#will get her mom a box of baked goods and everything will be fine

[binch-i-might-be]

does anyone else feel really really bad to the point of physical discomfort when they have to disappoint someone. I had to tell an old lady that you can't just buy the Too Good To Go (food waste reduce program) boxes in the store, you need to do it over the app, and I will be sick to my stomach over this for the next three days. like I can't stop thinking about it. I have to make up a happy ending in my mind to process this. it's like that every time I have no choice but to disappoint someone. a homeless person asks me for money but I don't carry cash? all I think about for at least 24 hours. is this normal does every human experience this

[nathaslosthershit]

New Neighbors and Interrupted Streams [Part 1] (LN4)

Read Part 2 here! Summary: Desperate for new friends, maybe it's time to revert to the tried and true neighborly American cookie exchange.  A/N: I know Lando lives in Monaco but in this he is still in the UK. Also I really love fics that have something to do with Lando streaming and being teased the entire time.

This was stupid. This was probably so stupid. But she had to do something.

Two weeks she had been in her new apartment, in a new country. In that time, she had gotten increasingly lonelier, seemingly unable to make friends.

She had moved to the UK for work but with another month till she actually began her new job, she didn’t know how to make friends in her free time.

God, why was it so hard to make friends as an adult? 

So, after a call with her mom expressing her issues with making friends, she was reminded of a good-old US custom.

Baking cookies for your neighbor.

Usually, this was reserved for pre-existing residents to introduce themselves to the new folks moving in, but after all this time she didn’t expect her neighbors to reach out, so it seemed she had to do it herself. 

After that phone call, she tried it twice with some of her neighbors. The first time, she left them at the door with a note introducing herself to them, saying she hoped they could meet up sometime. She found the cookies still in the box, with the opened note on her doorstep later that day. 

The second time, she got so excited when she saw from down the hall that her neighbor had grabbed them, swiftly moving inside his own flat with the cookies while reading the note. But a week later and no sign of any desire from the neighbor to connect with her, she gave up. 

She had one last person she could try with, the ridiculously cute boy who lived in the apartment across from her. She hadn’t actually talked to him, just spied on him a few times from her peephole when she heard him leaving his flat. Creepy, she knew, but she was far too shy to say anything.

But she was so desperate, and she could tell he was around her age… she thinks. After sitting at her table for an hour staring at the home baked goods, she finally grabbed them and knocked on his door before she could chicken out. 

Lando was streaming with Max next to him, when he got a notification that someone was by his door. Thinking it was the takeaway he ordered, he swiftly excused himself to go grab it. What he didn’t expect was the pretty girl who had just moved across from him to be at the door.

There was a beat of silence as they both stared at each other. In all honesty, she was just going to knock, wait a few seconds, then leave the cookies. She hadn't expected him to answer the door so she was unsure what to say. 

Finally he spoke up.

“Sorry, are we being too loud? We can totally quiet down if you need to.” He said while awkwardly scratching the back of his neck.

She still didn’t reply, too stunned by seeing him for the first time not through a small and dirty peephole. God, he was beautiful.

Seconds of silence went by until she finally managed to get everything she wanted out.

“No, no I am so sorry. You are completely fine, that's not why I am here. I just didn’t think you'd actually answer the door. Anyway, I know this is probably strange and I don’t think they actually do this here but I just wanted to introduce myself to my neighbors, so I made cookies! Again this is probably so weird of me so it's totally fine if you don’t want them or something, the other neighbors clearly didn’t but that's okay. Anyway- Hi, I live across from you and now I am here with cookies!” She managed to get out in one breath while sticking the cookies out for him to grab.

This time, Lando took a few seconds to reply, trying to process what she said. “You’re American.” Was all he managed to get out.

She didn’t know what to reply, it wasn’t a question but felt like he needed reinforcement about that statement.

“I am.”

“I didn’t realize they actually did this, thought it was a movie thing.”

“Uh- I am sorry?”

“No. no! It's sweet, thank you for them. I really appreciate it… sorry what's your name? I’m Lando by the way” 

How she managed to not actually say her name while she spent a full minute rambling about how she wanted to introduce herself was beyond her, but after quickly introducing herself, properly this time, she finally felt the tension and awkwardness leave her body.

He took the cookies from her, promising that he was excited to eat them even though he knew his trainer wouldn’t be too happy, and took this opportunity to get her phone number. Promising to text her, he closed the door and immediately looked out his peephole, wanting to get one more look at her. He was surprised, and amused, to see she did a little celebratory dance in the hallway, before taking a breath and entering her own apartment, excited she had just made a new potential friend.

“What took you so long, Mate? And why are you so red? And why do you have cookies? Where is the food we ordered?” Max asked when Lando entered the room again, a stupid grin adorning his face.

“It wasn’t our delivery, the new neighbor just stopped by to introduce herself.”

“The cute one you kept going on about?” Max teased, earning a kick to the shin as that wasn’t information Lando wanted everyone watching the stream to know.

“Anyway- she brought cookies as a little hello. It's sweet. I've never gotten cookies made for me before.”

“She brought cookies? The hell would she do that for?”

“Like I said, to introduce herself. She’s american.”

Before Max could ask anymore questions, specifically about why Lando was smiling so much and why he was beet-red, which Max already knew the answer to, their actual takeaway came, saving Lando for the time being.

When he came back and they started eating, Lando wasn’t interrogated on the topic, at least not until he began giggling on his phone.

“Mate, what are you- Oh my god guys he is giggling and texting his new neighbor. Chat, this is unbelievable.” Max yelled as he stole Lando’s phone from his hand. Reading the messages with disgust, he added, “God, you need to work on your flirting, you sound like an absolute muppet right now.”

Lando quickly took his phone back and tried to change the topic. Throughout the rest of the stream, he tried his best to not look at the new messages she had sent in order to not be teased, as the chat seemed to still be mentioning every time he would secretly text her, trying to be stealthy as to not let Max find out.

He just hoped this whole thing stayed on the stream, and that it wouldn’t come to the press, who loved to question him on his relationships. The last thing he needed was to be asked this during media after a race.

He wouldn’t be so lucky, he soon would find out after the next race.

Read Part 2 here!

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : Resting Or Baking?

Every year since you and Jack got together, you would be the ones to host for the holidays. Either back in your hometown, in your first apartment together in Atlanta, back in Miami, to now in your house in Louisville Kentucky.

You would always help out your mother in law, Maggie, with the cooking and setting up, but this year is different. Being as you're pregnant with your second child, your husband requested, no, demanded that you don't do any heavy lifting this year.

He wanted you to be as relaxed as possible, and to sleep in with him since he had just gotten home from doing Jingle-Ball and other media work. But he knows you, and he knows you couldn’t just sit back and do nothing. He knows you wouldn’t leave everything for his mom and your best friend to do.

So it’s no surprise when he walks into the kitchen to find you and your daughter baking up a storm.

“Now what did I say? No cooking this year.” Your husband says standing looking at you with raised eyebrows and his hands on his waist.

You smile, “Technically I’m not cooking.” you dab the batter with your finger to taste “I’m baking.”

He rolls his eyes “Potato, potatoes, same thing to me babe.”

“Mia wanted to bake that cake I made for her birthday, and I found this new recipe that I’m sure will be a hit with everyone.” You tell him.

“Oh so this is your doing Mia?” Jack looks at your daughter and she looks confused. “I thought we had a deal, mommy had to rest today.”

Mia nods “Yes but we wanted cake. Nino Urby loves this cake so we makes it for hims and Nina too.”

You smile and wink at her “Plus we’re almost done, just have to put this in the oven and that’s it.”

He nods “That’s it, no more working tonight ok. We just have to head to moms, eat and open presents, that’s all you’re doing tonight.”

He heads to the refrigerator to get something to drink but he whips his head so fast to look at you “You made 3 of those already?”

You shrug “Those had to be done early, so the cake can absorb all the milks. It had to sit there for four to five hours max.”

Jack groans “I know you love helping and making all these foods and desserts, but baby I wouldn’t be on your ass if the doctor didn’t say you had to have bed rest.”

“Daddy said a naughty word.” Mia chimes in from her spot.

Jacks groans “I’ll pay up in a little Princess, I’m just trying to get my point across to your stubborn momma.”

You nod and smile, “Let’s be honest, you wouldn’t have let me do a thing even if the doctor didn’t say anything. But I promise I’m good. Mia helped a lot.”

“Okay so what’s next? I know that the batch you just put into the oven will have to have some kind of toppings. So tell me and I’ll help.”

“You know me so well. It needs to cool down and then cut them into squares, and place lechera and fruit on top.”

He nods “I’ll do that, meanwhile why don’t you and Mia sit down and try doing that gingerbread house.”

Mia gasps, “Oh my gingerbread house, yes please momma can we makes it?”

“Yes bug, go take it to the table while I tell daddy how to decorate the treats.”

You watch Mia run to the table and start opening the box. You turn to face your husband, “I know you’re worried but I promise I’m fine.”

You grab his hand and place it on your belly, “We’re both fine.”

“I know you are, but I rather you just sit back and relax. You’ve been up and down non stop and I know I’ve been away, and it’s not easy with a toddler, a toddler who’s on her terrible twos.”

“You’ve been working so it’s totally understandable bubs. But I promise after Christmas I’ll try, key word, try to relax.”

He shakes his head, “You have no choice mama, I’m taking some time off and I’ll be here helping with the little princess over there. Plus the little guy is ready to come out, I need to be here and on time whenever he does come.”

You nod and try to reach his lips for a kiss, but because of your belly you can’t. “Come down here.” you tell him pouting.

That has Jack chuckling but does as you ask and gives you a kiss.

“Ughh, this not working guys.”

You both turn around to see your daughter struggling with her gingerbread house.

She goes to stick two pieces together, which stay on “YAAAY, I dids it.” But as soon as she says that, the pieces fall off. “Ughh you dumb butt.”

“Alize Mia Harlow.” Jack warns.

She looks up at him “Huh?”

“You said a naughty word.”

She furrows her eyebrows, “But tio Clay-Clay says it’s not really a naughty word.”

“Well I guess I have to have a quick talk with your uncle. But that is a naughty word, so you know the deal.”

She rolls her eyes, “Fine and I sorry.” She gets up from the table and makes her way to the living room but comes back just as quick and hands Jack a dollar.

“Thank you, no more naughty words young lady.”

Whenever an adult is around her and they say a bad word, they have to put a dollar in her swear jar. But whenever Mia is caught saying one, she needs to pay Jack a dollar from her swear jar.

Granted, she hardly even says bad words but when she does it’s usually when she can’t get her way. She’s stubborn and has no patience, just like her mother.

“Hey.” Jack says to break you out from your thoughts.

“Hmm, yes?”

“I have one of your presents that I need you to open.”

“Bubs, why not until later when we’re with everyone.”

“I can’t hide it, it came at the last minute.”

You nod “Okay.”

He grabs Mia, and he leads you towards the entrance of the house.

“Babe, why are we going outside?”

“You’ll see.”

When you go outside, you’re met with your brother in law and see a huge box in the middle of the driveway.

You turn to look at your husband. “Jackman, am I about to cry?”

He shrugs. “You know how you said you’ve always wanted to be a mom and have lots of kids?”

You nod, “Six kids, three boys and three girls.”

“But you also said you didn’t want to be driving a minivan. Because you claim you won’t look hot, which I questioned because the only person you have to worry about looking hot for is me, and you’re always looking sexy.”

“Just get to the point Jack, I’m hungry.” Clay interrupts him.

“Remind me why I asked you for help and not Urban or mom.?” Jack says glaring at his brother.

“Anyways, go open your gift mamas.”

You smile and go to pull at the big red ribbon, at the pull the entire box starts opening up and there in the middle is your brand new car.

You cry happy tears and go up to your husband to hug him “Thank you mi amor. I love you.” You give him a few pecks.

“Ewww no kissing.” Mia says, pretending to gag.

You, Jack and Clay laugh. “So what did you end up cooking?” Clay asks.

You both turn to look at him in confusion. “What? Mom said there was no way you’d sit down and do nothing. So what did you make?”

You smile “Dessert.”

“Is it ready?”

You nod “Half of it, yeah.”

That has him running to the house.

“CLAYBORN IF YOU TOUCH THEM I WILL BEAT YOUR ASS.” Jack yells.

“Daddy.” Mia says smiling.

“I know, but go make sure your uncle doesn’t eat the cakes you and mama made.”

Mia gasps and runs inside the house “TIO NO TOQUES, DON’T EAT MY CAKES.”

Jack is now staring at you “Why are you crying?”

You shrug “I’m just so happy, I’m blessed to have you in my life. I’m not talking about the gifts, that’s a bonus.” You joke.

“I’m talking about the love we have for each other, our daughter and this little one who’s most likely to get here soon. You make me the happiest woman alive. I love you and our life together.”

He pulls you in, “Y/N, none of this would be possible if it weren’t for you. You’re the glue of our little family. You, not me, you, because when I’m away, you’re here with our daughter giving her the childhood she deserves. You love me and you show it to me every single day. I wouldn’t be the man I am today, or the father that I am, if it weren’t for you. You make this so worth it and I’m forever grateful that you’re my wife and the mother of our children.”

He kisses you, “You’re my greatest gift.”

You two stay outside for a little more just kissing each other and telling each other how much you love one another.

“Mommy, daddy, tio Clay-Clay dropped something.”

You pull back “Let’s go check on your brother and my pastelitos.”

“If he dropped or ate any of them I’m fighting him, I love your desserts.”

“I know there’s a second meaning to that in there. But yes, I’ll let you fight him.”

“Momma hurry, he’s making a mess with my gingerbread house.”

You and Jack laugh and head inside to the kitchen. Luckily none of the cakes were touched or harmed. You couldn’t say the same for Mia’s gingerbread house though.

That’s how you spend your evening, helping your daughter build her gingerbread house until it was time to head to your in-laws house to spend Christmas night.

******

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[wheels-of-despair]

@funsonmunson-again's Birthday Week Writing Challenge The Eddie: Janitor!Eddie The Prompt: #3: janitor!eddie tries to make a cake for teacher!reader's birthday. as mentioned in 'love me tender' he's not a chef lol, so it's a disaster. Words: 1.7k?! Oops. Contains: Baking mishaps, cuteness, and a sugar coma.

"Shit!"

Oliver's jaw dropped.

"I said shoot."

Oliver grinned. He was standing on his stool at the kitchen counter, watching Eddie prepare to make a birthday cake. He'd greased the edges of the pan a little too high, and had dropped the slippery metal on the floor with a loud clang.

Eddie had everything he needed lined up and ready to go. Oliver had helped him double-check: a greased pan, a mixing bowl, a little bowl containing three eggs, a bottle of oil, two measuring cups, a whisk, a box of cake mix, and a container of icing. Using a boxed mix wasn't really the same as starting from scratch, but he knew you'd appreciate the effort anyway.

He measured the oil and water, and began cracking the eggs into their little bowl. ("Always crack eggs separately," he'd heard you tell Oliver once. "Otherwise, you'll get shells in everything, rather than just the one bowl.")

It's a good thing that bit of advice stuck with him, because all three eggs had left bits of their shells in the bowl. "This one's not on me, there must've been something wrong with the chicken," he joked as he fished them out, causing a giggle from Oliver.

And finally, the bag containing the mix… which ripped weird, and showered Eddie's shirt and the counter with a fine layer of chocolate powder.

Oliver, wearing his apron, covered his mouth with his little hand so Eddie couldn't see him laughing.

"Oh, you think this is funny, do you?" Eddie asked with a playful grin. Oliver shook his head, mouth still covered, laughter barely contained. Eddie licked his finger, swiped it across the counter, and came at Oliver with a chocolate-coated mess. The child shrieked, leaped off his stool, and retreated to the safety of the living room.

With a laugh, Eddie returned to his cake-making alone.

Eddie dumped the dry mix into the big bowl and carefully added the water and oil and eggs, not wanting to cause another cake mix cloud. Next time, he'd buy a backup box. Just in case.

He mixed the batter by hand, not brave enough to attempt the high-powered electric mixer. That was a disaster waiting to happen.

When the lumps were gone, he gently poured the batter into his greased pan, and opened the oven.

Which he'd forgotten to pre-heat.

He turned it on with a sigh, and called Oliver back to the kitchen. They each grabbed a spoon and went to town on the mixing bowl. Mom had warned them about the dangers of eating raw eggs, as all moms do, but it was just a little bit. And it was the best part of baking. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her. They licked their spoons clean, and Oliver returned to his toys on the living room floor.

When the little red light came on the oven, Eddie slid the cake onto the rack and started on the dishes.

After he finished cleaning up his mess so far, he leaned on the counter and watched Oliver play. He was such a good kid, with a great imagination. He could sit and entertain himself for hours. Kind of like Eddie when he was little, but much quieter.

Soon, the cake began to smell like cake, and Eddie looked at the timer… which, of course, he forgot to set. He opened the oven door to take a peek. How was he supposed to know when it was done? He didn't even know how long it had been in there.

He wished they'd picked out a vanilla cake. Those get brown when they're done, like toast, right? How were you supposed to tell with chocolate?

He pulled out the cake and gave it a poke with his finger. Still jiggly. He sucked the chocolate off his finger - hot, but not bad - and stuck the cake back in the oven.

He leaned against the opposite counter with his arms crossed, deciding to check on it every minute. Even though he didn't really know what he was looking for. When he finally decided it was done, he removed it from the oven and set the pan triumphantly on a towel.

The smell of cake summoned Oliver back to the kitchen. "That's it?" he asked.

"Yup," Eddie said proudly. "Careful, it's hot." Oliver looked at the cake with wary eyes, making Eddie suddenly self-conscious. What was wrong with it? Sure, it was a little dark, but it was chocolate. It was supposed to be!

"It just looks weird because there's no frosting on it yet," Eddie assured him.

"Oh!" Oliver said brightly, restoring Eddie's faith in his cake a little bit. Oliver returned to his toys, and Eddie opened the container of frosting and slathered it on… and it disappeared. He picked up the container and read the instructions. You're supposed to wait until the cake cools. Dammit.

Eddie looked at his wet chocolate monstrosity and wanted to cry. He tried. He really fucking tried. He didn't even know why it was so important; you could whip up a cake anytime you wanted. You did it for his birthday, and for Oliver's, and for Wayne's. He just thought it would be nice if he did it for you too. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he wondered if he had time to run to the grocery store and buy a cake. Or even just the dollar store, for a box of Little Debbie cakes. Birthday tradition demands a cake!

And then you walk in the front door, back from your birthday brunch with the girls.

"Hi, boys!"

Oliver jumps up and runs over for a hug. He buries his face in your stomach, and you sway back and forth with him a few times.

"Wow, did you really miss me that much? I was only gone for a few hours!" you tease with a tussle of his hair. Your eyes meet Eddie's, and you give him a smile. The kind that makes him weak at the knees.

"We made you a cake," Oliver informs you.

"You did?!" you ask with slightly exaggerated surprise. "Show me!"

Oliver leads the way into the kitchen, where Eddie is seconds away from crawling into the oven to hide in shame. Oliver's stares at the cake's current state, and cuts his eyes at Eddie. Even the kid knows he screwed up.

"Ooooh, looks chocolate-y." You look from the cake to Eddie. "Did you help, or did Oliver make this all by himself?"

"This one was allll Dad," Oliver says, making a quick exit. Traitor.

Eddie blows out a huff of air. "I tried," he shrugs.

"It looks great."

"The frosting melted."

"That's okay. It's still there, it'll just make the cake a little wetter."

Eddie looks at you in disbelief. He royally screwed this up. Even Oliver knew it. How are you always so optimistic?

"Have you guys had lunch yet?"

Eddie nods. They'd wolfed down sandwiches and chips before they started gathering ingredients, for baking fuel.

"So can we try it now, or do we have to wait 'til after dinner?"

"You don't have to eat it," Eddie says, "I'll go get you a real one."

"This is the one I want."

"It's going to be terrible."

"Have you tried it?"

Eddie shakes his head. You open the silverware drawer and retrieve a fork, sticking it in the edge… where it does not penetrate. You move the fork a little closer to the middle. Still hard. You keep stabbing, moving a few centimeters closer to the center each time, until the fork finally sinks in. Eddie is mortified. And then he notices your shoulders shaking.

"Are you laughing at me?"

"No," you laugh, not looking at him.

"You are so!" he accuses, and you stop trying to hide it. You let out a laugh and attack him with a hug, leaving the fork sticking in the chocolate disaster. Soon, he's laughing with you. Oliver watches with fascination from a safe distance. Grown-ups are weird.

"Alright, moment of truth," you announce, returning to the counter and lifting a forkful of cake out of the pan. You offer it to Eddie.

"Not it!" he calls before covering his mouth. You turn to Oliver, who ducks behind the counter.

"Wimps!" You take a bite and chew thoughtfully. "Hm."

"Hm?" Eddie asks.

"Hm," you repeat. "Give me a bowl."

Eddie reaches in the cabinet behind him and offers you a cereal bowl.

"We're gonna need bigger bowl."

He grins and swaps it for the mixing bowl in the dish drainer. You nod, and give him a kiss on the cheek as he hands it to you. You turn to the chocolate catastrophe and scoop out the soft middle of your cake, and some of the melted frosting that hadn't completely sunken in, and drop it in the bowl. Then you walk to the freezer and pull out a carton of vanilla ice cream. Eddie fetches the ice cream scoop from its drawer and hands it to you, watching silently.

You cover the cake in ice cream, then grab a handful of chocolate chip cookies from the cookie jar. You crumble them on top of the ice cream, then add a little whipped cream, and some sprinkles for a dash of color.

"Three spoons, if you please," you request as you pick up the bowl with both hands. Eddie pulls three spoons from the silverware drawer and follows you into the living room. Oliver's eyes widen when he sees the size of the massive birthday sundae. You set it on the coffee table with a thud, and take a seat on the couch.

"Alright boys, I'm gonna need some help with this."

Eddie hands out spoons, and you all crowd around the bowl.

Thirty minutes later, Oliver has lapsed into a sugar coma. His snoring little body is stretched out across both of your laps. Your and Eddie's feet are propped up on the coffee table, legs touching, and your head is resting lazily on his shoulder.

"Thank you for the cake," you whisper.

"I tried," he says again.

"I know, baby. And it was perfect."

[kindnessisweakness2]

2

The next morning Emily woke up at 7am, anything but well rested. She didnt get into bed until 3am and despite being exhausted sleep would not overcome her. She tossed and turned for hours, her mind going round and round yesterdays events. Coming home to find that girls underwear and dirty sheets. Her explosive episode at Teller Morrow that left her extremely embarrassed. She spent all last night crying and packing away Noah’s things. 6 years. Gone in the blink of an eye. Tears welled in her eyes at the painful thoughts, the ache in her chest something she was already becoming familiar with. NO. She’d done enough crying, especially over that asshole. Pulling herself up from the warmth of her bed, she forced herself into the bathroom to get ready for what she already knew was going to be a long day. 

Jax watched from the office as Noah leaned against the boxing ring chatting to one of the clubs many hang arounds. He really was never gonna learn. Something about him didnt sit right with Jax. Jax messed around with more than his fair share of women, and he had no doubts about the broken hearts he left in his wake, but Piney was right. Half the men in the Club would kill for a woman like Emily to hold them down, and the likes of Noah just threw it away. He thought he knew everything but the reality was the little runt didnt know his arse from his elbow. “You wanna tell me why your glaring holes through that kid?” His Mom spoke without even a glance away from her paperwork. Gemma Teller really didnt miss a beat when it came to her son. Jax shook his head before turning to his mother. “It just dont sit right with me thats all. Got a bad feeling.” Gemma raised a knowing eyebrow at her sons vauge response. “Oh so its got nothing to do with you being curious about Little Miss Angry?” Jax smirked at his mom. “No. Just looking out for the good of the club, as aways. And trust me, Noah isnt good.” Gemma nodded as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. Before Gemma could continue her questioning, they both turned at the sound of a knock on the open office door. There she was. Little Miss Angry. Stood in the doorway looking uncomfortable. "Sorry to interrupt. I'm just here to sign the paperwork for the bike." Emily wanted the ground to swallow her up as she stood there awkward and red faced. "Oh, and here." She thrust the large baking tray full of homemade lasagne and Garlic bread towards Jax. "I made you guys food to say sorry for erm. What ever that was yesterday." Jax gratefully accepted the tray. "You really didn't have to darlin. Come this way, you can fill the paperwork out in the clubhouse." Jax jerked his head in the direction of the building but regretted it when he saw her face change as she clocked Noah still stood by the boxing ring. "How about we sit on the benches instead?" Emily visibly relaxed at the suggestion. She wanted to be the furthest away from him she could get. "You guys head over, I'll bring the paperwork out." Gemma spoke as she took the tray of food off of Jax. "I'll put this in the clubhouse kitchen, the guys will be all over it like pigs if they see it now." Smiling at the pair as she left. Jax couldn't help but shake his head at his mother. She really was obvious. Leading her to one of the picnic tables, Jax sat down opposite Emily. "So stupid question but how are you holding up?" Emily's eyes widened at the question she wasn't expecting. "Yeah I'm fine. I'm always fine." Emily may have convinced her self she was fine but Jax wasnt buying it. The bags under the girls eyes were dark, she looked exhausted. She glanced over to where Noah was stood talking to some girl. He really didn't give a fuck about her. Clearly. "He's been busted back to prospect." Emily couldn't help the shock that spread on her face at Jax's comment. Before she could speak jax answered the question that he knew was coming. "For the disrespect. He didn't earn his place at our table. How he treated you? It wasn't going to go unanswered." Emily Shrugged her shoulders. “Not gonna lie i wasnt expecting the club to do that. The way you tend to treat women isnt exactly good, So i wasnt expecting you guys to care. Thought i would have my angry outburst and you guys would go on about your day. You hardly know me anyway, he always kept me seperate from it. He used to tell me it was because of how dangerous things got. I thought it was sweet, him looking out for my safety. When really its because he wanted to  fuck around behind my back.” Emily smiled at Jax through watery eyes. “First love dies hard ya’know? I’ve stayed loyal to a sad excuse of a man for 6 years thinking he loved me. He was my first everything. Pretty pathetic right? 25 years of age and I’ve only been with one man.” Emily sniffed and wiped her eyes. “Yeah love will make you do stupid shit, until one day reality smacks you in the face. Hard.” Jax smiled at her. “I get it. Fuck, if i could tell you what my first love did to me, you wouldnt believe it. Had me proper twisted up. Even debated leaving club for her.”Emily’s eyes widened. “Fuck thats messed up. Im sorry. Loyalty is hard to come by nowadays.” Jax couldnt agree more with Emily. He couldnt understand why but he felt he could talk to her without being judged. She was different. Beautiful, but different. “Em?” Jax watched as she visibly stiffened at the sound of his voice. “I didnt know you’d be coming in? What are you hear for?” Emily ignored him completely, still staying focused on Jax. “Did your mom say how long she’d be with the paperwork?” Jax Frowned at Noah, “No Darlin’ Ill go and check now.” Fucking Noah. Was all Jax could think as he stood from the bench and headed into the office to get the paperwork his mom had clearly forgotten. 

Outside Emily was praying  Noah would disappear into thin fucking air but god had other plans. “Hey, are you gonna talk to me?” He placed a hand on her shoulder to get her attention. Emily instantly jerked away and stood up from the bench, trying to create space between them. She could feel the anger burning in her stomach again as she looked at the man she once loved. What she ever saw in him she would never know. Its as if the blind fold she had been wearing for the last 6 years had finally been lifted and she saw him for what he truly was. A Pathetic Sad little man. “What are you doing sitting with Jax? You know his reputation. What you wanna get back at me so your gonna fuck a brother?” Noah’s voice carried across the busy TM Lot. Everyone from the Mechanics working away, the rest of the club coming out of the club house, and even customers heard the accusation spill from his mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me?” There it was. The anger she was trying to hold back came spilling from her mouth. “What i do, Who i speak to and who i fuck is none of your goddamn business anymore! Stay the fuck away from me.” Emily tried to leave it at that. She tried to walk away. But Noah made the mistake of grabbing her arm and trying to pull her towards him. And before he knew it Emily’s clenched fist was making contact with his nose. The crunch was loud. Satisfying even. “Carry on and I will FUCK every single man that sits around that fucking redwood table that doesnt have an old lady waiting for them. 6 years of shitty sex i think im owed a good dicking down. Maybe ill save Jax for last, from what i hear he’s second to none in bed.” Emily spat as she smacked Noah again, ignoring the searing pain in her hand. “And im pretty sure as prospect they can make you watch.” The loud whoops and whistles that came from the rest of the club, shocked Emily. Noah sat on the floor holding his bloody nose as she turned to walk away shaking her quickly bruising hand. Jax came rushing towards her with the paperwork in hand. “Come on, after that you can definitely fill this out in the clubhouse. I’ll get some ice for your hand aswell.” Emily nodded as she followed Jax. Her anger gone, and embarrasment quickly taking over. 

[hllfireclb]

Christmas Eve with Eddie Munson

Pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader

warnings: some dirty flirting, a bit of cursing

a/n: Any kind of feedback is highly appreciated as long as you stay nice! Feel free to send request or messages!

Masterlist

You woke up in Eddie’s trailer this morning, he had made breakfast for the two of you and his uncle Wayne, who had worked the night before. Pancakes with some whipped cream and strawberries, it was simple but definitely delicious and something all of you three ate. After you got ready to leave his trailer, he drove you to your parents house, giving you a soft kiss before speaking.

"So, me and Wayne will come over around 7pm if that‘s okay? Y'know we still gotta prepare some stuff with Santa and shit" he grinned as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer to him so he could plant another soft kiss on your cheek. A soft giggle escaped your lips and you nodded. "That’s fine with me Ed‘s, I also still have to prepare some stuff“ you smiled at him. He mirrored your action and showed you his huge smile before he left to prepare everything for the evening.

At 7pm your doorbell rang. Just like Eddie announced. You opened the door, a bright smile formed on your lips when you saw the sight of your boyfriend and his uncle in front of you. Both of them wearing a white, long-sleeved shirt and a black blazer over it. Eddie wears a black jeans which is not ripped and his shoes are whiter than usually…he must have cleaned them, just for you and your family. His hair was brushed straight and he wore lots more of his cologne, probably to cover the smell of weed on him.

"You look amazing Sweetheart" was the sentence that pulled you out of your thoughts. Eddie looked at you, up and down, gosh he checked you out in front of his uncle. You wore a black dress which was shining in the dim light of the living room, and fuck did it suite you well. Every curve of yours looked so fucking sexy. You softly smiled at him as you peeked his lips, stepping to the side so they could come inside.

When the two man entered your house and greeted your parents, you all sat down together and ate the food you and your mother made earlier that day. Some simple small talk filled the room, Eddie’s Hand rested on your thigh as he talked to your mother. This wasn’t the first time that Eddie and Wayne met your parents, they actually knew them since 3 years now and both of them already were a part of the fam, since your mom liked Eddie so much. Unlike your dad, who needed some time to get used to the fact that the "town freak" actually was the best boyfriend ever for his little girl.

Later that night you gave each other the presents you‘ve bought or prepared for each other. Eddie got your mom a new cooking apron since hers got burned one time she tried to bake and a six pack of beer together with an AC/DC vinyl, for your dad. He really knew your parents. Wayne got another cap for his collection, this one’s probably going to hang over the old TV since there‘s barely any space on the walls anymore.

When Eddie gave you your presents he looked kinda nervous, his cheeks were covered in a soft pink tone and his skin was hot.

"Hope Santa didn‘t lie to me and you actually like these, 's nothin‘ big" he laughed as he handed you the two small boxes in his hands. You shook your head slowly while giggling, not wasting any time to open the presents. When you saw what was inside, it felt like your heart stopped beating for a second. The first little box you opened was filled with pictures of you and Eddie, two concert tickets for Metallica lying in the middle of it, surrounded by the pictures you loved the most. Your mouth wasn’t even able to close again when you looked up at him, seeing him grinning now. He knew you too damn well.

"So he didn’t lie? Good to know. But there are two inside? You gonna take someone with you darling?" He grinned from ear to ear now. "Eddie did you murder someone for these?" You asked, still shocked that he actually bought these tickets. You knew how expensive they were and you also knew that Eddie didn’t have that much money. He laughed softly as he shook his head, taking one of your hands into his own. "No! Of course not! Just worked my ass off at Wayne’s work after school! Open the other one now!" He didn’t give you any time to answer before he shove the other, way smaller, box into your hands.

You slowly opened it, eyes widening even more and you felt your mouth and throat going absolutely dry. It was one of his rings. His favorite actually. The ring his mother gifted him before she passed away when he was still a kid. It meant the world to him. And he‘s giving it, to you now. Again your gaze met his as you shook your head in absolute disbelief. "Eddie no. I c-can‘t accept that..I-it’s your mothers.." you softly said as you put the box beside you but all he does is shake his head.

"I do not accept a 'no' baby, I know what you’re thinking right now…but believe me, I know what I’m doing. I want you to wear that ring, please. It means the world to me, yes but so do you" he softly smiled as he took out his old ring just to slowly put it on your ring finger. You just now notice that it fits perfectly, which was never the case before. God he even re-ajusted it, just for you.

"I love you y/n. So, so much..please promise me you‘ll wear this ring everyday"

"Fuck I love you so much more..I promise Ed’s"

[nothing0fnothing]

I was small and my mother's relationship was new. I was just starting to get used to my mom's boyfriend. Sure, I'd visited him fairly regularly at his house, and he was a welcome enough edition to mine too, but now he was there all the time.

I was a pretty chill kid, things would change and I'd be upset but I'd just keep it inside and refrain from ever mentioning it if I could help it. Yes, he was always around now and no I wasn't really used to him enough to cope with living together and I did miss all the time I was used to having alone with my mummy, but mummy was happy and I was fine so it was whatever.

But actually now mummy's boyfriend was hitting me too, and he wasn't being as nice to me as he was before, and sometimes he would tell mean things about me to my mum in front of me, and I'd feel hurt and want to cry but I'd keep it inside, pretending I didn't hear it.

I'd started having sleepless nights and tummy pain, but I'd smile through it like a champ and just nap through my play hour at school. I really didn't want to rock the boat.

Actually by now I couldn't cry at all. I was scared to go to my mum with so much as a skinned knee, knowing that he'd be angry if I demanded too much of her. I just imagined myself an inky puddle of black, absorbing everything and keeping it inside me forever. Thus was how I could be silly and smiley on the outside like the grownups wanted me to be, but also keep all the sad or confused or alone or lost feelings inside where they belonged. I'd just absorb all of them and smile on the outside. Easy.

It was working well for a good few weeks, till one day mum's boyfriend came home from work and he was mad. Mummy and I had spent the day together after I'd had the morning at playschool.

We had to go to the doctor to get a special cream because my skin was worse than it had ever been before, angry and red and bloody and flakey and itchy and painful. The bath lotion and the moisturiser wasn't enough I had to use a special steroid cream now, that numbed the pain and fixed soothed the skin but also bleached me so the hand most affected was whiter than the other. I hadn't even noticed till it was pointed out to me by another kid at school while we played in the sand box.

After that we baked cookies and watched TV and got cosy by the fire. It was cold outside and we would only warm up one room at a time. I'd been bathed and dressed in my sleep clothes and was waiting to have my hair dried before I went to bed when the door banged hard and mum let her boyfriend in.

He barely acknowledged me as he came into the house and they went into the kitchen to have a grown up talk. Bored, I started flicking the settings on the hairdryer, playing with the warm, then cool, then hot streams of air.

"What the fuck are you doing?" 'Daddy' had appeared in the living room and was furiously watching me play.

I looked up at him with sad eyes and started blow drying my scalp instead.

"What the fuck are you doing?" He asked again this time louder and scarier. I didn't respond at all. Blowing my hair and wishing that my mum to come in now.

"What the fuck is she doing? She won't even answer me." He said as my mum joined him.

"She won't answer you if you're swearing." My mum explained.

I couldn't think of a time a grown up swore to my face like that, I could feel the tears bubbling up and was shaking trying to push them down inside me, to absorb the sad feeling and be smiley on top of it. It didn't really work, instead tears were streaming down my smiling face as I tried to snatch them away on my sleeve.

"Why's she crying now?" He was really angry.

My mom asked me in a kinder voice "Cordelia, why are you crying?"

I fixed my eyes on the wall behind her shins and said nothing.

"Cor, Cor?" She wanted my attention but I didn't know how to speak without sobbing so I kept watching the wallpaper.

"What the fuck is her problem?" Her boyfriend was shouting now "why are you crying?"

"I'm not!" I shouted as my voice cracked and the sobs fell out.

"You know what you are?" He asked me nastily "you are ignorant."

I didn't know what it meant but I knew I needed to get a handle on this situation before it got very bad. The grown up were now shouting at each other in the kitchen while I cried into the warm air stream of the hairdryer on the floor of the living room.

"Hey look at me" I shouted, stood up, face still wet with tears, determined to break the tension "I'm eating air!" I mimed it.

For a moment I waited for the laugh, but it didn't arrive. They stood and watched me biting the airflow out of the hairdryer while I tried to do anything to make it funnier. Jazz hands and I was about to try to fake fall when he broke the silence.

"Now you're just an idiot." He said.

I watched him wide eyed and blinked in shock. I'd never been called that by a grown up before and it hurt me deeply.

"You shouldn't be swearing" I said.

"I didn't swear" he argued.

"You did. You swore lots of times"

"When?" He snapped. "What did I say that was a swear."

I went silent. Looked at the floor and said nothing.

"Go on" he said. "What did I say that was a swear."

I wouldn't repeat it. Now he was angry and my mom was trying to smooth it over with him.

"You can say what he said sweetie" she babbled at me "you can repeat it just this once." I still wouldnt do it.

"If she won't say it that bitch is a liar."

"I'm not a liar you said a swear 3 times!" I shouted. Absolutely losing my composure and feeling the intense urge to be anywhere else but this cosy firelit living room in my snuggly winnie the pooh pyjamas.

"You'd better run". My mom said. I thought she was joking "run now" she screamed.

I did, as fast as my little legs would go. Heart pounding, full of fear and upset, half the size of my pursuer and unable to think clearly I was caught in seconds and hit hard in the face.

"What swear did I say?" He said as he hit me again. I was about to say it now the stakes were much higher but before I could get half a word out I got hit again. "Say it now or I'll kill you."

And suddenly my mom was in front of me. I was being squished into a corner and her husband was trying to get to me. They were shouting at each other and I was now crying and screaming incoherently as I cowered behind my mummy absolutely terrified.

Eventually it all calmed down. My mum sent me upstairs in a tone I'd never heard from her before. I was more than eager to be away.

I sat on the edge of my bed anxiously listening and as soon as I heard footsteps I scrambled into the sheets and pulled the duvet over my still wet hair.

I think she sat on the edge of the bed with me while she dried it gently. I like to think she did, I don't really remember.

I can't really even remember if this was the first violent outburst or just one of them. I do know I couldn't have been older than six years old when it happened.

It wasn't too much longer after this I started having to miss days at school to hide bruises, then, when they were sure I'd not tell anyone, they started sending me in with them anyway. Adults would ask and I'd shut down. Silently friends stopped being allowed to play at my house, soon after that, their parents didn't want me playing at theirs.

It was that summer term I was sent into school one morning needing stitches in my face. I sat quietly at my desk holding a tissue to my skin to stop the blood diligently till it was time to write. Confused why everyone was making such a fuss that I was bleeding and wishing they would stop. I got sent straight from school to the hospital to have it stitched shut.

Over the months and years my mom became violent too so. Out of nowhere it would be a shoe to the shins or a soft toy thrown so hard into my face it split the skin. Neither of my parents were safe.

And before I knew it I'd grown up and I'm safe now and I'm grateful, but all this sad stuff, all these sad thoughts are just, in me, like a pool of inky black sadness that's inside me. All I can try to do to get it out is to not commit to keeping it inside anymore. I'm safe now, I can talk about it.

[dearabby1990]

Chapter 17: Just a little something…

Hearing the loud sound of Van Halen coming up the street signals to you that Eddie is close. You grab the bag and scurry to the living room to peek out the window you invited him to dinner at yours tonight dining room table set just for two with candles and wine glasses you spared no expense for the man that made you feel like the most beautiful person on earth. You spent all day cooking and baking making a full roasted chicken dinner with all the fixings & a cake and your moms strawberry jam white chocolate cookies thanking the lord she taught you lots with the short time you did get to have with her. Brushing the wrinkles out of your dress and checking your hair one last time you take a deep breath as the doorbell rings. You open the door to find Eddie smiling looking like a million bucks no jeans this time dress slacks and a white dress shirt noticing he has no tie maybe it was a good gift idea or maybe he hates ties you start to get nervous stepping aside to let him in he hands you a bouquet of red and white roses “Here gorgeous these are for you & by the way you look absolutely breathtaking” with that he takes your hand making you do a full 360 so he can see all of you. He whistles “all this for me princess?” You both blush you take his hand & head to the kitchen to put the flowers in the water next to the ones he got you last time “wow those held up great love” you smile and look down “thanks my mom had a green thumb she always knew how to make them last what felt like forever but you wanna know the best part?” He nodded “after they died she’d save the pedals every time put them in a large hat box inside was this jar she called it her love jar every flower my father ever gave her over 25 years” Eddie notices how you light up talking about her. “She sounded like a beautiful person sweetheart no doubt where you get everything from” Eddie knows what it’s like to lose a parent he also knows what it’s like to have a shit father so he sympathizes with one look you don’t wanna ruin the night & chose to change subjects “I have a surprise for you” his ears peak up like an excited dog “surprise?” You nod “mhmm stay here I’ll be right back” you pad your way to retrieve the gift bag while also grabbing Eddie a beer “no the beer isn’t your surprise goofy here I saw these & they made me think of you & I just had to get them I hope you like them & it’s not stupid” you say nervously “nothing I get from you could ever be stupid” he rests his hand upon your cheek & you lean into the feeling he slowly starts to take the contents out of the bag pulling out the thin black box running his fingers over it he slowly opens it and stares for a moment before taking your hand “thank you princess I love it it’s awesome but what if it doesn’t go with what you’re going to wear?” You smile kissing his hands “but it does that’s what made it even more perfect I found it after I found my dress last week” his eyes light up with excitement “you got your dress already?!” You laugh “yes Eddie i just need a few small things & im all set” you both smile at each other “I wanna see!” You shake your head “uh uh no way it’s gonna be a surprise you’re lucky you need to know the color it’s the maroon on your tie” he huffs “fine you’re lucky you’re beautiful I really wanna see though” at that you hear Eddie’s tummy growl you giggle “I guess it’s time for dinner” you take him to the dining room he sees how much effort you put into this dinner his eyes soften “babe… you did… you did all this for me?…” you grab his chin to look at you “of course I did you deserve it & everything else beautiful in the world Eddie you’re such a wonderful soul & I want you to know how much I care (you wanna say love but are too afraid) about you I’m not so good with words so I have to find other ways to tell people how I feel” with that he pecks your cheek & you both sit at the table to enjoy an evening just the two of you.

[ducknotinarow]

[Charlie Rhodes] “why don’t i make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it?“

| Muse interaction

Rhodes preferred to be laid back and act like things didn't get under his skin. Because well if he didn't let it get to him than clearly it wouldn't get to him it was just some sort of magic or whatever. Or maybe it was just easier that way to be this way. Rhodes wasn't one to really bring his family drama with him, even with it being well out in the open now for everyone to see. Rhodes would rather everyone just act like it wasn't a thing. He just wish that applied everywhere, as he was looking over the stupid slip of paper he was given on his way out of class before he hopped on the bus for St.Canard. His dad was out of town and apparently Karine was incapable of being useful. Like always. Rhodes didn't want to bother his mom with driving all the way out to Duckberge anyway so a bus was fine. Not like he ever had to pack much anyway he had clothes at such at his moms. Just needed to grab some charges and hes pretty much good to go with just his backpack.

In a sense it fit the go with the flow mind set he tried to maintain on everything. And for the most part? it worked. Just never draw attention to much move through the motions he guessed. So why did the guidance counselor have to ruin all of that? He thought as he stared down at the stupid red small almost card stock like slip he was given on his way out from school. Telling him he had a meeting with the school counselor on Monday. Set during his lunch period. Smart on her that way he can't lie and use class as an excuse. Sure getting called in by the school's counselor could be for a number of reasons. Poor performance in class or bad grades. No Rhodes issue. He was pretty smart on his end. A worry about social development. Rhodes tended to find a number of things to take part in at school. Sure it was so he could avoid being at home but hey he still took part in things. Like helping the school and out or helping make posters for bake sales or whatever. He never committed to anything of course. Which apparently was an issue. Looking down at the note she wrote on the card the reasoning for pulling him to her office. The list of reasons having a check mark for 'personal'.

Rhodes just sighed and shoved the card into his pocket, annoyed at best over this. Likely for the best his mom wasn't home just yet she would be able to just tell from his 'aura' or whatever. And then she would encourage him to speak to someone and such. Not the first time they had this conversation after all.

That's when he noticed where he was, the store Charlie's Uncle Jasper owned. Peering in through the window he could easily spot Charlie inside. Perfect. He smiled to himself before he walked on in and headed towards the rooster.

"Sup Cher, I know I know Sonny ain't here yet but I got in earlier than expected." Rhodes explained to the rooster once he made his way over to them. Not wanting Charlie to think they got the time wrong or anything. Of course, Rhodes always made plans to hang out with the two of them when he came into the city. "Figured I got time to kill if you don't mind course." Charlie never seemed to mind. Rhodes just just went and stared at the shelf they were currently stocking.

In truth Charlie was likely the best bird to run into right now, he wasn't the chatter box Buddy could be. He was far more quite and content to keep to himself even when among Rhodes and Buddy. He idly looked at the stuff on the shelf in front of them right now Charlie's uncle shop carried stuff he didn't always seen in other stores maybe cause it wasn't a corporate business? Reaching into his pocket as he went to text. "since I'm here I'll just tel Sonny to meet us here that fine?" Despite asking he clearly was already sending that message Buddy's way. "I think they said they would be able to meet in a few hours anyway?" Rhodes tried recalling as he went to check through their chat from before when Buddy had said that. The now clumped up pass dropping out from his pocket that he was quick to grab for and tried to shoved it back into a different pocket. Was clearly going to get even Charlie's attention as the pigeon tried to set it back into hiding only to drop it again.

Hervey sigh let out as he swung his backpack off one shoulder so it would hang in front of him. Rhodes shoving the paper into the first pocket he could get into muttering under his breath the whole time. When he notices the rooster stare on him. Quirking his beak he shrugs his bag back on and pretends the bottle of whatever was more investing than anything else.

“why don’t i make you a cup of tea, and you can tell me all about it?“

"...sure."

-----------

Rhodes sat down looking at the cup in front of him waiting for Charlie to sit as well. So much for not talking about it. Not like Charlie of all would force him..but maybe Charlie being Charlie was why Rhodes felt like he could talk to them? He had briefly explained the school counselor wanting to speak to him and such already assuring it wasn't cause he was in trouble or anything of the sort. So when the why comes up Rhodes sighs as he leans back in his seat.

"Because I'm the kid with the divorced parents, meaning I must be a troubled soul in need of help." Rhodes says it like its rehearsed and it basically is. Before he sighs and runs his hand back through his hair before it naturally falls back into place. "Look, I'm sure you've gotten it too right?" the other reason Charlie was he could speak up to on it. Sure the cases were different Charlie lost his parents. Rhodes still had his but they were both going to marked as kids with issues clearly due to it. Least to those on the outside. "I've been the kid clearly who needs to talk about it since my folks first split up. I can't tell you the amount of offices I've had to walk into and how they all seem to have that same smell to them. Always told it's all okay they just want to talk to me make sure i'm handling it all well." Rhodes stated clearly annoyed.

"When it first happened sure maybe I needed it but come on i'm 15 now! It's been ten years since the divorce happened. My Dad got re-hitched and my Mom found herself. " Rhodes expresses, to him this is just old news and it's always being brought back up. He rubs at his forehead now. "i'm just tried of being all i'm known for. I do well in school, sure I ain't part of a club but I take part in shit all the time. Hell I got asked by the band they book for prom to take the guitarist spot cause theirs can't make it. I'm a finely adjusted teenager. Not like I'm over here causing trouble at school! Sure I vape but I don't do it in the bathroom like some idiots will. I don't commit to anything in school outside helping maybe but with my folks custody after school stuff just kind of hard to keep with. Ya know?" Rhodes states some things leaking through the cracks more than even he had meant for.

He takes a moment to stop let his words just hang there in the air a moment. Before he sighs out again, grabbing for the cup of tea debating on drinking it to keep his mouth shut. Lightly blowing on it instead. "I just don't get why everyone gotta always label me with my parents divorce...I ain't saying it didn't effect me." It still dose. "But why do I have to be classed by it all the time? Heck I didn't even want you guys to know about it long as I could. Bad enough I gotta deal with it all the time. Gotta figured out pick up times, gotta keep track of what I need to bring back and forth. See whats worth having two of just for the sake of easy packing. People love to joke over the two Christmas' ? it fucking bites to have two. In all truth. Depending on which parent I'm with I either celebrate with one before it or long after it cause of step parent bitches needing her Christmas dinner to not be ruined." He takes a sip tried of just thinking about it all right now.

"And now I gotta be the perfect model student for this consular so they just leave me alone." Which maybe was the real issue Rhodes always having to be like this just to be left alone on something he didn't want to speak about. "I'm just annoyed cause I gotta talk to them about all of this rehash what old news to me just to get them off my back. She knew so course when she learned about my family junk?" He looks at Charlie unsure if they can fill in the blank there. "It's just wearing on me." He confides a bit towards Charlie.

[postwarlevi]

Mother's Day

Content: About 1.3k words of celebrating with Levi and Kuchel.

a/n: barely proofread, last minute story! Enjoy!

"Do you think she'll like it?" You ask, looking over at Levi in the drivers seat.

He takes one hand off the wheel to find yours and squeezes. "She'll love it."

You're on your way to see Levis mom for Mothers Day, with a small present you made and a last minute larger one as well.

Once parked at Kuchels place, Levi comes around and takes the boxes from you and leads the way inside.

"You're here!" Kuchel says excitedly, rushing down the walkway after seeing you've arrived. It's been a few months since she's seen you.

She hugs Levi as best she can with what he's carrying and kisses his cheek, coming over to you with a massive hug.

"Happy Mothers Day." He tells her, continuing in to put the presents down.

The warm embrace has you grinning. "Hi, mom." She insists you call her that. You became family the moment Levi introduced you the first time, almost two years ago now.

"How's my favorite daughter?" Kuchel never bothered with the in-law part.

"Really good." You pull away and she brushes your hair back.

"You look good." She smiles and you head in as well.

"Happy Mothers Day." You say as you walk into the kitchen. Levi has already set up the lemon blueberry cake you and he made.

"Oh, this smells delicious!" Kuchel goes to get plates and forks. She loves your baking. "It's so thoughtful you remembered!" Her favorite flavors, that is.

"So, are you seeing your mom today?" Kuchel asks once the three of your are seated with your dessert.

"Her and dad are away for vacation still. So, we'll video chat later and celebrate properly next weekend." You'll send your love today, and give her a present in person soon.

You, Kuchel and Levi talk together about what's been going on since you last came over, Levi seemingly a bit distracted though.

"Are you okay dear?" Kuchel notices, of course. She reaches over and rests a hand on his cheek.

"Yeah mom. Really." He gives her a nod and small smile. Truthfully, he couldn't be better.

You smile watching their interaction, wondering if you could know Levi that well one day, to just sense something is the tinest bit off.

"Do you want to stay for dinner? We can make lasagna? I should have everything." Kuchel knows you like it.

"Sure mom, we'll stay." Levi looks to you, to make sure you're okay with that too.

"We'd love it. Just, might have to adjust dinner." You say slowly, still eyeing Levi, who gets the hint.

"Okay, what's going on?" Kuchel asks as Levi gets up from his chair and takes all the plates up. She's seen the looks between you two.

"I just have a couple dietary restrictions. They're a bit new."

"Oh! You, saw a doctor? Are you okay?" She comes over to sit next to you, a look of concern as she takes your hands.

"Yes! I'm fine." You promise, feeling warm at the love she gives out.

"Here mom." Levi comes to stand before you with the other unopened present.

Kuchel blinks and all but scoffs at him. "Levi, she's telling me something." She couldn't believe Levi thought now was the time to interrupt.

"It's okay. Open it." You pull your hands back and let Levi hand over the present.

Kuchel is still confused but sees you mean it so opens the box.

It holds a purple t-shirt, with flowers and hearts, with a saying. "The world's best moms."

"Thanks honey. It's from you?" Kuchel looks up at Levi. It's a bit unusual, but she'll wear it if he picked it.

"It's from both of us." He corrects her.

"Seems to have a typo." She notes, looking back down at the shirt that has moms instead of mom on it.

You stand up and shuffle next to Levi, taking his hand.

"Unfold it." You don't know who is more anxious, you or Levi.

Kuchel does as asked and takes the shirt out of the box and holds it out in front of her.

She reads the whole thing again and again until she cannot see it anymore due to tears in her eyes.

It reads, "The world's best moms, get promoted to grandma."

She lets out a strange cry that Levi doesn't remember hearing and stands, sobbing.

She turns to Levi first who goes to hug her but gets a surprise when she shoves the shirt into his hands, and leans into you instead.

You can't help but giggle as you hug Kuchel tightly and Levi stands there with the shirt and a baffled look.

"You're having a baby?" She almost squeals. You nod happily. "When?" Kuchel has questions but that she wants to know first.

"A while yet." You don't have an exact date, but it's months away still.

Levi clears his throat. "Uh, I helped with this present too." He comments, feeling a little left out. Although it does make him feel nice seeing you together. He knows she's going to be such a big help.

"Oh! Honey, I'm sorry!" Kuchel realizes she's giving you all the attention. And, he did have a hand in all this.

Kuchel let's go of you with only one arm, and moves to pull Levi closer, and now the three of you are hugging together.

"You like it?" Levi asks.

Kuchel laughs. "This is the best present ever." She didn't know if she would get grandchildren or not with Levi, and is so happy he found someone he wants to raise children with.

Soon the three of you are sitting down again.

"Is there anything you need? Anything I can do? Help with? Anything?" She wants to be involved, if you don't mind.

"Levis been doing an excellent job. So far, so good. But, I might be calling you for advice." From an experienced mother.

"Yes! Of course! Anytime. I can help with meals. You said restrictions, right? Do some grocery shopping for you. Run errends. You're welcome to stay here or I could stay there!" She can't contain herself and you all laugh.

"I'm doing okay with all that, for now." Levi doesn't remember seeing her like this before.

"I'm sure sweetie. But it's all about them now." Kuchel says of you and the baby. But she knows her son doesn't need to be reminded.

Levi nods. "I know. That's never changed for me." His feelings, need to be there and protect you have only grown.

"We're okay at the moment. It's still early. But we'd love your help later on." You know between her and your own mother, there's lots of things they could help you with. Things Levi might not understand. But otherwise, you know he'll be right there through everything.

"Thank you." Kuchel sighs. Knowing you'll come to her and include her means so much.

"So, what do you want for dinner? It's your day, too." Kuchel says, cupping your cheeks.

You smile and all head into the kitchen to find something.

"Say, how do you plan on telling Kenny?" Kuchel asks about her brother. He might be a handful but he's going to adore having a little one around.

"With your help." Levi says while you nod, making her laugh.

"Anything for you." She pulls Levi in for another cheek kiss. He's already asking for her help, and she's happy to give it.

Kuchel reaches for your hand and with a soft look, wishes you your second official Happy Mothers Day.

The first came from Levi himself earlier, with the continuing promise to always put you both first.

[mackenzielovee]

Hi, I loved crazy love. Literally I become obsessed, so I was wondering if you could write something about them when they are moving to their new apartment near to college and both of their families are helping them to have everything in order, but Rafe only want them to leave to be all alone with you in their new home. Maybe a little bit of smut?

a/n: this idea had my heart bc i'd really been wanting to write something like this ;) i hope you enjoy! thanks so much for the request!

Warnings: swearing, smut, mentions of planned pregnancy, discussion of sex

crazy love masterlist

my writing

our home: crazy love blurb - rafe cameron

"No, no a little to the left. Ward, are you listening to me?"

You sigh as you set the very last box down on the kitchen counter, stealing a glance at Rafe, who is sitting on your new couch. His head is in his hands as he listens to his parents bicker back and forth, trying to hang up the painting they had bought the two of you. Rose had gushed over it when she bought it, telling you it would match the rest of your decor perfectly.

"Of course, darling. You're talking loud enough," Ward gripes, shifting the painting to the left as Rose demands.

"Oh, come on, now. Back over to the right-"

"It's straight!" Rafe raises his voice, standing up from the couch.

You inhale sharply and step into the living room of your new apartment, wrapping an arm around him to try and calm him down. Ever since his parents and Wheezie arrived with the moving truck to help you both, he's been on edge. When your parents showed up with Macy, you thought he was about to go into cardiac arrest.

"Actually, I think it might just be straight," Rose nods, "Good eye, Rafe."

"Thanks so much," he remarks sarcastically.

"Hey," you whisper to him, trying to tell him to quit being mean to his step-mom, "They're here to help, remember?"

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I could do this shit myself."

"Because you're such a handy man?" you snort.

Rafe clenches his jaw as he looks down at you, but can't help the smirk on his face. He pulls you closer to him, leaving a gentle kiss on your forehead.

"Where did Macy and Wheezie go? They should start on those kitchen boxes," Rose tells Ward, stepping away from her husband to look for them.

"We can handle the kitchen boxes," Rafe tells her.

"Y/N?" Rose looks to you for a final answer.

You glance up at Rafe only for a second, noting the look on his face, then nod your head in agreement.

"I like the kitchen organized a certain way, anyway," you tell her with a smile.

She nods her head, "All right. Ward and I can start on your sheets-"

"Y/N's parents are taking care of that," Rafe informs her.

Wheezie and Macy come tumbling into the front door, running past all of you and into your bedroom with your parents.

"What the hell are those two up to?" Ward questions.

Wheezie and Macy have become as thick as thieves, the best of friends, over the summer. One day, you'd shown up at Rafe's only to find your sister in her kitchen with Wheezie, baking away. Ever since then, you and Rafe have had to be extra quiet upstairs.

Rose and Ward step toward your bedroom as well, which is down a small hallway just off the kitchen. Rafe grabs your hand and yanks you with him, following the crowd of people.

"Can everyone get out of our bedroom, please?" Rafe grumbles, standing behind his father and watching your parents finish up making your bed.

Your parents had not been crazy about you and Rafe living together right as you both make the transition to college. You had cried, begged, threatened to not go to school, and even dragged Rafe over for a family dinner so all of you could talk the situation out. You'd never seen Rafe's face so red as the night he had to sit at a dinner table and discuss with your father how the two of you would be sleeping in the same bed.

When your parents found out that the Camerons would be financing your rent bill, however, the living situation had changed. Your parents hadn't realized how expensive dorm living is, and the thought of not having to pay for housing on top of tuition sounded like a dream come true.

Which is how you land in your new, empty kitchen, trying to hold Rafe back from killing every family member the two of you currently have within arms reach.

"It's quarter to three," your dad tells your mother over your bed.

"Macy," your mom speaks, "Get your stuff, honey. We have to get going."

"Yeah," Rafe perks up, earning the attention of his parents, "You guys should get moving, too. Y'know, lots of traffic, and Wheezie's got that thing early in the morning."

Wheezie opens her mouth to speak, but stops suddenly when Rafe gives her the death stare. She looks to you, to which you just shrug, and then turns back to her parents.

"What thing?" Rose asks her. Ward's phone buzzes in his pocket, earning his attention.

"Uh," Wheezie hesitates, looking to Rafe once more.

"Girl scout meeting," Rafe blurts.

You cover your face with your free hand to try and prevent Rose from seeing your laughter. You truly have no idea where Rafe gets this idea that Wheezie is old enough to be in girl scouts. Wheezie narrows her eyes at him, shaking her head slightly.

"Girl scout?" Rose questions to herself, still trying to figure it out when Ward speaks up, eyes still glued to his phone.

"Wheezie, get your stuff. You won't want to be tired in the morning at your meeting."

Wheezie rolls her eyes but does as she's told, making her way out of your bedroom and down the hall to collect her things in the living room.

"Seriously, Rafe?" she hisses, "Girl scouts? I'm fourteen-"

"Shut up, Wheeze," Rafe says back to her through gritted teeth.

Wheezie turns to you, "He's your problem, now."

"Oh, boy, do I know it," you tease Rafe, smiling with Wheezie. She laughs, but it's short lived when Rafe shoves her away.

"Get your shit," he mutters.

"Stop it," you demand, stepping in front of him and holding onto his forearms as they are wrapped around your waist.

The one thing you love about Rafe more than anything is how he always shows affection to you, even if your parents or his parents are around. He just doesn't seem to care about anyone except you.

"I want them to go," he defends himself, keeping his voice quiet, "I just want to be alone with you. In our home. I didn't realize that was such a difficult request."

You smile up at your fussy boy, dragging one hand up to his face to stroke his cheek. You can faintly hear your families moving around the two of you, but you're too lost in your own little world to think too much about it.

"Be patient," you whisper to him.

He smirks, "Will you make it worth my while?"

You give him back the same look, loving the way he smirks at you and allows his eyes to rake over every inch of your face and torso. It takes everything in him not to just grab you by the throat and kiss the hell out of you, only controlling himself because your dad is ten feet away.

"Don't I always?"

Rafe groans, trying his best to keep his composure. He has to close his eyes as he continues to whine, knowing that if he keeps looking at you, he'll be hard in no time.

"All right," Rafe says loudly, tugging himself away from you, "Thanks for coming, everyone, but we have a lot to unpack here. Dad, Rose, Wheezie, I'll show you to the door."

You snicker as you watch him attempt to lead his confused family out the door. You turn to your own family, giving hugs and promising to call whenever you can. Rose refuses to leave without giving you a hug, which pisses Rafe off, as he's gotten Ward and Wheezie out successfully and only needs one more.

Rose promises to send flowers, one that match the color scheme of course, and tells you she'll call you to check on Rafe, since he doesn't bother to return her calls. You give Wheezie a hug and give Ward a polite smile and wave from the doorway.

The second they're all out the door, Rafe slams the door shut and locks it before any of them can decide they forgot something.

"Ah, free at last," you joke.

Rafe turns around, licking his lips as he thinks about how you two finally have an empty house and he has you all to himself. No distractions, no parents, no little sisters listening intently at the door for secrets and drama. He eyes you up and down once, and when he brings his blue orbs to meet yours again, you know what he's thinking.

"Come here," he demands, but he can't help himself.

That boy rushes over to you, pushing you up against the wall in the entryway of your new apartment, kissing you as if his life depends on it. You accept his kiss without a second thought, allowing your hands to wrap themselves around his neck.

"Up," he mutters against your lips, hands guiding themselves to your waist as you jump up and let him position himself in between your legs, wrapping them around his torso.

He moves his kisses to your cheek, then your jawline, then your neck, while his hands relentlessly roam your ass.

"Rafe," you say, tilting your neck to give him more space.

"Hmm," he hums against your skin, not stopping or slowing down for anything.

"I really do have to unpack the kitchen if you want to eat dinner tonight," you tell him, although you're fully aware he would never set you down for anything right now.

"Not hungry."

"Rafe-"

"I think," he stops you, wet kisses trailing your collarbone, "We should fuck everywhere. Y'know, break the place in."

Even though you two have been together for a while, him saying things like that to you always seems to send tingles through your whole body. He always knew what to say, what to do, to get you riled up in all the right ways.

"That would take us all night," you whisper, smirking because you already know what he's going to say.

"Fine with me, baby."

You smile, then reach down and grab ahold of his cheek with your hand. You lead his lips back to yours, kissing him harder than you had been before. He moans into your mouth and you know you have him right where you want him now.

"Kitchen first?" he questions, breathless, "Or should we mess up that pretty little bed your parents just made up?"

The raspiness in his voice gets you going, enough for him to notice you squirming in his grip. He grins, knowing exactly what it is you need.

"Kitchen," you tell him, watching as he barely nods before he kisses you again, carrying you over and setting you on the counter.

With ease, he removes your shorts and underwear, dropping his own shorts to the floor beneath him. He kicks all of the clothes away, knowing the two of you won't be needing them for a very long time.

"I can't wait, baby," he mumbles, excusing his lack of foreplay.

You shake your head, and he already knows you don't mind based on the way you're dripping onto the granite, "Please, Rafe."

He smirks and then grunts as he enters you, breathing out a sigh of relief that you two are finally home.

By the time you and Rafe even make it to your bedroom, he has to carry you because your legs can't physically function anymore. Rafe's proud of his work, but pretended to pout when he finished you off on the couch and you told him you needed a break.

He lays you down on your new, freshly made bed, moving the pillows out of your way and tucking you underneath the duvet. He climbs in beside you and molds you into his body almost instantly, inhaling your shampoo scent and perfume, thinking about how perfect this moment truly is.

"I can't believe it," he whispers.

"I know."

"Our home."

"Yes, it is."

You two lay there for a while, staring out at the tens of boxes that have each of your names written on them, just begging to be unpacked. You're sure Rafe's boxes will still be sitting there in two weeks, as he had packed a separate duffle bag of his 'essential' belongings.

"You know," he starts after a while, a devious smirk finding it's way to his cheeks, "The next big step is having a mini you. Or a mini me. But, I'd rather have a mini you."

"We just moved into our college apartment and you're talking about impregnating me," you laugh, as if to ask him if he's serious.

"She'll be so cute," he goes on, "A little girl that looks just like you. And she'd have your smarts, thank God, because she'd be screwed with mine. But she'd have my humor, of course."

"Of course?" you tease him.

"And then we'll have a boy."

"Wow, Rafe Cameron, you really just have this all figured out," you move your head up to look at him, noting the small, cheesy smile plastered across his face.

"I do, baby. He'll be a hellion, though. Never listening, always running away, but a total momma's boy. Never wants you to leave his side-"

"So, just like his dad, then?" you grin, watching Rafe clench his jaw and shake his head.

"Break's over," he grunts, rolling you on your back and climbing on top of you, "We're trying, now."

"No, we're not," you say forcefully.

Rafe rolls his eyes, "I'm joking. We'll wait until, like, junior year or something."

"Rafe."

"Fine. But the second you walk across that stage with your diploma, I'm putting a baby in you."

"Deal."

Tags:

@hollandsour @flowerkidlxrry @kookkyra @pogueslandia @sarahwasfound @fuzzyhumanpersontrash @rafecameronn @rafeswh0ree @outerbankies @morganwilliams

*if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist at any time, please send me an ask!

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

If I Fell For You (Part 2) - Baseball Caps & Stroller Naps

Summary: The reader gets into the swing of things around the Ackles household and starts having more one on one time with Jensen. He even offers to set her up with a friend of his. When he invites her to a family outing as a friend though, she gets another glimpse that he might not be as put together as he appears...

Masterlist

Pairing: Jensen x nanny!reader

Square: Daddy!Jensen

Word Count: 5,900ish

Warnings: language, mention of death of a spouse/death of a parent

A/N: Things are starting to happen! This was also written for @supernatural-jackles​ Tell Me A Story Bingo!

________

“Good morning,” you said the next day as Jensen walked into the kitchen covered in sweaty workout clothes.

“Morning,” he said, going to the fridge to grab a drink. “Get the kids to school okay?”

“Yup,” you said, Jensen sniffing the air and humming as he walked over to where a loaf of banana bread was cooling in the rack. “Ah, it’s still too hot. Wait another half hour.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “It smells amazing by the way. I don’t think anything’s been baked in this house in six months.”

“I’ve always enjoyed it,” you said, Jensen taking a seat on top of the counter. He chugged down the cold bottle of water, some of it dripping down the corners of his mouth. “Enjoy sleeping in today?”

“You don’t know the half of it. I feel amazing.”

“You look rested for the first time since I’ve met you,” you said. “You should sleep in on the weekends more too. The kids don’t need to be up at dawn.”

“No, they don’t,” he said. “I do love sleep too. You do okay with getting the three of them going on your own today?”

“Yeah. JJ’s old enough to get herself dressed and make her bed and do a few things on her own. The twins are a balancing act but the trick is to give yourself double the amount of time you think you need and you’ll never be late.”

“Not a bad tip,” he said as you finished wiping off a glass and picked up a pad and pen. “Whatcha working on?”

“Ideas for crafts and that sort of thing. You guys have a lot of supplies already so I was thinking of some ideas to do this week,” you said.

“You know...you can stick them in front of a TV too. They have their shows they like. We aren’t big on tracking screen time,” he said. “As long as they play and do some kind of creative thing everyday they can watch TV for a few hours in a row if they want. Our parents didn’t worry about that shit when we were kids, you know?”

“No, they didn’t do that,” you said. He lifted up the bottom of his muscle tank and wiped off his face, your eyes going straight down to the pad so you wouldn’t risk staring. “Any work scheduled for today?”

“I gotta wash up, head to the brewery for a few to check on things. I have some voice acting work I’m doing right now so I go to a place downtown and record that. That’ll be my afternoon. I can handle making dinner tonight. I should be back around four thirty, maybe a hair after,” he said. 

“Alright,” you said. “Anything you need at the store today?”

“Nah, we got plenty here,” he said. He wiped off his face with his shirt again, using his collar this time. You handed him a dish towel and he smiled, rubbing it over his neck and head. “Sorry. I’m dripping aren’t I.”

“A little. Do you work out a lot?” you asked. 

“No more than the average person. Try to do thirty minutes in the morning most days of the week. It’s sort of been my only alone time lately,” he said.

“Are you a runner?”

“God no. I’m not built for that. I like boxing and HIIT, weights, that sort of stuff. Part of my job is to look a certain way so if I’m gonna be the tough guy…”

“You gotta look like a tough guy?” you asked. He smiled and you looked him up and down. “Don’t get me wrong. You’re a strong guy, that’s pretty obvious. But you’re not a tough guy.”

“Oh I’m not?” he asked but there was a lightness to his voice.

“Tough guys tend to be assholes. You’re too nice for that,” you said. 

“I suppose you have a point,” he said, sliding off the counter. He stepped over to the banana bread and picked up the knife nearby, slicing off a piece for himself and popping it in his mouth. “Hot. Hot.”

“I told you so,” you said with a small laugh.

“Tastes delicious though,” he said with his mouth full. You shook your head as he ate another piece and turned to go upstairs.

“Jensen,” you said, pointing at the sweaty dish towel. 

“Ugh, yes mom,” he said, swiping it away with a smile. 

“Thank you,” you said, tapping on your notepad. You felt his presence beside you, not to mention the smell, and turned your head up, Jensen smiling back. “Yes?”

“Aren’t you due for a break?” he asked.

“You don’t really get how this nanny thing works yet, do you.”

“Yeah well...I’m not a shitty boss so I guess you’ll have to get used to that too. Take a break Y/N. Have some coffee on the balcony. It’s a sunny January day. Enjoy it,” he said. You rolled your eyes and he pointed at the back door before he headed upstairs. You bit your bottom lip and glanced at the clock. You had been going for over three hours non-stop and one of those had been spent trying to convince a four year old he had to wear pants to daycare.

You turned to leave the kitchen when you heard a tsk. You jumped and slipped on the rug in front of the sink, falling backwards straight down to the hardwood floor.

“Sorry! Sorry!” he said as he rushed over. “I’m always tripping over that thing.”

“I’m fine,” you said as you sat up with his help. Your ass hurt but you knew you’d be alright. “Maybe we move the rug from the very trippable area?”

He swallowed and stared at you for a long moment before you smiled.

“How about we put it outside your office?” you asked softly. He nodded and you picked up one end of the long strip of fabric. He went to the other end and picked it up, backing up as you walked it over to the other side of the house. You laid it out in front of his closed door, smiling as you straightened it up. “There we go. Safe and sound.”

You headed back to the kitchen, Jensen lingering behind you.

“I was...gonna say you can make...you can use my coffee machine,” he said quietly. 

“Okay,” you said quietly. “Jensen.”

“Hm?”

“Stuff is stuff. This isn’t a museum. It’s a home. It’s gonna change over time.”

“I know. It’s just that rug...it is so damn ugly and I hate it,” he said with a smile. “I wanted to get rid of it the day she brought it home.”

“Wives have a way of getting the last word in,” you said. He chuckled and you got out a mug for yourself. “Tell me to shove it if this is too personal but are you sure you want to get back out into the dating world? It’s rough out there.”

“It is. Until it isn’t,” he said.

“You’re a hopeless romantic, aren’t you.”

“Guilty as charged.” He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed for a brief moment.

“Women like hopeless romantics,” you said. “Just don’t get taken advantage of for that. There’s some not so nice women out there too.”

“Afraid I’ll fall for some ditz?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think you’d do that. But someone might hurt you and you’ve been through enough. Maybe just...don’t fall in love at first sight or something like that,” you said. “Alright?”

“Never was much good at that,” he said to himself while you grabbed your coffee mug. “You believe in that sort of thing?”

“I’d like to. But you’re more of the expert on falling in love than I am,” you said.

“Maybe it’s not first sight but within a few days, a week, yeah I knew I was in love,” he said.

“Well if that happens again let me know and I’ll make sure this chick is good for you,” you said.

“I didn’t know my nanny came with bodyguard services,” he chuckled.

“That was under special skills on my resume,” you said as you headed over to the door to the balcony. “You should wash up. Don’t want to be late.”

“No I better not be,” he said. He turned to head upstairs, pausing on the first step. “You know, no one’s an expert at falling in love. Even those of us who were once married.”

“Oh don’t be a hopeless romantic for me getting my shit together too. We’ll be here for years,” you laughed. 

“Just sayin’...maybe we’ll both find somebody. Not that we need anyone to be happy but...you know what I mean,” he said. 

“Men don’t really talk about love like that you know.”

“I do,” he said. You smiled and he returned it. 

“That’s why all the good men get taken early, the ones that talk like that,” you said.

“I was older than you when I got married. Maybe I’ll get married again someday. We’re out there. I promise.”

“Go shower,” you said, waving him off. You slipped outside, closing the door behind you. You leaned over the railing with your mug and let out a sigh. “You have to a be a fucking hopeless romantic too don’t you. Fucking perfect at everything.”

You lowered your head and took a deep breath. 

“It’s a crush, it’s a crush,” you said, closing your eyes. “Just a crush. He’s your boss and a widow and he bought a birthday cake for me.”

You opened your eyes and glanced into the mug, taking another deep breath.

“He’s just nice. That’s it. Even if he’s…” you trailed off. You took a long sip of the hot liquid, not caring you were burning your tongue. Jensen was simply a nice person and that was that. You had a crush on the attractive single dad you were nannying for. There was nothing wrong with that and you knew for a fact it’d be gone by the end of the week tops.

“Ow,” you groaned a few days later. You opened your eyes and heard a knock at the door to your suite. “Yeah?”

“You okay in there? I thought I heard a crash,” said Jensen. 

“I’m fine,” you said, sitting up with a grunt, leaning back against your bed. “Shit.”

“Y/N, are you sure you’re alright?” he asked again.

“No,” you said with a sigh. “The door’s open.”

You peaked through your open door down the hall, Jensen opening the one to the suite and offering a friendly smile. You nodded and he walked inside, frowning at your cut up knee. 

“I got blood on the rug,” you said. “Do we have bleach?”

“I thought we agreed earlier this week a rug is just a rug,” he said, squatting down and looking at your knee. He looked up and saw your overturned garbage can in your closet where you’d been trying to reorganize a few clothes. “Next time use the step stool in the garage?”

“Yeah,” you said, your face hot. “I’m fine really. Just want to clean up the blood before it sets in.”

“It’s a few drops,” he said, helping you stand with a wince. “You got any first aid stuff?”

“Yeah,” you said, Jensen crossing his arms. “No.”

“Come on,” he said, putting his hands on your shoulders and walking you down the hall. “Scraped up knees are my specialty.”

“Jensen,” you said, stopping at the kitchenette island and bending your leg a few times. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said. He left and you hopped over to the couch, stretching your leg out. The bleeding had stopped, just a thin cut on your knee cap where you’d hit it, but you knew you were in for a nasty bruise. He returned with a bottle and cotton ball in one hand, a bandage and ice pack in the other. 

“Sorry,” you said, Jensen setting the items down on the coffee table.

“Why would you apologize for getting hurt?” he said.

“I should have my own first aid supplies,” you said. 

“Ah. So you’re as stubborn as I am when you’re not feeling great,” he said. You looked down at your lap and took a deep breath.

“Am I fired?” you asked. 

“No? Why the fuck would I fire you?” he said. 

“I don’t know,” you said, picking up the bottle of rubbing alcohol.

“Have you been fired for getting hurt before?” he asked, watching you hold the cotton ball against the open bottle top and tip it over, soaking the liquid in. You pretended to not hear him and put the bottle back, wiping the ball over the cut, a deep red mark already on your skin. “Y/N.”

“Yes, I have,” you said. You set the ball on the table and picked up the bandage, trying to angle it over your knee. He rolled his eyes and took it out of your hand, bending down and turning it around, pressing it gently over your skin. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal,” he said as he looked up at you.

“Do I look like I have an HR department I can go to? They were dicks anyways,” you said.

“If you’re ever hurt, big or small, just tell me,” he said. He rested the ice pack over your knee and you sat back, throwing it up on the couch for you to lay there. “Promise I won’t fire you for it.”

“Well if I can’t do my job I’m not much use to you,” you said.

“Are all wealthy people assholes that act like that?” he asked. You shook your head and smiled. “Good.”

“I’ve nannied for eight different families, nine counting yours. Some were very good people,” you said.

“But you were just the help to them, even the good ones,” he said.

“I am the help. That’s the whole point of me being there,” you said. 

“Do me a favor? Don’t assume just because you’re someone’s employee that they think of you as just the help,” he said, picking up the first aid supplies.

“Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize for…” he said, muttering to himself as you looked down. “If I ever make you feel like that, smack me in the head, alright?”

“Alright,” you said quietly. He nodded and left with the items, returning a moment later with some cleaning spray, ducking into your room for only a moment before exiting.

“It’s all clean,” he said. He lingered at the door and put a hand on it. “Leave that ice pack on for fifteen minutes and pop it back in the freezer. Put it back on for a bit before bed.”

“Thanks,” you said. 

“It’s no problem,” he said. He still lingered and you took a deep breath.

“You should call someone, talk to them,” you said. He looked over his shoulder and you smiled. “You seem like you want to talk to somebody tonight is all.”

“I think I’m gonna go for a drive, maybe stop at a friend’s. The kids are all in bed,” he said. “If that’s cool.”

“Yeah go take a second for yourself,” you said. “I got everything here.”

“Thanks,” he said. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Jensen.”

One Week Later

“Y/N,” said Jensen as you washed your car in the driveway on a Saturday morning. You dropped the soapy sponge in the bucket and straightened yourself out. “Got plans today?”

“Uh, I was gonna run to the grocery store in a minute but other than that, no. Need me to watch the kids?”

“No. We were going out to lunch and then going to a little car show was all and we were wondering if you’d like to join us. Totally up to you. My treat.”

“You don’t want me to watch the kids?” you asked. He laughed and crossed his arms at you. “I’m confused.”

“Do you want to hang out with us today? For fun?” he asked.

“Oh,” you said. “That’s okay. You enjoy your time with the kids.”

“How do I make this clearer,” he said, walking over to you and looking down. “I want you to come with us, as a friend, to do something fun, like friends do. This is not work. Come if you want to.”

“You sure you want me to come?” you asked. He rolled his eyes and plopped his baseball cap on your head as he walked away.

“Yes. And wear sunscreen,” he said. “We’re leaving at eleven thirty.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll see you guys then.”

“There’s something about a burger that’s been cooked in a greasy pop up kitchen that just adds to the flavor,” you said as you took a bite of your cheese burger at the car show.

“It’s probably the grease,” he said, walking one hand on his burger, the other holding Arrow’s hand. She wiped her own little hand on his leg and he sighed as he looked down. “Arrow. I got napkins in my pocket.”

“Oh,” she said, wiping her face against him.

“No one mentions this part,” he chuckled. He picked her up and threw her over his shoulders once he was done with his food, humming as he pushed the stroller with a sleeping Zeppelin inside. 

“Dad, I gotta go to the bathroom,” said JJ. 

“I’ll take her and we can catch up with you guys?” you said. He mouthed a thank you to you as you headed over to the women’s room. You used the bathroom as well, finishing before her and waiting outside for her. “All set?”

“Yeah. Can we get fried dough?” she asked.

“Sure,” you said. You let her lead the way in line and got a plate for the two of you, taking a seat at a picnic table so she could dig in. “Taste yummy?”

“Oh yeah,” she said. “Dad likes fried dough a lot too.”

“Everybody does,” you said, taking a piece off the corner.

“Y/N, you don’t have a mom either right?” she said. “That’s what dad said.”

“Well that’s a funny question. I got a mom and so do you. They just aren’t around anymore is all,” you said. “What’s up?”

“I’m happy you stay with us I guess is all. I know you’re not mom and you work for dad but you kinda are and I like it when dad’s happy again,” she said.

“Me too. You doing okay, kiddo?” you asked. “It’s okay if you still miss your mom.”

“I do but I’m not sad anymore. Dad says when I get real old I can see her again so that’s cool,” she said, taking a big bite.

“It definitely is cool,” you said. “Maybe our mom’s are hanging out right now.”

“You think so?” she asked.

“Maybe. I bet they get up to some fun stuff up there,” you said. 

“Me too,” she said. “Dad’s really happy you came with us. He’s been cranky lately.”

“Your dad’s gonna be just fine,” you said as she finished off her food. “So do you like having a nanny? I know that’s kinda new and funny, huh.”

“Yeah but I really like you being home. Dad gets flustered sometimes.”

“Flustered?” you asked with a little laugh.

“He works on a lot of stuff and he didn’t pick me up on time from school and stuff a few weeks ago. Too many chickens in a basket,” she said.

“Too many eggs in one basket,” you said.

“Isn’t an egg gonna be a chicken though?”

“I...never thought of it that way,” you said. You nearly jumped when you felt some hands on your shoulders but JJ was smiling as Arrow climbed up next to you.

“Ah. I see you ladies found the fried dough. Twins you want some?” asked Jensen.

“Yes please,” they said and he chuckled as he went off to buy some more.

“Look at her,” said Jensen twenty minutes later, pausing at a deep blue Impala, the twins both conked out in their stroller. 

“Isn’t that the same car you have?” you asked, lifting up the brim of your baseball cap to get a better look.

“Mine’s a 67. That’s a 63. I love that color though,” he said. “Blue’s my favorite but it looks good on that car.”

“I think it looks good in black,” you said, walking again when you saw JJ a few cars ahead of the two of you. “Where’d you get your car?”

“Work,” he said with a quick smile, hiding behind his sunglasses and hat. 

“Aren’t you an actor?” you asked.

“You have very obviously never seen an episode of my show,” he chuckled. “Which is totally cool by the way. I drove that car in the show for well over a decade. She’s one of my true loves.”

“Ah, gotcha,” you said. “So you’re a car guy.”

“Kinda. I don’t know everything but I enjoy them. What about you, you like-JJ! Stay closer,” he called out when she kept walking ahead. “So do you like cars?”

“I guess so. This is kinda neat, walking around and looking at the old ones. They had more style back then,” you said, walking past a pair of guys your age, one of them looking you up and down as you went by. “Did that guy-”

“Yup,” he said, glancing back over his shoulder, throwing his arm over yours for a few moments. “Looks like he got the message.”

“Jensen,” you laughed. “I wasn’t offended. It’s not like he was gonna come up and ask for my number.”

“I don’t like the look of him,” he said.

“Neither did I,” you chuckled, Jensen dropping his arm from around you. “You’re that guy friend girls have that will do shit like pretend to be a boyfriend and all that stuff, aren’t you.”

“At your service,” he said with a mini curtesy. You giggled and he straightened up, JJ rushing over.

“Dad can I get an ice cream?” she asked.

“How about some apple slices,” he said, reaching under the stroller and grabbing a cooler. He pulled out a little baggie and handed it to her, JJ shrugging and walking ahead of the stroller again. “Shit, that probably means I can’t get ice cream now too.”

“We can always get some on the way home for later,” you said. “I won’t tell on you.”

“I’m putting this on your performance review,” he said. You shot him a side glance and he smirked. “I’m joking. I don’t want to do that as much as you don’t.”

“Thank you for that,” you said, stopping and looking at a red challenger for a moment.

“You like that one?” he asked.

“It’s nice,” you said before you started walking again. You fixed your hat and caught back up with him, Jensen slowing down as JJ took her time ahead of you. “So I should probably know this but what show were you in where you were driving around a muscle car?”

“You really haven’t looked me up online yet?” he chuckled. You shrugged and he laughed to himself.

“I may have peeked at your IMDB page but that was it. Was it that show you were on a long time? Super something?”

“Supernatural,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Yeah, I drove it for that.”

“Oh yeah, that was the really scary show, wasn’t it,” you said. 

“You’re too sweet,” he said, chuckling to himself. “It’s not that scary. I promise. Give it a try sometime. You might like it.”

“I’m sure someday I will. If I’m brave enough.”

“I think you are,” he said, JJ running up ahead again before he called for her to hang back. He sighed and threw his head back. “It never ends, does it?”

“I’m sure someday when she’s older you won’t have to worry so much.”

“I’m gonna worry about that kid when she’s forty years old,” he said.

“That’s cause you’re a good dad,” you said. 

“You haven’t known me that long,” he said.

“Do you love her? Worry about her?” you asked and he nodded. “Well any dad that does that and tells his kid that someday they’ll get to see their mom again to help her grieve when he well and truly doesn’t know the answer to that...you get the picture Ackles?”

“I could be better,” he said.

“Everyone could be better. They don’t need the best dad ever. They just need the best dad for them and you seem like you’re doing a good job of that from what I’ve seen so far,” you said. “You’re gonna screw up but so does everyone. Try to just enjoy it and not be too hard on yourself.”

“You’ve spent a lot of time with kids haven’t you,” he said.

“I’ve been in the mom role more than once as a nanny,” you said. You kicked at the dirt and shrugged. “It’s how I know the difference Jensen. You don’t need me or want me to be their mother. You just need help sometimes. That’s an important difference. Asking for help, especially when you don’t want it but need it, that’s a good dad move.”

He was quiet as he walked, stopping at a yellow mustang. He stared for a moment and swallowed. 

“Thanks, Y/N. That means a lot. Really.”

“Come on dad,” you said, walking away and up towards where JJ was. “Let’s go see if we can find one this one’s gonna be asking for on her sixteenth birthday.”

“Those three are finally down and out for the count,” said Jensen as he walked downstairs to catch you in the kitchen wiping up the pan from dinner. “Thanks for eating with us tonight.”

“Thanks for inviting me,” you said, putting the pan away. He looked out the back window and bit his bottom lip. “Everything alright?”

“You’re not like, hanging out with us cause you think you have to right?” he asked.

“Trust me. If I didn’t want to, I’d be down in my room,” you said. “Besides, I’ve thought about it and you know what, why don’t you set me up with that friend of yours.”

“Really?” he asked, a little alarmed.

“Why not? The age thing doesn’t bother me at all. Unless you think it’d be a problem for him?”

“No, he doesn’t really care about that sort of thing. I think he’d prefer it’s just someone he clicked with, had a connection, you know?” he said.

“Perfect. Why don’t you set us up for next Saturday night then?” you asked.

“I need you to watch the kids next Saturday night. I have-”

“The gala. Sorry, I forgot. Um, just, I’m free whenever. You know my schedule so you can set something up and just let me know?” you said. He smiled and nodded. As you were starting to leave he grunted. “Yeah?”

“I have some friends coming over for a drink in a bit. Small backyard fire. Whiskey and smores. You’re welcome to join.”

“Jensen. You’re not asking because you feel like you have to right?”

“No, not at all. I like hanging out with you. I’m sure whatever you’re binging on TV will be there if we bore you too much,” he said.

“Alright. I’ll be out in half an hour or so. Just wanted to freshen up from the show earlier,” you said. You ducked back to your room, taking a quick shower and changing into some leggings and a flannel. By the time you were out you could hear a slight mumbling and walked downstairs, catching Jensen with some guys on the patio pouring some drinks.

“Hey,” said Jensen when you stepped out of the slider door. “Guys this is Y/N.”

“Ah we get to meet the world’s best nanny,” said the tallest one. “I’m Jared.”

“Rich.”

“Rob.”

“Hi!” said a redhead that slipped out of the door behind you. “I’m Ruth.”

“Y/N. Your hair is kinda amazing by the way,” you said.

“This is what happens when you invite the girls,” said Rich.

“Normally we just talk about Jared’s hair,” chuckled Jensen. You grabbed a chair and helped gather up some snacks to bring over to his firepit, Ruth hanging back to help you.

“Jensen said you live here with him and the munchkins?”

“Yeah. He works so much it makes things easier on him. Are you an actress?” you asked.

“We all are. Only Jared lives close by. The rest of us haven’t been down here since…” she said and you nodded. “I really am happy you’re here. It’s nice to see a smile on our boys face again.”

“He’s a great boss. He’s very kind. We’re becoming friends,” you said. “He’s trying to set me up with his friend actually.”

“Oh which one?”

“Dunno. He just said he’s 42, an actor and is single. Age stuff doesn’t bother me.”

“Rob is a bit older than myself. It really doesn’t matter in the slightest, especially when you’re a little older,” she said. “Jensen says you’re great with the kids.”

“They’re pretty easy going. Normally the parents are the hard part of my job but he’s been great. He really loves his kids,” you said.

“Yes he certainly does,” she said.

By the end of the night you found yourself really enjoying Jensen’s friends. It was clear they cared for him at more than a surface level, especially Jared. You’d heard Jensen speak to him on the phone a few times and call him his brother but it really was apparent they had a special bond that went beyond a typical friendship.

“I’ll catch you guys for brunch before you head home,” said Jensen, waving night to them all as you helped pick up. You were just about finished and heading back for your room when Jensen caught you in the kitchen. “You have fun tonight?”

“Yeah. Your friends are great,” you said, a small pair of footsteps coming down the stairs. You both turned and saw Zeppelin there with tears in his eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?” asked Jensen as he walked over and squatted down.

“I had a bad dream and I want mommy but she’s gone,” he whined. Jensen instantly scooped him up and held onto him tight, kissing his head. “I want mommy.”

“I want mommy too, baby,” said Jensen quietly. You mouthed go and he nodded, taking Zeppelin upstairs while you finished cleaning up. 

You got up early the next morning and made a big batch of chocolate chip pancakes, plenty leftover for breakfast the next morning. Jensen padded over from the hall where you knew the home gym was, sweaty and tired but a smile came onto his face when he saw you.

“What’s all this,” he asked, getting a bottle of water from the fridge.

“Chocolate chip pancakes make everything better,” you said. He put a few on a plate for himself and sat down at the counter as you made up some more, stealing a few for yourself.

“These are delicious,” he said. You stored away some for when the kids got up, making up your own plate before you dug in. “Sorry about last night. I feel like I ruined the fun.”

“Not at all. He’s a toddler. I literally can’t imagine being in your position. I’d have fallen apart instantly,” you said.

“No you wouldn’t. You care about those kids,” he said. “You push on for them.”

“I know it’s not really my place to say so but-”

“Y/N. I’d prefer if you just talk to me like a friend, really,” he said.

“You made it sound like you were ready to try dating again. Last night you seemed kind of...maybe not so ready.”

“I’m ready. I will always miss her. I’ll always love her. But that doesn’t mean I can’t love anyone else ever again like that too, you know? I don’t believe there is a limit on how much love a person can give,” he said.

“Your wife was a very lucky woman,” you said.

“I was lucky. She was patient with me,” he chuckled. “You guys would have gotten along really well.”

“Can I offer a bit of advice?” you asked.

“What’s that?”

“Keep telling your kids about her, all throughout their lives. They’ll still get to know her that way, you know?” you said. “Tell your future girlfriend too. That’s how you’ll know if they’re a good one for you.”

“Why do you say that?” he asked.

“You’re a kind soul. I would expect your partner would be as well,” you said.

“I hope so. Mine kinda has a permanent handle with care warning label on it,” he chuckled.

“I don’t think so. Just need somebody that understands, not try to fix you. There’s nothing wrong with you in the first place,” you said, taking a bite of your pancake.

“Thanks, kiddo,” he said.

“You’re not that much older, bucko,” you chuckled.

“Nah, I’m keeping kiddo,” he laughed. “You good to watch the kids for a few hours around eleven?”

“Sounds good. Go have a mimosa with your friends for me,” you said.

“Will do, Y/N. Will do.”

______

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

[honey-boyyoongi]

Pairing ➪ Reader x Yoongi| Part 1//??

Word count ➪ 1k

Warnings ➪ No warnings; maybe just shitty writing

Summary ➪ Min Yoongi, is a simple man. He likes his coffee black and iced, he enjoys his job, and he loves his baby girl. But what happens when the new neighbor, quite literally, drops into his life?

Fic Masterlist Next

-

Move out, she said. It’ll be fun, she said. Hauling heavy boxes up the stairs is not the way she thought her Saturday would be spent. __ thought she would be able to lug her stuff up to her place with no help. She declined her dad’s offer to help, uncles and Chevy truck included. She’s regretting past ___’s choices.

Her third trip up the building stairs, and second box dropped, she’s about ready to bribe her uncles with a 24 pack. Contemplating her life at the bottom of the stairs, multiple future neighbors staring as they pass through. Already deeming her the newest weirdo to grace their building. By trip number five, she’s wishing for her boxes to grow legs.

“Hey, are you okay?” a soft voice asks her. She looks up to see big worried doe eyes staring at her. Okay, thank goodness her family members didn’t stay. Her dad would probably scare him away with just a stare. “Um, sort of. I’ve taken more trips up these stairs than I would’ve liked.” ___ answers. “Oh, are you helping someone move in? Or are you moving in? Or out?.. I’m sorry am I asking too many questions,” doe eyes says. ___ chuckles, “No, you’re fine. Moving in, actually, 3B.” He looks surprised, “ Oh, so you’re the one that moved into 3B! Huh, I was wondering who had snatched that place up.” He says dumbfounded.

“What, is that place great?”

“Uh, no, it had been vacant ever since the cookie lady left?” Doe eyes explained.

“Is, that code for something?” She asked.

“No, she was this older lady who baked in her free time. She used to babysit for a friend of mine, and would send him home with containers of cookies. He says she was the reason for his weight gain, and rowdy kid,” he says matter of factly.

He signals to her boxes, “Do you need help?” There he is, the legs she asked the universe for. ___ decides to ignore everything her mother has ever drilled into her, “Yes, please!” Doe eyes stacks a few boxes in his arms, “Do you have any boxes left?” She shakes her and tells him to wait for her. ___ runs off to her car to get the last of her bags, and signals for doe eyes to follow her to her new home. She can hear her mother now, ‘Why are letting strangers into your home?’ As well as ‘Be respectful, and offer your guest something mija.’ Still she feels a bit apprehensive letting doe eyes into her now semi-vacant apartment.

“I’m sorry for the mess,” ___ laments.

Doe eyes shakes his head, “It’s not that much of a mess. Honestly better than my friend Seokjin’s place, his son is going through a blocks and lego phase. You know how kids are.”

___ nodded her head in agreement. That she did, big families meant babies always being around, grabbing things they shouldn’t and stealing hearts. “Yeah, um thank you so much.. Shoot I never introduced myself properly, and I never asked for your name.. And now I haven’t even offered anything.. Oh god, I can hear my mom now ‘where are your manners?” she rambled. Doe eyes looked at her in amusement, “You’re doing fine, my name is Jungkook.” ___ sighed tiredly, “___. Sorry about my rambling.. Um, did you want something to drink? I have tea, water, juice, or I can order something. I don’t have much right now.”

Jungkook shook his head, “I’m fine for now, don’t worry about me. Did you need help with anything else?”

___ contemplated, her dad and uncle set up the bigger furniture. Even though she was adamant she could build them herself, her dad assured her he wanted to do it. Putting her belongings away alone would be okay, but with company.. she could be done settling in by Sunday evening at the earliest. “Would it be too much if you helped me put away my stuff,” she asked, “I.. didn’t realize how much stuff I owned pre-move. Let alone the things my family gave me as moving presents.” Jungkook let out a small chuckle, “Sure, where do you need me.”

•

“Haneul, you need to eat your food,” Yoongi grumbles towards his very displeased, but still adorable, toddler. Haneul shakes her head, turning her cheek every time her dad tries to feed her peas. Yoongi has been trying, emphasis on trying, to feed his baby girl. The day had been a disaster so far.

Haneul woke up cranky, refusing to let go of her father to get ready for his work day. She cried her little head off as he dropped her off at his mom’s. Yoongi ended up being half an hour late, he couldn’t leave his baby in that state. His schedule was late, cramped, and rushed. It got even worse when he spilled his coffee all over his work. Haneul was still fussy once he picked her up at the end of the day. He prepared a simple dinner for the both of them, but Haneul refused to eat.

“Hani, baby, I need you to eat,” Yoongi sighed.

Haneul grumbled a firm no. Yoongi, feeling defeated, decides it’s enough for tonight. He starts to clean up, thinking of different ways to calm Haneul enough for a restful sleep. After idea number three, he hears the familiar clang of her baby spoon. He lets out a happy sigh, she’ll go to sleep easier after her night routine. Deciding to let Haneul eat on her own, he finishes tidying up, makes his daughter's bedtime bottle to be ready for when she’s had her bath, all while keeping an keen eye on his baby.

The rest of the night goes without a hitch. He burps, bathes, and has quality pre-bedtime cuddles with Haneul all before 10:00 pm. She dozes off, after a lullaby or two, and Yoongi can finally take a sigh of relief. He washes up, checks a few emails, and gets his things ready for the morning to spend a little more time with Haneul. Maybe he’ll go even a little crazy and stop on the way to his mom’s to buy her some pastries, as thank you for taking care of Hani this weekend. Even going as far to get his baby girl the strawberry milk she loves so much from the same bakery. But those were all thoughts for tomorrow morning, now he just wanted to get some well deserved sleep.

A/n: well heeeeey~~~ that totally didn’t take forever lol. Something short and sweet to start off. I was going to write some more but decided against it as what I was thinking was going to sorta start off the actual plot of the story, so please look forward to that. Feedback is appreciated. 💕

[bubblegumbeech]

My first Phic Phight fic!

For @ecto-american’s prompt

His name was Danny.

That was the first thing he knew for sure was true, when he had first woken up it was what everyone called him, and it fit just fine, wasn’t something off or uncomfortable so he let it settle over him before he tried to speak.

His voice didn’t come at first, and it hurt to try so the nurses made him promise to take it easy for now, to sit back and listen. So he did.

He listened as the people around him spoke at length about how much they missed him, about how they couldn’t wait to get him home again, about how glad they were he’d survived.

The loudest and most talkative of the people that visited him and called him Danny, was a large man in an orange jumpsuit that went on long enthusiastic tangents that Danny had long stopped paying attention to. He was almost always with a smaller, authoritative woman named Maddie, who insisted He call her Mom. They told him they were his parents.

They told him they loved him.

And then they told him everything else.

The first time Danny remembered something it was with excitement, he was still in the hospital room and between the visits from the men in the starched white suits, his parents, and the doctor, he had been wrestling with the feeling that something was missing.

It had only been when Maddie had finally taken off the hood and goggles of her jumpsuit had Danny gotten a flash of familiar red hair and asked, “where’s Jazz?”

His heart buzzed at the question, sure, so sure that it would get answered, that he had remembered something.

But both Jack and Maddie had just looked at him, disappointed, and he couldn’t bring himself to ask again.

Eventually, once the doctor declared him competent and unlikely to slip back into his coma, his parents had taken him home.

There were streamers all over the house and a giant party banner that read “Welcome Back” in thick black lettering and Danny forced out a small smile as he looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. Maddie walked up behind him and he flinched, his body acting before his brain could catch up.

She had frowned at his reaction, and when Danny, stuttering, tried to apologize she said it was okay, and with a tightlipped smile, she pulled him into a hug.

He forced himself to relax, frustrated with himself. This was his mother, there was no reason for his instincts to be so afraid. Jack had joined the hug and eventually Danny found himself relaxing for real, sure maybe getting his memories back was a slow uphill climb, but at least he wouldn’t do it alone.

Eventually his parents let him go and told him he was free to walk around the house and reacquaint himself with it. His room was the first door on the left upstairs, the bathroom was down the hall and the basement, apparently, was off limits.

So Danny went upstairs into his room. It looked something like a teenager’s room he supposed. There were the posters hung haphazardly on the walls and they were torn at the corners as if someone had ripped them all off the walls before hastily taping them back up. The bed was made too, and there was a lot less dust than he was expecting after being gone for a whole month.

In fact, it looked like he’d cleaned and organized the whole room before he’d fallen into his coma and Danny didn’t know why, but that thought set him on edge. Maybe he was just an organized person?

It was just… he didn’t feel very organized.

He kept looking around. There was that feeling that something was missing, something important to him, and he walked over to the nightstand by his bed. Placing a hand on the polished wood Danny fought the flash of a model spaceship that appeared in his memories. It wasn’t here though and Danny frowned. Was that something else he’d thrown away and simply forgotten?

Shaking his head Danny headed back downstairs, maybe he should just ask Jack, er, his dad? He should really get used to calling them mom and dad. But before he headed down he went to the room across from his and knocked.

Maybe he was being foolish, but he had expected someone to answer, had a name even come to mind. When no answer came he opened the door himself only to find a storage room, nothing but shelves and boxes and Danny scolded himself for the painful ache he felt in his heart.

It was another week before Danny had another memory, and just like the last two, it didn’t fit quite right. Like a piece from another puzzle jammed where it shouldn’t fit. So he’d asked Maddie.

“Sam?” she’d said, a carefully blank look on her face, “Oh! I remember Sam, she was an old friend of yours you used to talk about her all the time. Shame she moved away.”

And just like that, he’d had his answer as ill fitting as it was. Sam was a girl he knew that moved away, the memory he’d had, of her crying face screaming at him to stay awake just stay awake damnit, was probably from a long time ago. The pain he felt in his chest -just to the right of his heart- at the thought of her not being near and that he’d probably never see her again? That was nothing important.

It was another couple of weeks of sleeping in that house, waking up and going downstairs to eat with his parents, to chat about memories he didn’t have and tell stories he never resonated with, before he woke up screaming for the first time.

Maddie had instantly run into his room, Jack not far behind and Danny scrambled away from them both. His mind filled with images of painful green light and the ominous glint of red goggles twisting his reflection in their lenses as they looked down on him.

His parents had pushed past the barrier of pillows and blankets he’d made and pulled him into their arms, rocking him and shushing him until eventually he’d tired himself out from crying and fallen asleep again. The nightmares returned.

Eventually Danny stopped asking questions about his memories.

Either they were incomplete, fragments of something real that had been twisted in time, or they were wrong entirely, figments of his own active imagination. He’d never had a sister, they insisted. It was his mother, Maddie that had stayed up late some nights to help him with his homework and bake him safe, edible cookies as a reward. Tucker was a kid he knew at school, yes, but he’d moved away years ago and they hadn’t spoken in person since.

He had blue eyes, when he looked in the mirror, not green.

It was frustrating, being unable to trust himself- his own memories. If it was anything more than broken, incomplete fragments he’d have argued, insisted they were real.

But then again, he also had memories of Maddie leaning over him, scalpel in hand to cut away at his flesh. And he knew that couldn’t be true; the woman that smiled every time he came downstairs, called him sweetie and kissed him on his forehead every night, wasn’t the monster in his dreams. She couldn’t be.

So he ignored them.

He ignored the moments of instinct when Maddie or Jack went for a hug or a kiss and he flinched, ready for an attack. He ignored how he never seemed able to give a straight answer when they asked about his day, even if he hadn’t done anything interesting at all. And he ignored his nightmares, stuffing towels under his doorframe to muffle the sounds of his screams. There was no reason to keep waking up his parents like that.

But no matter how much he ignored, he compartmentalized, or he forced himself to smile, to hug back, and to spend time bonding with his parents, he never felt safe. Maddie insisted that he was, of course she did, this was his home. But even as he smiled and agreed and let her hug him again, he wanted to leave.

This time his dream wasn’t a nightmare. No scary, well lit labs with beakers and glowing buttons, or disgusting, painful flowers shoved into his mouth. Instead there was the ticking of clocks, rhythmic and constant. A gloved hand gently soothed his hair back, and Danny’s fear seemed so far away.

It was the first full night of sleep he’d had since he’d gotten “home”.

That morning he’d asked for an analogue clock. His parents had been confused, but they acquiesced easily and took him to the store to pick one out. The one he’d ended up choosing was a large ornate antique with little clockwork gears and a loud tick. He was excited to put it up in his room, right above his bed.

He slept better after that, and some of the tension that had been building in the house eased.

His dreams were still mostly nightmares, attacks by inhuman ghostly figures were the most prominent. But they didn’t leave the same bitter aftertaste, fear and uncertainty as the ones with the table, the scalpel, and the round, red goggles.

But now they were interspersed with better ones, fuzzy hugs and fields of blinding white, sitting in a garden pruning flowers as a soft, familiar voice gave him instructions, playing video games as the player character, confident and excited with a familiar presence at his back. And his favorite ones, the ones in the clock tower with the hooded figure and his soft smiles. The ones where he felt safest.

The ones that couldn’t be real, not if what his parents told him was true.

The next time they went out as a family after that Danny had wanted to go to a garden, and while at first Maddie was hesitant, Jack had insisted the great outdoors were perfect for helping him recover properly. Danny had been thrilled and hugged both of them in thanks, their answering smiles were soft and Danny had the thought that it had been some time since he’d seen those smiles reach their eyes.

Danny had a video game he apparently liked to play called Doom, and he was pretty good at it, judging by the level of his character. When he tried to message either of the two friends he had on his contact list though, the game glitched and his info got deleted. Frustrated he tried to reboot the system but the game itself had somehow gotten corrupted and there was no hope in recovery.

Just another thing that was apparently important to him that he’d destroyed or couldn’t find.

The worst was the time he woke with Maddie sitting next to him in his bed, she had a troubled look on her face and he didn’t know what it was he’d done wrong. Had he screamed in his sleep without knowing it?

“Danny honey,” she had said, looking over to him but not meeting his eyes, “do you remember what you dreamed about?”

He’d answered no, he hadn’t, which was mostly true. The only thing he really remembered about his dream was the feeling of safety and the ticking of a clock.

It took a month for Danny’s parents to feel comfortable leaving him alone in the house in order to go to work. He watched them walk out the door, fending off forehead kisses and muttered reassurances that they’d be home soon to check on him and that he should call if he needed anything, anything at all.

Once the door clicked shut however, the smile dropped off of Danny’s face and he set his eyes on the one thing he’d wanted… no, needed to do since he had that first nightmare.

He went to the basement.

The feeling of going down the stairs stumbled over a vague, blurry memory and Danny felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand. This was just to be sure, just to prove to himself that all those dreams, all those nightmares he’d been having since his parents brought him home, were just that, nightmares.

He opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, confused when there was no lock, no resistance at all. Hadn’t they said he was banned from being down here? Why wouldn’t they lock it? Even Bluebeard locked the door his wife wasn’t supposed to enter.

The basement was…

A basement.

There were no spooky ominous beakers of strange and unrecognizable fluids, no haphazard lab equipment lying around without safety devices, nothing sterile or blinking and there was certainly no large metal table to strap someone down on.

It was just a normal basement with boxes and a desk, some chairs, a couple of old pieces of random furniture and Danny let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. This meant that Maddie was right, they really were just nightmares, probably some subconscious latent fear of going home with strangers that he couldn’t remember. That was all.

So why did he feel disappointed?

The next week was full of Danny waiting for his parents to leave before exploring the house more thoroughly. More than once he’d gotten caught in a half remembered routine that didn’t actually fit with his surroundings. Like bracing for a fight every time he opened the fridge, or expecting another flight of stairs after the second floor. Once he’d even risked going outside for a walk, trying to find his school based on half remembered directions that only served to get him lost.

It was a new routine that Danny found himself thankful for.

Not that he didn’t love his parents, he did! But for some reason, when they were gone, and it was just him with his space posters and his ornate ticking clock, and the piles of modified schoolwork that was supposed to help him when it was time to reintegrate into school, he felt a lot more relaxed. More carefree.

That was why, when he’d found the picture, it had felt like his world had crashed around him.

His parents had come home to find him sitting in the middle of the basement, tears long dried, and with the picture clutched tight in his hands, crumpled now with how long it had been.

“You lied to me.” he accused once they were within earshot. He didn’t have the energy to speak much louder than a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence nonetheless.

“Danny-boy we can explain-”

“No!” Danny shouted, getting to his feet, “You lied to me .”

Jack flinched back and Maddie stepped in front of him, protective, as if somehow, out of the three of them Danny might be the threat. He growled.

“I trusted you to tell me the truth, I trusted you with my memories, memories that were lost to me . I had a sister! You had a daughter . She existed, she was real, she’s in this photo! Smiling! ” Danny couldn’t hold back the tears anymore, it was all too much. To know that the girl in his shattered memories, the one with the soft hugs and the floral scents, that baked him cookies and held him when he cried at night, was real. And that she was gone, erased by the people he was supposed to be able to trust.

He moved to storm past them, to go upstairs or maybe even outside and look up at the sky and try to make something of the twisting, knotted mess that was his emotions, his mind, his everything right now. But Maddie grabbed his arm before he could, tears spilling from her eyes.

“We didn’t want to hurt you Danny.” she said, voice soft and broken, “we didn’t want to give and then take away.”

She pulled him into a hug and Danny didn’t bother to struggle or try and break out of it, just let her cry into his shoulder as he stood there, waiting for his own tears to dry.

The next day Jack and Maddie left for work with more reluctance, neither one willing to leave Danny on his own again. But worry didn’t pay the bills and whatever it was they were doing at their job, it was clearly important. That was something Danny was starting to remember, all the things that were more important than him.

Danny went to the library this time, determined to start figuring things out on his own. His parents had said that his sister, Jazz, had died in the accident that had put him in a coma. They said they didn’t want to hurt him, or risk him not wanting to recover his memories if they were painful and that grief was difficult to deal with even without the head trauma and emotional conflict.

His parents said a lot of things, Danny was starting to realize. And almost none of it could be trusted to be true.

The first thing he did was look for a death certificate for his sister, Jazz Fenton. After hours of searching, reading every single name that existed in every obituary for this town in the entire month when his parents claimed the accident had happened.

But there was nothing. Nothing at all.

So next he looked up phone records. Any Tuckers or Samanthas he could find, but he couldn’t remember their last names at all, just what they looked like.

How they had been crying over him.

He didn’t know if he believed that they’d just moved away. Then again, it was becoming increasingly clear that he didn’t know what to believe, if he believed anything at all. By the time he’d gotten home it was late, and his parents were already there.

At first they didn’t believe he was just at the library “trying to catch up on stuff” but they calmed back down once he’d shown them his library card and snapped that if he couldn’t even do that much why did they bother bringing him back from the hospital at all.

Dinner had been a quiet affair.

It took another week of library visits and recurring nightmares of dissection tables and glowing ghostly figures that attacked him before Danny gave up on finding out anything about Sam or Tucker. But he still didn’t stop searching for Jazz.

There was something almost obsessive about his search for her, he just couldn’t let it go. He had to know where she was, and if his parents, against all odds, hadn’t lied to him about that ... Well that was something he’d have to come to terms with when he came to it, not before.

He started scouring the Internet for her name desperate to find something, anything on her. And eventually he did.

There was an old article, from at least half a decade ago, that had her picture under the title “Four Teens go Missing in wake of Fenton Investigation”.

Next to her were two equally familiar pictures. Sam and Tucker… and then Danny himself.

Scrolling, desperate to find something, anything to add up the memories he was getting into a clear picture, he began to read the article.

In wake of the Investigation into the Fenton‘s possible abuse, Danny Fenton (15), his sister Jazz Fenton (17), and two friends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley (15), have seemingly disappeared.

The discovery came shortly after Jack and Madeline Fenton were released on parol and allowed to return home to spend time with their children since no physical proof could be found of any alleged wrongdoings.

What could have caused their disappearances remains a mystery. The prevailing theory is that they were involved in a cult that may have demonized the Fenton parents due to their controversial occupation as “ghost hunters”. Another popular theory is that the children fled the results of the case, afraid of the alleged illegal experimentation. Other theories include kidnapping, witness protection, the possibility of murder, and tying up loose ends.

Will we ever discover the truth? It remains to be seen.

Ghost hunters …

Danny felt his stomach drop, a wave of nausea rolled through him and he had to fight off the urge to relive his lunch.

Experimentation?

Nightmares and half remembered memories started clicking into place, finally , and Danny couldn’t stand it. Why were the only answers that made sense the ones that hurt the worst?

Would it have been better if he’d just let it go? If his memories never returned at all? If he just kept living, eating homemade cookies and flinching from hugs until eventually the itch underneath his skin dulled and he could just be happy as he was.

He closed the tab.

There was no one home when he got there, and it gave him the chance to pack what little belongings he had that held any meaning to him at all. The motions were familiar and he had the faintest feeling he had done exactly this before.

Maybe he had.

He’d made it out the front door by the time his parents pulled into the drive.

There was the urge to run, to go back inside and hide and pretend he hadn’t been doing exactly what they caught him doing. But he was tired. He was so tired of feeling wrong and scared and uncertain and never knowing why.

So he held his head up as they got into the car and approached them with their hands raised, cautiously, like he was a wild animal they were afraid of spooking.

Was that what they thought he was?

“Danny, we can talk about this,” Maddie said, beseeching.

He met her eyes with his own. “Will you promise not to lie anymore? I don’t even know how old I am-”

“You’re fifteen son-” Jack interrupted, lying again.

“I was fifteen five years ago!” Danny yelled, his hand tightening into a fist, “I found the article! I read about the case! Five years ago.”

“Danno…”

Oh, he was crying. It was novel almost, Danny had thought he was too tired to cry, that there wasn’t anything more that could hurt him enough to create such a response and he didn’t quite know how to react to it.

He raised his hands awkwardly to scrub the tears away and stepped back, frightened, when Maddie tried to move closer to comfort him.

“Stay back! Stay back…” he looked at his hands, they were young hands, his reflection too, hadn’t changed from the picture in the article at all. Experiments. “What did you do to me?”

“It was an accident.” Jack said, before Maddie stopped him with a gentle hand on his arm.

“We didn’t know Danny. How could we have?” She said, keeping her distance, cautious. “We tried to fix it-”

“Fix what? ” He hissed, “you haven’t told me what happened! You haven’t told me anything!”

“You!” Maddie finally snapped, tears falling heavy down her cheeks. “We were trying to fix you… but it wasn’t working and you just kept getting sicker… weaker… we had to stop.”

It was too much for her, and she turned away, leaning into Jack’s large frame as he comforted her. “We didn’t want to lose you, Danny.” He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You already did.”

Danny left his parents there, crying on the driveway of a house that could never have been a home. He had a clock tower to find.

[thewidowsghost]

Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) stands in the kitchen of her mother and step-father's apartment, making the bean dip Smelly Gabe liked so much.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the counter but then she lets out a yelp as something hits her in between her shoulder blades.

"Hurry it up, girl!" Smelly Gabe snarls.

"Yes sir," (Y/n) murmurs.

A few minutes later, Gabe stalks into the kitchen, takes the dip without so much of a thank you.

(Y/n) fixes her gaze on the shoe on the ground before she moves to her room. She climbs into her bed, getting under her covers. (Y/n) turns, facing the wall.

She closes her eyes, falling to an uneasy sleep.

(Y/n) watches, disconnected from the others in the dream, as one of her brother's teachers turns into something that reminded her of a demon, or something similar that she'd read books about. The woman had bat wings, claws, and a mouth of yellow fangs.

Then (Y/n) looks around, her eyes widening in shock as she sees her brother holding a bronze sword.

Percy swings the sword, the demon exploding into yellow powder, vaporizing on the spot.

A hand on (Y/n)'s shoulder has (Y/n) jolting awake. "Honey? Are you okay?" Sally Jackson asks.

Catching the wide-eyed look of horror on (Y/n)'s face, Sally wraps her daughter in a hug.

(Y/n)'s breathing steadies, and she breathes in her mother's familiar scent - chocolate, licorice, and all the other things she sold at the candy shop in Grand Central Station.

"Did you get all your work done?" Sally asks softly, her thumb brushing over a slightly visible bruise that had appeared at the base of the back of her neck.

(Y/n) hums in reply.

. . .

The next day, (Y/n) is once again lying in her bed, not wanting to have to deal with Gabe throwing more shoes or glass bottles at / near her.

. . .

Percy walks into the apartment, dragging his suitcase behind him, hoping his mom would be home from work. Instead, Smelly Gabe is in the living room, playing poker with his buddies. The television blares ESPN; chips and beer cans are strewn all over the carpet.

Hardly looking up, he says around his cigar, "So, you're home."

"Where's my mom? (Y/n)?"

"Mom's working," Gabe says. "The girl's in her room. You got any cash?"

"That's it. No Welcome back. Good to see you. How has your life been the last six months?

Gabe had put on weight since the last time Percy had seen him. Gabe looked like a tuskless walrus in thrift-store clothes. He has about three hairs on his head, all combed over his bald scalp.

"I don't have any cash," Percy replies.

Gabe raises a greasy eyebrow. Gabe could sniff out money like a bloodhound, which is surprising, since his own smell should've covered up everything else.

"You took a taxi from the bus station," he says. "Probably paid with a twenty. Got six, seven bucks in change. Somebody expects to live under this roof, he ought to carry his own weight. Am I right, Eddie?"

Eddie, the super of the apartment building, looks at Percy with a twinge of sympathy. "Come on, Gabe," he says. The guy just got here."

"Am I right?" Gabe repeats.

Eddie scowls into his bowl of pretzels. The two other guys pass gas in harmony.

"Fine," Percy says. He digs a wad of dollars out of his pocket and throws the money on the table. "I hope you lose."

"Your report card came, brain boy!" He shouts back at Percy. "I wouldn't act so snooty!"

Percy slams the door to his room, which isn't really his room. During school months, it is Gabe's 'study.' He doesn't study anything in there except old car magazines, but he loves shoving his stuff in Percy's closet, leaving his muddy boots on the windowsill, and doing his best to make the place smell like his nasty cologne, cigars, and stale beer.

Percy drops his suitcase on the bed. Home sweet home he thinks.

Gabe's smell is almost worse than the nightmares about Mrs. Dodds, or the sound of that old fruit lady's shears snipping the yarn.

Percy sits, lost in his thoughts.

Then he hears his mom's voice, "Percy?" She opens the bedroom door, and his fears melt. "Oh, Percy," she hugs him tight. "I can't believe it. You've grown since Christmas."

Sally had brought Percy a bag of 'free samples' the way she always did whenever he'd come home.

The two sit together on the bed. While Percy attacks the blueberry sour strings, she runs her hands through his hair, demanding to know everything that he hadn't put in his letters. She doesn't mention his getting expelled. She doesn't seem to care about that.

Percy tells his mother that she is smothering him, but secretly, Percy is really, really glad to see her.

From the other room, Gabe yells, "Hey, Sally - how about some bean dip, huh?"

Percy grits his teeth. My mom is the nicest lady in the world. She should be married to a millionaire, not to some jerk like Gabe.

(Y/n) pads into Percy's room, and the dark haired boy brightens at the sight of his younger twin.

"I've got the dip, Mom," (Y/n) says softly. Sally gazes at her daughter for a moment, her gaze sad.

"Wait, (Y/n)," Sally says, and (Y/n) turns back to face her mother. "I've got a surprise for the two of you," she says. "We're going to the beach."

Percy's eyes widen. "Montauk?"

"Three nights - same cabin," Sally replies.

"When?" (Y/n) asks, looking excited.

She smiles, "As soon as I get changed."

(Y/n) can't believe it. Mom, Percy, and I hadn't been to Montauk in the last two summers because Gabe had said that there wasn't enough money.

Gabe appears in the doorway behind (Y/n) and growls, "Bean dip, Sally? Didn't you hear me?"

Percy wants to punch him, but he meets his mother's eyes, and understands that she is offering him a deal: Be nice to Gabe for a little while; just until she's ready to leave for Montauk.

"I've got it, Gabe," (Y/n) says.

"Sorry, honey," Sally says, looking at her husband. "We were just talking about the trip."

Gabe's eyes get small. "The trip? You mean you were serious about that?"

"I knew it," Percy mutters. "He won't let us go."

"Of course he will," Sally says evenly. "Your stepfather is just worried about money."

(Y/n) turns to face Gabe, smiling as kindly as she could. "What if I make a seven-layer dip that'll last the whole weekend?" she asks. "Guacamole. Sour cream. The works."

Gabe softens a bit, then turns back to face Sally. "So, this money for your trip . . . it comes out of your clothes budget, right?"

"Yes, honey," Sally replies.

"And you won't take my car anywhere but there and back."

"We'll be very careful."

Gabe scratches his double chin. "Maybe if the girl hurries up with the seven-layer dip . . . and if the boy apologizes for interrupting my poker game."

Maybe if I kick you in your soft spot, Percy thinks. And make you sing soprano for a week.

"I'm sorry," Percy mutters. "I'm really sorry I interrupted your incredibly important power game. Please go back to it right now."

Gabe's eyes narrow. His tiny brain is probably trying to detect the sarcasm in my statement, Percy thinks.

"Yeah, whatever," Gabe decides; he goes back to his game.

"Thank you, Percy," Sally says. "Once we get to Montauk, we'll talk more about...whatever you've forgotten to tell me, okay?"

For a moment, (Y/n) can see anxiety in her mother's eyes, but then her smile returns, and (Y/n) figures that she must've been mistaken.

. . .

An hour later, the three are ready to leave.

Gabe takes a break from his poker game long enough to watch (Y/n) and Percy lug the bags to his car. He keeps griping and groaning about losing her and (Y/n)'s cooking - and more important, his '78 Camaro - for the whole weekend.

"Not a scratch on this car, brain boy," Gabe warns Percy as he loads the last bag into the car. "Not one little scratch."

Like I'd be the one driving. I'm fourteen, Percy thinks.

Watching Gabe lumbers back towards the apartment building, Percy gets so mad that he does something he can't explain. As Gabe reaches the door, Percy makes the hand gesture he'd seen Grover made on the bus, a soft of warding-off-evil gesture, a clawed hand over his heart, then a shoving movement towards Gabe. The screen door slams so hard it whacks him the the butt and sends him flying up the staircase as if he'd been shot from a cannon.

. . .

(Y/n)'s POV

Our rental cabin is on the south shore, way out at the tip of Long Island. It is a little pastel box with faded curtains, half sunken into the dunes. There's always sand in the sheets, spiders in the cabinets, and most of the time the sea is too cold to swim in.

I loved the place.

Mom, Percy, and I had been going ever since Percy and I'd been a baby. Mom had been coming even longer. She'd never exactly said, but I know why the beach was special to her.

It's the place where she'd met my Dad.

As we get closer to Montauk, Mom seems to grow younger, years of worry and work disappearing from her face. Her eyes turn the color of the sea.

We get there around sunset, open all the cabin's windows, and go through the usual cleaning routine.

Mom, Percy, and I walk on the beach, feed blue corn-chips to the seagulls, and munch on blue jelly beans, blue saltwater taffy, and all the other free samples Mom had brought home from work.

I guess maybe I should explain all the blue food.

Gabe had once told Mom that there was no such thing. They had had this fight, which had seemed like a really small think at the time, but ever since, Mom went out of her way to eat blue. She baked blue birthday cakes, mixed blueberry smoothies, bought blue-corn tortilla chips, and brought home blue candy from the shop. This - along with keeping her maiden name, Jackson, rather than calling herself Mrs. Ugliano - is proof that she isn't totally suckered by Gabe. She did have a rebellious streak, just like Percy.

When it gets dark, we make a fire. We roast hot dogs and marshmallows. Mom tells Percy and me stories about when she was a kid, back before her parents had died in the plane crash. She tells us about the books she wanted to write someday, when she had enough money to quit the candy shop.

Eventually, it seems that Percy gets the nerve to ask about what is always on our minds whenever we come to Montauk - our father. Mom's eyes go all misty. I figure she would tell us the same things she always did, but neither Percy or I ever got tired of hearing them.

"He was kind, Percy," Mom replies. "Tall, handsome, and powerful. But gentle too, like you, (Y/n)." Mom says and I soften. "You have his black hair, Percy, and you both share his green eyes.

Mom fishes a blue jelly bean out of her candy bag. "I wish he could see you two. He would be so proud."

I wonder how she could say that when I'm the girl who cowers from her stepfather. The girl who hides in her room to get away from said stepfather.

"How old were we?" Percy asks, pulling me from my thoughts. "I mean . . . when he left?"

Mom watches the flames. "He was only with me for one summer, Percy. Right here at this beach. This cabin."

"But . . . he knew us as babies."

"No, honey," Mom replies. "He knew I was expecting twins, but he never met you. He had to leave before you were born."

I try to square that with the fact that I seem to remember . . . something about my father. A warm glow, maybe a smile.

Percy and I had always assumed that our father had known us as babies. Mom had never said it outright, but still, I'd felt that it must be true. Now, to be told that he'd never even seen us . . .

I feel angry at my father. Maybe it is stupid, but I resent him for going on that ocean voyage, for not having the guts to marry Mom.

"Are you going to send me away again?" Percy asks. "To another boarding school?"

Mom pulls a marshmallow from the fire.

"I don't know, honey," her voice is heavy. "I think . . . I think we'll have to do something."

"Because you don't want me around?" Percy says and I flinch, avoiding both his and Mom's gazes.

I glance up to see that Mom's eyes had welled up with tears. "Oh, Percy, no. I - I have to, honey. For your own good. I have to send you away."

"But you never send her away," Percy says and I look up, eyes wide with surprise.

Mom looks at Percy, eyes wide with shock.

Finally she says, "I have to keep both of you away from each other as much as possible. I thought you'd finally be safe."

"I tried to keep you as close to me as I could," Mom says. "They told me it was a mistake. But there's only one other option, Percy, (Y/n) - the place your father wanted to send you two. And I just . . . I just can't stand to do it."

"Our father wanted us to go to a special school?" I ask.

"Not a school," Mom replies. "A summer camp."

My head spins. Why would my dad - who hadn't even stayed around to see me and Percy be born - talk to Mom about a summer camp?

"I'm sorry, (Y/n)," Mom says, seeing the look in my eyes. "But I can't talk about it. I - I couldn't send you two to that place. It might mean saying goodbye to you for good."

"For good?" Percy asks. "But if it's only a summer camp . . ."

Mom turns towards the fire, and I know from her expression, that if we asked any more questions, she would start to cry.

Word Count: 2413 words

[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.

---

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