and saved us all the trouble, huh? Good day/night to you.

Papamaru bids you adieu now. 🤞

[rae-gar-targaryen]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOT MY GIF

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler hated you for it. 

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

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

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

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what was he?” Diego pressed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drag them down with their own fear. 

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

What the fuck was this shit? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, you thought, and there it was. 

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

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

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

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

You were gone. 

What were you? 

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Pogo?” 

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

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

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

Diego sighed, facing his brother. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, she sounds hot.” 

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t left in suspense too long. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ground out a harsh laugh. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight. 

All he had wanted to do was help, right? 

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what came out instead was--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were… worried about me? You?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched. 

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed in contentment. 

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

---

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

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

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

Why couldn't it always be like this? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego scoffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was that?" He asked.

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

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

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

Oh, no.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

Ouch. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

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

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

Your hand left Diego’s face. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego smiled at you. 

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

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

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

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

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?” 

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt. 

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

At Diego’s urging look, you continued. 

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

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

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

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“They’ll like you,” he promised. 

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

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

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

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

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

Luther blinked. “How did you know?” 

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

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

"Self-important."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

[bookstantrash]

A/N: Shoutout to all of those beautiful, incredible supportive and awesome people who encouraged me to write this Emeriel (Azriel x Emerie) one shot. I really like this crackship, and I’m hoping we see more of Emerie in the next acotar books.

With this, I’m officially in ghost mode till acosf and for some time after its release (probably a month). My askbox and dm are open for prompts tho! So feel free to send me any writing requests!!

Falling in Shadows

Azriel was lost.

Not lost as in ‘I don’t know the Cauldron where I am’. Not in the physical way lost.

No, Azriel was lost in the emotional way. Lost as in ‘What the Cauldron I am feeling?’

If he was to be honest with himself, he had been feeling like that for quite some time now. Ever since Cassian had asked him to go to that wooden building and spied a certain female through the clothier’s window.

Azriel was usually uncomfortable around other Illyrians. He sometimes forgot he too was one, his hatred for his people in some occasions being so unbearable he found himself a youngling once again, locked in that dark cell, denied the skies.

How could he be an Illyrian, feel like one, when his own people had cast him aside? Had tried to strip him of his heritage?

That was one of the motives he avoided going to Windhaven. But after that day he visited Cassian and Nesta — he was surprised to see how their relationship was going, despite the circumstances that had made Nesta go to Illyria — Azriel found himself looking for reasons to be in Windhaven.

All because of her.

Because of Emerie, the fierce owner of that clothier.

Once he had gotten inside the shop, Azriel had willed his shadows to fade — few were the Illyrians and Fae not afraid of them, afraid of him and his job in the Night Court — and tucked his wings tight. He knew how the Illyrian females were treated. How they were supposed to look down and not talk back when in the presence of a male. He didn’t want any other reason to scary the shop owner.

To his surprise, however, he was met with a different scenario. An Illyrian female who didn’t look down, was not afraid to speak her mind and didn’t cower in his presence.

Emerie didn’t even bat an eyelash at him or his shadows, not even glancing at his scarred hands when he handed her the money — an act he was already used to.

Azriel was in and out of the shop in less then five minutes.

He met her again some time later, having tea with Nesta when came back to Windhaven. They exchanged a few words and he got even more curious about her.

And then, before he had even noticed how, they had become friends.

Azriel would pass by her shop whenever he went to visit Cassian and would chat with Emerie, sometimes joining her and Nesta for tea — Azriel dragged Cassian with him when that happened, a little scared to be beneath the sharpe of gaze of both females by himself.

Not that he told Cassian, or anyone else for that matter, the truth. He’d rather swim naked in one of Windhaven’s deathly cold lakes.

Azriel had female friends, so it was not like he was embarrassed around Emerie because of that. Feyre was his friend, as was Elain — although Feyre seemed to think there was something between him and her sister, they were only on friendly terms. Elain was still processing what had happened to her, being Made and losing everything she had, not to mention Graysen. The man was one of the finest pricks he’d ever met, but love was not rational.

Azriel and Elain understand each other in some level, her being a seer and him a shadowsinger. But nothing more.

And then there was Morrigan. He’d been in love with her. Once. And he knew she didn’t see him like that.

His feelings had faded over time, leaving only respect and brotherly affection towards her. Azriel knew he sometimes overreacted when it came to Eris, but it was not due to a lover’s anger. No, he felt guilty of what Mor had been through, years ago. He was her friend and couldn’t help her when she needed the most.

His love towards Mor may have changed, but it still hurt to see that she was keeping something from him and flirted so shameless in front of him as to keep him away. Whatever it was that she had to say, he’d understand. So he’d wait, until she was ready to talk to him.

When it came to Emerie, however, he felt something. Something different. Something he could not quite place.

Azriel also felt fear.

Fear of what that feeling may represent. Of what Emerie thought of him. He had to keep himself in check around her, least he loose control of his shadows, who always seemed to get agitated whenever they were together.

Sighing, he shook his head to try and rid himself of these thoughts. He could feel an headache coming, and he had to wake up early to met Cassian and the Camp Lords for a meeting regarding the Blood Rite. He needed sleep.

His feet, on the other hand, had other ideais. Before he knew what he was doing, they had taken him on the way to the small craftsman center of the camp, where Emerie’ shop was.

Maybe he could say he had thought of saying a quick hello, see how the things were going with her sells.

“It’s not that late yet. And I didn’t come today to see her. So a late night tea won’t hurt, right?” Azriel thought, trying to calm himself down.

He sent one of his shadows ahead to see if there was any light on the clothier, just in case. If it was off, he’d take it was a sign to leave it alone and go rest.

But when it returned, Azriel felt his blood run cold, and he quickly moved through the shadows to get there faster. And the scene in front of him made his heart stop.

The shop windows were broken, as was the door, and he could see some of the clothes thrown on the floor by the door.

Azriel heard screams.

Heard Emerie screaming.

He entered the shop to find her being restrained by a male, while two others ransacked the place.

Azriel did not fail to notice how the male holding her looked pissed. Maybe due to his bloody nose and black eye.

Azriel smiled internally. His girl would not go down without a fight it seemed.

“And just what do you think you’re doing” he said, announcing his presence.

Four pairs of eyes looked in his direction, and he got smug satisfaction at the clear fear that shined in the males’ eyes.

Specially when they saw Azriel unsheathing Truth Teller and gave free rein to his shadows.

However, in Emerie’s dark brown eyes he only saw relief.

“Close your eyes Em” he said.

And then Azriel exploded.

He had the two males pinned down by his shadows in no time, bounding their wings and squeezing their throats strong enough to leave them breathless.

And a little purple.

But the one that held Emerie... that one he would take his sweet time.

Appearing behind the male — which quickly released Emerie in hope to attempt an escape — Azriel slammed him down in the polished counter.

“What should I do with you” he snarled, bringing Truth Teller dangerously close to the male’s throat, making a thin cut in his skin.

“P-please,” the male whimpered “have mercy”

“Did you show mercy to her? Did you?!” Azriel shouted, pressing the knife harder “I should Clip you. I should Clip all of you and take my sweet time doing it”

He heard the other two males struggling against his shadows, trying to get away again. Azriel only whiled them to tighten their grip, and he swore he heard one start to cry.

“You will never appear here again. You will not bother Emerie any longer” he leaned down to whisper in the male’s ear “You will tell that to your other friends. To anyone who has ever messed with her. And if I hear that you came back — and trust me, I will — I will hunt you down myself”

“Are we clear?” he added, letting his threat sink.

“Y—yes sir” the trembling male managed to gasp through Azriel’s hold on his neck.

“Go” he said, freeing all three, who quickly left the place, running for their lives.

Azriel then turned to find Emerie with her eyes open, staring at him.

He froze. She had seen him. Had seen him act as the High Lord’s spy master. Had seen him being territorial and scary and—

“I think I’ll have to redecorate” was all Emerie said, her voice trembling a little.

Azriel couldn’t believe it. She had been attacked, her shop destroyed and she had time to make a joke.

He shook his head in disbelief and stopped in front of her, holding himself back to not touch her to see if she was hurt anywhere.

“Are you—”

Her knees gave out before he could say anything else, and he quickly caught her in his arms.

“You put your arms around me and I literally felt my kneels buckle, this is so pathetic” she scoffed, looking at the floor.

“Em...”

“I usually can handle it on my own” she shook her head “Nesta taught me some self defense moves. I can’t leave the shop to go for the training ring and I have no desire to be a warrior”

“This...this was the first time that more than one came” she added in a soft whisper.

Azriel felt a calm rage settle in his bones.

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” he wanted to shake her until she got some sense in that stubborn head of hers “and you didn’t tell anyone about it”

“As I said, I usually can handle it” she snapped back, finally meeting his eyes “I was closing the shop when they appeared. I tried to fight back, but I only managed to punch one before he restrained me. If you hadn’t appeared I—”

She didn’t finish that sentence, bitting her trembling lip to keep herself from crying.

“You are one headstrong and fearless female, you know that?” he said, daring to hold her closer.

“I was scared”

And to Azriel’s surprise she buried her head on his chest, gripping his leathers for her dear life, her body shaking with silent sobs.

“I know Em” he murmured, one hand caressing her hair in comfort.

His shadows closed the door and gathered the clothes on the floor, putting them on the counter.

“I’m going to take you upstairs, okay?” he asked softly, and Emerie just nodded her head.

Gathering her in his arms, Azriel climbed the stairs to the upper part of the shop, where Emerie lived.

He decided to place her on the sofa. He didn’t want to invade her personal space and walk into her bedroom.

He carefully sat on the sofa, adjusting Emerie in his arms so she’d be comfortable. By the looks of it, she wasn’t letting go of him soon.

Not that he was bothered by that.

“Em...it’s okay. You’re safe now” he tenderly raised her head, both hands cupping her cheeks and brushing away her tears.

“Thank you. For arriving when you did” she sniffed, but then reality seemed to fall on her “Why where you around here at this hour?”

Azriel felt the tip of his ears getting hot, and he almost faded back in the shadows.

“I wanted to see you” he mumbled, so low he hoped she had not heard him.

“What was that?” she asked, and by the way she was trying to suppress a grin Azriel could tell she had heard him loud and clear.

“I’m not repeating it” he said, feeling his whole face getting hot

Emerie laughed, and the sound of her laugh was enough to put Azriel at ease.

“I wanted to see you too” she confessed, looking deep into his eyes.

Azriel could swear his heart skipped a beat at her words.

“You did?” he softly asked, afraid this was all a dream and he’d soon wake up.

“Yes” she said, and tenderly took one of his hands on hers, not flinching at the scars on them “I wanted to hear your voice”

She kissed his fingers.

“I wanted to see you trying to come up with topics to talk with me”

She kissed palm.

“I wanted to see your shadows acting all agitated and you trying so hard to control them thinking I’ll be bothered but,” Azriel took a sharp breath when she kissed his wrist “they’re not a bother. I’m not afraid of them. I like them”

Azriel was falling. He was spiralling down into himself, all the way to his shadowed heart.

“You like them?” he asked so quietly, fear lacing his every word.

“I do. They’re part of you Azriel” she interlaced their hands “What is there not to like?”

Azriel felt like crying. He felt like crying because for the first time someone outside of his family had looked at him and actually seen him.

Not a monster who killed and spied and tortured for his High Lord.

Not an Illyrian who was a traitor to his own race.

Not the quiet friend who was satisfied to be in the shadows.

Not a protector doing his duty.

Emerie saw him.

She saw all the good, the bad and the awkward Azriel so desperately tried to conceal.

And she was not afraid.

“Can I hope then?” he dared himself to ask, resting his forehead against hers “Can I hope you feel this? This feeling that I can’t quite place?”

“You can” she answered “Because I hoped you felt the same thing”

Azriel still did not know how to name this feeling between them yet. But he was sure of one thing.

He was dying to know what it was.

And Emerie would help him in every path of this discovery.

•

Emeriel Tags: @julemmaes @angrypotatofairy @illyrianwitchling @moe8 @thewayshedreamed @ko0mbayamylord @rosegoldannie @fourshizzle149 @arin1030 @elide-lochan-salvaterre @the-bookish-deer

Fixed Tags: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arin1030 @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @greerlunna @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @allilal @sensitiveillyrian @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan

{I ended up creating an Emeriel tag list, so please let me know if you want to be added in either the Emeriel or my Fixed Tag list}

[theodora3022]

Love You To Hell And Back(Yandere Claude)

Pairing: Yandere Claude Faustus x F!reader

Summary: Upon running away from home due to an unwanted arranged marriage, you took up a maid position in the Trancy household. You thought it would be simple, lay low for couple of months then the other family would cancel the engagement. Being a maid should be easy right? Just wash and clean the house and saying yes to their lords. You never thought you would end up in such a bizarre and dangerous household.

Notes: I am a Claude simp. If you do not know before, you do now. Do not get the wrong idea, Sebastien is handsome alright, but there is just something about those golden eyes makes me shiver in the best kind of way. (Also I love the French pronunciation of his name but whatever)

Word count:2k

Warning: Non-con touching, coercion, possessive behaviour, general Yandere content

SFW

As a lady on exile, you do not have many options. Your relatives were out of the question since they could inform your parents of your whereabouts, and so does all of your friends. Luckily, you figured out the perfect solution: disguises! And who is more unnoticeable then a maid? They blend naturally in the background of drawing rooms and parties, no one will bat an eye if there happen to be an extra one. Nobles do not care for servants, so a forged name and documents would get the job done. 

Answering advertisements seems to be a good way to start. Ah, there is one right here. The Trancy Estate? To your knowledge, there is only one young lord there, and you are not acquainted with the family. Seems the ideal choice: “Only for two months, as a replacement.” You know being a servant would be unpleasant, compare to your noble lady life now, but you had chosen between this instead marrying a man you despise.

Packing some essentials, you thrown on a simple cotton dress borrowed from your maids and sneaked out. You thought you had escaped from hell, not knowing you are better off staying. Because, you had quite literally, walked into a spider’s trap.

 A dark-skinned maid welcomed you, explaining how she has to leave the household for some personal business while giving you a small tour of the building. She seems nice enough, although you were curious why her right eye is covered by bandages. The manor is dead quiet and empty, giving you an illusion of how you can hear your own breathing.

“Miss Hannah, where are the other servants?” You shiver, tightening your clock just a bit. Although it is only autumn, the winds are chillier in this house, or so you felt.

“There is only five of us. Me, the triplets, and Sir Claude the butler. Our master can be...difficult, one could say.” Handing you a basket of maid attire, Hannah seem to be terrified of this master she speaks of.  

I wonder why he is so difficult. You thought as you thanked her and settled down in the little servant room you were given. Better put on these maid clothes soon, getting use to them as fast as possible. Blue and white does not look so bad together.

Kitchen duties are not so bad since all you need to do is chopping up vegetables and wash the dishes while the triplets took care of the cooking. Dusting is a nuisance, but with enough efforts it was taken care off. The triplets are an odd flock, as they never speak unless necessary. All your befriend attempts had failed miserably, you felt as if they look down on you somehow? Since you only do backstage work, you had yet to meet the master and his butler. Not that you mind, you want to kept your existence covert, after all!

You were trying to dust off the chandelier in the drawing room when you first met Claude. The stairs you use are a bit unstable, which causes you to have major anxieties about falling.

“Ahh!” You squeal as your staircase finally deciding to let you fall. Closing your eyes in horror, you were certain you are going to suffer at least bruises. But the expected pain never came. Instead, you felt a strong set of arms had caught your body mid-hair.

 Gazing up, what did you see?

Oh did that gorgeous face make this fall worth it. The tall man in black reminds you of those flawless Roman statues, of King David. You never thought humans can be this magnificent.(Well you are still right, as he is no human)

Gently placing you back on your feet, Claude started to examine you behind those clear glasses. You quickly smoothed the wrinkles on your skirt as you dip your head for greeting.

“Greetings, kind Sir. You must be Sir Claude. My pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am (y/n), the new maid.” Gods, he is handsome. You were not even sure words can describe how those golden eyes made you feel. Are you blushing? Ugh, get it together, self! He is only a butler here. It is beneath you to swoon over him. You put on a smile, then courtesies to the stoic man in the most elegant way possible.

The lack of callus on your fingers and your sophisticated manners informs him that you, are no ordinary maid. As a servant to his lord, Claude needs to make sure no sketchy individual can harm him. Some investigation would need to be done.

How interesting...Why would a high-born lady such as yourself ran away from your prestigious noble house, only to serve as a humble servant here? Just where did Hannah dig you up? Ah, that is no matter at present. Surely your cheerful spirts can light up the dull days of this mansion. The only thing Claude need to ensure is you do not expire as quickly as others. Alois can be such a spoiled brat; however no harm should befall to you as long as he can help it.

Your voice reminds the demon of little birds of forest mornings, chirping delightfully to a new day no matter how horrid the night before was. The way you thank him stuttering then trying to go back to your duties are just adorable, and amusing. It is clear as day:you are fascinated by Claude’s pretty face. Quite bold for a lady to do so. Claude had met a lot of people in his long life, but none of them intrigues him so as you do. He cannot grasp what exactly, but there must be something enchanting about you, that makes him want to pull you close and do unspeakable things to your good, pure body.  

Tender and cautious, that is what the knocks on his office door suggests. It is late, way past Alois’s bedtime. Who could have business with him this hour, apart from his demanding lord? “Come in.” Claude’s curiosity had spiked up.

It is you, still dressed and with a plate in your hands. What a pleasant surprise. And are those pastries?

“I...baked these for you, Sir. I want to thank you for your help earlier today.” Looking away, you quickly remind yourself how you should never indulge too much. However you had already spent two hours of your free time trying to bake something decent.

Did your parents taught you it is improper to visit a man’s quarters this late at night, alone? How rebellious of you, not that Claude minds anyway. You might appear to be demure and good at first sight, but under that nice façade is a bold maiden who does not care for modesty, how complex.

Chocolate chip biscuits, but with distorted shapes. “I am not very good at this, so I totally understand if you do not wish to eat them. I jus want to properly show my gratitude, that is all.” Nervously fidgeting your apron corner, you bit your lip when he raises one of them to his lips and took a small bite.

Edible, but has lots of room for improvement. Claude can practically taste your eagerness to please from the chocolate spheres. Seeing your gaze fixated on him, expecting his comments on your work, Claude let out a quiet laugh. Which made heat rush up to your cheeks. Is that a good or a bad response? It cannot be that terrible can it?

“Come.” He signals with a hand wave, and you hesitantly walked beside his chair. How cute, the butler and the little maid. It would be a shame to just give you some half-hearted praises and send you out, wouldn’t it? It is what a gentleman would do, of course. Claude on the other hand, has never been one. He could entertain that appearance for his lord’s sake, but in this little room with just you, there is no need for charades.

You were shocked when one gloved hand pulled you swiftly onto his lap, with the other locked around your waist, pressing you against his chest. Of course, you fantasized the idea of being the lover of such a fine specimen of mankind, but only the idea of it. Even though you are nothing more then a lowly maid now, you are still a lady of nobility with conducts of propriety.

Your shrinking pupils made Claude realize he might be pushing a bit too fast. But human lives are so fragile, so short compare to demon ones. If he does not seize this opportunity, who knows when is next one going to arrive? Whether it is your intention or not, Claude is now mesmerized with you. Now that he is holding you this close, breathing in your intoxicating sweet scent, the old demon had his first epiphany of a millennium: you are lovely, and he intends to keep you this way, one way or the other.

Squirming with protests, you tried to get out of his suffocating embrace. “Sir, this is not proper, please let go of me.” Yet you achieve no results, those iron grips still hold you firmly in place, those same arms that spared you an embarrassing fall this morning.

  “Little bird, finally thinking about propriety? You should know better then coming to my office this late unless you want something to happen.” Claude is close, too close, you can feel his breath fanning your ears gently. Gloved fingers trace down your jawline, making you tremble with fear. “Am I right, Lady (family name)?” You froze. What how did he-how do he know you are not a mere commoner? Had he already done a thorough investigation on you?

“Now, repeat after me, little bird.” His golden eyes shifted its color to pink, round pupils bending into a thin line. In normal circumstances, you would be terrified of how his features suddenly changed, but now you are too possessed by his intense gaze to think of anything else. Those eyes, you felt as if you could drown in those two magenta pools.

“I love Claude Faustus forever and I would do anything should he asks of me.”

“I-I love Claude Faustus f-forever...and I would do anything should....should he-e asks of me.” It is still your voice, although those words are defintely not your own. What is happening? Why do your tongue just moved on its own like man possessed?

“Perfect.” Running his bare fingers through your hair, Claude left a light kiss on your forehead, ignoring the horrid expression you are wearing. “You will behave, right little bird?”

“Of course, Sir Claude.” You did not just say that !There is no way. What has this evil man done to you? You never should have come here. Your terrible fiancée at least could not cast spells on you!

“I’ll take good care of you, my dearest little bird. After all, your fate is defined since the moment I lay my eyes on you. We are destined to be together.”

“Oh, do try to behave. It would be a shame if something should happen to your dear family. I would hate if you end up like your other human predecessors.” His lord, despite his young age, is a master at torture and inflicting suffering. There is a unfortunate reason why there is only a few servants in this manor, and the fact that they are durable demons too. Claude knows exactly where you would end up had he not intervened. Do not worry, he would never let you go. Demons mate for life, didn’t you know that? Why resist?

“I love you my dear, to the hell and back. We shall stay together until the end of time.”

[sunflowergirl522]

Herc’ata Part 2

Pairing: Din Djarin x Short!Reader

Summary: While visiting Cara and Greef Din meets a new face, one Grogu becomes attached to immediately. (Bubbly enthusiastic person and grumpy serious person ship dynamic)

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any but if I need to put anything let me know!

Word Count: 2480

Herc’ata Masterlist

The first week that Din travels with you, you and Grogu were attached at the hip basically 24/7. And as much as he enjoyed not having to keep a close eye on the kid all the time he was starting to miss the old dynamic. Not all of it, just some things like the child falling asleep in his lap while flying through space and having conversations with him. And as much as Din is enjoying having an actual sleeping quarter and being able to sleep without aloof his armor on, he does miss Grogu crawling onto his chest in the middle of the night.

You never meant to steal the kid away from the mandalorian. Oftentimes you would leave the kid in the cockpit and go off to do something else, but the little womp rat would follow after you. Mando’s never outright said anything about missing the kid but you can tell because, well let's be real who wouldn’t, but also you often catch him turning his head as if to look or say something to him but the kid will be either in your lap on the other side of him or you catch him doing it when you’re entering the cockpit with the kid in your arms. So, you decided to come up with a plan.

Din’s quick to put his helmet on and stand up with his hand already reaching for his blaster upon hearing his door open. When he sees Grogu standing in the entrance he goes to him and crouches down.

“Hey there buddy, everything okay?” His head turns from looking to his left to face Din. He coos and reaches his arms up for Din to pick him up. Din can’t stop the smile from forming under his helmet as he lifts his kid up. “Look who’s come crawling back you little womp rat.” The amusement and playfulness in his voice causes you to giggle before you move back into your room. Din hears the noise and steps out into the hallway just in time to see your door slide shut.

The next morning you’re up before Mando for once and you sit in silence in the cockpit and lose yourself in your thoughts while looking out at the empty space through the glass. You almost don’t realize Mando sits next to you, the child in his arms. You watch in your peripheral vision as hands the kid a small metal ball and smile a little as you turn your attention back to space.

“His name is Grogu.” Your head snaps to look at the mandalorian next to you shocked that he’s spoken. He’s barely said a word to you the whole time you’ve been traveling together.

“Grogu?” You whisper it to yourself but the kid in front of you coos and looks at you before looking back at the ball in his hand. “Grogu.” You’re louder this time purposely trying to get his attention. The kid looks at you immediately and babbles something. You reach out and offer your finger to his free hand and he takes it. “The name suits you kid.” You then turn your attention to Mando to address him directly. “Why didn’t you tell me his name before?”

“Needed to make sure you were trustworthy enough.”

“Oh, well that makes sense.” You smile at him and nod your head as you speak. “So, do you have a name? There’s no way it’s Mando, I mean if it is no offense or anything but that is just Mandalorian shortened.”

“I have a name.” 

“Well, what is it?” The mandalorian next to you doesn’t speak and you fake a frown and cross your arms after a beat of silence. “So you’re back to not speaking to me?” Another beat of silence passes. “You’re such a tease.” You giggle a bit to yourself breaking your fake upset act. Din lets out a quiet breath of relief seeing your smile grace your face again. “Let’s get you fed baby.” You lift Grogu out of the mandalorians lap and walk out of the cockpit and Din feels his heart ache as he wishes that you were referring to him.

“I should have some stew still, let me see.” You place Grogu down on the small table in the kitchen and go to check the fridge. Once you find it you pull it out and put enough of it in a pot to warm up for the three of you. You’re sure that Mando will want some soon too. As you wait you sit across from Grogu and play with him by rolling the ball back and forth. You make sure to stir and check on the stew every so often. 

Din sits with his thoughts for a while in the cockpit. He keeps thinking back to how he felt when the frown took over your face, how he immediately started to think of ways to bring your bright smile back. His emotions feel like explosions when he’s around you, they’re magnified once he steps into the same room as you. He doesn’t understand that or how he can’t keep you from invading his thoughts. When he finally gets up he follows the smell of food to the kitchen.

“Damnit why do I keep putting them away so high up.” You’re mumbling to yourself as you’re climbing on top of the counter to grab bowls when Din makes it to the doorway. The sight almost makes him chuckle, if it weren’t for the fact that you lost your footing climbing down he probably would’ve. Din’s quick to come to the rescue as he swiftly catches you and rights you on your feet. The wooden bowls clatter around the two of yours feet and your hands clasp around his arms. Your eyes are wide and your mouth is agape.

“Are you okay?” Your head snaps up to look at Mando.

“I am thanks to you.” You close your eyes as you beam up at him and Din swears he’s having heart palpitations. His hands are still on your waist and your hands have moved themselves up to his shoulders. Din feels the warmth radiating from you as if you were a sun again and he can’t stop the smile that forms under his helmet.

“You should be more careful.” You can’t hear the smile in his voice, it sounds as grumpy as ever.

“Yeah but it is what it is. Thank you for catching me though.” You kneel down to pick up the bowls and Din moves to sit next to the kid to prevent his mind from wandering to places it shouldn’t. His eyes follow you as you fill a bowl up and set it in front of Grogu. “Do you want some stew?”

The gleam in your eyes causes him to blurt out a yes without thinking it through. He curses himself as you turn around to get him a bowl. Maybe you won’t notice him not eating it, he thinks to himself as you place the bowl in front of him. Maybe you’ll be so absorbed in your own and making sure Grogu eats that worrying about him won’t even come to mind. There’s no way he’s in your head as much as you’re in his.

You noticed that he wasn’t eating immediately. When you sat down you noticed that his bowl was still full and that he wasn’t making a move to eat it, he just sat there rigid as if he had to be prepared for a fight like he always sits. You busy yourself with your own stew though, not saying anything about it. You keep glancing at him through your peripheral however. Grogu babbles and you lift your head and smile at him. You grab a cloth and stand to lean over the table to wipe the remains of the stew from his mouth.

“Do you want some more?” Somehow you knew that with the slight tilt of his head he did. As you place the refilled bowl in front of him you address the mandalorian again. “Are you gonna eat anything?”

Dins eyes widen at your words realizing that he was wrong in thinking you wouldn’t notice. “I can’t.”

“You can’t?” Your nose scrunches up in confusion as you down and Din smiles unsure why. “Why, are you allergic to something in it or what?”

“It’s part of my creed to not let another living being see my face.”

“So, no one has ever seen it? Not even the kid?” 

“Well…” Din trails off losing himself to the thoughts of Mayfeld walking away after seeing it and taking it off when he found Grogu in his cell.

“Well what?”

“Normally if you were to see it I’d have to kill you. The kid has seen it and one other person due to certain circumstances.” You’re quiet for a minute deep in thought and Din is about to say something when you speak up again.

“So is this like a mandalorian thing or like a separate thing? Because I’ve met a mandalorian before who removed his helmet when he wanted.” Din doesn’t know how to answer you. With meeting Bo Katan and her group and seeing them all be able to remove it freely and meeting Boba who went who knows how long without his armor, he’s not sure anymore that it isn’t a separate thing.

“Other mandalorians have claimed that I’m part of a cult, but I grew up as a foundling so I’m figuring things out now.” Your mouth that was set in a line due to confusion turns up into a kind smile.

“Well if that’s the issue with eating then I can fix it easily! Is it still alright if Grogu sees you without it?” Mando just nods at you in response. You nod back before standing up and turning your chair around to the counter behind the table. You have to sit on one of your legs to eat comfortably due to it being a little higher than the table but it’s comfortable enough. You smile at the hiss of the helmet coming off and the two of you eat in silence, both with goofy smiles plastered on your faces the whole time. 

***

That night Din lays awake in his quarters because he’s stuck thinking about that moment. Grogu’s been asleep at his side for a while now and sometimes Din will move one of his hands from behind his head to rub his small green one. He’s learned that it helps keep Grogu from getting restless in his sleep. He’s in the middle of doing just that when he hears your door slide open and your hurried footsteps past his room. When he doesn’t hear you come back for what feels like an hour (it was really just a handful of minutes) he gets up, careful not to wake Grogu and puts just his helmet on before rushing out of his own room. He follows the direction your footsteps went until he hears quiet muffled sobs coming from the kitchen. 

Upon entering he sees you hunched over the table with your head buried in your arms. The world that he’s gotten used to being so bright being around you dulled as he listened to you cry. He walks slowly over to your figure wondering if he should bother you, ultimately though his urge to make you smile won.

“You okay?” The sudden voice causes you to jump up and twirl around, giving Din a good look at your tear streaked face and red eyes. 

“Mando, maker you scared me!” Your hand flies to your chest before you sit back down this time facing the mandalorian. “I didn’t wake you up did I?”

“No, I was still up. Are you alright?” You look up at him as he takes a small step towards you getting a good look at him. Seeing him in just the long sleeved shirt and pants he normally wears under the armor is alien to you, that doesn’t stop you from drinking it in though. 

“I’m fine, um I should head back to bed.” As you stand and go to walk past him he gently grabs your arm to stop you. The warmth that radiates into your skin from his own stops you in your tracks as you realize that he doesn’t have his gloves on. 

“What happened?” You look up at him and can’t help but to feel safe in his presence. It’s not the first time you have but this time something in his voice makes you feel like nothing will ever hurt you again. So you’re quick to throw your arms around his waist and bury your head into his chest. He’s stunned for a minute before carefully putting his own arms around you in an awkward hug which causes you to chuckle a little bit.

“I have nightmares every so often. Sometimes they’re worse than others, tonight was a fairly easy one though.” You speak into his chest letting a few stray tears come out.

“What are they about?” One of his hands starts to rub small circles into your back while the other brings you closer. After a beat of silence he speaks again. “You don’t have to say.”

“Most times they’re about Alderaan, sometimes it’s just the memory of when I had shown up to the graveyard when I was supposed to be there to visit my parents, other times it’s from their point of view. Obviously I don’t know what actually went through their heads but I just imagine the fear they must have felt. And then the times that they aren’t about Alderaan and I don’t know, I don’t ever remember the full thing only the lingering sound of screams, the color blue, and the pure terror that courses through my body long after I wake up.” You breathe out, feeling like a weight has been lifted at telling someone else about the nightmares. “Tonight it was just a memory but I didn’t even make it through the whole thing.” You’re both silent after you speak just holding each other close. 

When you part from him and look up you can’t stop from giggling at how his helmet is lopsided on his head. You reach up and fix it quickly before Mando can grab your hands to stop you. Once you have them back at your sides you intertwine and fiddle with your fingers while smiling up at him. One of his hands comes up and caresses the side of your face using his thumb to wipe away the stray tear that left your eye. You unconsciously lean into his hand and let out a yawn before he brings his helmeted head down and places where his forehead would be to yours.

“Let’s get you back to sleep Herc’ata.”

Taglist: @remmysbounty @fanficsforheartandsoul

[sarahlevys]

Congrats on 350!!!!!!! You deserve it❤

Can I request multiple director's commentary?? If not feel free to choose whichever one 🥰

1. The inspo behind "Rollin with the Homies" and you had to structure it differently due to the 1st person? I've never loved a 1st person fic SO MUCH. Just tell us about all the things plz.

2. How you approached your first time writing D/P for "Street Lights, Big Dreams All Lookin Pretty" since they aren't who you normally write but you smashed it out of the park!

3. Can you just talk about "Sex Friends" and how you did such an incredible job with Rachel?

Okay wait I thought of 1 moreeeeee... "Café Tropical (Schitt's Creek, ON) Has 3.96 Stars On Yelp" plz comment on how you nailed every single character and made it so laugh out loud funny.

Ok love you byeee❤❤

thank you so much for everything and for always supporting my writing ❤️ i'm so glad we met!! i love this energy, you're truly doing the most 😘

rollin' with the homies (alexis/twyla, david/patrick, stevie/ruth, T)

fun fact, i wrote the entire almost-10K in under a week and i'm still slightly burnt out from it, but it was worth it 😅 i had finished all my tropefest things and was itching to write something else since i couldn't fathom not working on something for it. @schittposting had long ago prompted me to write a twylexis clueless AU, and she already had everyone casted in their 'parts'! i've been wanting to do a little california AU for a while, too, and then it seemed fun to set it in the 2000s instead of today, when the characters would've been in their teens. so something that i intended to be just a small little thing quickly took on a life of its own.

i completely did not intend to write in first person for the entire thing – i thought i'd just do it for a little intro. but then it just started happening, and it actually turned out to be faster and easier to crank out the whole thing if i did it in stream of consciousness, so i just went with it. i don't think i've ever written fic before in first person, and i'm really proud of how it turned out!

street lights, big dreams, all lookin' pretty (david/patrick, alexis/twyla, a whisper of stevie/ruth, T)

ahhh! this was my very first time writing david and i was an anxious mess throughout the whole thing. it took me three months to write 11.5K words, as opposed to clueless AU 🤭

i really loved the prompt with everyone taking bets on whether twyla and alexis were together, and i loved that it would be set in new york, where i lived for a few years. i love fics set there, both from the perspective of alexis making her way there, AUs set in new york, and fics exploring the effects of the city on both david and alexis. so i had to write it, even if i was terrified of writing a different POV.

i knew i wanted to treat it as just as much of a D/P fic as a twylexis fic (or even more so, since it's from david's perspective), and hopefully i achieved that. with that in mind, i really tried to focus on making the story just as much about david coming back 'home,' his thoughts on how he's changed and what he's gained since he left, and his feelings for and relationships with each of the characters involved in the story. at the time that i was writing it, i was also doing a full rewatch of the show, so i think that helped me try to give him more of a distinct voice and tap into his relationship with patrick. lastly, i really love how snarky and sarcastic david is, and how he uses it not just as a shield, but also to express himself to the people he cares about. so while i don't always try to write the narration with a ton of personality, i really tried to do that with this fic so it would ring through.

lastly, i would not have made it all the way to the finish line if it weren't for @landofsonlali @anniemurphys and @januarium, who all gave me lots of handholding and reassurances about my david POV. thank you again!

sex friends (jake/rachel, M)

this fic 100% snuck up on me. @yourbuttervoicedbeau prompted me for 'snowed in,' without a specific pairing or detail, and i had no idea what i would write them – but then they wrote their first jake/rachel fic, and i fell in love.

i'm so honored to think that you thought i did well with rachel! she isn't a character i've really explored all that much – for a while, i didn't fully understand what drew fandom to the character, and i thought it was just the connection to patrick that attracted people. but then i started thinking about her circumstances, and how she's lived her life expecting it to turn out a certain way. that really resonated with my type a anxieties, plus some life upheavals i went through in my 20s when i thought i'd end up with someone completely different than i did 😆 so there i was, suddenly waking up and writing the entire fic in one morning, caught up in Feelings.

also, if you haven't read the whole series yet, give it a whirl!

café tropical (schitt's creek, ON) has 3.96 stars on yelp (alexis/twyla, david/patrick, G)

@yourbuttervoicedbeau had created an amazon workskin for AO3, and all of a sudden i had a vision of what this fic could be. i messaged them to see if they could make a yelp skin, and then i wrote this entire thing in one night while they were coding the skin, and then got up extra early the next morning to apply the code to my fic, calculate the yelp average (lol), and then post it to AO3!

i really wanted to convey a whole found family aspect to the entire town, so i knew i wanted to hear from everyone. i didn't intend to cover the entire canon of the show (and beyond), but then i discovered that i actually kinda... had a plot? as much as that fic has a plot, anyway. (i have a really bad, exhausting tendency to want to rewrite the entirety of canon via fic.) so i kept adding in reviews as little nods to the different episodes, to ground the reader, and then i started adding in reviews from people outside of the show, and then i started having feelings about how the food is supposedly not very good but you see everyone there all the time, and it can't just be because it's the only restaurant in town – it has to have some things that are good (i hope). so then i started having feelings about the café as a general institution, and it all just kept spiraling and spiraling. i'm so proud of how it turned out. it's actually my most kudosed/commented-on fic!

(ask me about a specific scene or fic, or just ask me for director's commentary on anything!)

[moogghost]

hmm you know what

been thinking a bit more about Coda lately (modern day relative of Holt's who does get involved in the yellow streamer stuff in my pmtok au). tbh i feel like she could actually be a sort of alt. Hole Punch in this au? like not replacing Holt or even just being for an alt los (though i might consider making one at some point? they'd sort of just be relatives of my current los and just a more 'what-if' scenario but perhaps). she'd just flat out be a second Hole Punch in this scenario

more rambling about pmtok hidden below - i am so sorry for how long this is i did not mean for it to be so long :') /lh

like she joins Olly and the others mainly because 1) she's literally never met another demigod in the Fire Vellumental's line who still has their powers and 2) she just wants more out of her life, especially as she's a demigod but since the Vellumentals drifted further away from most of society (for a lot of reasons, a good chunk of it can be attributed to Holt, Robin, and Taniel and very unfortunate circumstances), it's kind of affected them as well. so naturally because of the first reason she's mainly introduced to the others via Holt, likely by complete accident because xe would not intentionally bring someone with xem to the others

at first she's just very clingy around Holt solely due to not knowing the others as well (like. she does know Taniel and Jean bc they were there when Holt and Coda first met and she's a little more comfortable around them as time grows on due to Holt's eventual enemies-to-lovers thing going on with them but it still takes time). but she does grow closer to the others, mainly Harlow because they're both around the same age (15 years or so) and because he does not have as much work as the others, per say (like he still does he just. most of it is Saxen's work that she refuses to do for whatever reason). Coda and Harlow becoming friends is what usually motivates him to even head to the castle since he does not like staying there. eventually this extends to everyone else

except Saxen? sort of? partially because honestly i've genuinely been thinking of pairing them together but also because i want to see Saxen have a more negative relationship with someone within the los (like...Jean sort of counts but she's more neutral with him and has mostly moved past what happened between them during their past lives). mainly since oddly enough Saxen gets along fairly well with everyone and it'd be interesting to see her have more negative clashes with someone who. eventually becomes her friend and eventual queerplatonic partner

like i've actually been writing a few things between them and like. Coda's dynamic with the others is interesting because she's the only one who isn't revived or is very close to death's door (sort of? this is only in the case of Staples who has this because of a relation to a faded Vellumental so he's just depending on Olly atm). and she would not know certain things about this or even like. realise this until much later due to context clues. i can imagine this would lead to several, and i mean several fights between Coda and Saxen partially due to a lack of understanding, miscommunication, and the both of them just being extremely stubborn people in general

and in the context of the current pmtok au i'm writing about like. she'd be able to work more as a spy or smth, not sure how she'd be yet but she'd be able to make more reoccuring appearances with more ease than the other characters. like i plan to do this with Saxen because 1) it honestly makes sense for her character up until the green streamer arc hits and 2) i really enjoy writing her honestly idk why i don't write her more often. but with Coda it's also very easy for her to fulfill a similar role at the same time. in the context of a gameplay status she'd probably be a sort of miniboss if that helps explain things

but anyways yeah Coda is. i love her and she's probably going to end up being this second Hole Punch or smth mainly for character reasons since it does make sense for her character. that and i do adore this idea of a Scisspunch dynamic so it's very likely <3 (how would you tag that within my stories that also involve Coloredpunchtape you might be asking. i have no clue either probably just oc so it isn't as confusing)

[rainydaydream-gal18]

Rex x Reader: We Really Shouldn't Be Doing This...

        Author’s note:  I’ve been wanting to write a Clone Wars fic for sooooo long.  I love Captain Rex!  Let’s be honest, I have love for all the babies in 501st. XD  Enjoy! PART 2

Word Count: 1,438

         It was a chilly night.

         You curled up in your sleeping bag, shivering.  This particular mission was a rescue mission, to liberate this planet from Separatist occupation.  In the meantime, you were assigned to aid General Skywalker, Commander Tahno, and the 501st in scoping out the situation and await Obi Wan and his troopers.

         Because of the daring nature of Anakin and Ahsoka’s plans, it wasn’t uncommon for you to be assigned to assist them.  You had recently graduated from Padawan to Jedi.  Rather than give you your own battalion, which you voiced that you were not ready for, the Council let you remain as Commander alongside Obi Wan. Since the death of your former mentor, you completed your training with Obi Wan at the start of the Clone Wars, so you spent lots of time with Anakin and Ahsoka on missions.  Not to mention a certain Captain.

         A cold wind blew, and you instinctively curled up even tighter. How you wished you hadn’t decided to sleep out here!  You should have just joined a group of troopers around a fire. But no.  For the sake of modesty, you had decided to sleep at the edge of camp where it was dark and cold.  Even Anakin and Ahsoka had offered you a place around their campfire, but Captain Rex would also be there.  That certainly would not help your efforts to keep from forming attachments.

         Let’s face it, you already had formed attachments.  Obi Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka were your good friends.  You would do just about anything for them.  You had feelings for Rex.  Ever since the two of you had been paired off on a mission, you hadn’t been able to shake the flutter of your heart when he was nearby or the ache when you had to leave and pretend it didn’t affect you.

         These attachments were so against the rules.  So you kept your little secrets.  There was no jedi mentor to answer to anymore, so it was a lot easier to keep these things to yourself.

         Still, you made an effort to keep your distance from Rex because, well, you were embarrassed by your feelings.  The last thing you wanted was for him to find out, or for anyone else to figure it out for that matter.  It could get you in trouble.

         “Commander _________?”

         Your heart leapt, knowing exactly who’s voice that was.

         “Oh,” you cleared your throat, trying to sound as professional as possible, as you sat up.  He was standing there in only the dark underclothes troopers wore under their armor. His brown eyes met yours, and you forced your gaze to travel to something he had tucked under his arm, a blanket. “Captain Rex.  How can I help you?”

         “General Skywalker and Commander Tahno thought you might be cold.”  He unraveled the blanket and raised a brow.  “By the looks of it, they were right.”

         Your gaze went to the ground in embarrassment, and you broke the formal speech pattern.  “Yeah, unfortunately I don’t do well with cold.”

         “I’ve noticed,” he said, kneeling down.  “You always seem to be the coldest in the room.”

         “Is it that obvious?” you chuckled.  As a jedi, you felt like you had to conceal weaknesses like that.  One of your weaknesses happened to be that you get cold pretty easily.

         “You don’t ever say so, but I can see you shiver.”  Rex paused.  “You could have set up your sleeping bag with us by the fire.  It is my understanding that being a jedi doesn’t mean you have to be a loner.”

         You were well aware of that.  But in this case, being a loner seemed like the more favorable option of the jedi code.

         “I know, but sometimes it does,” you shrugged.  “Thank you for the blanket.  Tell Ahsoka and Anakin I said ‘thanks’ as well.”

         Rex went to hand it to you, and your fingers brushed his briefly as he gave you the blanket. His eyes traveled from your hand to meet your gaze.  “________, you’re freezing.”

         Your cheeks grew warm from his concern.  How embarrassing!  

         “It’s really not that bad,” you tried to reason.  “I mean, I’m sure I feel colder to you since you’re so hot- er, warm. But I’m fine, really, I’m okay. The blanket should help a lot. Thank you.”  You finished your little rant, hoping he’d leave but also wishing he could stay.

         Finally, Rex nodded and turned to leave.  You wrapped the blanket around yourself and curled back up.  He had distracted you from the cold temporarily, but now it had returned.  Had it gotten even colder?  Your teeth began to chatter against your will.  So much for sleep tonight.  You’d be lying awake shivering.

         His footsteps halted, and he stood there as if debating something.  You watched him curiously, clamping your mouth shut to quiet your chattering teeth.

         “________, I insist you bring your sleeping bag to the fire.”

         As much as you really wanted to, you couldn’t.  Not now.  You didn’t want to deal with Anakin’s playful teasing as you shamefully dragged your sleeping bag over.  

         ‘A little cold out there, huh?’ he would say.  ‘I told you so.’

         When you didn’t respond to Rex for a minute or so, he sighed.

         “Then allow me to help you.”

         “W-what?” You watched in disbelief as he approached and began to kick his boots off.

         “Commander, as much as I believe in being professional with my superiors in all circumstances,” he began seriously.  “You won’t get a wink of sleep like this, and I won’t be able to sleep knowing you’re out here freezing to death. However,  I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

         “Oh, I…”  You officially had no idea what to say to that.  This was the opposite of what your intentions were.  You were hoping to escape your feelings for him, not encourage them. “What if someone sees us?” was the only thing you could force out.

         “I won’t be here for too long,” he replied.  “Long enough to help you get warm, but then I’ll head back to my spot.”

         You hesitated.  “Are you absolutely sure about this?”

         “No,” he said.  Then, he chuckled.  “But with all due respect, Commander _________, I’d appreciate if you made your decision soon.  It is awfully cold out.”

         He had resumed using official titles, most likely to make the situation feel less wrong.  He was a Captain aiding a Commander, nothing more.

         “Oh, right, sorry,” you apologized, realizing he was standing there.  Your brain seemed to be going a million miles an hour, unable to settle on a decision. Finally, in a moment of weakness- or courage, you weren’t sure- you said, “I…I think I’ll take you up on your offer.”

         He nodded and began to unseal the sleeping bag.  You scooted over as much as you could to make room as he climbed in.

         He was so warm, but you were still unsure.  This was awkward.

         “Is this okay?” You asked shyly.

         He hesitated.  “Sure, Commander, that’s fine.”  He put an arm around you.  “You really are freezing.”

         At that, you finally relaxed and allowed yourself to just enjoy the warmth. ��You had never experienced closeness like this with anyone before, and you liked it. Your shivers gradually died down.

         “Feeling better?"

         “Yes, you have no idea,” you whispered back.  “Thank you.  I know this must be weird for you.”

         “To be completely honest, I’m not as bothered by it as you might think.”  He went silent, as if regretting his words. “I probably shouldn’t have said that. My apologies.”

         “It’s okay,” you replied.  With cheeks burning, you added, “I’m not bothered by this nearly as much as I am supposed to.”

         “Hm, I see.”  

         It went quiet between the two of you for several minutes.  You tried not to focus on the fact that he kept his arm wrapped around you to shield you from the cold. You focused on slowing your breathing, calming your pulse.  It wasn’t long before you were sleepy.

         “We really shouldn’t be doing this,” Rex whispered.  Still, he made no move to leave.

         You sighed.  “I know.”

         Both of you had let on that this particular situation was not as professional as it should be, but did you dare say any more?  Do you dare share your feelings?

         “How do you feel?” He asked.

         “Warm,” you replied sleepily.  Wonderful you wanted to say.  You were starting to drift off into a cozy slumber.

         “Wonderful, eh?” Rex repeated.  Oh, had you said that out loud?  Oh well. Too late to take it back.

         “Goodnight, Rex.  Thank you…” You yawned.

[immoral-tales]

Character Analysis: Osamu Dazai

001

A/N: this is a character analysis on Osamu Dazai with an older lover. Nonnie and I were discussing this concept back on my old blog. I adored these discussions, therefore, I have decided to move all of them here.

You, I really like you. Believe me, you are not the only one thinking Dazai would fit well with an older S/O. There are numerous reasons and I can write an entire dissertation on why Dazai would have a great relationship with an older S/O. I adore the concept of him having an older, more experienced S/O in almost every field. I need to calm down and sort out all of my thoughts, I have just returned from a trip and I jumped to my computer as soon as I read your message. First of all, I would like to thank you for sending this headcanon. I completely agree with you and I will defend this headcanon with my life. I do have one simple favor, could you send me more headcanons and concepts similar to this one? I love, love reading ideas about Dazai having an older S/O. I have a request sitting in my notifications about Dazai and his older S/O, if it is your request, then you are the best! It has been in my messages for some time now; however, it is one of my favorite requests, therefore, I’m going to take my sweet, sweet time to write it.

Dazai is a complex character, it is not a simple task to understand his layered personality. A young person will have difficulty understanding him and he would have a hard time opening up to a person who is in the same age range as him. You can argue with me about it, but I strongly believe he would be attracted to a woman who is in her late twenties or early thirties and emotionally stable. An understanding woman with a mature, yet playful personality. She should be understanding of Dazai’s situation. He has been through hell and back, Dazai has a nihilistic outlook on life as much as he refuses to admit it. His childish and foolish behavior is a facade and every one of us is well aware of it. It is his coping mechanism to cover his melancholy. If he decided to reveal his true colors, no one would accept him. A man like him has no place in the world of normal human beings, therefore, he would be quite lucky to find a person that would be by his side no matter the circumstances—a woman that would be with him until the end of the line. His S/O should not be discouraged by his suicidal tendencies. Quite the opposite, she should be able to handle his dark sense of humor and play along with him—bonus points if she has a similar taste in humor.

He needs a trustworthy woman by his side, a person he could rely on, and be able to rest his head on her shoulder at the end of a busy and tiring day, telling her about his day as he wraps his arms around her waist protectively. Despite all these traits, Dazai needs a person with a cunning intelligence and quick-witted to comprehend his mischievous attitude and tolerate his antics. His S/O should be quite educated and knowledgeable, as well. This man deserves the world, even though he wronged in the past, but he is trying his best to redeem himself. Perhaps, even Osamu Dazai deserves some happiness.

Additionally, I’m writing some one-shots for “Dragged Across Concrete” and there is one with Dazai and older S/O. If you are curious, I will reveal the name. Thank you for coming to my pep talk. With this, I rest my case.

I’m delighted to know I’m not the only one considering Dazai having an older S/O is adorable. There is no need to worry about it, everyone has their own preferences and there is nothing wrong about it. Hell, you should be proud of it and I’m with you on this one. My apologies to everyone, but I’m with this anon. I have read many stories with Dazai being paired up with an innocent, childish type and I simply cannot vibe with it. I do not have many stories published here, but if you read any of them, you will understand what type of personality I’m aiming for. An older/mature S/O for him is one of the best options for him and no one can change my mind. Therefore, I would like to thank you for agreeing with me. I greatly appreciate it. Imagine his S/O being a highly trained spy with a particular set of skills who is fully capable of keeping up with Dazai. As a spy with the years of experience under her belt, she can read people like an open book and this is what Dazai needs. A person that can understand him, without him uttering a word.

You have requests? Send them in. I might be slow as fuck, but I like to take my sweet, sweet time whilst working on them. I wish to give you quality content and not half-assed stories. The title of the one-shot is “Stray Dog Strut.” Whoops.

It is about Dazai falling deeply in love with a senior member!S/O, but she has difficulty understanding he is serious about his intentions with her, due to his constant flirting and what would he do to convince her that he is considering pursuing her. Is this your request?

I’m a fucking genius! Seriously though, I’m delighted to know the feeling is mutual. A childish, innocent reader is great and all, but you will have difficulty finding such content on this blog. Whoops. I might or might not like it when the readers in my writing have big dick energy and Dazai’s S/O is not going to be an exception either. I completely agree with you, once more. One simply does not go to Dazai when they have problems, you have Kunikida for that. Recently, I have been thinking about it—believe me, I have nothing else to do—and I strongly believe Dazai would never be attracted to a female version of himself, considering his past and mindset. His outlook on life does not help in this situation. I will die believing he is a nihilist and no one can change my mind. Despite his layered personality, at the end of the day, he is a nihilist. Therefore, to counter his complex character, we need an older, experienced reader that has seen enough in this world and would not be surprised to see one of his stunts. I will go into details, I have been waiting for this opportunity to whip out my concept of Dazai’s significant other. Thank you for giving me a perfect opportunity for it. A fair warning, mentions of suicidal tendencies. We are talking about Dazai, after all.

I have a strong desire to review his outlook on life and reveal which type would be a perfect match for our nihilist. This is my personal opinion, therefore, it would be natural for some of you to disagree. Let us proceed, shall we?

I will not bore you with his past since every one of you are familiar with it, more or less. Dazai has been exposed to death, violence, and brutality at a very young age. Hell, he met Mori at the age of fourteen as he attempted to take his own life, but most likely, failed. We, the readers of the manga and the watchers of the anime, are not certain of his living conditions. Unfortunately, it has never been revealed, therefore, let us assume he grew up in a horrible environment that led him to become quite suicidal, then apathetic. There are many factors that played a major role in making Dazai who he is today. If it had not been for Odasaku, he would have remained with the Port Mafia and surpassed Mori with his ruthlessness and holding no regard towards the life of a human being. Because of his past, he became a nihilist, but he is great at concealing it by plastering that ridiculous grin of his on his handsome face. Deep down, he is well aware he does not deserve to live because of the atrocities he had done, yet he does not deserve to die. He can still redeem himself and that is what he is doing. And he deserves to be happy, as well. I’m not saying, everyone has the right to be happy, but Dazai is one of them. All his life has been grey, but the time has come for him to see the world in black and white, perhaps, in colors, as well.

This man deserves someone who can truly love him and stay by his side no matter the circumstances. He needs an understanding, mature woman. She should be able to understand his dark sense of humor and play along with him. For instance, upon their first meeting—undoubtedly—he would suggest committing double suicide with him. I can imagine her responding with a low chuckle and asking him to reserve that place specifically for her, but first, she would prefer to get to know him better as she wishes to know the person whom she is going to commit double suicide. Her unusual response would pique his curiosity as he engages in conversation, asking some odd questions, but she answers all of them without breaking a sweat, watching Dazai’s reaction with great amusement. After his first encounter with her, he would reserve a special place for her but decides to put his suicidal tendencies aside as he interacts with her, getting to know her better. If she allows him to be physically affectionate with her, then it is expected to find his face buried in her chest. He adores those titties—size and shape do not matter to him. And another weakness of his would be her thighs, as well. As he gets comfortable with her, he discovers she is quite good at holding decent conversations and drinking whiskey alone at his favorite bar is no longer an option because he has her. During one of their conversations, he discovers she is a realist, sees the world the way it is, not the way she wants to see it. Dazai is fascinated by her outlook on life and her personality draws him more and more. He becomes infatuated with her and as he spends more time with her, he realizes he cannot imagine his life without her. The woman becomes more than just his drinking buddy. Yes, they do not have much in common, but it does not stop Dazai from harboring romantic feelings for her. At first, he does not understand these foreign feelings, but then he discovers he is head over heels in love with her and he has no desire to let her go. His life would be empty without her.

My apologies, I have got carried away, but I’m rather passionate when it comes to Dazai. Even though I’m Dostoyevsky’s slut, I still love Dazai. In the beginning, I thought Dazai and happiness should not be used in the same sentence, but now, I’m convinced even he is capable of loving; however, I’m not too certain about Fedya.

Before I rest my case, I want to add, even if Dazai cannot love, he would genuinely care for her like he cares for his colleagues and watches out for them. In the present, he is fully capable of feeling such a feeling, but his past self would not.

Thank you for coming to my ted talk.

[littlemisssquiggles]

For the longest time I’ve been saying the wizard and the maidens share some sort of bond. Even before penny got the powers I wanted Oscar to talk to the old maiden, as like the wise old witch giving advise to the young warlock After v7 I made a theory that Oscar and penny would practice and learn to use there new-found powers together I mean, there’s gotta be some sort connection between them right? They share the same power, a power the original wizard literally gave the original maidens

Hello Mia. As far as I’m aware given the context of the canon, despite a Wizard originally creating a Maiden, there is no real connection between a Wizard and Maiden at least from a relationship standpoint.

Despite the Hermit sharing a friendship with the original Four Maidens, this dynamic doesn’t seem to have carried over to his successors. I understand that you would like for Penny and Oscar to have a connection but, according to the canon, they don’t. As I was telling an anon-ninja who brought up this subject, outside of their shared bonds with Ruby Rose, Penny and Oscar share no direct relationship with each other. They are not even friends. Allies in arms who fight on the same side (for now anyways), sure. But nothing more than that.

Penny wouldn’t even have the maiden magic if she hadn’t “pilfered” it from Fria the former Winter Maiden, according the Ace Ops. Penny was never even supposed to become the Winter Maiden yet she received the powers by circumstance. As interesting as it is that Penny---a sentient lifeform--- did become a Maiden, I’ll admit that I’m personally not a fan of how the showrunners chose to portray the Polendina girl’s rise to maidenhood. Penny becoming a Maiden feels almost forced since unlike Winter Schnee, she never shared any ties to the original Winter Maiden.

I remember that following the V7 finale, other RWBY theorists began speculating that Fria was meant to represent the Blue Fairy in Penny’s Pinocchio story and while I quite liked that interpretation, it doesn’t help rationalize what was done in the show. At least in the Pinocchio fairytale, Pinocchio had a relationship with the Blue Fairy who watched over him and even came to his aid at certain points to help steer him on the right path to “being a good boy”.

If Penny was meant to be chosen as Fria’s successor then where was this kind of bond? The rule of thumb for the succession of the maiden powers was that maidens chose themselves. The only exception is when the power was forcibly taken away like in the case of both Cinder Fall and Raven Branwen. Penny had no real bond with Fria yet…she was made to be her successor over Winter Schnee who was actually shown to spend time with Fria and even grow to care for her. While I understand that Winter’s time with Fria was only done as an act of grooming and the General’s attempt at manipulating how the cycle worked. Nonetheless, I wish the show had done a better job at building up Penny becoming a Maiden.

Imagine if…as a means of doubling his chances at ensuring that the Maiden powers went to one of his own operatives, Ironwood had assigned both Winter and Penny to establish a relationship with Fria. However this info was left unknown to both girls until Winter discovered that her and Penny were being pit against one another as rivals for the Maiden power and rather than take her disdain of this method out on the General, instead Winter absolves what little friendship she had developed with Penny during their time working together and accepted her role as her rival which hurt Penny who genuinely saw Winter as a friend.

Imagine if…we had actually gotten moments of Penny bonding with Fria and having a stronger connection to her than Winter? Or perhaps Fria, who never got the chance to have children of her own as a Maiden, grew to care for both girls as her surrogate daughters leading to her being upset by how their rivalry was affecting them emotionally.

Instead of the “out of the blue” way the show had Fria just hand over the Maiden powers to Penny---an absolute stranger she had never met until the moment she died…it would’ve been better for them to have had a bond with a Maiden actually passing on the power to a person they grew to care about as a opposed to the powers being “stolen”---again!

Because although Penny didn’t take the Maiden power from Fria by force…she did technically kind of steal it from Winter which is sad since it follows this weird trend that the showrunners have done with the succession from old Maiden to the next.

The powers keep getting hijacked. With the Fall Maiden, Cinder killed the original and stole her magic. With the Spring Maiden, Raven killed the original maiden and stole her magic. With the Winter Maiden, while Penny didn’t kill Fria---at least this maiden died naturally due to old age, Penny still technically stole the powers since as I’ll reiterate, she was never supposed to be the Winter Maiden. That role was meant to be Winter’s and Penny took that from her. So it’s kinda like the same trend. At least, in my opinion.

“.....After v7 I made a theory that Oscar and penny would practice and learn to use there new-found powers together I mean, there’s gotta be some sort connection between them right? They share the same power, a power the original wizard literally gave the original maidens...”

I mean… look at Oz. Oz was the Wizard before Oscar and as far as we’re made aware, he never had a relationship with Amber (the Maiden for his respective vault) either. As the canon shows, despite a Wizard creating a Maiden, their successors don’t share in this relationship. The Wizards will probably watch over the Maidens to ensure that they aren’t attacked but…other than that, the wizards and maidens are free to live their own lives never truly needing to be involved in each other’s respective lives.

As a matter of fact, at first, I was of the opinion that the reason why a wizard doesn’t have a direct relationship with a maiden is due to the possibility of the maiden magic returning to the wizard in the event of a maiden’s death. However this theory was more or less debunked in the show since Amber was killed in front of Ozpin and instead of the remaining half of her magic going to him, it sought out its other half and went straight to Cinder Fall. Still makes me curious as to what would happen in the event of a maiden at full power dying in front of wizard. Oh well.

Going back to Oscar and Penny---since you’re like the fourth person to bring this topic to me, I have to say that I don’t quite understand what the sudden fixation is with Penny and Oscar having a connection in the canon. I understand that some fans might like this pair for their own reasons and might want them to have an actual friendship (which is fine) but…that’s not the case in the show.

This fact isn’t really helped either by the notion that Penny was never meant to be a Maiden in the first place and essentially did what all  the other succeeding Maidens before her did---which was take the Maiden powers for herself when it was meant to go to someone else. I know it’s sad to say this about Pen-Pen since she is a hero (and a likeable character) but…she did take the Winter Maiden powers from Winter and while for the greater good, that detail still remains true.

Point is, you cannot sell me on the concept of their needing to be some sort of connection or bond between Penny and Oscar, not even with the point that he’s a wizard and she’s a maiden since…admittedly, these two freckly-frecks have no relationship in the canon and their doesn’t seem to be a push for one either . Despite Penny becoming a Maiden, her relationship with Oscar is still the same as it was. Respectful but not close.

And he’s not the only wizard with this dynamic with a maiden either. As I mentioned before, Oz wasn’t close to Amber and she was the Maiden for his vault. So why should Oscar have to share a bond with Penny just because she’s a maiden. It doesn’t change the established relationship they already have which is as acquaintances who fight for the same side (for now).

Penny may be a maiden now but she’s not the “magical girl” who Oscar is meant to have a deep meaningful bond that transcends magic with. That deep connection appears to be going to Ruby. Oscar’s true rose.

And undoubtedly, this connection is much stronger than anything the show could’ve done with Penny and Oscar as a maiden and a wizard. Oscar and Ruby share many similarities too. Not only do they both share in the burden of being placed with great power and responsibility despite their age as the two youngest members of their respective teams but unlike a maiden who is the byproduct of a wizard’s magic, a wizard and a silver eyed warrior are the byproducts of a God created to aid humanity.

A Maiden is a wizard’s creation. However it was the God of Light who first created a wizard to be the champion for humanity to unite the world while also creating the silver eyed warriors to be the living antithesis to the soulless Creatures of Grimm.

As a Wizard of Light and a Silver Eyed Warrior respectively---Oscar and Ruby share a divine power as well---they are connected by the same light from the God of Light.

According to the Lost Fable, magic was a gift from the Gods and it was through the God of Light’s power that a wizard is able to retain his immortality and keep reincarnating. As for a Silver Eyed Warrior, according to Maria and Ruby’s brief conversation from RWBY V6CH8, the Silver Eyes originated from the God of Light who shared in the same unique ability.

That being said, while Penny may share in the maiden magic which was created by one of Oscar’s predecessors, Oscar shares the God of Light’s power with Ruby and unlike Penny, he actually has a genuine wholesome relationship with Ruby as she is seen as his closest companion at the moment (more so than Oz since Oscar seems to actually like Ruby which is the least I can say regarding his feelings toward Oz).

I’m not quite sure what kind of answer you were hoping from me, fam but that’s as much as this squiggle meister can say on this particular subject matter. I can’t say that there should be a connection between Oscar and Penny since…there is nothing of the sort established in the canon.

Oscar and Penny have no real relationship outside of being teammates fighting for the same cause and even if you bring up the fact that they are wizard and maiden, that detail has neither affected nor actively changed the dynamic they already have in canon. Which is…nothing or rather not much? Again, they are colleagues at best but not really friends at worst.

It’s kind of difficult to sell me on a product that doesn’t really exist, mate. As I’ll say again, I know some folks really want Oscar and Penny to have a connection and nothing against that. That’s cool. However…canonically---in the show, as it is right now as of this volume and recent episode--- it’s not there. No other way I can say it.

~LittleMissSquiggles (2020)

[ecto-american]

Photo Finish

For the Phic Phight, for @axoltheaxolotlqueen

Summary: Engaged to be married, Danny and Sam sort through some old photos for the wedding slideshow. D/S TransDanny and TransSam

On FFN and AO3

Rating: T for boob mention

Inspiration: Phic Phight

Pairings: Danny/Sam

Warnings: Some mild sad

Other Notes: For Axol, who requested "Trans!Danny fluff" and also Tucker is genderfluid in this bc I said so. Also x2: this is lowkey for trans visibility day, but UhhhHH couldn't post it yesterday on the actual day since it's for phic phight lol

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"God, you looked like such a dork," Sam teased him. Danny turned to see what his fiancée was referencing.

It was a photo of them, on their first official date, to homecoming their freshman year. He was still pretty lanky and scrawny then, his hair still at an odd, shaggy length but still gelled for the occasion. The suit fit him a tad awkwardly, but he still remembered the excitement of wearing one for the first time. God, he was so proud then, but now it was just embarrassing to see.

Sam on the other hand, seemed to never have that awkward phase, and she didn't have a hint of it then. In a dark purple and black dress, heels, she stood taller than him with long hair that was curled. She looked stunning, makeup already perfected.

The photo in question was picked out and set aside on the table Sam sat at in their apartment. Four boxes of photos, open and being sorted through for photos to be sent to Tucker, so he could put the powerpoint together.

"Hey, I was like, thirteen," he defended himself, and he reached over to try to take it out of the pile, but Sam slapped his hand.

"No!" she scowled. "I want that for the wedding slideshow Tucker's making."

"You can't pick anything where I look less dorky?" he complained. Sam grinned, shifting through more photos.

"Oh, is that a challenge?" she asked. Danny narrowed his eyes at her.

"Don't you dare," he threatened. Sam's grin only widened, and she looked faster before pulling a photo out. Danny leaned across the dining room table for her, only for her to lean back into the couch and holding the photo out of reach. "SAM!"

"Come on, it's funny!" she replied.

She turned to show him the photo, of Danny waving around his binder in one hand, a margarita in the other. It was the backstory that made it funny to her. Danny, drunk as a skunk, was forced to take his binder off by his girlfriend. If he didn't then, he would never do it later and risk getting hurt. He spent the remaining hour he was allowed to roam free showing it to people, saying that his tits were freed from prison but that they were scheduled to be executed soon.

"Sam, your grandma's gonna be at the wedding, you really want her to see?" he protested. Sam snorted.

"Ida's seen it, she thinks it's funny," Sam gave a wicked smile.

"SAM!"

"Oh, Danny," Sam cooed, changing the subject. She pulled another photo from the pile out to show him. "This is one of my favorite pictures, we have to include this."

Danny glanced at it, and his heart instantly melted. He slipped into the seat across from her to take the photo, staring at it. By random chance, their surgeries were on the same day. Sam having breast implants, and Danny having his top surgery. It started a joke that Danny was giving his tits to her, or that Sam was stealing Danny's for herself, and the hospital had allowed for the two to share a room. It was against policy of course, but it hadn't stopped Sam from sneaking out of her bed to slip into Danny's. The couple were cuddled the best they could and napped from an exhausting day when Tucker had taken the photo for them.

"Mine too," he replied softly. "Tucker was the best." The techno geek, the couple could never thank their best friend enough for it, spend nearly two weeks taking care of the two and helping them out. "Okay, but if we have that, we need to also have like, the one of Tucker helping me."

Sam burst into giggles as she watched Danny look for it, eventually producing the image. Ida had taken it, finding the situation hilarious. Danny was nervous as hell about proposing to Sam. And Tucker, man they were such a bro, had volunteered to let Danny practice on them. Tucker had dramatic tears, hands on their cheeks in a fake scream of joy with Danny on one knee, trying to keep from rolling his eyes as he practiced the big question.

"Absolutely," she agreed with a sigh. "We have a lot of time we can fill, especially since we're not doing baby photos."

Ugh, absolutely not. There was no way Danny was going to show the extensive list of guests photos of him as little baby [redacted] Fenton, in a dress or skirts. Nor was Sam interested in having photos be shown of baby [redacted] Manson in a dorky sailor suit, as per rich person family tradition.

"We can do our graduation photos, like college," Danny suggested.

"Oh, absolutely. I looked so great in that, I finally had actual hips," Sam agreed immediately.

"Same, my beard was finally growing in," Danny nodded. He finally found it, and he took it out the photos for them to both look at.

Danny and Tucker had graduated together, their diplomas held in computer science, Danny, with a full beard, in mechanical engineering. Sam still stood with them, but in a dark purple dress and her famous black bat purse. Sam had graduated a year after them due to her double major in business and animal science, both of which she held proudly in her photo with Tucker and Danny in nice suits, on either side of her. By Sam's graduation, Danny had finally given in and shaved, staying clean shaven ever since. Nobody told him having a beard was going to be so much work. Who knew you still had to trim and shave certain areas lest you began looking like a crazed mountain man? Maybe one day he'll try again, but for his wedding, he was going to be facial hair free.

"Can you believe it's just two months away?" Danny asked, mostly wondering aloud to himself.

"No," Sam confessed. Her attention was on a photo she had found. Danny immediately knew based on her expression that it was a childhood photo. "...Honestly I'm still surprised sometimes that I made it this far."

He gave a nod of understanding, his throat tightening. They were the lucky ones. They had families that loved and supported them from the start. But even then there was always that horrible gnawing feeling, that loathing of the time you lost. The crippling self doubt after the mandatory therapy and evaluations of doctors. There were times he was surprised he made it this far too.

"...Yeah," was all he could think to say.

His hand moved across the table, and Sam's had immediately met him halfway. Their fingers interlaced, and they remained silent, mourning briefly the lives they could have had if things were different. Of course, they were happy now. But sometimes…

He cleared his throat with a small cough. Things were the way they were. The past didn't matter. He was here now, presenting as he wished, and he had built a life worth living. It was still more than the hundreds of thousands of people could ever imagine having.

"But I'm glad I'm here with you now," Danny told her. She looked to him with a warm smile, and he knew she had the same thoughts as him. The circumstances were not ideal, but both of them had made the best of it.

"I love you," she spoke softly before lightly tapping her thumb against his hand. "I think I'm gonna make some pasta. Want some?"

"I would love some pasta, Mrs. Fenton."

The term made her visibly brighten more, and with a quick peck, she got up to make lunch.

[rixxy8173571m3w1p3]

The Remembrance Of A Kiss

I was feeling nostalgic for a fic which I wrote almost three years ago called Zeta-7 and The Kiss; it was written back when I first started writing Rnm fics. While, I don't write how I used to, I am fond of it. So, here's this finished wip. I think I'm running on nostalgia these days, for things are changing faster then I can keep up with. Anyway, I hope you guys like it. It's guaranteed to be fluffy :3

In this fic the reader thinks about a past momentous moment.

_____________________

The trouble and light anxiety you had felt about the occasion had been insignificant compared to his. Back then you had been searching for an answer or rather a solution to a predicament; the problem at the time being that you weren't sure how to broach the subject of a certain display of affection. It was neither a lack or an abundance of affection, and it seems silly now when you thought of it, which was often, but when and where had your inclination to kiss him first begin? It might have always been there, but that statement in itself seemed like a lie, for you didn't want to kiss him when you initially met him, but he had been influential; recognizing you from another time, another life, but that wasn't what you came here to talk about. No, you wanted to think of that fateful day.

That day he had been in his usual delightful mood, the kind that came about because he got to see you and was genuinely having a good day; although, with him, he tended to find good in every day and as expected he was deliciously cheerful and had a smile which could last for days upon his thin lips. Oh, how you had loved that smile for it followed you everywhere, even when you couldn't seem him; that haircut which had been copied from an old clothing catalog advertisement and moved about when he spoke; buck teeth which dentists could only dream to keep as trophies, and the hint of lip bite when he'd finished talking; it was part of the draw. You fought, swallowed, and bided your time as you thought of the ways in which you could show him you loved him. For you, there was a momentum, a force which couldn't have been stopped; beginning with his hellos, and would build as you continued to be so affected and had been desperate to satisfy the longing and affection which pulled and drowned your senses whenever he was near; it made you reason that it was the right thing to do; to express and ask if it was alright to move forward; it was and he agreed, but he never quite recovered from being kissed. 

No, you didn't mean all the kisses which occurred after and had taken place up to the present per se, but from the first one you had given him around the start of your relationship; having made such an impression, it was as though you had branded his heart and soul; that a string was tied to one of your ribs and to one of his ventricles which kept him alive only by his sheer will to withstand the forces and madness that threatened to tear him apart daily; he could never recover. You would say that he grew a little more mature that day; in mind, spirit, but not in age. To be sure, things had been so different then; Rick had been so shy when it came to romantic sensibilities, naive to others advances or otherwise natural attraction to him, believing he was unworthy of such while you had so much to learn about the mysteries of men; neither knew what the other had been going through. You hadn't known about his otherworldly adventures yet, his loneliness, or uniqueness, and he knew almost everything except your personality quirks, but as to how he knew was a different story.

Still, that was then, back when there was so much yet to be known, and you thought him to be human. You remembered how for days, he walked as though in a daze, bumping into things and hardly able to look you in the eyes without being lovestruck and tongue-tied; you were sure to watch after him to make sure you hadn't given him a stroke and assured him that he shouldn't deny his worth. Why it seemed even now he could barely function without being a little goofy after a kiss, but it was endearing; you hadn't known then about how he had been starved for affection due to lack of family and circumstances. Yet, if you had any doubts, they certainly were lessened by his attentiveness and wanting to please.

You were sure others might've tired of this behavior long ago, and you had your days in when you thought you weren't capable of managing it all, but for every time you came crashing down, he was there to help you even when you didn't want him to; for every tear and moment of grief, there was his affection which he returns out of love, gratitude, and fear all at once. Oh, if you knew then what you knew now, you would've confessed earlier; let him know how much you had cared, and tried harder to be a better friend. Still, you were making it up to him and doubted you'd ever finish making it up to him. And because he was forever grateful and happy when you kissed him, you decided to ask him one day what it was that he found so dazzling about it and to your shock, his answer endeared him to you all the more. "It's like saying h-hello." he answered matter of factly.

"Really? In what way?" 

"Gosh," he wondered, scratching the back of his neck. "it's uh - it's like touching hands, but instead of the formality of a-a handshake, you touch lips to greet and exchange not only DNA but affection. Culture or whoever happens to partake in this ritual may affect its meaning, but in such an awe-inspiring way I believe it's a reminder of trust and union; albeit more intimate."

Was that how he had felt back then? Had it been a social experiment or a daydream that had come into fruition? Perhaps neither. Maybe, he was concerned that you'd be disappointed if that so-called spark wasn't there, but the good thing was you relied more on just sparks. "So, what you mean to say is that in a sense those who kiss are bonded?"

"I th-think so."

And you believed him, for when it came to such matters, he was sincere. Why it must've hit him harder than it ever will with you, but you blamed being a creature of natural circumstance for that; your childhood and life had been happy and general for the most part, while his had more loops in it then the Whirly Dirly. Thinking of it now, the consequence of your affection was that he took to you so strongly, you were sure that if something happened to you, it might kill him; the thought being burdensome in its own right.

You had never thought of pairing the word passionate with him, but his sensibilities to and of the world in which he existed in as well as to interactions with the beings in it made you wonder if there was anything or anyone he could truly hate; himself perhaps for that was who he was most affected by. 

"Rick," you started, pushing away the unsettling thoughts as you set down the book you had been reading. "I think that's sweet. You certainly have a knack for seeing the poetic nature behind the reality, but what are your thoughts on the people who kiss for fun?"

He ruminated for a moment. It might've occurred to him that people didn't always kiss with the intention of forming serious relationships, but he would be sure to make a note of finding out later. "Gosh, I'm sure there are some benefits t-t-to it, though I haven't done much research on the matter."

Who knew where one would begin on such a subject. There were books on both physiology and psychology, but did any of them go into the happenstance of a kiss? You hadn't thought of checking, but knowing the intelligent man that he was, perhaps he had looked into it. "Research huh? Dear," you explained, "people don't just research kisses as though they are studies or hypothesized."

"Th-they don't?"

"At least not that I know of. I mean, people simply see and do. Don't they? Is there more?"

"Y-yes and no. It depends on the species."

"Hmm, I guess it does."

Again, you wouldn't know. There must've been planets, realities, and universes whose signs of affection transcended that of action, but while it was a fascinating thought, you were glad that in your reality that wasn't the case in its entirety. Searching his face, you found that his brow was scrunched up together, wondering if there was more to it. You had thought the question innocent enough, he, on the other hand, wouldn't be satisfied until he found the truth behind your inquiry. Not being one to try to disappoint him, you turned towards him and nodded. "However, I have my own answer. If you come closer I can show you what I mean."

Removing his glasses, he scooted closer; curious to see if the answer was somehow in your pocket or hiding on his face. The trust which allowed him to focus on you with conviction as you approached him was palpable. Lightly, you brushed back his bangs and passed your fingers lightly over his frown lines. Silly man, he thought too much for his own good, but if he had been unsure earlier, then the blush which dusted his ears and cheeks said otherwise. Stretching up, you pressed a light kiss on his forehead; not unlike the ones he'd give you when he thought you were asleep. And you smiled at him from the bottom of your heart. In turn, he chuckled in happy amusement; boyish in the way his eyes glimmered as though he had gotten a new toy. "Gee, that was - that was swell, but I-I don't understand. Wh-what was that for?"

"I see you and I must kiss you. It's practically the law." you giggled before repeating the action.

"Are y-y-you sure?" he wondered, tucking a lock of your hair behind your ear. 

Pulling back a little, you nodded. "I'm positive. Especially since it's what you deserve."

The light chuckle which escaped him only fed your joy as you peppered him with kisses. And before you could see it, you felt him smiling and glowing with happiness as his goofy grin returned with a vengeance. 

"Gosh," he sighed with contentment, "I-I learn something new everyday."

"I bet you do, but really a kiss is nothing to think too hard about."

"I-I know."

"If anything, I think it's based on a feeling. For example," you paused to give yourself a moment to gather your thoughts together. "the reason I kiss you is the same reason I've always had and it's because I care about you. In my own way, it's like I'm saying, 'Hello, I missed you, come here, I love you. Oh, I love you so very much. Thank you, for simply existing and being here with me.' Maybe we both have the same reason as to why words sometimes aren't enough, and while a kiss is simple, it's not always so easy to execute, but nothing is wrong with that. It's all done in its own time. In its own way. I am happy you let me kiss you way back when, because I adored you so much that it hurt. I still adore you, and you'll always be precious to me."

Glancing at you in wonderment, he played with his fingers then searched your face again. In his soul, he knew you weren't lying, but since you've first known him, he always seemed to be searching, as well as fighting his self-condemning mind and heart especially having been injured so many times. As though you had a world of answers for some of his simple questions that he would've otherwise been too embarrassed to ask, he'd open his mouth just to close it again. You had assured him on multiple occasions that he could ask you anything, but his bashful nature gave allowances for this; endearing in its own right. Once he seemed satisfied, he took out his notepad and wrote down some notes; if you didn't know any better, you'd think he was writing a thesis by the way the words slanted and blended into one another as he concentrated on the details, all the while sporting that lovestruck grin. "What are you writing dear? Is it a love letter? Is it about the trees, or bees, or whatever goes about in that wonderful head of yours?"

"I'm updating my notes."

This much you knew. "But on what? Not on kissing, right? That would be something." you teased.

"N-n-no," he answered softly, "but on you."

"Is that right? Is there any particular reason?" 

"Mhm," he nodded. "so I won't forget."

What a silly man he was, you thought. "It's ok to forget things, but I'm sure you won't. Besides, who forgets the first person they kiss?"

"N-not me."

"Of course not, especially with all the reminders that come after. I doubt I will, but reminders are appreciated. I wouldn't want to forget how happy you make me."

Slowing down his note-taking, he mentioned. "I like reminders too."

Of course he did. From years of journal keeping to the multiple watches and small computers that were scattered about the house, for there was so much going on in his head he needed help keeping his train of thought straight. It was just another way of saying in so many words, how much he loved you. "So do I. And trust me, I'll be sure to remind you a lot. As much as you need, and as often as I can. Hopefully," you winked at him. "I'll be reminded soon."

Giving your hand a squeeze, he softened. "I um - I don't mind reminding you. I-I really like reminders."

"I know, but do you like them more than adventures, or as far as that ship in the garage will take you?" you teased.

Replacing the notepad in his pocket, he nodded. "As far as 238,855 miles w-will take me."

Miles or kilometers were but measurements and distance, but that distance you were sure was not on Earth. "Do you mean to the moon?"

Pressing a light kiss to your temple, he answered. "Por supuesto, y-y más allá de eso. Please, don't forget"

Forget? Why would you forget? If there was a prelude, it was the flutter and happy giddiness which occurred when you caught him off guard, but to whatever came after, it was effervescent, sweet, and addictive. And while it could be said about a lot of things, he was far more complex. You see, you never recovered from being kissed, because you were enticed by his charm, and won by his goodness, but a kiss sealed the deal; for now and forever you belonged to him and you weren't going to let him forget it. Cupping his cheek, you replied. "I won't and I never will Ricky. You can bet on that," as you leaned forward, you whispered. "and seal it with a kiss."

Fin