#I feel like I miss many thinks about TUA | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

zbeez-outlet · 2 years

Text

Part Three || Big Brother Diego

Five Hargreeves x OC | TUA Canon Universe | Slow Burn Relationship

Description || The story of how little Noa Lavigne went from dodging Diego's knives in target practice to sharing secret handshakes and spinning in the rain.

Content Warnings || allusions to Reginald Hargreeve's abuse, minor injuries, mentions of blood (If I missed anything, please let me know!)

<<< Part Two

Book Masterlist

Number 2 has a lot of feelings about being number 2. At the top of the list is the fact that being number 2 means he is not number 1, he will never be number 1, but he can be better than number 1 — well, maybe. Mom says he could be as long as he tries his hardest. So he does.

At the bottom of this so-called "Feelings About Being Number 2" list is the sentiment that at least he's not Number 7, who's small and powerless and left on the sidelines with a frown and a wish for more. Just above that is the even greater truth that being Number 8 would be worse. In many ways, Number 2 thinks Number 8 is more like a pet than a child or a sibling or a person.

Their official introduction happens thusly.

Dad hands him a knife and orders him to throw it at Number 8. The goal is to cut her. She stands ten meters away, small with her shoulders curved forward and her chin bent low, but for some reason he feels watched by her. Like behind the curtain of strawberry blonde curls is an eye that sees his every heartbeat and every impulse.

Part of him wants to cut her just to see if he can.

When Dad realized Number 2 needed an object to focus on to control his power and exceed his potential, early in the study of his abilities, he chose knives. Sharp, deadly, precise. He could use his manipulation of trajectory to maneuver the direction of the knives with unprecedented accuracy. Number 2 practiced on stationary targets until hitting a bullseye with his eyes closed became as easy as breathing. He graduated to the next step: moving targets.

The day Number 8 appeared on their doorstep, Number 2 didn't think much beyond the initial awe at her speed. There wasn't much more to think when you're only six and small and subject to the disciplines of everything bigger than you. They were all told to call her Number 8, so he does because he's Number 2 and clearly she's one of them now — except Dad makes her sleep in the attic and there's never a plate for her at the dinner table. He wonders about that now, thin slice of knife between his fingers and the orders of his father tensing between his shoulders. He wonders how she can be and not be one of them at the same time.

Disobeying is not an option.

It's actually fun, he realizes a few sessions of target practice later because catching Number 8 feels impossible and excitement simmers under his skin every time he gets close. The game changes from Number 2 chasing her around the room with blades and frustration to anticipating her next moves. To making plans and strategies and maneuvers he would never otherwise come up with. It's fun, it's new, it feels way more valuable than the thousands of pushups Number 1 must be doing. That thought keeps him proud.

The first time Number 2 cuts Number 8 is also the last.

It happens after he's been named Diego by Mom and Number 8 has become Noa to him in secret. It happens after hundreds and hundreds of hours of target practice. It happens because Dad wants to challenge her, not him.

She's being electrocuted the first time he cuts her. A tiny slice on the right side of her throat that bleeds and scars and haunts him every time he looks at it. Noa doesn't cry from the wound, but she does look at him differently afterwards, even if she doesn't mean to. Something like sadness, something like betrayal, something that tastes bitter every time he sees it flash in her eyes.

Diego never cuts her again because he never wants to. Not like he did at first, just to see if he could. Not even for Dad's approval.

Having a stutter makes Number 2 insecure in a way he's not prepared for — though, really, how does one prepare for insecurity at the age of seven? It forces him into a quiet that unsettles the person he wants to be, which is loud and proud and as confident in his words as every other part of himself. A leader.

He struggles with sharp consonants the most. The ones that are thin and shaped with steel, trapped aggressively behind his teeth and lips no matter how hard he pushes them with his tongue. It's the t's and the k's and the g's. It's the way r's struggle to ripple passed his throat and the vowels that draw on longer than he means for them to. Number 2 cannot control the flow of his words the same way he can control the trajectory of his knives.

Mom is patient. Mom is kind and sounds out the words for him, slow at first. They play games with letters and shapes, and she teaches him how to picture the words in his mind before saying them.

When he finds out Mom is teaching Number 8 English, his first thought is about how he can help. Because he knows what it means to silence yourself for fear of using the wrong words or ruining their sound or jumbling them up all over the place.

Number 2 likes the way French sounds the few times he's heard Number 8 speak, similar to the Spanish Dad has him practicing or the Italian Number 5 picks up with ease only with more floral notes and a sound that reminds him of Mom's perfume. It's round with vowels in a way English often isn't. It's lovely and soft and dances through the air with a warmth that isn't welcome within the walls of the Umbrella Academy. He wonders if she trips over the same consonants as him.

"Mom," he starts with a soft call, reaching for the billowy length of her skirt. He's nervous because sometimes acknowledging Number 8 feels blasphemous, like there's some unwritten rule of the house that her presence is as consequential as the paintings on the walls and to give her any more substance than that is punishable in their father's eye. "Can I help you teach Number 8 English? I can show her how to pic-pic-picture the words like you t-taught me."

Her palm rests on his head, gentle fingers running through the short cut of his hair and making him preen like a cat. She smiles with all of the softness he doesn't get in their world under the sunshine of a flashing monocle. "Of course, Number 2. I would love your help." She kneels down by his side, a thick leather book in her hand that she holds out to Number 2 like a special treasure. The leather is dark and latched with a metal clasp, a matching key attached to the pages by a string. "I got this for her so she can practice. Kind of like how you do in your head, but on paper. Would you like to give it to her for me?"

Number 2 nods so enthusiastically his neck hurts, and he follows behind Mom with an extra little skip to his step, the journal clutched to his chest. She leads him in a delicate stride up and up and up towards the attic, a bubble of anxiety threatening to pop in his throat. He's never been to the attic before.

Mom knocks with a rhythmic tap tap tap and calls for Number 8 with a tone so unlike the sweeping curve of breath she uses for his own number. None of the motherly affection he knows from her. It's not harsh or angry or berating, but stiff like metal. It leaves Number 2 confused and curious, wondering where all the warmth of the beating heart she doesn't have has gone. Number 8 peaks through the crack of the attic door, eyes flickering between him and Mom like she can't figure out how she's supposed to act, but she offers him a hesitant smile despite her wavering. He can't help but smile back, feeling crooked in his skin and fighting the impulse to pat her head like a puppy.

He holds out the leather journal like a peace offering, a treaty between two sides of the same coin. "To prac-practiccce..." he trails, frustrated with his words and his letters and his brain. "To practice! Your English."

The way Number 8 looks at the journal with a shine to her eyes makes him sad. She reaches forward like a frightened animal as if she's expecting him to retch the gift from her as soon as she touches it. Number 8 holds the journal like glass, waiting for it to shatter between her palms, and pride dances in Number 2's chest at being the one to put such a reverent look on her face.

"Numéro 2?" Her voice is small, and he wonders if it's impossible to put her in his pocket to keep her safe and happy and cozy at all times. "Voulez-vous me montrer, s'il vous plaît? Um..." she pauses, brow crinkling cutely as she tries to find the right words. Her feet shuffle and her shoulders curve further as insecurity presses onto her spine. Number 2 nods at her, encouraging her to pick and choose and ask him again. "Sh-show me? Please?"

When Number 2 smiles, it's with his entire face. All teeth and stretched cheeks and elation freckling his skin.

He grabs her hand, noticing but not commenting on the way she jumps at his touch, and drags her all the way to his room — the attic still scares him even if there's just a little girl behind the door. They settle on a blanket he tosses onto the floor, heads bent close together as he starts by talking her through the alphabet, which is largely the same and yet somehow totally different. He points to objects around his room and asks her to name them. If she gets it wrong, she writes it down with the corresponding French word so she knows to practice. If she gets it right, he gives into the urge of patting her head and beams at her answering smile.

When Number 8 smiles, really truly smiles with all the happiness she can muster, her cheeks dimple and her eyes scrunch and her tongue pokes from between her teeth.

He only sees that smile a handful of times throughout their childhood. The first time he sees it is also the first time he pats her head. Awe dances in his chest at the sight and suddenly all he wants is to protect that smile.

They are the exact same age, every child in the manor is, but he thinks this must be what it feels like to be a big brother. He rather likes it.

Diego comes up with the idea for a secret handshake on a whim of normalcy when they're barely eleven. His first attempt is with Klaus, unanimously dubbed the creative one among the children. It's an attempt that fails spectacularly with fumbled fingers and Klaus getting stuck in a roundabout interpretive dance, though Diego likely should have expected it to go that way what with his brother's recent discovery of weed.

He contemplates going to Ben next, as the only other sibling likely to indulge his newfound micro-obsession with handshakes and secrecy, but quickly decides to go to Noa instead when she simply walks by him in the hallway amidst his boredom. She's closer and most often compliant, and Diego prefers that over the tediousness of a few extra minutes of convincing Ben to do it with him. Besides, he rather likes her gentle company more than that of his uniquely deranged siblings.

Not to mention the silently massive 'fuck you!' it would be to Dad's rules piled between Noa and the rest of them. Another way to dig a little path of comradery to Noa, same as their English lessons and the stolen moments of head pats and tongue-in-teeth smiles.

She's following behind Five like she so often is these days, close enough that their linked pinkies go almost completely unnoticed but far enough so she can't be perceived as an equal beside him. It's cute in a weird complicated way he doesn't quite understand, not with the way Five's brutal demeaner clashes with Noa's jittery calmness, but they smile together and whisper and sometimes blush pink, so Diego decides not to dwell on it so much.

But it's been days since Diego's had some stolen time with Noa, so he decides pilfering her company for the early afternoon before she's relegated to the corner of the dining hall during dinner is his right.

"My turn with Noa, bye Five!" He gets out in a rush, the words smooth from practice and patience and Mom's smile. Snatching Noa's hand, the one decidedly not occupied by Five's pinky, Diego pulls her away in the wake of his brother's snarled curses with a devilish cackle.

Noa keeps up easily of course, her feet far more graceful than any other part of her, but she doesn't laugh like him because she doesn't know how — her smile is one in ten thousand jokes, her laugh is one in ten million tickles. Sometimes he wonders if he'll ever hear it. Sometimes he wonders if any of the others have. He knows she's not mad though, if the soft curve of her brow and gentle reciprocating clasp of his hand are anything to go by.

Diego drags her out to the courtyard. Dad rarely leaves his office when they're not training let alone ventures outside, so it's usually the safest spot to hang out with Noa without getting caught. He settles them under the cover of the largest tree in the yard, an aging oak that they're all convinced was there before the mansion was. Sitting cross-legged on the grass, he gestures for Noa to do the same with the kind of excited impatience only a child could have. She does, though she folds her legs delicately beneath her instead of crossing them because of the skirt of her uniform, and stares at him expectedly.

Her eyes swivel like she's checking for the weighty shine of a monocle before turning back to him with one of her more hesitant grins. "Hi Diego," she whispers like if she dares to speak any louder the world may crack beneath their feet. He has always loved the way their names slip from her accent in soft doting French sounds.

"Noa, I had a great idea!" He keeps his voice low despite the bubbles of anticipation dancing along his tongue, more for her comfort than any actual fear of reprimand he may have. "We should make a secret handshake!"

She tilts her head like the puppy he so often thinks of her as and furrows her brows. "A secret...what?"

"You know, a handshake. Like..." he trails, reaching for her hand. Even at eleven, his hands seem far larger than hers. He firmly grasps her fingers in his hold and shakes with a howdy-do nod of his head that leaves her cheeks pink and her green eyes shining. "Only, we'll make a special one that just the two of us know."

That very special tongue-in-teeth smile stretches her cheeks and when she nods, her curls bounce. Diego's chest puffs at the sight.

He doesn't count the minutes, but they stay out in the courtyard for a long time playing with their hands and coming up with different ways to link their fingers. They use their right hands even though Noa is left-handed. Eventually they come up with something simple enough to remember for a lifetime but complex enough that it takes a few tries to get it right. It goes like this.

Three taps to each other's palm and sliding back to clasp fingers in a claw-like gesture. Pressing thumbs together before unclasping their fingers and twisting clockwise to link their pinking, and then reversing that motion to smoothly clasp hands in a classic handshake form. They shake three more times before drawing back and forming small fists that they take turns tapping the tops and bottoms before ending in a classic bump of knuckles. With, of course, exaggerated explosive noises that Diego insisted on as the finisher.

Diego dissolves into giggles after every explosion, teetering in the grass and holding tight to his belly like he can trap the warmth of his mirth with his hands. He pats her head as a reward just like when she gets her English words right.

A water droplet splashes against his nose, startling him from their game. Diego looks up to the canopy of leaves beneath the shady oak tree and blinks, more droplets spattering across his cheeks and he grins.

It's raining.

Quickly pulling Noa to her feet, he dances them from under the cover of the tree and twirls her in the falling rain. He does their handshake again and goes spinning at the final explosion to dance in the growing puddles and dirty his shoes without a second thought. Noa stands more calmly on the edge of the rain, watching him with warm eyes but far less enthusiasm for the dancing, and that just won't do. He shimmies towards her, reaching and reaching and reaching as if he can pull the excitement and playfulness he knows hides beneath her skin from the tips of her fingers.

Her curls speckle with silver water and sparkle just like the day she found her way to their doorstep. He rocks Noa into his arms and shakes her to the rhythm of a song that's not playing and then sends her twirling with an encouraging thrust of his hands. And that's when he hears it, under the twinkling sound of rain.

Noa giggles. She giggles and laughs and spins without any care for the mud dirtying her stockings. It's breathy and soft, just like everything else about her, and sings with the same gentle harmony as her French and her lullabies. It wraps warm around his chest and pulls another laugh from the mirth hidden behind his ribs. It's a sound he wishes he could bottle and save for the darker days when none of them can find the strength to do more than blink.

A throat clears behind him. Noa's laughter stops. The world stills so suddenly even the rain seems to pause against the fight of gravity.

"Number 2," Dad's voice crawls along his spine and claws at his ears. "This behavior is unacceptable. Go change for supper, we'll discuss your punishment after."

Diego trembles, trying to meet Noa's eye, but she's already shut down. Now standing rigid with her hands clasped behind her back and her chin pressed painfully to her chest. He can see her shaking. If Diego were braver, he'd walk towards her and wrap her in his arms like the big brother he wants to be, whisper reassurances without stuttering and protect her, but instead his father's orders drag his feet back into the house, leaving her to his wrath. Dad doesn't follow him inside.

Mom is waiting with a towel and a clean uniform in her hands, smile bright and warm and everything he can't feel right now.

Dinner starts later than usual. Noa never takes her spot beside Mom and Pogo. Guilt floods his chest and his lungs and threatens to spill over his eyes. Her laugh echoes in his head until it sounds like a scream. Five asks where Noa is as the only one brave enough to do so. Dad reminds him that speaking is prohibited during dinner, leaving Five to simmer with a red rage and stab at his plate without eating any of it. He glares at Diego, at Dad, at his plate. He stares at the empty spot where Noa usually stands for a long long time.

It's three days before they see Noa again, quiet and small as she's always been. He can't see any marks of punishment, relief mingling with the guilt in his chest like oil.

He doesn't ask what happened to her the last three days. She doesn't tell him.

When Dad's not looking, Noa holds out her right hand. Diego's eyes go wide and with trembling motions, he taps against her palm three times. He almost cries when she whispers the quietest explosive noise to finish off the handshake.

When Noa and Five are gone, Diego grieves in the only way he knows how. Silently and with a weight hardening behind his ribs like a stone, a pressure that will never go away. His screams and cries are trapped under his skin, ready to burst as days without explosive handshakes or English lessons or impossible target practice turn into weeks, into months, into years.

Her journal is gone.

The attic is locked.

Dad hangs a painting of Five over the fireplace mantle. He wants to ask if Noa gets a painting, but knowing the answer keeps the question resting on his tongue, swallowed into the recesses of his throat.

The only proof that Noa existed at all is their memories. It's not enough, it'll never be enough. He turned out to be a pretty shitty big brother.

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves x oc #five hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy #five x oc #five x reader #tua oc #umbrella academy oc

24 notes · View notes

number5theboy · 2 years

Note

1, 7, 34 💛

What are your top 3 favorite sets you’ve made?

Answered that here!

Who are your top 3 gif makers?

Raven this is so mean, how could you make me choose!!! I can't pick a top three, that would feel mean. Instead I'm just gonna hand out some compliments to tua gifmakers off the top of my head. If I forget anyone, don't take it personally, it's just my brain failing me.

Starting off with you, Raven, I genuinely don't know what magic you put into your colouring, but you can make this show look so bright and so well-lit, you have such good grasp on colour in your gifsets, they are stunning.

@capinejghafa is like. A comfort gifmaker. She makes so many sets and they are usually like these little moments that I might have missed and then get to appreciate, but sometimes she busts out some incredible blending skills, it's great.

@seance an uncomfort gifmaker? literally every time she posts a set it makes me lose my mind a little and i have to yell at her in the tags. an absolute artist in combining imagery and poetry in increasingly mindblowing templates.

@viktorhargreeves has made it her mission to chronicle every single thing luther and/or viktor have done across three seasons. she colours this goddamn uncolourable show in the most fun colour combinations and has a knack to make these great dynamics gifsets that I love to bits.

@i-seeaspaceshipinthe-sky makes such good gifsets that dive into Klaus, little moments, little parallels, theirs is the first blog I go to if I am looking for specific Klaus moments because chances are they giffed them somewhere. And they have this incredibly distinct colouring that's so easily recognisable and makes the greens in this show look good (somehow. miraculously.).

@yenvengerberg is just an incredibly gifted giffer with colours, she can make this show look so good it boggles the mind. I'm still thinking about that gifset where she condensed the entire S3 trailer into one gifset with an incredible layout and really cool typography, I'm still in awe of that gifset.

@sohoseance has been doing some incredible work with these really big, colourful, almost psychedelic gifs and really bold, fun typography that I love, with colour combinations I rarely see used, she makes pink and neon green work somehow for this swamp-coloured show.

@hargreevcs makes these very cool, bold gifsets with very bright, saturated blocks of colour and fun typography that are always great tributes to the characters they are about

Shout-out to the lovely Artemis @fiveviktorklaus, I hope you're doing well and I miss your wonderful gifs.

And of course, someone I keep tagging in my gifsets in an old habit or a mournful plea, I'm not really sure, but tumblr user Tess @ogaferoga brought such a gust of fresh wind into the fandom when they crashed into it after S2, and I miss their mind-blowing creations, they really pushed gifmaking to a whole new territory (Tess, if you ever read this, I miss you).

I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT MY BRAIN LITERALLY BARRELLED THESE OUT AFTER I ALREADY HIT POST. EMBARRASSING.

@lilapittss who literally suffers to colour scenes I've given up on and can make these really big, beautiful gifs, and is always there to appreciate the TUA ladies in gifmaking form.

@fivehargreve my fellow Five and S1 appreciator whose gifs are just lovely and who has a knack for big formats that are somehow incredibly sharp.

@anthonysharma away on hiatus but always in my heart, makes the most wonderful sibling appreciation posts with her really soft, warm-toned colouring

A set that took you a long time/was really hard but you’re really proud of how it came out?

I called it the mammoth project because it genuinely took me a month or so to complete. It was just a love letter to Five and the range the kiddo gives him, and it really was a chore to figure out, but I'm still very happy with it.

#Replies #itisaballroomblitz #immortalklaushargreeves #thank you for the ask dear

17 notes · View notes

conduitandconjurer · 2 years

Text

Headcanons on this blog (since 2019) that TUA canon (2022) has now confirmed (Episodes 3.1-3.7):

Klaus is actually surprisingly great with kids.

Klaus was completely cool with Viktor coming out as trans and even was the first person among the brothers to compliment his new appearance.

Klaus has naturally curly hair that he was forced to straighten until his twenties.

Klaus makes an excellent counselor because he is nonjudgmental, and uses body language that puts him on the same level as the distraught person he’s helping (see Five and Reginald).

Klaus’s greatest asset and vulnerability is his capacity to forgive and to trust.

Klaus would be a great secret weapon in terms of olive-branching at the enemy, and has an uncannily good instinct/emotional intelligence for what will relax and warm up other people.

Klaus and Five actually get along really well and support each other.

Klaus is in fact preoccupied by mothers and motherhood, and feels like some essential part of his identity is missing because he never knew his birthmother.

Klaus cries easily and a lot.

Klaus feels essentially compelled to self-thwart in part to establish (weak, unhealthy) boundaries and in part so that he doesn’t have to face the fear of failing people whose opinion matters to him (basically, his family).

Klaus has tremendous insecurity and shame over being the family “weak link.” More than anything, he wants to possess something of value to himself and others, and to have purpose in the living world, not just as a conduit to the dead.

Klaus is immortal and has died by overdose many times, but never been certain just to what extent he can resuscitate, until now.

Klaus’s powers are actually, in some ways, the greatest and most formidable, of ALL the Umbrella Siblings, even Viktor. They manifest as a full bodied bright teal glow and are centered in exposing and channeling intense emotions.

Sir Reginald (og timeline) abused Klaus egregiously as a child, in some ways the most drastically.

Believe it or not there are more, I’m just assembling them as I come up with them for my own reference. I can’t explain how batshit crazy and overwhelmingly validating this season has been. I’ve had FIVE longtime mutuals now volunteer to me that all they could think about was my Klaus muse when watching S3 and I am just. REALLY happy.

#meta #reference #s3 spoilers

17 notes · View notes

stupidcanofpeaches · 2 years

Note

Peaches! I love hearing your thoughts on TUA and such, you've got a finger on the pulse of Five and what makes him tick. I love your fics (I think about lie awake, sleep awake regularly). It's a real tragedy that tumblr has you in a weird little island by yourself (support! help!) - I try to keep a sharper eye out for your posts and tags because you don't show up in notes :( and you always have such good thoughts I don't want to miss them. But you're a brightspot on my dash and in the fandom <3

aw thank you so much!! i think that my five can sometimes get ooc but i'm super happy to hear you think so highly of the way i write! and yeah it's pretty frustrating, this whole shadowban (???) thing. i'm gonna shoot another message to tumblr support today probably cause it's killing me just how many interactions i'm missing completely bc of this bs. thank you for looking out for my posts <3 i've been feeling a bit lonely lately cause not being able to interact with other fandom people does make me feel like i'm invisible in a way, so i really really appreciate it!

#asks #thank you so much genuinely #i hope i'll get this resolved somehow #from what i've seen this has happened before to other people #and at least in one case the tumblr support came through and solved the issue #so im kinda hopeful

0 notes

mrs-gucci · 3 years

Text

Gucci’s Girl [REPOST] {Maurizio Gucci x Reader}

author’s notes: hellooo! I originally wrote this story as an ‘x OC’ because that’s what I was writing at the time, but I decided to change it into an ‘x Reader’ story since that’s what more people like to read!

**I used a translation application for the Italian in this story. Apologies if there are any typos and/or incorrect sentences/grammar. Italian sentences/words are in italics throughout the story with translations after the sentences in parenthesis.

**This is MY OWN INTERPRETATION of Maurizio Gucci’s character, as portrayed by Adam Driver in the upcoming film, House Of Gucci.

warnings: smut. fluff. grinding. multiple orgasms. pretty vanilla sex.

(possible) tw’s: infidelity (he’s engaged, not married).

SMUT under the CUT!

“Tesoro” means “Treasure” in Italian (an affectionate nickname).

“Y/N, will you stay after for a bit?”

Mr. Gucci walks over to your desk.

“I need to ask you something.”

You nod, smiling up at your boss.

“Of course, Mr. Gucci.”

Inside, you were panicking.

He’s never asked you to stay after work before, except on your first day, which made sense. But this doesn’t make sense…

He returns the smile.

“Excellent. Just come to my office.”

You continue to work, faxing and typing away until the clock read five.

Everyone else begins to pack up and bids you farewell as you make your way up to Mr. Gucci’s office.

The wooden door has never looked more intimidating than it does in this moment, as you raise your knuckles and knock.

“Entra in.” (Come in.)

You take a deep breath before you turn the handle, forcing a smile on your face.

He looks so scary and intimidating when he sits at his desk, a fact that, when you told him, made him laugh.

“Ah, yes, Y/N. Come in, sit down.”

The chairs in his office are top-of-the-line, a refreshing change from the less-than luxurious chairs out on the floor.

Mr. Gucci lights a cigarette and takes a drag before standing up and walking around to take a seat in the chair next to you.

When he sees your confused expression, he laughs softly, taking another drag.

“I know you think I look scary sitting back there, and I don’t want you to be scared of me.”

Your eyes go wide.

“O-Oh, that’s not what I meant—“

“I know, tesoro.”

He chuckles, eyes flickering over your face before he speaks again.

“So, the annual House of Gucci Ball is coming up, as you know.”

You nod.

“And, I was wondering...would you want to...come with me?”

Your stomach drops.

“W-What?”

The CEO looks incredibly flustered and anxious, a new look for him.

“My fiancée isn’t feeling well and as the head of the House, I really don’t want to go alone…”

In a bold move, you reach out and gently place your hand over his. He looks up at you, and you smile.

“I’d, uhh, I’d love to go, sir. It would be my pleasure.”

“Great.”

The corners of his lips tug up into a genuine smile and his eyes dart away from yours as he takes another drag.

“I’ll have the company tailor come in tomorrow and take your measurements for a gown. And you’ll come here three hours beforehand in order to have hair and makeup done.”

You’re still partially in shock as he discusses dresses and makeup and hair.

It’s become clear to you over the past few weeks that he has feelings for you, and you think they’re the same feelings that you have for him.

But obviously, neither of you can act on them, no matter how badly you wish you could. He’s set to be married in a few months, and there’s a very strict company policy that forbids relationships between workers and their supervisors.

So, it left this unresolved tension between the two of you, and you literally just agreed to spend an entire night at an event with him.

The reality hits and you feel lightheaded.

Oh my god, I’m going to the company ball with Maurizio Gucci.

Four Weeks Later

The elevator dings and you step out into the now-vacant office. You see several people standing around a portable salon setup, and they all turn to look at you.

“Miss Y/N?”

One of them asks.

You nod.

“Si.” (Yes.)

They quickly sit you down in the chair and begin applying makeup and doing your hair.

You’re tearing up a little bit as you look at yourself in the mirror. Clad in a long, form-fitting gown and in full hair and makeup, you look and feel like a princess.

The stylist hands you a small accent clutch and almost immediately after, the elevator dings, and Mr. Gucci steps out, clad in a snappy black suit, not unlike what he wears at work everyday.

That man is never not in a suit, you’ve learned.

His eyes go wide as you step down from the small platform. Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze.

The stylist looks nervous as his eyes roam your figure.

She speaks up a moment later, voice meek.

“Il vestito e il trucco soddisfano i suoi standard, signore?” (Does the dress and makeup meet your standards, sir?)

He tears his eyes away from you, and nods at the stylist.

“Ha superato le mie aspettative.” (It’s exceeded my expectations.)

You’re blushing madly now, unable to meet his eyes as you feel him looking at you again.

Soon, the stylist packs up and leaves just you and Mr. Gucci alone.

He clears his throat, breaking the silence.

“You look...beautiful, absolutely beautiful, tesoro.”

You bite your lip as you look up at him, absolutely starstruck by his handsomeness. He somehow manages to look better and more attractive every time you see him.

“You’re too sweet, sir.”

He takes your hand, kissing your knuckles.

“Please, I’m Maurizio tonight.”

You nod, trying his name on your tongue.

“Maurizio.”

Mr. Gucci smiles as he releases your hand. “We have a few minutes before the car gets here...would you like some water? Espresso?”

“I’m alright, but thank you.” You say.

A few moments of sexually-charged silence lingers between you two.

“Thank you for agreeing to join me tonight.”

He says suddenly.

“I always enjoy our time together, Y/N.”

You smile.

“Me too.”

“Really? You do?”

Maurizio blushes slightly.

“It’s just...I’m an old man, you’re a young woman...”

You chuckle as you reach out to hold his hand.

“You’re not old, sir—Maurizio. And yes, really, I do enjoy our time together.”

“I’m glad.”

He says, eyes flicking down to your lips as he leans in a little bit.

Wait...what? Is he gonna… Fuck, oh god, this can’t happen...

Honk!

He flinches at the sound, standing up straight and clearing his throat.

“I guess the car is here.”

You chuckle nervously as he holds out his hand, and you take it, walking alongside him to the elevator.

It’s a short drive to the hotel and when you two arrive, there are swarms of paparazzi, all crowding around the car when the driver pulls to the curb.

Maurizio clearly sees your overwhelmed expression and tension, reaching over to squeeze your hand.

“Don’t worry, tesoro. Just stay by my side and don’t answer any of their questions, yes?”

You nod and he gets out, walking around to open your door and help you out of the car. Immediately, when the press sees that you’re not his fiancée, the cameras flash even more rapidly and voices overlap one another.

“Sei la nuova fidanzata di Maurizio?” (Are you Maurizio’s new girlfriend?)

“Maurizio, dov’e la tua fidanzata?” (Maurizio, where’s your fiancée?)

“Strumento a mano.” (Gold digger.)

“Puttana americana.” (American whore.)

They were all basically on top of you, asking so many questions and saying so many things about you, it was incredibly overwhelming.

Suddenly, Maurizio’s voice boomed through the crowd, and everyone fell silent.

“Lasciala in pace!” (Leave her alone!)

His arm wraps tighter around your waist, pressing you even further into his side as he walks you both into the building. The cameras and crowds were almost completely silent, still, and you were just trying to process it all as the two of you walked into the event, you still tucked into his side.

He stopped just inside the door and let you go, taking your hands instead, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

“Are you okay, tesoro? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

You shake your head, still trembling a little bit.

“N-No, I’m okay, just a little shaken up.”

“They’re vicious and relentless...mi dispiace. I should’ve warned you about them beforehand, but I’m relieved that you’re okay.” (I’m sorry)

“It’s okay, Maurizio, really.”

You smile sadly.

“Thank you for helping me.”

He wraps an arm around you again, gently squeezing your hip before rubbing it lightly.

“Of course, anything for mi tesoro. I’m indebted to you for joining me tonight.”

You’re blushing, eyes darting away from his.

“Oh no, that’s not necessary. It’s an honor to accompany you, and I’m sorry that my presence caused so much trouble for you, with the press.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

He smiles, eyes lingering on you for a moment before guiding you into the massive ballroom.

You’re absolutely stunned by the beauty of it, the chandeliers glittering on the ceiling as they illuminate the entire room.

Maurizio seems to notice your staring, and pauses as well, chuckling softly.

“It’s very pretty, isn’t it?”

You turn to him and nod, smiling.

“It’s beautiful.”

Once you get inside and take your seats, Maurizio is immediately flocked with people wanting to speak with him. Some of them give you a judgemental glance or gaze, and you just look away, taking another sip of your wine.

This is gonna be a long night.

Naturally, Maurizio has been talking to people nonstop all night, which was expected of course, but for some reason, you’d sort of hoped he’d make some time for just the two of you. You genuinely enjoy his company, he’s actually really kind and funny when he’s not in ‘work mode’.

Why would he do that for you? You’re just his replacement date, Y/N, nothing more.

So, you sit back in your chair and casually nibble at the new dinner course that was put on your plates a few minutes ago.

A dance song begins to play and suddenly, Maurizio stands up and holds his hand out for you.

“Would you like to dance, mi tesoro?”

“Absolutely.”

You blush, biting your lip as you stand up.

He places his hand on the small of your back as you two walk onto the floor. You wrap your arms around his neck while he places his hands on your waist, holding you close as the two of you begin gently swaying to the slow tune.

“It’s nice to step away from the table for a bit.”

He says, chuckling.

“I only see these people once a year, so they always want to talk the night away.”

You laugh.

“I understand, and I’m happy that I could provide an excuse for you to get away, even if only for a few minutes.”

“You’re anything but an excuse, Y/N.”

Maurizio says, blushing a bit.

“I’ve been wanting to make some time to spend with you, but I haven’t gotten the opportunity. I’m sorry for that, this must be tedious for you.”

You shake your head.

“No, it’s alright, although I do respect your fiancée much more now that I understand what happens at events like this.”

You jest, and he laughs.

“But, in all seriousness, I’m fine. You shouldn’t feel any obligation to keep me entertained, I understand my role for tonight.”

His face sinks ever so slightly, but he still smiles nonetheless.

“I did hope to spend some time with you, though. Like I said, I enjoy spending time with you.”

The song suddenly ends and a much more upbeat one takes its place.

Maurizio’s face seems to light up, and he smiles widely.

“Are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

You’re suddenly lifted up and spun around. You laugh the entire time and he continues spinning you.

The whole world seems to fade and suddenly, it’s just you two on the dancefloor.

Your eyes are glued on one another as he sets you back down, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him smile so genuinely. You briefly wonder how many of these moments he gets to have with his job.

You’re still laughing as he takes your hand and tries to twirl you around. He’s laughing along with you as you start to twirl, but you forgot how long your dress is, and you start to fall backwards.

A strong arm reaches down and scoops you up before you can hit the floor, and suddenly, you’re centimeters away from his face, his breath tickling your skin.

He’s still smiling as he slowly stands back up with you in his arms.

“Be careful, tesoro. We’re not taking any trips to the emergency room tonight, okay?”

You smile, unable to bring yourself to take your eyes off of him as you’re placed back onto your feet, his arm still around you, holding you close.

You allow yourself, for the first time since your internship began, to take in all of his features. You let your eyes drink in his beauty and it feels like time has stopped. He’s even more handsome up-close, his pale skin a stark contrast to his dark eyes and the freckles sprinkled across his features.

Before you know it, he leans forward and rests his forehead on yours, his lips so close now.

“Voglio davvero baciarti, tesoro.” (I really want to kiss you right now, treasure.)

He whispers.

His voice is so deep, yet soft and full of yearning. It sends a chill down your spine.

“Non ti fermero, bello.” (I’m not going to stop you, handsome.)

“Bene.” (Good.)

He leans forward the rest of the way and your lips connect in a tender embrace.

You close your eyes and let your hand reach up to cradle the side of his face.

He soon pulls away, a face-splitting grin on his face.

You’re wearing a similar expression.

“Mi chiedevo quando l’avresti finalmente fatto.” (I was wondering when you were finally going to do that.)

You giggle, nuzzling your nose against his slightly.

Maurizio laughs softly.

“Mi chiedevo quando avrei dovuto farlo anch’io.” (I was wondering when I was going to do it, as well.)

The moment is quickly ruined when you realize exactly where you are, and you’re afraid to know how many people saw that. You quickly stand up straight and so does he, both of you taking a small step away from each other as you straighten yourselves out.

When you turn back towards the table, all of the people stare right at you, and you feel your face get hot. You look up at Maurizio when he comes up beside you.

“I think I’ll just catch a cab back to the house…”

You say, looking down.

He looks over at the table, seeing his work colleagues giving you judgemental glares. His finger gently lifts your chin until you’re looking up at him again.

“Let me take you back, tesoro. It’s the least I can do, and we can talk about...everything.”

You nod.

“I’m really sorry about this…”

Maurizio shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, it’s my fault. I shouldn’t have done that in such a public space.”

Your cheeks get warmer.

“Are you saying that you still would’ve done it?”

His cheeks go pink as he looks away.

“Yes, I still would’ve kissed you, Y/N.”

Is this real?

He clears his throat, placing a hand on the small of your back.

“Why don’t you go up to the front while I retrieve our stuff from the table? I’ll make sure that no one says anything or thinks poorly of you.”

“Thank you.”

You say, smiling.

“I’ll get them to call us a cab.”

He’s at the table for about five minutes while you wait by the door, anxious for what’s to come.

“Sorry, mi tesoro, they tried to tell me that I shouldn’t leave early. But, I insisted on seeing you safely back to your house.”

“If you need to stay…”

You begin, but are quickly stopped.

“No, I’m going with you.”

You’re so flattered that he would leave the biggest company party of the year just for you. You.

The cab arrives shortly after and you two walk out into the warm Italian night air, hopping into the car. His hand rests gently on your thigh as the car pulls away from the curb.

He sighs.

“I’m sorry that I got you involved in this. My life is...complicated, especially as someone constantly under the public eye.”

You don’t even want to ask this next question, but you have to.

“Maurizio, are you still engaged?”

His head turns away to look out the window.

“I’m not sure.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean, you aren’t sure? It’s a yes or no question.”

“Patrizia left me last night and she hasn’t come back.”

He says, choking up a bit.

You gently put your hand over his and he looks over at you.

“I’m really sorry, that’s...terrible. Did she say why?”

“I told her that I was taking you tonight, and she got upset.”

He sighed.

“She asked me if I had feelings for you, since I talk to her about you almost every day…”

“You talk about me?”

Maurizio smiles softly, nodding. “Of course I do. Ever since you’ve been here, the office has been...happier. I’ve been happier.”

You take a deep breath, trying not to freak out over what you’re hearing.

“S-So, when she asked you if you had feelings for me...what did you tell her?”

He turns fully to the side, bringing a hand up to cup your face.

“Le ho detto la verita, che mi sono sentito per te sin dal primo giorno in cui sei entrato in ufficio.” (I told her the truth, that I’ve felt for you since the first day you walked into the office.)

You can’t help but smile as your face warms again, eyes darting away from his as he continues.

“Sono un uomo migliore con te nella mia vita, tesoro.” (I’m a better man with you in my life, treasure.)

“Maurizio, I…”

You begin, trying to find the right words.

“Lo so che non dovrei, ma mi sento anche per te.” (I know I shouldn’t, but I feel for you, too.)

He smiles, leaning in closer.

“Qual e la ragione dell-amore senza rischi?” (What is the point of love without risk?)

This time, you close the gap between your lips. His other hand comes to hold your face as you kiss, so much passion and want in every movement of your lips together.

You move closer, legs draping over his lap.

Just as you make a move to sit on his lap, the cab pulls up to your house, forcing you apart.

Both of you are panting softly, eyes staring deep into each other’s.

“Tesoro, ti prego, faccio l’amore stasera.” (Treasure, please, let me make love to you tonight.)

He leans in and crashes your lips together again, this kiss filled with urgency, with lust, with need.

You nod, biting your lip.

“Ti voglio. Ho bisogno di te, per favore.” (I want you. I need you, please.)

Maurizio smiles, paying the driver before quickly hopping out of the car, rushing around to let you out. As soon as you step out, you’re swept up off your feet and carried bridal-style to the front door. You unlock the door and he quickly closes it with his foot.

You reach up and begin planting kisses on his neck, enjoying the way he sighs softly.

“Which one is yours?”

He asks, breathily.

“Upstairs, the loft.”

He makes his way up the small flight of stairs.

“Is anyone else here?”

You nod. “They’re all on the first floor.”

Maurizio hums, gently placing you down on the bed before shedding his suit coat, hanging it on your desk chair, followed by his tie. He takes off his loafers and socks, placing them beneath his other clothes.

You’d barely gotten your heels off at the point. He laughs when he turns around and sees you struggling to get the shoes off. He quickly pulls it off and tosses it on the floor, holding your foot while he kisses your ankle and calf.

He takes a moment to look at you laid back on the bed, once neatly done hair loosened, makeup a bit smudged. His lips pulled up into a smile, teeth playfully scraping at your ankle bone.

“You have too much on, mi tesoro.”

You smile, standing up and turning away from him, silently asking him to unbutton and unzip your dress. He steps up behind you, breaths hot on your neck as his fingers work the buttons.

His lips begin planting kisses on your shoulders, soon undoing the zipper, freeing you from the dress. You step out and stand before him in just your underwear, looking away as his eyes rake over your figure.

Your cheeks grow hotter when you look down to see the tent growing in his dress pants.

“Etereale.” (Ethereal.)

He mutters, fingers working the buttons of his shirt, gently tossing it with his other clothes before working at the buckle on his belt.

“Formidabile.” (Gorgeous.)

The leather belt was soon tossed onto the growing pile of clothing. He unbuttons his pants before stepping forward again, now almost right up against you.

His hand wraps around your wrist and brings your palm to the tent in his pants, growling softly when it touches. He leaned forward, lips at your ear.

“For you, tesoro. All for you.”

You shudder as his lips plant kisses all over your neck while his hands roam your bare body, fingers teasing your breasts.

“You’re so sensitive.”

He breathes, hands squeezing your breasts gently.

“When was the last time someone touched you like this, hm?”

“It’s been a w-while.”

You say, gasping when his thumb rolls over your pebbled nipple.

“O-Oh…”

Maurizio grins, placing one more kiss on your neck before standing up straight, tugging his pants and boxers down. You watch in amazement when his length bobs as it’s exposed, mouth watering at the sight.

He smirks. “Do you see something you like?”

“Absolutely.”

You reply, biting your lip.

He laughs softly.

“Well...would you like to touch it?”

His cheeks flush pink.

You nod, reaching to wrap your hand around the base. His eyes flutter shut at your touch, and he sucks in a breath when you begin stroking.

“Mmmmm, davvero buono.” (so good.)

His head falls back when you increase your pace, hips gently rutting forward. His eyebrows knit in the center of his forehead, small moans escaping his lips.

Suddenly, he pulls away, letting out a shaky breath as his length stirs at the loss of contact.

“You are too good at that, mi tesoro.”

He bites his lip, fingertips teasing the lace waistband of your panties.

“May I touch you now?”

You nod, jumping softly when he all but tears the material down your legs, exposing your folds. He reaches down and cups your center, eyes widening when he feels how wet you are.

“Oh,”

He whispers, fingers tracing up to rub your clit.

“Tesoro...you’re so excited already, and I haven’t even touched you.”

Your hips suddenly buck forward out of instinct, and Maurizio chuckles breathily, rubbing a bit faster. You gasp, breath catching in your throat.

“S-Shit.”

You allow yourself to get lost in the pleasure, head falling forward onto his chest. The small noises falling from your lips get increasingly louder as you draw closer and closer to release.

His fingers suddenly push up into you, and you almost cum right on the spot. His digits feel so much better than yours as they begin plunging in and out, scissoring occasionally.

“Lasciatemi prendere, tesoro, e ti acchiappero.” (Let go for me, treasure, and I will catch you.)

He whispers breathily, stroking faster.

“Andiamo.” (Let go.)

His fingers curl up inside of you, and after a few rubs on your g-spot, you’re coming with a soft cry.

“Maurizio...oh mio dio…” (Maurizio...oh my god…)

Your knees buckle and you begin to fall, but he catches you immediately, smiling down at you as his fingers continue to work you through your climax. He leans over to kiss you again, slowly and gently pulling his fingers out.

“Lay back, mi tesoro, and open your legs.”

He whispers against your lips, standing back up straight as you sit down on the edge of the bed before laying back.

You spread my legs, ready to receive him, and he smiles as he climbs on top of you. He’s still wearing his glasses, and while you find that humorous and quite frankly cute, it’s also incredibly arousing for some reason. You don’t dwell on it, wanting to focus on the moment unfolding before your eyes.

Maurizio strokes his hardened length a few times, grunting softly, before rubbing himself across your folds. His eyes shut and he takes a shaky breath as your slick spreads across his cock. He starts pressing and rubbing the tip against your clit for a bit, smirking when your hips buck up against him.

He looks down at you, lining himself up with your entrance.

“Are you ready? I’ll go slow for you, tesoro.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, growling softly. He shivers, stopping when he’s about halfway in.

“Is it still okay?”

Your legs wrap around his waist, pushing his hips forward while you scoot closer, pushing him in the rest of the way.

“D-Does that answer your question?”

You chuckle.

He laughs breathily, nodding.

“Indeed, it does.”

You take deep breaths while you adjust to his size, soon nodding, letting him know that it’s okay for him to move. He pulls about halfway out before pushing back in again, exhaling loudly as he establishes a rhythm of slow, deep thrusts.

“O-Oh, cazzo, sei fantastico.” (Oh, fuck, you feel amazing.)

Your jaw hangs open, body bouncing with each of his inward thrusts. You hold onto his biceps for dear life as his pace increases ever so slightly.

“Maurizio,”

You breathe, looking up into his eyes.

“Keep going, please.”

The bed squeaks as his hips’ movements grow more desperate.

“Tesoro, I--cazzo--I’m not going to last.” (fuck)

He says, eyebrows knitted on his forehead.

“I h-haven’t done this--merda--in a w-while.” (shit)

You nod in understanding, moving your hands up to cup the sides of his face.

“It’s okay, M-Maurizio, it’s alright.”

His eyes meet yours as he growls softly, shaking his head.

“No, it’s n-not. You deserve better, t-the best, Y/N.”

Your thumb swipes on his cheekbone as his eyes tear up with a mixture of pleasure and frustration.

“Y-You already are the best, bello, and I w-want you to cum, no m-matter if I have o-or not. I want you to p-pleasure yourself, okay? Don’t worry about m-me.” (handsome)

He smiles softly, falling onto his elbows, lips connecting with yours as he thrusts get harder. He grunts deeply with each thrust, breath hot and heavy on the side of your neck.

“Oh tesoro, I’m...close. Where…”

He searches for the right words, mind clouded with lust. He groans in frustration.

“Dove vuoi che sborra?” (Where do you want me to cum?)

You tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging gently.

“Sono sulla pillola. Puoi sborra dentro, se vuoi, bello.” (I’m on the pill. You can cum inside, if you want, handsome.)

These words seem to awaken something in him, his eyes going black, hips suddenly rutting quickly and desperately into you.

“Cazzo, sei incredibile, sei perfetto, tesoro.” (Fuck, you’re amazing, you’re perfect, treasure.)

Maurizio buries his face into the crook of your neck as he reaches climax, moans and gasps muffled by your skin. He buries his cock deep inside of you, painting your walls with his release, rutting them desperately as he fills you up.

“Y/N, oh dio, prendi tutto per me. Bene, sei bravissima, mi tesoro.” (Y/N, oh god, take it all for me. Good, you’re so good, my treasure).

As soon as he finishes, his hand reaches down to rub your clit in circles, eyes meeting yours.

“C’mon, let me pleasure you now. Let go, tesoro, give yourself to me.”

Your back arches and your hips grind against his fingers, mouth full of whimpers, whines, and gasps as his fingers rub you. You grab onto his bicep when you cum, looking up into his eyes.

“Yes, oh Maurizio, yes!”

You gasp, moaning softly as your release spreads throughout your body.

He continues to rub you through it, cock twitching slightly where it still sits inside of you, causing him to growl softly.

After both of you take a moment to catch your breaths, he slowly pulls out, and you can see that he’s already hard again. He blushes, looking away for a moment.

“I...I’m sorry, that’s never happened before…”

You chuckle, shaking your head.

“Maurizio, you don’t need to apologize. It’s actually sort of flattering, that I can do that to you.”

He smiles softly, laying down next to you, pulling you back against him. You didn’t realize exactly how hard he actually was until you felt him pressed against your back, and you felt bad.

“Do you…I mean, I can...”

You trail off, a bit embarrassed, hoping he got the point.

Maurizio immediately shakes his head.

“No, tesoro, don’t worry. I will be okay.”

Your teeth sink into your bottom lip before you speak.

“If you wanted to, you could...rub it against me.”

You feel his member twitch at your proposition, and you turn around in his arms, looking up at him. His cheeks are bright red.

“Will you show me?”

He asks quietly.

You smile, nodding.

“All you have to do is start moving your hips against me, using my skin to rub on.”

He experimentally rolls his hips, jaw clenched as he tries to contain himself.

“O-Oh.”

He tried it again, growling as his cock dragged along your stomach.

“Tesoro, it’s…”

You can’t pretend that this isn’t incredibly arousing for you to watch and feel. His tip was already red and leaking, so you knew he wasn’t going to last very long.

“Does it feel good, Maurizio?”

You feel him nod, hips moving faster now as he looks down at you.

“Yes, cristo, it’s s-so good.” (christ)

His lips crash onto yours and he loops an arm behind you, holding you still as he begins rutting against you, growling into your mouth. He moves his head down to kiss and nip at your neck.

“Your s-skin is so soft, mi tesoro.”

He whispers, grunting with each forward motion now.

His leg lifts up and lays over your hip, allowing him to thrust harder, hand still on your lower back. He’s close, you can tell, and you attentively watch the way his face contorts as he reaches orgasm.

He suddenly hugs you tight, a choked sob against your neck as his seed spills all over your stomach and his.

“Ah! Ah--oh--cristo!” (christ)

You run your hands through his hair soothingly as he comes down, trembling slightly. He slides down your body a bit, resting his head between your breasts, kissing them gently.

After a short while, he looks up at you.

“Grazie, Y/N, grazie mille.” (Thank you, Y/N, thank you so much.)

You smile.

“You don’t have to thank me, Maurizio, it was my pleasure.”

He reaches up and connects your lips in a tender yet passionate kiss before he pulls away, cringing when he feels the stickiness between you.

“I’m sorry, fuck, I’ve never...that’s never…”

You kiss him again, cutting him off.

“No worries, we can just clean it off. I’ll get a wet washcloth.”

You stand and come back a moment later with a wet washcloth, reaching down to wipe yourself off before Maurizio’s hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you.

“Let me.”

He smiles, taking the cloth from your hand, cleaning up the sticky substance before doing the same to himself.

Your cheeks are warm as you look up at him.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, mi tesoro.”

He suddenly looks away, frowning softly.

“I-I can’t stay tonight, Y/N, I’m sorry. If someone catches us…”

You shake your head, holding the side of his face.

“No, no need to explain. I understand.”

Maurizio nods silently, sighing as he begins to redress. You slip your panties back on, along with an oversized t-shirt and you pull your hair up into a ponytail.

When he’s ready, you offer to go first, in case anyone’s still awake. He agrees, and you make your way down the stairs, looking around, not seeing anyone. You look up the stairs and nod, indicating that it’s okay. He makes his way down and you walk with him to the door.

“Do you have a car coming?”

He nods. “My driver is already outside.”

There’s a moment of silence before Maurizio suddenly grabs your hips, pulling you against him as his lips crash down onto yours, the kiss desperate and full of longing. You wrap your arms around the back of his neck, pulling him down closer.

He pulls away slowly, eyes fluttering open.

“Alla prossima, tesoro.” (Until next time, my treasure.)

You smile, biting your lip as he sneaks out the door, rushing down and hopping into the car waiting for him.

As you watch his car pull away from the curb, only one thought occupies your mind:

Holy shit, I just slept with Maurizio Gucci.

#adamdriverwriter #adam driver #adam driver character #adam driver smut #adam driver fluff #maurizio gucci #maurizio gucci smut #maurizio gucci fluff #maurizio gucci x reader #maurizio gucci x you #maurizio gucci x reader smut #maurizio gucci x reader fluff #tw: infidelity #house of gucci

393 notes · View notes

raindancer2004 · 3 years

Text

Rejected by a human?

Word Count: 6,561 Demetri x Swan reader Oneshot - Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Edward starts to step outside without his shirt on when Bella runs into his arms, asking to him to open his eyes and to go back inside. Bella says she can let him go now and Edward tells her that he loves her and that he can’t live in a world where she is not in it. They share a kiss as Demetri and Felix enter the hallway. Edward tells them “I won’t be needing your services after all gentlemen” “Still we should take this conversation to a more appropriate venue” Demetri replies. Edward nods and tells Bella to go and enjoy the festival. “The girl comes with us” says Felix. “Go to hell” Edward replies.

The doors burst open “Come on gentlemen, you don’t want to cause a scene” states Alice. “You wouldn’t” replies Felix. Demetri ignores the conversation between his friend and the female vampire as his eyes focus on the girl standing behind Alice. She has long brown hair and chocolate brown eyes. He feels a burning in the back of his throat but ignores it as takes her warm hand in his cold one as they all make their way to the throne room to meet with Aro, Caius and Marcus.

Once in the throne room Demetri keeps Y/N beside him, an arm wrapped around her holding her. Edward offers his hand to Aro. Aro tells the room that Bella is Edward’s La tua cantante and that Edward cannot read her mind. Aro then discovers that Bella is immune to his gift and Jane’s.

Edward and Felix then fight as Edward tries to stop Felix from killing Bella. Felix has Edward kneeling on the throne steps with his head in his hands ready to remove it, when Bella cries out “Kill me, kill me, not him, not him” Aro stops Felix and looks to Bella “You would give up your life for someone like us, a soulless monster” “You don’t know a thing about his soul” replies Bella. Before Aro can kill Bella Alice shows her vision of Bella becoming one of them, “Your gifts will make for an intriguing immortal Isabella. Go make your preparations” Aro says bringing his hands together.

Aro notices Demetri is holding a human in his arms. “What are we going to do with you my dear?” Aro says walking towards Demetri and Y/N; she hears a low growl escape Demetri as he pushes her behind him feeling the need to protect her.

Marcus recognises the mate bond and calls out “Brother” getting Aro’s attention, before getting up from his throne and offering his hand to Aro. Aro sees Marcus’ thoughts and sees that Y/N is Demetri’s mate. “Ahh it would seem another happy ending is to be had thanks to your visit” Aro says loudly. “What?” Y/N asks “It would seem that you are the mate of our dear Demetri. You are True Bond Mates to be exact. This is rarer than Blood Singer Mate pairings like your sister and Edward” Marcus explains “The only other True Bond Mate pairing I have seen in my time was between my late wife and I” He continues. “What is a True Bond Mate pairing?” Y/N asks curious. “The True Bond Mate pairing is very sacred and should be treasured” Marcus answered smiling. “Wh-what happens now?” She asked “I’m sure Demetri would like the chance to get to know you and for you to get to know him in return” Aro replies. “So he’ll be coming back with us…?” “No my dear you will stay here with him” Aro continues “No. She can’t stay here” Bella cries out “Not with him!” “Now, now Bella, you know what you and Edward have been through the last six months, after all it is what led you here. Do you really want your sister and Demetri to go through that? It would be worse for them” Caius responds, Bella went to object when Edward shook his head at her.

“Thanks for the heads-up Alice” Y/N says sarcastically “What? Why are you blaming her?” Bella questioned. “Well Little Miss Crystal Ball over there” Y/N starts pointing to Alice, the Volturi guards chuckled “Would have seen this coming as soon as we decided to come here and save your precious Edward and yet she said nothing. Now I’m stuck here with someone I don’t know; someone who could kill me in an instant. I mean if she had told me this would happen, I could have at least a) packed some clothes and stuff or b) not come at all” Y/N finishes and Demetri feels sad hearing this, for he would never harm her for it would hurt him to do so. “I’m sorry Y/N, but I knew if I told you, you wouldn’t have come and that would cause problems for us in the future” Before anyone could respond to Alice, Edward said “We’ll be going now Aro” bowing his head “Thank you for your visit. Heidi will be here any moment” Marcus responds and with that Edward, Bella and Alice leave the throne room escorted by Demetri who took Y/N’s hand in his “Come cara mia, say goodbye to Bella” He says softly. Y/N watched as Edward, Alice and Bella left the castle “I can’t believe they’re leaving me here” She mumbled to herself, although Demetri heard and frowned slightly.

Demetri left Y/N at reception with Gianna. “I’ll come back and collect you shortly” Y/N nods and takes a seat and picks up a magazine to read. About 30 minutes later Demetri returns to reception and Y/N notices his eyes are a brighter shade of red than before. “Hello cara mia. Who do I have the pleasure of being mated to?” “My name is Y/N. You’re Demetri?” “Yes, yes I am. Come I’ll show you to my…our room that is unless you want me to stay away, then it will be your room until you decide otherwise” “Do I not get my own room?” She asked “Do you want your own room?” He enquired. “I-I don’t know what I want, I mean I only found out about vampires on the flight over” Demetri looked at her shocked “What do you know about vampires, about us?” “Only what Alice told me and to be honest that wasn’t a lot” He nodded “Can I ask you a question, although I don’t think I’m going to like the answer” “Go ahead cara mia. You can ask me anything” He replied “Y-your eyes, they’ve changed colour since I first met you a few hours ago. They’re brighter than before. Why is that?” “My eyes are brighter, redder than before because I have recently fed. My eyes get darker the thirstier I get” He replied “Oh ok. You drink human blood, right?” She looked a little worried “Yes Y/N I do, but you are safe with me. I promise you” She nodded although she wasn’t totally convinced.

They arrived at Demetri’s room “Sorry about all the stairs; the higher the rank of the guard, the higher the room in the castle” “That’s ok, just don’t expect me to find way back here if I leave the room” She let out a slight chuckle. Y/N noticed there was a marble fireplace on the right-hand side of the room with bookcases on either side; there was a blood red coloured rug in front of the fireplace. There was a sofa facing the fireplace with a matching chair to the right. On the wall opposite the door was a set of French doors leading to a balcony; a desk was placed to the right of the doors with a world map on the wall above the desk. On the wall opposite the French doors were 2 doors; one leading into a walk-in closet and the other leading into a large bathroom. Y/N noticed the bathtub on the left-hand side was big enough for two; a large walk-in shower was situated opposite the door. On the right-hand side of the room was a toilet and a double vanity unit with two sinks. “Wow. This is nicer than most hotels” Demetri heard her comment and smiled to himself. She then noticed the king size bed on the wall opposite the fireplace. “I thought vampires do not sleep” “It’s not for sleeping or at least it wasn’t before your arrival. A bed can be used for many things cara” He says softly in her ear whilst running his fingers up and down her arms; Y/N blushes and steps forward away from him. “Did you want to stay here on your own?” “No, I…” Demetri smiled “I don’t want to throw you out of your own room. Is there a guest room I could stay in?” Demetri’s smile faded upset that his mate didn’t want to stay with him or even stay in his room. “I’m sure I can arrange something, stay here”

He left the room and bumped into Heidi “Are you ok Dem?” “No. I finally meet my mate and she wants nothing to do with me” He replies sounding sad, Heidi looks confused. “She doesn’t wish to stay in my room with me or without me; she has asked to have her own room” He finishes. “Oh Dem don’t take it personally. This is all new to her. I mean the Cullens and her sister did just leave her here” She says sympathetically. “There’s an empty room opposite yours; Chelsea and I can turn it into her room” “Thank you at least she’ll be near me, all the other guest rooms are on the other side of the castle” “I know that’s why I offered. She can stay in my room in the meantime if that’s ok with you?” “Yes that should be ok. Come on we’ll go tell her”

“Y/N this is Heidi. You can stay in her room until yours is ready if you’d like?” “Hello Heidi, thank you for the offer, but I do not wish to throw you out of your room either” “No need to worry about that I’ll be too busy turning the empty room opposite Demetri’s into your room” “If you’re sure, that would be lovely thank you” Y/N smiled at her. “Do you have any bags with you?” Heidi asks looking around the room “No. It was only supposed to be a quick trip to bring Edward home so I didn’t pack anything” “I’ll take you shopping tomorrow and we’ll get you some stuff. In the meantime you can borrow something of mine” Heidi says smiling holding out her hand to Y/N “Come on I’ll show you to my room. Bye Demetri” “Take this” He says to Heidi too low for Y/N to hear and hands her his bank card. “Thank you Heidi. See you soon Y/N” “Bye Demetri” Y/N replies leaving the room. Demetri sighs and sits on the sofa his head in his hands ‘She is my mate and she wants nothing to do with me’ Demetri thinks to himself sadly.

Sometime later he stands and makes his way to the throne room “What a pleasant surprise my boy” Aro greets him “I would have thought you would be with your lovely mate” “Master” Demetri replies holding out his hand for Aro to read his thoughts. “Come with me” Aro says leading Demetri to his private study. “Be patient with her. She has just found out about vampires, about us few hours ago and on top of that she has a new home to get used to. She has also found out she is mated to a vampire” “I know but I want to be with her, help her settle in, get to know her and she won’t even stay in my room whether I’m there or not. Maybe I should have let her go” He looks down at the floor “Do not say that or think it. If anything happened to either of you, the other would end up like poor Marcus” Aro says placing a hand on Demetri’s shoulder. “Take care of her, treasure her my dear boy. She will come to love you in time.” “Thank you master. I hope so”

The following morning Heidi takes Y/N shopping for new clothes and stuff for her room. First stop was Boux Avenue for underwear; followed by a boutique shop “They do lovely dresses in here” Heidi says pulling Y/N into the shop. They bought a black knee length sleeveless dress, a black dress with spaghetti straps and a cow neck, an emerald green dress that came to her mid-thigh, a black waist length jacket and a black pair of stilettos. The next shop they went into they picked out jeans, t-shirts, pyjamas – both long trouser sets and short sets and a pair of flat black shoes. They also picked up toiletries and make-up. “I can’t pay you back for this stuff, I don’t have much money with me” Y/N said to Heidi “Don’t worry about the cost. Demetri has given me his card and told me to get you anything you need/want” Heidi said smiling “I can’t pay him back either” “Like I said Y/N do not worry about the cost, he won’t accept any money from you anyways. He is your mate and he’ll look after you”

Heidi then took Y/N into a department store “Let’s pick out some stuff for your room” Y/N chose some blue and grey bed sets “Blue is my favourite colour” She told Heidi. Heidi bought a big silver-grey rug to go in front of the fireplace and some grey cushions with blue flowers on; these were to go on the new black sofa Heidi ordered for the room. Y/N picked a large cream blanket, black and grey bath sheets, hand towels and wash cloths; whilst Heidi selected a coffee table, two beside tables and two lamps. “Demetri might change his mind about paying for all this when his statement comes in” Y/N chuckled softly “I can assure you he won’t and anyways the stuff for your room comes out of the castle decorating account”

While Y/N and Heidi were shopping Chelsea tidied Y/N’s room removing the boxes and storing them in a cupboard down the hall. Demetri lit the fire in Heidi’s room to ensure the room was warm ready for when they returned as Y/N’s room wasn’t ready for her yet.

“Good afternoon Heidi, Y/N, cara mia. I trust you had a good time shopping” Demetri said taking the bags from Y/N “We did thank you Demetri” Y/N replied walking beside him.

Later that evening Demetri went to Heidi’s room to give Y/N her dinner “Gianna made chicken pasta with garlic bread and salad for you both. I hope it’s ok” “Thank you Demetri for bringing it to me. It looks delicious. Please thank her for me” He nodded and sat beside her on the sofa “Why did you come with Bella to save Edward?” He asked “Bella is my sister and asked me if I’d come with her, so I agreed…” She trails off “You wish you hadn’t come now?” He asked “Honestly, yes a little” He frowned “I don’t mean to upset you but this is going to take time to get used to; being the True Bond Mate of a vampire, especially as I always thought vampires were just characters in books and films” She answered him “I know cara mia. This is new for me too but we’ll work it out together” He smiled at her and she nodded unsure if she wanted to work it out with him.

The following morning Heidi came back to her room “Good morning Y/N, your room is ready whenever you are” “Thank you Heidi” They made their way to Y/N’s room that was opposite Demetri’s and Y/N noted it had a fireplace on the right-hand side of the room and a double bed on the wall opposite the fireplace, which Heidi had put a blue duvet set on. On the wall opposite the door were two doors; one leading into a small walk-in closet and other into a bathroom, which was smaller than Demetri’s. It had a normal size bathtub on the left-hand side and walk-in shower on the wall opposite the door, on the right hand side was a toilet and single vanity unit with a sink. The walls were cream and complimented the black and grey bath sheets, hand towels and wash cloths she had picked out. “Sorry there’s no balcony with your room” Heidi says to Y/N as she tries out the new sofa “I’m sure Demetri wouldn’t mind if you used his balcony if you wanted to sit outside anytime” “That’s ok, no worries, at least there’s plenty of light considering the lack of windows” Y/N replied “That’s true and we kept the walls a neutral colour for that reason also” “Thank you so much for doing this for me, I appreciate it. It just felt weird to stay with someone I didn’t know” Y/N explains, Heidi nods “I’m sure he understands”

Demetri comes to see Y/N that evening and brings her a few books from his room “Evening cara mia. I have bought you some of my books for you to borrow as there aren’t any in here” “Oh um…thank you. Y-you didn’t need to do that” She stuttered “I didn’t want you to get bored in here. I wasn’t sure what you liked so I bought a few different options” He replies as he places the books on the coffee table. “The room looks nice; I like the colour scheme” “Thank you. Blue is my favourite colour and it goes well with grey/silver” She replies and he nods “May I?” He asks pointing to the sofa; Y/N nods and Demetri sits on the other end of the sofa, leaving the middle cushion empty between them. They sat in silence for a while before Y/N broke it with a question “What do you do here?” “I am one of the four elite guards. I along with Felix train the lower and transitory guards” He answers and Y/N nods “Do you have a gift like Edward and Alice?” “Yes I do. I am a tracker. I pick up on the essence of someone’s mind and can follow it like a scent over any distance. To be able to do this I have to either have met that person physically or anyone who has met the person in the past” He explained “That’s interesting. Can you track me?” She asked “Yes I can although I cannot track your sister” “If I ever get lost all I have to do is call you and you can find me, like a GPS in reverse” She says chuckling, he chuckles too “Exactly. Although hopefully I won’t lose you” He replies. “Thank you for my new clothes. Heidi said you gave her your card to pay for them” “You’re very welcome. If you need/want anything else just let me know” He replies, she nods and gives him a small smile; feeling oddly safe with him although she wouldn’t tell him that anytime soon. “Am I allowed to leave the castle, to look around Volterra and stuff?” She asked “You can but I’d rather you didn’t go out alone, just in case something happens. Which reminds me please do not wander the halls of the castle alone as the lower guards do not have the best self-control around humans” He answered her “I understand and thank you for advising me about the lower guards. I’ll be careful” She replies. ‘Great so I need a chaperone when I go out now’ she thinks to herself.

The following morning Y/N got up and ready and made her way to Heidi’s room “Morning Heidi, any chance you’re free to come and look around Volterra with me?” “I’m free for a couple of hours” Heidi replies. Demetri was making his way to Y/N’s room after grabbing her breakfast from the kitchen when he heard this exchange and felt a little hurt that Y/N didn’t ask or want him to accompany her, as it would have given them a chance to get to know one another more. He had been given some days off by the kings so he could spend time with his new mate and had planned to spend the day with her but decided against it after hearing her conversation with Heidi, so he returned her breakfast to the kitchen and spent the day reading in his room.

A few hours later there was a knock on his door “Hey D, how you doing?” “Hi Fe, I’m fine” Felix entered the room and sat on the chair “You don’t seem fine. How come you’re not with your mate?” “Because she’d rather spend time with Heidi than me. In fact she’d rather spend time with anyone that isn’t me. She’d even probably prefer the twins over me” He closed his book and put it on the coffee table “I’m sure that’s not the case” Felix says “No it is, I went to see her last night and we talked for a bit but I got the impression she was relieved when I left her room so she could sleep” Demetri added “I’m sorry D” Felix said sympathetically “Don’t be. I should have guessed that after all this time, meeting my mate wouldn’t work out the way I thought or wanted it to” He eyes began to fill with tears that would never fall. “What are you going to do?” Felix asked “Not sure, I’m worried if I keep trying to get to know her when she wants nothing to do with me, I’ll push her away; but if I don’t do anything she may think I don’t care” Demetri replied “Yea that’s a tough one D. All you can do is try” Felix advised, feeling sorry for his friend.

Heidi and Y/N return to the castle and Y/N decided to go for a nap, hoping she’d be left alone. Demetri knew they had returned but decided to stay in his room, figuring if Y/N wanted to see him, she’d come to him but she stayed in her room for the entire night.

Demetri knocked on her door the following morning “Come in” Came a sleepy response “Morning Y/N, I wondered if you’d like to go out for breakfast with me?” He asked sounding hopeful “No thank you Demetri, I’m not that hungry” She replied “Ok I understand” Demetri closed her bedroom door and sped to the training room “Fe I need to hit something or someone hard” He growled loudly “Come on then D” Felix replied and Demetri didn’t hesitate; he thumped his best friend hard and Felix stumbled back from the force “Thank you Fe” “No worries. Better me than a wall. I’m going to assume this is Y/N related” He replied rubbing his jaw “I’m going to ask Aro if I can resume my duties, no point having time off to get to know her if she doesn’t want to get to know me” He sounded defeated, Felix nodded feeling sorry for his friend.

Aro wouldn’t let Demetri resume his duties stating “You need to give her time but you also need to make sure she feels cared for. Don’t give up my boy” “I understand master” Demetri sighed and made his way back to his room, grabbing a book and sat on the balcony reading.

“I think I’ll visit Y/N and have a chat with her about mates” Marcus said looking to Aro and Caius.

Marcus paid Y/N a visit that evening “Good evening my dear, I was hoping we could talk?” “Evening Marcus, of course come in” She replied. Marcus sat on the sofa next to Y/N “How have you been?” He asked “I’ve been ok thank you. Heidi decorated my room for me and we went shopping for clothes and things for the room” She replied “Yes, I see you’re not staying with Demetri. May I ask why?” He questioned “I didn’t feel comfortable staying with someone I don’t know nor did I think it fair for him to leave his room for me. I asked if I could stay in a guest room or something and Heidi offered to do fix up this room. I suppose she chose this room as it’s opposite his” She answered him. “What do you know about mates Y/N?” There was silence for a few moments before she answered Marcus’ question “Only what you told me when I arrived here. Why?” “Well Y/N, there are some things you need to know. First if a vampire is away from their mate for too long, they start to miss them; the longer they are apart they start to become sad; this can lead to feeling depressed. Second if a vampire loses their mate then they become lonely and heartbroken, like me after I lost my mate centuries ago. Third there is only one mate per vampire; if we lose them or are rejected by them then we remain alone for forever” He spoke softly “Why are you telling me this?” She asked “I’m telling you this because your actions affect Demetri as well as yourself. He is one of our more reasonable guards; he’s not very talkative but he’s polite, formal even. He has also been described as elegant and charming by others that have met him” “You speak very highly of him Marcus” “That’s because I think highly of him; I have known him for many centuries and he is my own personal guard” Marcus smiled. Y/N nodded. “You know I only came here because my sister asked for my company and my whole life changed. I find out vampires really do exist and to top it off I’m mated to one” She explained “You should know a vampire’s mate is someone to be treasured, protected and above all else loved for eternity. Demetri would be an amazing mate to you if you let him. You should know that he had given up on the idea of finding his mate” Marcus said shifting slightly “What? Why?” She asked curious “He has been around for over 1000 years and had never met his mate; so he assumed that she must died before he had the chance to meet her or that maybe he just wasn’t meant to have one. Therefore, he stopped looking a few centuries ago and then you walk into the castle and into his life and…he feels so lucky to have finally found you; but the way you are acting towards him…is hurting him, even if he won’t admit it.” He said sadly “I’m not trying to hurt him; it’s just a lot to take in and to get used to” She defended “He just wants a chance to get to know you Y/N” “But I don’t know if I want this though, to be with a vampire, to become immortal. I always thought I’d grow up get married, have children and now I find out that none of that is going to happen. I mean I don’t even get to pick who I spend eternity with” Y/N said tears starting to fill her eyes “I understand that my dear but please remember what I said.”

Demetri heard this last part and felt his undead heart break, ‘She doesn’t want me, doesn’t want to spend eternity with me’. He knocked on her door once and left the tray of food outside her room and returned to his room grabbing a jacket and left the castle to go hunting.

Thirty minutes later he was standing on the roof of a building opposite a dive bar watching the humans below; happy couples coming and going. ‘I just wanted a chance. I would have done anything to make her happy…if she’d just given me a chance’ He thought. He drained and disposed of two humans that night before returning to the castle ensuring to be back by sunrise.

Meanwhile Marcus made his way to his room leaving Y/N to think about their conversation. Y/N left her room and crossed the hall to Demetri’s room “Demetri?” She called out as she opened his door; she got no response so she stepped into the room to see if he was on the balcony or in the bathroom. He wasn’t in his room so she decided to wait for him, figuring he wouldn’t be long. She grabbed his cloak from the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders as it was a little cold and sat on the sofa, picking up a book to read from his coffee table. She fell asleep curled up with the book waiting for him to return.

Demetri was shocked when he returned to his room before sunrise to find Y/N there; curled up on his sofa asleep with his cloak wrapped around her. He smiled at the sight in front of him but approached her with caution not wanting to scare her and shook her arm gently “Hi Y/N” He said softly “Mmm” Came the sleepy response, he smiled again and left her where she was and lit the fire to warm the room for her.

A few hours later Y/N woke up to find herself still Demetri’s room; wearing his cloak, and him sitting the in the chair reading “Good morning Y/N” “Good morning Demetri. Sorry for falling asleep in your room” “No need to apologise cara, you’re welcome anytime. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you came by, I was out hunting” He replied “That’s ok, I just wanted to talk to you” She said fiddling with his cloak “What did you want to talk about?” He asked “I-it doesn’t matter now” She replied getting up and making her way to the door. “Did you want to spend some time together today?” He asked “Er, no I-I can’t. I’ve got plans” She said walking out the door. “It was worth a try I guess” He mumbled to himself, unknown to him Y/N had heard him and despite feeling a little guilty she returned to her room.

A few days later Demetri left for a mission with Felix and the twins “Have you said goodbye to Y/N?” Felix asked “No. It’s not like she’d care anyway” Demetri responded sounding indifferent, Alec went to say something but Jane put her hand on his shoulder and shook her head “Don’t” She mouthed to her twin. “Are you boys ready?” She asked and they nodded in response and made their way to the castle doors.

Y/N found Heidi, Corin and Chelsea in the kitchen “Have any of you seen Demetri? He’s not in his room” She asked the female vampires “He went on a mission for the masters. Did he not tell you?” Heidi responded “No, no he didn’t. It must have been a last-minute thing” Y/N replied, feeling a little hurt that he left without saying goodbye. Y/N left to make her way back to her room ‘I really have hurt him, just as Marcus said’ she thought to herself.

“I know Y/N hasn’t shown any interest in getting to know him but he at least could have said bye to her. She is his mate after all” Heidi said “I don’t blame him for not telling her. It’s not like she’s given him a reason to think of her or her feelings is it?” Chelsea responded defending his actions “But Chels” “No Heidi. Do you know how many times he has asked her out? Asked to spend time with her? And every time she turns him down. I think he’s accepted that she doesn’t want him. I’m sorry but he deserves better, better than her” Chelsea replied sounding a little angry “I agree with Chelsea. He has waited so long to find his mate, only then to be rejected by her. I feel sorry for him; he doesn’t deserve to be treated that way and especially not by a human” Corin said also sounding a little angry too “What have you got against human mates?” Heidi asked “Nothing, usually, but this situation has annoyed me. Does she think she’s too good for him or something? I’ll tell you this if I were her, I’d think myself lucky my mate was Demetri and not Alec or Felix” Corin added. “I agree with Corin, if I had a choice of Dem or Alec or Felix, I know who I’d choose. True Bond Mates is a rare and sacred pairing and she’s just thrown it away” Chelsea said.

Y/N had heard this conversation as she had stopped when she heard Heidi say her name, curiosity getting the better of her, although she wished she hadn’t now, after hearing Chelsea say that Demetri deserved better than her. That night she cried herself to sleep thinking of how badly she’d treated Demetri these past weeks, how much he must hate her now and that she’ll be alone in the castle forever.

Demetri, Felix and the twins had been gone four days now and Y/N was bored so she decided to take a look around the castle, wondering the many corridors. Without realising it she had walked to the other side of the castle and that is when she felt it; a rush of air and suddenly she was pinned against a cold, hard wall, in a poorly lit corridor. “Lucky me, I’ve found a snack” The male vampire whispered in her ear, his cold hand against her throat “I-I’m not a s-snack. I-I’m Demetri’s mate” She stuttered “Yes, I’ve heard of you. Although you are not his mate…not any longer” He licked her cheek “I heard you rejected him” He licked her neck, his hold tightening “I’m doing him a favour really by getting rid of you, he’ll get over you much quicker if you’re not around” Tears slipped down her cheek as she felt his teeth graze over her neck “SShh, don’t cry human. This won’t hurt for long” She closed her eyes and waited for him to bite her.

Just then she felt another rush of air pass her then she heard what sounded like china breaking and growling “Dem go to her” Felix said, Demetri rushed to her side and removed the vampire’s severed hand from her neck and scooped her into his arms, sitting on the nearby bench. “You’re ok cara mia. I’ve got you” He said low; one arm around her waist, the other cradling her head to his chest whilst stroking her hair. She was crying, her breathing was uneven “Deep breaths Y/N. In and out. Copy me” He breathed in and out, although he didn’t need to, trying to calm her down. Her breathing started to slow trying to match his. “Mine” He growled low in her ear, stroking her hair and she felt a warm spark go through her. Meanwhile as Felix continued dismembering the lower guard; Demetri held Y/N closer to him; breathing in her scent ‘Cherries and Honey’ “You’re safe now. I promise” He purred in her ear, feeling her relax slightly in his hold.

“Take her back to her room D. I will inform the masters” Felix said as he passed them. “Thank you Fe” He responded.

Demetri stood and carried Y/N in his arms bridal style straight to his room; laying her on his bed, after kicking off his shoes and removing his cloak he climbed on beside her and took her into his arms. She was crying into his chest “I-I’m sorry” She whimpered and moved out of his arms sitting up. Demetri sat up beside her and took her warm hand in his cold one and looked into her eyes. “I love you Y/N. Your happiness is very important to me. Please…give me a chance to show you how much you mean to me. Give me a chance to make you happy” He was pleading with her now; he couldn’t lose her, not now he had finally found her. “You-you still want me, even after I-I pushed you away?” She asked surprised “Yes, I still want you, I always have. You are my mate…mine forever if you’d have me?” He asked hopeful, she nodded “Yes. I’ll give you a chance, give us a chance” She gave him a small smile; he kissed her forehead and wrapped his arms around her. “I-I missed you while you were gone” She said quietly; he felt his heart warm at this “I missed you too and I’m sorry I didn’t say goodbye” He replied “I understand why you didn’t. I just hope you can forgive me and hopefully I’ll deserve you one day” She sniffled “What are you talking about?” He asked sounding confused “It’s nothing” She whispered “Y/N…tell me, please…why do you think you don’t deserve me?” He pulled back slightly so he could see her “Chelsea said that you-you deserve better…better than me; because of how I’ve treated you these past weeks, you know pushing you away whenever you ask to spend time with me” He took her face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the falling tears “Do not worry about what others think mi amore. You are my mate and although you had pushed me away, I still took care of you” He replied softly. “Can I ask you a question?” He nodded “How come you didn’t tell me you were going on a mission?” She asked, tears still falling “Honestly?” He asked and she nodded “I didn’t think you’d care that I was leaving the castle” He answered “I’m sorry I made you feel that way” She told him sounding upset “When I found out you had left the castle and you hadn’t said bye it hurt” She continued “I’m sorry too Y/N, I should have said goodbye regardless of what was going on between us” He laid back down taking her with him in his arms. “We’ll figure this mate thing out together I promise, since it’s new to both of us” “You said that once before Demi” She pointed out “I meant it then and I mean it now” He replied kissing her hair and holding her close. “Demi, you said that you’re a tracker, right?” “Yes, that’s correct” He smiled that she had remembered that about him. “I was wondering if you will show me how your gift works one day?” She asked curious “Of course, I will. We can play hide and seek if you’d like? Although I must confess, I usually win” He replies smiling.

They stayed cuddled in each other’s arms for the rest of the day getting to know one another. “Stay with me tonight Y/N. Let me hold you while you sleep” He said low in her ear “I’d like that Demi, especially after everything that has happened today” She replied feeling safe in his arms “I promised I would keep you safe and I always will.” He vowed “I need you to know that I feel safe with you; I have done since I arrived, I just didn’t want to admit it before” He smiled and tightened his hold slightly “I’m glad to hear it mi amore” He stroked her hair and felt her relax as she fell asleep ‘I may just get my forever with her after all’ Demetri thought to himself as Y/N slept in his arms.

#demetri volturi #felix volturi #aro volturi #marcus volturi #heidi volturi #chelsea volturi #jane volturi #alec volturi #caius volturi #volturi #twilight #oneshot

280 notes · View notes

cipheress-to-k-pop · 4 years

Text

Again

Pairing: Five Hargreeves x Reader

Warnings: Notes of depression and suicidal thoughts but nothing explicitly mentioned

Word Count: 2.4K

Summary: Five Hargreeves seems to have his heart taken by a mysterious girl who has spent a lot of time with him in a future that he’s trying desperately to erase.

Author’s Note: My first TUA work and so kinda excited for it. Will there be a part two?? Undecided for now must most probably not.

Forever Taglist: @simonsbluee

“Hello?” Five called out as he walked closer to where the heaps of his findings had fallen down. The dust cloud was making it difficult to see but as soon as it settled, he sighed.

‘Of course.’ Why did he even expect to find anyone?

But then another pile fell down and he knew it couldn’t have been a coincidence. He ran over the coincidence fallen debris to find you hiding behind it, looking dehydrated and in tears.

His eyes widened when they landed on the burns on your body, finding it amazing that you even managed to survive them.

But compared to the others, you got off easy.

“Hello?”

The whole while you had been staring at him but it was only when he spoke it felt like you were actually looking at him.

Immediately, you got to your feet, tears spilling onto your cheeks as you threw your arms around him. He instinctively caught your form as it collided with his, holding you close as you buried your head into his neck, sobbing.

“I’m so glad you found me.”

****

Allison noticed the way Five looked longingly across the street. At first, she thought he was just staring lovingly at the cafe because he needed a shot of espresso but she quickly noticed that his eyes were locked on the tables outside the little coffee shop.

In a table right underneath the shade of a parasol, sat you alongside your older sister, just enjoying a drink and chatting very animatedly. She looked between the two of you a couple of times, wondering which one of you Five was staring at but ultimately deciding that it wasn’t important.

“Five?”

“Hmm?” He answered distractedly, not shifting his gaze to his sister and continuing to watch you. Seeing you smile so brightly had a small smile coming to his face but no matter who saw it there was a touch of despair and sadness behind it.

“Do you know her?”

“Not....yet.”

She turned back to the table, watching you drink whatever you had in your cup and wondered what Five meant by that. Were you someone who survived the Apocalypse?

“Yes.”

“Oh, I said that out loud?”

“She’s the sole survivor of the Apocalypse.”

It was as though you could hear them talking about you even though they had the distance of a busy road between the two of you, but you looked up and locked eyes with him, holding your gaze curiously.

He continued to look at you with an unreadable emotion and time slowed down. The noises around Five slowly faded into cotton and the people faded into wisps of sweet-scented smoke.

And then suddenly like as if someone crashed through a window, he heard a glass smash and the trance was broken. You turned back to your sister, only sparing small glances back at him to see if this mysterious stranger was still watching you.

“Five? You okay, buddy?”

He sighed, now knowing that you really couldn’t recognize him and so he turned his back to you, disappointed, to meet his sibling’s concerned eyes.

“I’m not sure.”

****

You cuddled closer to five, watching the fire flicker and trying to stop shivering. He sighed exasperatedly and you knew he was angry with you but you really couldn’t care less about how he felt while your teeth chattered and you shook like a chihuahua.

“I know you’re upset with me because I made us stop but it’s not like we have a deadline or something. It’s just the two of us, we can do things as slowly as we want to.” You told him, trying to relax but something in the back of your mind wasn’t settling right.

You hated being alone with him. You hated being the only 2 people on the planet. Your heart yearned for something else.

“Dammit, (Y/N), we can’t just sit around and do nothing!” He snapped, throwing the last piece of kindling into the fire and a few of the embers jumped out.

“Why not! It’s not like we have anything to live for here anyway! We should just end it now!” You shouted in his face, feeling a wave of tears grow. You missed your normal life, you missed your family, your parents and people.

You missed it all.

“I won’t die like this! I will find a way to stop the Apocalypse even if it kills me! I will fight for it!” It seemed like he was trying to convince himself more than you but all you felt was a weight on your heart and you broke down into tears, hiding your face from Five who immediately felt guilty.

“I can’t fight anymore, Five. There’s nothing waiting for us at the end of the line, I can’t do this anymore, Five, I can’t.” You sobbed.

He pulled you into his arms and you cried into his chest while he rubbed gentle strokes up and down your back while you choked over your own breath. He felt his own tears prick in the corner of his eyes.

“We’ll change it all, there has to be something, (Y/N), there just has to.”

****

“Five are you okay?” Came a concerned voice from one of his brothers but the younger boy (physically) couldn’t tell which one it was. He was far too lost in his own thoughts.

“Five?” Allison called out again, shaking her little brother’s (again, physically) shoulder and he snapped out of his trance, only realizing then he had overfilled his cup of coffee and spilled it everywhere.

“Oh.” He muttered quietly before getting a rag to clean it up.

Above his head, Allison and Klaus shared a concerned look and had a mental conversation about whether they should ask Five what was bothering him. It was likely he would just talk about equations and tell them they didn’t have the capacity to understand it.

But this seemed different to his usual ‘I’m superior than you and incredibly stressed about this Apocalypse’ silence. So, against their better judgement they decided to ask Five about it.

“Five is everything okay? You’ve been acting weird ever since the coffee shop.”

“Oh, coffee shop? What happened at the coffee shop? Was there another gun fight?” Asked Klaus excitedly and Allison spared him an eye-roll before sitting down.

“No, he saw a girl and well, he did that.” She explained, pointing to Five where he stood just holding a rag in his hands and not even bothering to wipe up the mess he made.

“Oh, well I can fix that no problem.” Klaus said, sliding off the table and onto one of the chairs, “You see, baby brother, when a boy comes to the age of puberty—”

“Shut up!” Ben snapped from behind him and Allison slapped the back of his head but Klaus clearly saw the smile on her face before she glared at him.

“Five seriously, what’s wrong? Who was that girl?”

“She—” His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat, “She’s nobody.”

“Not yet.” She pressed and he sighed before abandoning the rag and sitting in front of them. The older siblings immediately noticed the way he was playing with his tie, fidgeting in a way that was very unlike him.

“You said she survived the Apocalypse. So, the two of you obviously met.”

“Yeah, we did.” He spoke softly, still fidgeting with his collar and not meeting their eyes.

“And I’m assuming she’s important to you somehow?”

He sighed, leaving his collar and from his palm fell out the pendant of the necklace hung around his neck. Although from a closer look, it was a pendant as much as a—

The three of them gasped, “Five, she is not.”

He nodded sadly, hand going back to the wedding band strung on a chain around his neck.

****

“Do you think it’s legal?”

“We’re pretty much the only people here so I’m assuming it is.”

“Don’t we need witnesses or something?”

“That’s a stupid old law, made my stupid old folks that aren’t alive anymore.” He said, smiling gently as he wrapped his arms around your waist. You gave him a teasing smile, reaching up to brush a few strands of hair out of his face.

You couldn’t help the giggles when he reached down to kiss you gently. It was infectious apparently because Five couldn’t stop the smile from growing on his face either as he leaned closer, making your back curve.

“I like the way you think, Mr. Hargreeves.”

“I like the way you kiss, Mrs. Hargreeves.”

You chortled and burst into laughter as did he. It was one of the happiest moments since you both found each other and moments like these were as rare as they came, when the two of you were just laughing in each other’s arms like carefree people.

Of course, you couldn’t have a big fancy wedding with your family and go for a fancy honeymoon, but this wedding gave you something that you had wanted ever since the Apocalypse.

A family.

****

Allison, Klaus and Ben all noticed the way that Five smiled when he thought about you. They noticed the gentleness in his voice and how wistful it became all of a sudden as he told them about you.

Allison grinned at him, feeling incredibly relieved that her brother had somebody to hold him while he had suffered through the apocalypse. Hearing the story of how he survived so many years all alone really broke her heart.

She always knew that she had a rough childhood without the love of a real father, but hearing Five’s story made her feel like she had it easy. At least she had civilization around her.

But even with the relief she felt it was ridiculously incredulous that her brother who couldn’t even drive legally yet was legally married. It was too much to even process and a part of her is reminded of when her daughter told her that she married Elmo.

But the longer she watched Five the more convinced she grew. He actually married you and lived a long life by your side before he came here to stop the Apocalypse.

“Wait...” She spoke up, realization hitting her, “Five, if the two of you met because of the Apocalypse, if you stop it...” She stopped herself from saying the rest, seeing his face fall. Klaus gasped softly from beside them, understanding what Allison was trying to say.

It seemed like Five was trying to gather himself and both siblings say the way he swallowed painfully and the way his mouth quivered for just a second.

“I know.”

****

“I want you to do this, Five.” You told your husband, holding onto him tighter and burying your face into his neck and trying to hide your tears from him.

His arms looped around your waist and he pressed kisses to your shoulder, cradling your head gently. You heard his breath stutter by your ear and tightened your hold on him.

“I won’t leave you.” He said firmly and you sighed but didn’t move from his hold. He was firm on that decision since he married you, giving up on his search to find the correct equation, promising that he wouldn’t abandon you.

But you knew what lied in his heart. His love for his siblings, the guilt for not doing anything to save them and him spending hours awake while you were asleep just wondering what it would have been like had he done something.

“You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t do this.” You murmured and his body shook a little from trying to hold in his sobs.

“I can’t leave you.”

“It’s okay.” You whispered, pulling away to cup his cheeks and you wiped a few of his stray tears away. You knew it must have been tearing him up inside if he was crying and it hurt but you also knew that he needed to hear this.

“It’s okay, I’m happy that we had our time together. I’m so unbelievably happy to have met you, Five, but I know that this is something you need to do.” You told him earnestly, still wiping tears from his cheeks.

“I love you.” He whispered so gently because he was sure his voice would crack.

“I love you too.” The tears running down your cheeks was in contrast to the sad smile on your face as you pulled him in for a hug.

It was after that he began his search to find the right equation again and it was admirable to see him work so hard but also heart-breaking because you knew when he would find the right one the two of you would be separated.

But still you encouraged him and supported him, knowing that in another world, the two of you could have possibly been happier had the Apocalypse not taken place.

It hurt, but at the same time, you wanted it to happen, which broke your heart even more.

And somewhere deep down you hoped that you would meet Five in another life and love him again.

You really hoped.

****

You sat quietly in the corner of the booth with earphones plugged in and reading a book with your favourite drink sitting on the table in front of you. You were so immersed in the book that you didn’t hear the boy in front of you until he tapped on the table politely.

Pulling out an earphone, you looked up to see a boy about your age with a charming smile and a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?”

“Of course not.” You smiled, moving your bag off the table so he could sit comfortably.

“I’m Five.” He said, holding his hand out for you to shake and you nodded.

“That’s a pretty unusual name, I’m (Y/N).”

He smiled in a mysterious yet adorable way and you couldn’t help but feel that there was a reason he sat down. One you would find out extremely later but for now it was enticing and curious which attracted you to him even more.

“Nice to meet you.”

‘Again.’

#five hargreeves #five x reader #umbrella academy five #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #five x you #five x y/n #5 x reader #5 hargreeves #the umbrella academy #tua #tua five #tua x reader #tua five x reader #aidan gallagher #reader insert #Female reader

764 notes · View notes

rae-gar-targaryen · 4 years

Text

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

NOT MY GIF

----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Adler hated you for it.

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

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

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

You lived like that for years. Until --

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You snorted.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And what was he?” Diego pressed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Drag them down with their own fear.

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

What the fuck was this shit?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah, you thought, and there it was.

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

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

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

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

You were gone.

What were you?

Were you really like him? Like the others?

---

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

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

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

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

“Have you seen Pogo?”

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

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

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

Diego sighed, facing his brother.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, she sounds hot.”

“Helpful, Klaus,” Diego deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, yeah, you were right about this asshole.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You weren’t left in suspense too long.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You ground out a harsh laugh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

Okay. The guilt was more than slight.

All he had wanted to do was help, right?

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what came out instead was--

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you doing?" You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You were… worried about me? You?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, baby?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got this, baby,” Diego assured.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You whined your assent, keening and high-pitched.

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

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

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

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

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

You sighed in contentment.

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

---

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

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

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

Why couldn't it always be like this?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego scoffed at that.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What was that?" He asked.

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

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

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

Oh, no.

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

Ouch.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Don’t do that,” he whispered.

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

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

Your hand left Diego’s face.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Diego smiled at you.

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

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

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

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

You stood, offering Diego your hand.

“Come on, big boy. Walk me home?”

Diego acquiesced, coming to stand with a stifled grunt.

“You’re lucky I heal quickly.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

At Diego’s urging look, you continued.

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

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

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

“As you wish, Big Deal.”

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

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

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

---

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

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

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

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

“They’ll like you,” he promised.

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

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

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

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

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

Luther blinked. “How did you know?”

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

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

"Self-important."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

---

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

1K notes · View notes