#Multi Chapter

[novaschips]

i knew it when your comfort felt like love that lasts

Chapter 1: The Protective Boyfriend

The 5 times Frank Langdon called himself Mel's boyfriend + 1 time it was reality

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG SERIES MASTERLIST

Main Masterlist || On AO3 || On Wattpad

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn’t looking for a mate. Not only does he think he doesn’t deserve one, but the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain’t real. He still has free will, and saving you from monsters is just another part of the job.

The demons in your life, though? They’re closer than he realises, more personal, and his inner alpha won’t let him leave you behind with them. But can Dean embrace everything that comes with claiming someone? 18+ only MDNI

Tags: omegaverse, soulmate AU, pregnancy, strangers to lovers, hurt/comfort, SMUT, breeding, claiming, knotting, nesting, angst, fluff, endgame is Dad!Dean (and the parenting skills we all know he has), Protective!Dean, (dual POV), somewhat of a fix-it

WARNING: This story implies/references some potentially triggering topics including domestic abuse, sexual assault, a past miscarriage (chemical pregnancy), and follows the journey of how the characters deal with it. Please consider these carefully before reading. I can’t stress this enough!

A/N: This all started out as a one shot idea of Dean playing with kids and nerf guns. That one shot hasn’t been written yet because my brain wanted to know where the kids came from, but Dean will get his hands on a nerf gun in this fic.

uploading weekly on Fridays 🇦🇺🕕

Chapter 1 - Yearning

Chapter 2 - Harbouring

Chapter 3 - Confronting

Chapter 4 - Familiarising

Chapter 5 - Languishing

Chapter 6 - Domesticating

Chapter 7 - Honeydaying

Chapter 8 - Disconcerting

Chapter 9 - Ruminating

Chapter 10 - Saddling

Chapter 11 - Containment

Chapter 12 - Sentiment 09/05

Chapter 13 - Derisionment

Chapter 14 - Announcement

Chapter 15 - Dissappointment

Chapter 16 -

Chapter 17 -

Chapter 18 -

Chapter 19 -

Chapter 20 -

TIMESTAMPS TBA

EXTRAS/RELATED

Writing Game Snippet

100 Followers Celebration Sneak Peak

WIP WEDNESDAY (20/02) Chapter 16

Please Remember folks, abuse isn’t always physical. It’s also not easy to admit when you’re going through it, or sometimes even realise. Look after yourselves, and keep an eye out for signs from those you love. ❤️

If you'd like to be tagged in this series or any of my other works, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

I’ll be tagging all the lovely people signed up for my DEAN TAGLIST too, of course 🥰

[cravingrickgrimes]

CHAPTER ONE | ❝IN THE DIM LIGHT❞

rick!grimes x male!reader (smut) top!rick x bottom!reader

multi chapters / not finished word count: 1018

summary: You were relatively new to the prison. You had the same story as most of these folks here—no family, and alone. On your fifth day here you got your first work assignment. You manage to get paired up for field duty on the prison… in the blistering heat. It wasn’t until a few minutes in the heat that your work-assigned partner finally arrives…Rick Grimes.

CHAPTER TWO ->

CHAPTER ONE:

The mid-summer heat was dreadful. Far worse, in fact. It was terrible enough that you were assigned field duty today, even worse when you realised you were going to have to do most of the work by yourself. You realised quickly that the jacket sticking to your back would be no help so you escaped it before it could do you anymore discomfort. You assumed the partner you were assigned with had just never gotten out of bed. That is, until you saw him walking right toward you. His hips jutted out gracefully from his sides as he grinned slightly. As he exited the prisons shadows he placed a hand on his already sweaty forehead, eyes trying desperately to hide from the sun. He was stunning, and you don’t even think that was half of what he was.

“Hiya.” He smiled. “Rick” He stared at you for those few seconds before he corrected himself with a chuckle accompanying it. “I’m Rick Grimes.” You fought your teeth to stop them from biting their lips at his southern drawl. It was the most attractive thing you’d ever heard that’s for sure.

“Hi.” You gave him the tightest smile possible and took a sip of your water.

“Hot isn’t it. This shirt won’t do any good today.” His strong hands clicked each button undone. You couldn’t help but gaze at the way his veiny hands undid each button on his shirt. Was he trying to get you wet? It was surely working. “Sorry ‘bout that.” His shirt was off. He was sweating. His shirt was off, and he was close to you.

Too close.

He looked as if carved by gods. His pecs were like plates of the finest armour. And not to mention the sharp defined abs that were riddled on his chest. Small dark-brown hairs were sprinkled on his chest. As if to hook you even more a trail of hair went from his bellybutton to…

Oh God. You thought. This day is going to truly be hell.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

It had been two hours now. An hour of being remotely near Rick Grimes would have any person completely on their knees. But two? You were struggling not to strip right here and now. The weeds surrounding clothe prisons walls were almost done. The both of you agreed to start on opposite ends and make your way to each other. You agreed, drunk on the way his body shone in the sun.

Now you and Rick were almost done, he was quite literally almost touching you. You pulled on the weed aggressively. It was to no avail. You pulled and tugged, but nothing. “Y’kay?” His southern accent was thick, but you took that to mean “you okay?”.

“Yeah, fine, just—a strong weed!”

“Ah, let me help darlin’” Not helping! You almost shouted. He moved behind you and grabbed the weed whilst your hands were still clasped around the stubborn thing. You were trapped under his strong grasp. Trapped under him. Trapped and smelling him. He pulled but it didn’t budge. You both moved with the tug and it looked and felt too much like a thrust. Your face flushed quicker than you could stop it. As inconveniently as it was you suddenly remembered him calling you darlin’ and you would give anything for him to say it again.

“Sorry ‘bout this.” He chuckled nervously. So he did know how awkward this was? He came off so confident you would have never guessed. He may not be as confident as you first thought, but he is as compelling. Your eyes followed his arm muscles as they tensed under the strain. He pulled again but nothing happened. Rick leaned back and thrusted into you to try and get a better grip. You stifled your moan. No. You forced your mind to be clear. Rick Grimes is not fucking you. All he’s doing is helping you out. That’s all. You could have sworn you felt something hard and stiff at your backside but he pulled the weed out before you could feel it again. He waved a hand of apology.

“You weren’t lying,” He ran a hand through his soaking hair and you noticed that every part of him was sweating. “really was strong.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

You sat in bed that very night with only one thought on your mind. How was Rick Grimes’ pace in bed? It wasn’t the most appropriate thought but those thrusts were…thought provoking… to say the least. The prison was quiet that night, as if even the prison was trying to get you to do what you wanted. And all you wanted was to touch yourself. To touch yourself and think of Rick Grimes every time you slide your hand up and down your cock.

You did just that.

You didn’t need to get hard, you already had been the moment you saw Rick take his shirt off. Maybe even before that if you were being honest. It felt fucking amazing. You stroked your length once thinking only of his chiselled body. The second time his thrusts. The third his scent. You almost kept to that cycle of those three things until you got to the topic of his cock in your mind.

You spat on your hand and kept stroking. This was getting good. You imagined a six inch cock—modest, considering the large lump you felt between his legs earlier that day was just that…large. You thought of a thick foreskin covering almost all of his head. You could almost physically see the amount of veins crawling up from the base of his cock to right before the head. You could see yourself sucking and worshipping the man’s dick.

You knew all too well that you would if you had the chance. You prayed that it tasted just like he had smelt in that blistering heat, like a man.

Your cock pulsed quicker in your hands now. You imagined you were giving Rick a handjob. God it was the best thing you could have done. You squirmed against your pillow whilst you released your hot cum onto your chest.

[psycho-pills]

A Second Life for Strays! ฅ (•˕ •マ.ᐟ sylus x reader fanfic // prev // next

౨ৎ⭑˚ RATING; 18+ (mdni)

౨ৎ⭑˚ PAIRING; sylus x afab!reader (not the mc)

౨ৎ⭑˚ SYNOPSIS; you are a soldier reincarnated into the world of love and deepspace, except you're not the mc. she still exists. despite looking exactly like her, you don’t act or sound the same. and to make things stranger, cats follow you everywhere.

౨ৎ⭑˚ GENRE/WARNING; angst, hurt/comfort, slow burn, (mutual?) pining, eventual fluff, eventual romance, eventual smut, cursing, graphic descriptions of violence, blood, mental breakdowns, ptsd, death, isekai, reincarnation, cats/cat puns, mc is named serenophe to avoid confusion/reader is not mc

౨ৎ⭑˚ AUTHOR'S NOTE; a gentle reminder: this is written in third-person limited with she/her pronouns. only the prologue is written in second-person. i use the terms [name] [surname] instead of (y/n) (y/ln) because it's easier for me to write. also, i know this idea is kinda weird and outlandish, but i love cats and love and deepspace, so why not combine the two? ;v;

౨ৎ⭑˚ LINKS; ao3 // masterpost

ch. one — a cat-astrophic realization! ౨ৎ⭑˚ word count; 3.9k

Where… She thinks. Where am I?

Her eyes flutter open before immediately squinting from the fluorescent lights above. The constant beeping of the patient monitor spikes in sound as her heartbeat increases. Instinctively, her hand reaches to shield her eyes, only to stop short with a sharp tug. A flash of pain shoots up her arm, drawing her attention to the thin IV tube embedded in her skin. She grits her teeth and lowers her hand, squinting through the blinding lights.

Gradually, her vision adjusts. One eye peeks open, the other still closed in protest. She slowly sweeps over the room. As her surroundings come into focus, her heart rate steadies.

The hospital room is bathed in morning light that filters through the large windows. As [Name] glances toward the windows, long shadows cross the room. Outside, there's a breathtaking view of the bustling, futuristic city below. The overall view of the world is serene, completely unlike the storm of confusion in [Name]'s mind.

The room is comfortably sized. Modern yet contemporary furniture and pale grey walls accommodate the small space. Sleek medical equipment lines the side of the room, but there's a sense of luxury present. Crisp linen sheets, plush chairs, and a vase of fresh flowers on a side table. It's more like a boutique hotel than a hospital room. 

A soft beige blanket covers her body, and the scent of jasmine whiffs up her nose. An unoccupied recliner sits in the corner near the windows, perhaps meant for a visitor; however, the room is isolated. The medical equipment strap to her arm and chest drones on. The rhythmic beeping indicated the steady tracking of her vitals. A small monitor occasionally blinks, recording her heartbeat and oxygen levels.

As she begins to stir, her body drags her down. Everything feels heavy. Her limbs, her eyelids, even her thoughts. There's an overwhelming sense of disorientation like she's floating between worlds. Memories stir, hazy at first, but slowly they sharpen. One after the other, they trickle back—chaos, pain, death. 

Her death.

Her body feels sore, but her head feels worse. She remembers the battlefield. She remembers succumbing to her bullet wound. The sensation of death still lingers like a cold shadow. Yet now, with her eyes fully adjusted, she takes in the pristine hospital room, and it becomes apparent that something is wrong.

I'm alive. 

The thought feels impossible. Absurd, even. And yet here she is—breathing, heart pounding—fully conscious. It was like she finally woke up from a long, deep coma.

With more awareness, she takes in the room. Across from her bed is a small, flat-screen television, turned off, reflecting the room's dusky mood. Besides it, a small door leads to what she assumes is an adjoining bathroom. Everything about the room is carefully designed to be soothing, sterile, and impersonal. However, it's oddly welcoming in a way she can't quite grasp.

Her body protests as she fumbles to sit up, mindful of the tubes and wires attached to her arm and chest. As she adjusts herself, she catches a glimpse of her reflection on the dark, glassy screen of the television. With some effort, she leans forward to take in her appearance better.

Instantly, [Name]'s breath catches in her throat. She pauses. Her reflection stares back at her, but something is off. Her face is hers, but it's not. All of her features are the same. Hair, eyes, mouth, nose… However, everything is just sharper now. Clearer. Her skin smoother, and her hair fuller. If she didn't know any better, she'd swear she looks almost identical to the female lead of her favorite otome game. 

But that can't be right. Can it?

A chill runs down her spine, and her eyes dart downward to her chest. Panic flares in her gut as she remembers the battlefield, the bullet wound that should have taken her life. Slowly, as if afraid of what she'll find, she hooks a finger under the collar of her hospital gown and pulls it away from her body, expecting to see a scar, a wound, anything.

There's nothing. Her skin is smooth, unmarked. No bullet wound, no scar, no evidence that she has ever been injured at all. Her heart stutters in her chest, and the panic she's been trying to suppress starts to rise like a wave, threatening to swallow her whole.

"What the hell is going on?" She croaks.

Her throat feels dry and scratchy, like it hasn't been used in days. A rough cough forces its way up and makes her wince. She tries to settle her breathing, but it's no use. The confusion, the fear—it's smothering her.

Just as she's about to lose herself to the spiraling thoughts, the door to her room clicks open. She jerks her head toward the sound. A man steps in, tall and composed, his black hair framing his face in sharp, elegant lines. His demeanor's cool but professional. There is a slight air of authority that immediately draws her attention.

She blinks, and her stomach drops.

There's no way.

Her eyes widen in disbelief as she stares at him. It can't be. It can't be. But there's no mistaking the man standing before her, his confident stride, the careful way he carries himself. His gaze idles before settling back on his notes. She knows that face, that presence. She can practically hear her heart pound louder as the impossible claws at her.

She glances at the name tag pinned to his coat, just to be sure. Zayne. It's there, clear as day. The doctor with a cold exterior and a reputation for being emotionally untouchable. Yet beneath it all, there's a hidden tenderness. He was one of them: a character she had admired, the one whose storyline was as complex and fascinating as the others.

Her mind reels. Oh, my Gods. This can't be real. 

She blinks several times, expecting his face to change into something else, but nothing happens. He's still there, as composed and meticulous as ever. The exact character she once admired behind a screen now stands right before her.

The disbelief overtakes her. It's suffocating and all-encompassing. How can this be happening? She died—she remembers dying—and yet, she woke up here. Her body tenses. Her muscles tighten as the pieces of her situation fall into place, and realization sinks its teeth into her.

She can't breathe. It's impossible. All of this, everything around her, feels like a nightmare. A twisted dream she can't wake up from. There's no way, there's no way she's been reincarnated. And not just anywhere. In the world of Love and Deepspace, the very game she escaped into for fun is her new reality now.

"You're awake," Zayne says calmly, but verging on something more unreadable. Confusion? Suspicion? He takes a step closer, his gaze lingering on her face longer than a doctor's should. [Name] can tell he's trying to remain composed. However, his eyes hold hesitance, like he's looking at something he can't believe.

Slowly, as if worried she might vanish if he speaks too quickly, he continues, "I'm Dr. Zayne, and you will be under my care for the foreseeable future." His voice is smooth, but his words are cautious.

"And you must be Miss…" He pauses and glances down at the file. His eyes squint as if the name doesn't match what he was expecting. "…[Name] [Surname]."

She swallows, almost choosing silence, but her raspy voice escapes anyway.

"Yes?"

The word barely sounds confident. She's frozen under his gaze, trapped in disbelief. Zayne's sharp eyes roam her face, drifting down to her upper body. It's not the casual assessment of a doctor checking on a patient. No, this look—it's familiar. It's the same gaze she used to see when playing the game, the moments when his character's cold exterior would briefly soften during some of his bonds and memoria. Her stomach churns with anxiety.

What. The. Fuck.

Zayne pushes his glasses up, and his professional mask slips back on. He steps closer to the bed, his expression shifting, but she can sense the tension beneath it. 

"I'm just checking for any signs of concussion or physical injuries," he says. However, it sounds more like he's reassuring himself than her. 

He leans in, and his eyes dart over her face. He scans her features for any signs of bruises or swelling. "Given your condition when you were brought in, we need to monitor for potential head trauma."

[Name] stays silent as he gently lifts the edge of her gown at her shoulder. His fingers brush her skin as he places the cold metal of the stethoscope against her chest. His touch is light and purely professional, but she can't help but feel a rising discomfort. 

Zayne may act like this is routine, but she can see the tension in his posture and how his gaze keeps finding her face. He's trying to hide it, but she can tell—he's scrutinizing her for more than physical injuries. It's like he's trying to fit together puzzle pieces from different boxes.

The metal is cold and harsh. She inhales deeply without him even asking. Then she exhales, and the stethoscope leaves her chest not a moment sooner. He scribbles something down in his notes. Almost hesitantly. 

"Everything seems to be in order. There doesn't appear to be any visible scarring or physical trauma," Zayne mutters. A bit too neutral. As he steps back, his eyes idle on her a beat longer than necessary. "Regardless, we'll run a few more tests to be sure."

She gives a slow nod, observing how his jaw tenses as he adjusts the equipment by her bedside. He's trying to play it cool, but the cracks are there. Something is bothering him, and she knows exactly what it is.

He recognizes her face.

She looks too much like the heroine of the game, the one who's the center of this world's story. [Name] isn't supposed to be here. She isn't the main character of the game. She's something else—an anomaly.

Zayne frowns when he catches her staring at him. He quickly returns to his task, clearing his throat like it can shake off his weariness. "If you're feeling any discomfort, let me know. We'll have the results of your tests soon." He says calmly, but his eyes still carry that hint of confusion.

As he jots more notes on her chart, her mind spirals. This is far more than she expected, far more surreal, terrifying, and overwhelming. She never anticipated finding herself in this situation, least of all being reincarnated into her favorite otome game. But here she is, alive in a world she once thought was fiction. 

Zayne looks at her again, his lips parting like he's about to speak. His face is composed; however, there's a shadow of skepticism beneath. Yet before he can get a word out, the buzz of his pager cuts through the moment. Instantly, the room's atmosphere shifts and his posture straightens.

The hospital's overhead speaker crackles to life, the receptionist's voice urgent: "Code Blue. Code Blue. Paging all medical personnel to surgical room two, please."

His jaw tightens, and for a moment, he hesitates. Zayne gives her one last look, like he's trying to commit her to memory. When the voice over the intercom repeats the emergency, he finally breaks away. His eyes tear from her face with visible reluctance. 

"Please excuse me," he says with urgency as he prepares to leave. "If you need anything, Nurse Yvonne is down the hall." 

Without waiting for her response, he sharply turns and exits the room. His footsteps fade down the hall, leaving her alone with her racing thoughts. In his absence, the room feels eerily still, like the air is holding its breath. Then, the silence starts to eat away at her. The impossible truth digs into her, and something inside snaps.

In one swift motion, she throws the sheets away from her lower body. [Name] swings her legs over the side of the bed and stands—albeit too quickly. Her legs, frail from disuse, buckle beneath her. She stumbles, catching herself on the IV pole.

The cold metal anchors her as she settles down. Her muscles are weak, but determination propels her forward. [Name] drags the IV stand along as she shuffles toward the attached bathroom. Her steps awkward and sluggish.

Reaching the door, she kicks it open with the bare heel of her foot, too focused on her next task to bother with formalities. She lumbers inside, not even closing the door behind her. The thirst clawing at her throat is unbearable, a raw itch that she can no longer ignore. Like a starved animal, she ducks under the sink. She twists the faucet open and lets the crisp, refreshing water pour into her mouth. The liquid soothes her parched throat, the cool sensation spreading through her body as she gulps down as much as possible.

When finally sated, [Name] wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and turns off the faucet. However, just as she's about to leave the bathroom, her eyes catch something in the corner of the mirror—her own reflection. She freezes, seeing her face a lot clearer in the bathroom mirror than with the television's blackened screen. 

Slowly, she leans closer, her hospital gown brushing against the wet edge of the sink. Her breath catches in her throat as she studies herself. "It’s me," she whispers. "But… Different."

Her fingers rise to touch her face, to trace the contours of her facial features. [Name] turns her face left, then right, her brow furrowing. Despite the striking resemblance to the game's protagonist, there's something off—something that makes it evident that she's different. Something subtle but undeniable. She's not the protagonist, but she's dangerously close. It's like she's staring at a near-perfect replica with slight imperfections that make it clear she's an outsider.

A thought jolts her back to the present. Actually, she thinks, why did Zayne call me by my real name? If I look this much like the protagonist, shouldn't he have called me—

Her mind goes blank. She tries to recall the heroine's name, the one who should be at the center of this world, but… nothing. She can't remember. Her forehead creases as she struggles to dig the name out of her memory. Yet the name remains out of reach, like a forgotten word on the tip of her tongue. [Name]'s mind is foggy; that part of her knowledge yet to recover from her reincarnation. 

The blankness gnaws at her, but she pushes it aside. She can't focus on that right now. Her mind races to piece together what little information she has. Considering Zayne's reaction, he knew she wasn't her despite how closely she resembled the protagonist. That may be why he called [Name] by her real name instead. Yet this realization only poses more questions. How does he know her name? And, more importantly, who had brought her to the hospital? Zayne's words implied that someone dumped her here, but why?

Her thoughts swirl as she steps out of the bathroom, a little steadier now. [Name] is exhausted, mentally and physically, and all she wants is to make sense of this unfathomable situation. She heads back to bed, ready to collapse. But just as she's about to sit down, she stops dead in her tracks.

A plump tuxedo cat is lounging on the sheets. Its round face stares at her with a manner that borders on playful mischief. Its green eyes gleam with amusement at her shock. The sight is so unexpected that she blinks several times in a row.

"Um," she stammers, gesturing the cat away from the bed. "Can you move?"

The absurdity of talking to a cat doesn't even faze her anymore. After everything she's been through, who will judge her? She's all alone in this strange, new reality.

"Sure," the cat replies. High-pitched and child-like.

Her heart skips a beat. The cat just spoke. 

Like everything's normal, the plump creature hops off the bed and waddles to the counter. [Name] stills. Her mind struggles to catch up with the sheer insanity in front of her. She can only watch as the cat leaps onto the counter and grabs a clear plastic bag hidden in the sink with his mouth. The cat drags the bag out, dropping it unceremoniously with a dull thud. The contents of the bag spill out in front of her—her military uniform, stiff with dried blood around the breast pocket. The sight of the uniform jolts her, the memories of the battlefield flooding back too quickly for comfort.

"Change," the cat orders, his tone matter-of-fact. "We're leaving."

Her mind stalls. She doesn't move. She doesn't breathe. All she can do is stare in utter disbelief. It takes a moment before her body reacts at all. When it finally does, she starts laughing. It's loud and hysterical, almost tipping on sobs. She's dreaming. She has to be. It's the only logical explanation for everything. 

"I've officially lost it," she gasps between fits of maddened laughter, clutching her sides as tears sting her eyes. Suddenly, the room feels uncanny, like she's trapped in some B-rated horror movie. She crawls onto the bed with shaky hands, diving under the sheets and wrapping herself in darkness.

She shuts her eyes tightly, curling into herself and willing everything to disappear. A soft chant escapes her lips. Fragile. Desperate. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up."

The silence that follows is almost palpable. Heavy. The only sound is the soft patter of paws on the tiled floor, growing louder as they approach. Suddenly, she feels the bed dip next to her head. The cat's weight presses into the pillow. Before she can react, the tuxedo cat tugs at the edge of the blanket, pulling it back just enough to reveal her face.

"Stop playing around, Human," the cat says impatiently. "We gotta scram before they find you."

Her eyes snap open, her heart hammering in her chest. The weight of reality—or whatever this is—crashes down on her like a tidal wave, leaving her breathless. 

"Who?" [Name] croaks out, barely above a whisper. "Who's coming to get me?"

The cat lets out a huff, a sound that might have been a purr if it wasn't laced with annoyance. "Do you really want to find out?" His tone is sarcastic like the answer should be obvious.

[Name] shakes her head slowly, her body unable to process the fear and confusion fast enough. She barely understands what’s happening, but something deep inside warns her that whoever—or whatever—is coming for her won’t be friendly. Sensing her resignation, the cat sits back on his haunches, his green eyes glinting with satisfaction.

"Good," the cat says with a slight nod. "The name's Spots, by the way. Not that you bothered to ask."

Another silence settles between them, until [Name] realizes Spots is waiting for her to get up. She stills for a moment, weighing her options. 

She could stay here, close her eyes, and hope this dream fades into nothingness. Maybe everything is just a product of her exhausted mind. A hallucination caused by trauma and stress. Maybe, if she holds on long enough, she’ll wake up in the real world, back to the life she knows. However, something tells her this doesn’t end with a simple waking.

The next best solution is that she could believe what’s happening. As impossible and terrifying as it seems, she could trust the cat—or at least trust that he knows more than she does. [Name] could just ignore the absurdity of a talking cat and follow him, because the alternative is facing whoever is coming for her alone. Zayne might return, but even that possibility feels unsettling. There’s too much confusion between them, and she doesn’t know if she could handle his reaction if he discovers what she’s beginning to accept: that she doesn’t belong here.

But Spots knows. He knows something about her situation. He knows what’s coming. And right now, that makes him the only source of guidance she has.

A frustrated heave escapes her as she finalizes her decision.

"Fuck it," she mutters.

Against her better judgment, [Name] slides out of bed, her legs no longer shaky as she drags the IV pole with her. She crouches down to pick up her clothes and combat boots. She glances back at Spots. He's swinging his tail lazily, eyes closed, a Cheshire grin permanent on his fluffy face.

Like ripping off a bandage, [Name] grits her teeth as she yanks the IV tube from her arm. The sharp sting makes her wince, but she pushes through the pain. She's quick to regain her composure. Without hesitation, she slips out of her hospital gown and into her military uniform. The fabric is stiff with dried blood, a cruel memento of her death.

But as she dresses, a disturbing thought begins to nag at her. If this is a dream, then… will she wake up back on the battlefield? Back in the grassy outskirts, far from the perishing city, fighting some meaningless war? Did she really want to go back to that? Can she even go back to that?

Her hand instinctively drifts to her heart, to the spot where the bullet pierced her. Her fingers brush over the dried blood. The hole in her uniform is the only proof of her last moments. She sighs and shakes her head, trying to dispel the unwanted thoughts. No. The mere thought of waking up back there—back in the war—terrifies her more than this new reality ever could.

Moving to the sink, she grabs a paper towel and runs it under cold water. Carefully, she dabs at the bloodstain, trying to clean it, but the water only spreads the mess. A frown tugs at her lips as she realizes her mistake. Spots hop down from the bed, noticing her frustration, and he is far too impatient to wait. He strolls over to her and stretches his paws against her leg, nudging her to pick him up.

Taking the hint, [Name] heaves and scoops the plump tuxedo cat into her arms, holding him close to her chest. Conveniently, Spots’ round body covers the bloodstain on her uniform.

"Ready?" Spots ask.

He gestures toward the closed door with his head, his green eyes narrowing to urge her forward.

Reluctantly, she nods and moves toward the exit of her hospital room. Her hand wraps around the cold doorknob, but then she hesitates. Frozen with uncertainty. Afraid of the unknown guaranteed outside this small, contained room. Her fingers still on the knob as she takes a shallow breath.

"Human," Spots purrs. It's a soothing rumble against her heart. "It's okay. Whatever happens, you have me now. You're not alone in this."

[Name] presses her lips into a tight line, reassured by the cat’s comforting words. Something about his presence, about his gentle confidence, calms her. It doesn’t make sense, but she doesn’t care to question it. Right now, she craves stability, no matter how strange the source. 

Without another word, she pulls the door open and peeks her head out. She scans the hallway. The sterile, quiet corridor stretches out in both directions. Unbeknownst to her, that first step beyond the door will set a chain reaction of events into motion, incidents and experiences that will shift the story she once knew, casting her into a role she never imagined playing.

"Here goes nothing," she whispers, stepping into the unknown.

ao3 // masterpost // prev // next

[urinarythreatinfection]

Is This Love?

Luffy x Male Reader. Fluff. 2119 words. Part one, Part two, Part three

Desc: Luffy doesn't know what's going on but he does know that he enjoys eating fish.

Thump thump thump thump

Luffy bursts into the men’s quarters and flops onto his bed, putting his hand on his still thumping heart, “Hah… Hah…”

Thump thump thump thump

What’s going on? Is he having a poisonous reaction? But neither Chopper nor Sanji said anything. “Nnn…” No, it can’t be that, because it happened when you hugged him. That’s it! He’s just excited from being hugged by you after a whole week! He scratches at his heart… this doesn’t feel like excitement though. A scary thought pops into his mind as he starts to vibrate. ‘Am I dying!?’ If he’s dying why did he run away? He could’ve gone to Chopper but it was like everything in him told him to run, to get away. Like he just got caught trying to snag food while Sanji’s cooking or ate a week’s rations. “Uuuu..” He rolls onto his back and takes a big breath, letting it out to calm himself down. It’s okay, he isn’t dying and there’s no enemies, he isn’t in trouble either. It was just a hug from you. You used to do that all the time. You hugged him because you loved what he did. You loved it, you love him. Love.

THUMP

Dizziness starts to take over his mind again, as he shakes harder. Nonono. He wraps himself in his blanket hoping he’s cold but he feels too hot, kicking it off. Too excited, too dizzy, too much! He takes a giant breath and rolls back onto his stomach, letting it out and floating slightly before falling back onto the mattress. This is a mess, this is the worst. Then, a knock at the door.

“Hey, Luf, you in there?” Luffy flinches, it’s you. The door is unlocked, he was too panicked to lock it, but you knocked anyway to be nice. You aren’t sure why the captain ran off, after all. “Did you change your mind about giving me the fish? You didn’t have to run away, you can just tell me.” You’ve misunderstood, thinking Luffy ran because he wanted the fish but left to control the urges. But so has he, even if your voice is making him feel weirder. “You can still eat it, we can’t finish it all anyway.” On cue his stomach grumbles, fish does sound good right now. The captain looks down at his chest, he’s calmed down. That’s it, he’s just hungry, but what a weird type of hunger. Flip flops hit the floor as Luffy walks over, opening the door. “Oh, there you are. What happened?”

“I’m hungry.” He states, though his cheeks are still a bit flushed.

“...You sure? You look a little red, I mean you can eat anyway if you’re sick. You end up healing faster when you eat.” That’s true, but feels a little bad, not wanting to go back on his word. Especially when it’s for you.

“I caught it for you, though.” Luffy mumbles while he shifts in place. You think for a moment before replying.

“Okay. We’ll do this. I’ll eat as much as I can with the others, then you can have all the rest. Sounds good?” This brightens him up. That means he’s technically not breaking his word. He puts a hand over his chest, no quick thumping.

“Better.” He whispers, then he looks up at you and gives you a big hug, catching you off guard. It’s a little embarrassing but you did tell yourself you’d try to act normal again, so you hug back. He buries his face in your chest and everything’s normal.. until you hear him take a big sniff.

“???” You look down at him. “Did you just sniff me?” He looks up, resting his chest on your chest.

“You smell strong.” Weird, but if this put you off then you’d not have fallen in love with Luffy.

“..Thanks?” Could be a compliment.

“Mhm!” ..It was. Sanji was right. “Okay! Now let’s go!” Luffy hops up on your shoulders then points towards the deck. Cute. You run in the direction and he laughs before hitting his head on the top of the doorway. “Ack!” Oops.

____________________

Drool pools in Luffy’s mouth as he watches you eat. Intense, and it’s making you feel guilty for keeping food from him. “You don’t have to wait in here, you know. I can just call you when I'm full.”

“What if someone eats my food?” He’s nervous, staring intently at the fish on your plate.

“I’ll defend it.” Your tone is determined and his eyes meet yours.

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” You hold in your urge to hug him, your heart can’t take it right now, so you settle with petting his head. His eyes widen for a second before he smiles at you.

“Shi shi shi.” So cute!

‘Resist resist resist.’ You clench your jaw to hold it in, but it doesn’t matter since Luffy ends up giving you a quick hug before leaving the kitchen anyway. “Dammit..” You clench your fist on the table. When you look back at the others you notice everyone staring at you. It’s so obvious what they’re thinking, it pisses you off a bit so you take it out on Usopp. He gasps at your fork stabs into his food and shoves it in your mouth.

“Wha- Why only me!?” Too bad.

__________________

You pat your stomach with a content sigh. You’ve eaten a little less fish than being full to then save as much as you can for Luffy, but you’re still content. You want to spoil him, especially when he seemed excited about it. Enough to be upset and run away. “Hrm..” You hope he’s okay being kept from eating. Hopefully the variety of food will make it better. Grilled fish, fish soup, fish cake, sushi, lots of dishes that you can enjoy amazingly if you don't inhale it. You go outside and call for Luffy but there’s no answer. “Luffy!” You call again, now you hear the sound of hurried flip flops before he jumps on you.

“The smell was making me hungrier.” He had to go far so he couldn’t smell it. You chuckle a little then lead him back into the kitchen, setting him down once inside. His eyes widen with sparkles at all the food left. Here he’d thought there would only be a little, but you left so much for him. You smile when he looks at you gratefully.

“Hey, Sanji’s the one who made it, I just left what I couldn't eat for you.” To be honest there’s still some stored away, but you won’t say that for the chef’s sake.

“I’ll thank him later!” The captain yells and quickly stretches his arms to grab the pot of fish soup, immediately dropping it when it hurts. “HOT!” It’s falling! You run over and manage to catch it, wincing when the metal burns your hand. Still, you hold it and set it back onto the table.

“Here, be more careful.” You tell Luffy and give him cloths to use in order to hold the pot safely. He nods and uses them, tilting the soup into his open gullet happily. While he’s demolishing the soup you put your burnt hand under the sink, running cold water onto it. A minute passes and you hear Luffy put the empty pot down, grabbing sushi and putting it in his mouth before he finally notices what you’re doing. ‘Whar happefed” His speech is muffled by the food as he walks over to you.

“Burned my hand catching the pot, but it would’ve dropped otherwise.” You explain with a sigh. Fast reflexes but you wish you’d grabbed a cloth. Now your hand is burnt and you’ll have to go to Chopper later. The captain swallows the sushi in his mouth and stares at your burnt hand, then his safe ones. He’s fine because he let go immediately, but now you’re hurt because of it. He should’ve been the one to put it back on the table, but he wasn’t, and now you’re injured. He stretches his hand to grab a piece of sushi and puts it to your mouth. “Luffy I’m fu-mmphh”

“Get better.” He states and you chew it. It’s good, made by an excellent chef, but you really don’t want to eat more. Still, you can’t disobey your love so you swallow it. “.. ‘m sorry for dropping it.” Wow, he apologized. Maybe because you actually got hurt because of it. He sounds guilty too.

“It’s okay, the soup is good and I didn’t want you to miss it.” You tell him and go back to your hand. “I knew you’d love it.”

Thump thump

Luffy flinches and puts a hand on his heart, it feels weird again. He scratches at it as you sigh. You’ll have to go to Chopper but it’ll burn worse once you take your hand out of the water. Still, you take a deep breath and bite the bullet. “I’m gonna go to Chopper, enjoy the food!” You say quickly and hurry to leave the kitchen before the pain gets worse, not noticing the rubber man watching you every step of the way. Once you’re gone he shifts around uncomfortably. He did love the soup, you’re right. He loved it a lot, but now his chest feels weird. ..Maybe it’s just heartburn. Luffy gulps down a glass of water and gets back to eating, trying to ignore what’s happening. The food tastes duller.

Meanwhile

“Owww…” You’ve made it to Chopper and he’s started patching you up. The ointment being put on is good for you but it burns so bad. You have to grit your teeth when the reindeer gauzes up your hand after.

“You should’ve just let it fall!” He’s upset you hurt yourself over some soup. The doctor would get it if Luffy, maybe even Sanji, burned themselves to catch a pot of food; but not you! The door suddenly opens, it’s rubber boy. He’s holding fish cakes in his arms.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask him but he just takes a bite of the fishcake, chewing and swallowing before a content smile forms on his face.

“Tastes better!” He states happily, casually squeezing himself on your other side.

‘aaaaaaaaaa’ He leans against you. So close, basically on your lap. To be honest you're not complaining but why is he so close?

“Luffy be more careful! And don’t eat in here. You’ll get crumbs on the bed.” Chopper scolds him but the captain just rests his head on your arm, tilting it up to look at you with a small frown. Dammit, he’s too adorable. What’s worse is ever since you confessed you’ve become even more sensitive to his presence instead of less. There’s crumbs on his lips and he licks them to get it off.

“I don’t wanna, my food doesn’t taste as good without (Y/n).” He likes you!? Wait, that could just mean he doesn’t like eating alone, makes more sense. He continues to stare at you and puts a fishcake in his mouth. “Wanna shtay.” His face is so close, the other side of the fish cake is pressing against your lips and he’s only getting closer. It's not long before you have to open your mouth to avoid making a mess, biting into it as he looks into your eyes. Before anything else happens a small voice speaks.

“Um..” Chopper is still sitting there, now rather awkwardly. Even if he doesn't understand what you two are doing he does understand that you’re both getting crumbs on the bed.. and while ignoring him. Once you become aware of his presence you inhale and start to choke on the fishcake, pulling back to cough. It makes the reindeer panic as he turns into his human form to squeeze your stomach til you hack out a piece of fishcake onto the ground. Gross.

‘What a waste…’ Luffy stares at the discarded fishcake.

“Luffy don’t even think about eating that! And get out!” The doctor has had enough, picking the captain up and kicking him out of the office to tend to you properly. Once outside Luffy pops the rest of the fishcake in his mouth.

“Weird.” He doesn’t understand why he was getting so close to you. He just felt like it was right for some reason. In fact, he felt like the fishcake was in the way. That it was stopping him from looking at you properly. He wants to look at you more, see all of the expressions on your face. His mind wanders to the one where you look a little embarrassed. That one is his favorite. Yes, he needs to see that one more often.

Thump thump

This is taking more chapters than I thought.. hope you don't mind. At this point I don't actually know if this is going to be slow burn or average burn. I was planning on putting more romance into this chapter but it just felt.. wrong. So I scrapped and rewrote it. This isn't really my best work either. I feel like i could write this better, make the flow better, but I keep writing these when I'm tired and I'm too impatient to just wait to post it and proofread it again when I'm well rested. Sorry about that.

Next

[thegallavault]

currently locked in The Gallavault 🔒📚✨

HOOKING UP WITH FEELINGS by PEPPERMINTKATIE ↳ ↳ with cover art by LULUXA

Multi-Chapter | Rated: E | Word Count: 119K | Completed in: 2022

Mickey accidentally stayed the night after a failed hookup.

[ download from The Gallavault | leave love on AO3 | reblog the art on tumblr | follow the creators @peppermintkatie & @luluxa ]

[blaydie]

ᥫ᭡ FIRST ENCOUNTER — “I hope we can play again one day.” Growing up together — from childhood to adulthood. Sunday x GN reader series.

Word count: 2.8k

Contains: Fluff (lots and lots of fluff), first encounters, first friend (his), different backgrounds, growing up together (main stages of life—will progress over each post), lighthearted topics, lonely child Sunday + more!

Chapter: (1)

Starting school wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be. Like the adults in your life said—it’s only scary until you go in and experience it. You have to keep your head held high and believe in yourself, and that’s exactly what you did. To your relief, you made your first friend easily. She was a girl, a lot smaller in height than you. You found her outside of the classroom, hyperventilating while the teacher attempted to console her. Before you could step inside the room, the teacher pulled you aside. You were asked to keep her company since she was having a tough time settling in, and you did it in a heartbeat. 

Her name was Robin. The two of you became inseparable, always found sitting next to each other in every class. For the first time in your life, you were invited back to someone else’s home. After getting permission with some extensive begging, your parents eventually caved and drove you over to her house. You never shut up about her, and she never shut up about you. Both of your families had to endure the nonstop chatter about your best friend. 

When the car stops outside of their house, your breath is taken away by the sheer size. This is way bigger than your place! As soon as the car door opens, you sprint up the path and wait outside of their entryway, a giant smile plastered to your face. You wave behind you at your parents, watching as they get back in the car. They were so proud of you for stepping out of the comfort zone you stuck yourself to when you were younger. Before you started school, their main concern was that you’d have a hard time fitting in amongst the crowd. You didn’t particularly get along well with the children in your neighbourhood, but you didn’t tell your parents the reason why. Those kids were just too mean, nothing like Robin. 

Fiddling with your hands, you began to wonder if anyone was going to let you in. Just as you reach to press the doorbell, the door opens. A man towers over you, a somewhat surprised look on his face. He turns his head back to look in the house, his attention temporarily assigned elsewhere. That’s when you notice the younger boy clinging to his leg, his head tilted as he stares at you with curiosity. 

“Hello, little one. Are you Robin’s friend?” The man pushes the young boy aside, ruffling his hair before crouching down to be on your level.

“I am! We’re best friends.” You give him a cheesy grin, and his face softens. 

“Robin and her mom aren’t here right now. You can come in, it might be a little wait.” He steps out of the way, clearing entry for you.

“Okay! Thank you, sir.” You take your shoes off and wander into the house, taking a look around at the interior. 

Too preoccupied with being wowed by their house, you didn’t hear the conversation between Robin’s father and the young boy who appeared to be hiding from you. Letting out a sigh, Robin's father strolls back over to you, accidentally startling you by placing a hand on your shoulder.

“This is my little boy, Sunday. He’s Robin’s older brother.” His dad drags him forward by the arm, almost crashing your two tiny bodies to the floor.

“Hi…” Sunday speaks quietly, unable to look you in the face.

“Hi, Sunday.” You smile, your eyes drifting down to see him fidgeting with his hands in a similar way you do.

“Do you wanna play with my toys…?” Mustering all of his courage, he looks at you and waits for your answer. 

You stare at him, then up at his dad. You were supposed to be here for Robin, but no one gave you a time frame for how long she would be missing. Since you had nothing else to do, you nodded. Sunday’s father made a cheer noise before leaving you in the living room with the young boy. He had long hair, a similar bluish shade to his sister’s. The wings attached to his head flutter before he extends his hand out.

“Let’s go play.” He beams, accepting your hand that you stretched out to meet his. 

The two of you scurried upstairs, a half-sprint, half-walk, speed. Neither one of you was that fast, but there’s no rush. Family pictures decorated each space on the wall, ranging from baby pictures to wedding photos. It was nice to see how well everyone seemed to get along, it made you happy that Robin had a nice home to live in.

Sunday’s room was huge—even bigger than your parents’ bedroom. Your mouth dropped as you looked around at all his belongings, a wide collection of stuffed animals littered on his bed. You wanted to say something, but you couldn’t get any words out of your mouth.

“Um… Do you want to play with my teddies? You’re looking at them funny.” Sunday walks over to his bed, taking one of the stuffed animals into his arms.

“Sorry! I think they’re cute. We can play whatever you want!”

“I want to play with the teddies.” He mumbles, scooting over to make space for you on his bed.

“What are your teddies’ names?”

“Oh, I didn’t give them names. Am I supposed to?”

“It makes it more fun! Can I name them?”

“If you wanna.”

“My one is gonna be called Cuddles and your one can be Patchy.”

“Patchy…” Sunday looks down at his teddy, squeezing it tighter in his embrace.

“What job is Patchy gonna have? Cuddles is a teacher!”

“I want Patchy to be the president.”

“Wow, the president?”

“Yeah, I wanna be the president too when I’m older.”

“That’s so cool!”

“You think?”

“Yeah!”

Sunday’s cheeks grow warm from hearing your excitement. He stretches Patchy’s arms and makes it “hug” Cuddles.

“Do you go to my school?” You inquire. You’re sure Robin would’ve introduced you to her big brother by now. 

“I’m homeschooled.”

“You have school at home?”

“Kinda. My parents have a tutor that comes in and teaches me stuff.”

“Ohh.” You’ve never heard of homeschooling, but it piques your interest. “Do you have any friends from homeschool?”

“Not really.” He didn’t want to admit that he was the only one who attended the private tutoring sessions.

“Why don’t you come to school with me and Robin?”

“I like it at home.”

“That’s awesome!” You give him a thumbs up, continuing to delve into the roleplay you created in your mind.

After a while of having Cuddles teach Patchy some valuable life lessons, such as how to pour a glass of water without spilling it, you begin to wonder where Robin is. You’ve been here for at least an hour or two, but then again, you don’t know how to tell the time quite yet. Sunday’s eyes were sparkling as he watched you play—this was his first time playing with someone who wasn’t part of his family.

“Do you wanna be friends?” Sunday asks, his nose scrunched while he waits for the big news. His wings were completely still—it almost seemed like he was holding his breath.

“Of course I wanna be friends! You’re really fun and nice.” As you would with Robin, you lean forward and wrap your arms around him, feeling the flutter of his wings brushing against your cheeks. It tickled, and you began to giggle.

“Can I tell Dad?” There was nothing but joy in his voice when he broke free, springing to his feet straight away.

“If you want to!”

Bursting out of his room, Sunday runs down the hallway calling for his father. Met with urgency, he comes running at the call of his son, bumping into him before he can make it down the stairs.

“Dad!” Sunday exclaims, practically jumping in place with Patchy still in his hands.

“Is everything okay?”

“I have a friend!”

“Is that so? I’m glad, kid! Go on, go back to play.”

“Are you proud of me?”

“Very. Good job, Sunday.” Placing a kiss on Sunday’s forehead, his father pats his back before he dashes back off to his room. 

Sunday returns, stumbling over his own feet. He lands flat on the bed, chuckling to himself as you stare down at him. This was a big thing for Sunday, and you could tell that this friendship meant a lot to him. 

“Do you know when Robin is gonna be back?”

“She’s at singing practice with Mom. But it’s okay, we can play together.”

“Robin can sing?!” You gasp, clasping your hands together while Sunday nods.

“Yeah, she’s been going to those lessons since like, forever. She’s really good too!”

“Wow, you guys are so cool.”

“You’re way cooler.”

“Am not! You’re super smart and Robin can sing, I don’t really have anything like that.”

“You’re good at imagining things! I couldn’t even think of names for my teddies until you gave them some.”

“Is that cool?”

“I think it’s cool. I dunno how you do it so easily.”

You feel a surge of happiness wash over you, cuddling your knees to your chest. Sunday was so nice. Part of you wishes he could come to your school so you could all play together at recess, but Sunday seemed pretty adamant about liking his homeschooling. 

Time passes by quickly, you and Sunday continue to play with the teddies, having their identities expand rapidly. You yawn, rubbing your eyes and putting down Cuddles. Outside of Sunday’s window, you can see that the sun has started to set, and Robin still hasn’t made it back. You’re sad that she ditched you, but it wasn’t all bad with Sunday’s company.

“My parents are gonna be here to pick me up soon.”

“Already?” Sunday whines, his bottom lip flipping down. “Maybe I can ask Dad if it’s okay for you to stay for dinner.”

“Will I be allowed?”

“I think so. We have a lot of empty seats at the dinner table.” Sunday takes your hand, leading you towards the door. “Come on, let’s ask dad! Maybe if we add extra pleases it’ll work.”

Scurrying down the hall, you skip a few stairs as he drags you into the living area. You take a moment to catch your breath while he sprints off, heading straight towards where his father is sitting. Due to the distance, you can’t pick up on the conversation, but you see Sunday pointing at you with a pleading expression. Calling you over, you walk slowly towards to the two, still recollecting your breath.

“Sunday asked if you could stay for dinner. Is that what you’d like?”

“If it’s okay I’d like that a lot.” You put on your best smile, remembering what Sunday had mentioned. “Please.”

“What a well-mannered child! You didn’t need to ask so politely, but who am I to say no to a new friend? Do you have your parents’ phone number?”

“Um, I think I gave Robin a piece of paper with my family stuff on it. She said she gave it to her mom.”

“I know where it’ll be. Get comfy on the sofa, you two. I’ll call your parents and let them know to collect you after we eat.”

“Okay! Thank you, Sunday and Robin’s dad!”

Heading to the bigger sofa, you and Sunday climb on, legs dangling while the TV plays in the background. You were thrilled to see what they would have to offer since their house is so fancy, but you’re also worried in case the meal they serve isn’t to your liking. Either way, your parents taught you to eat what you’re given. Whether you like it or not will be kept to yourself. 

“I told you it’d work.” Sunday smiles subtly, kicking his feet which hover above the floor, not quite reaching it yet.

The two of you proceed to watch TV, a nature documentary which had been left running while his father made a call to your parents. After a few minutes pass, he returns and tells you both the good news, catching both of your faces ignite with thrill. It didn’t take long for the meal his father arranged to finish cooking, now scooping fair portion sizes onto three respective plates. The leftovers go back into the oven, keeping them warm for when Robin and her mother return from their outing together. 

Their dining room was grand. It’s the first time you’ve seen a chandelier hang over a dinner table in real life—you always thought it was something exclusive to the rich people in cartoons. It made you wonder if they were rich. They had so much more than you and the other kids in school did, but Robin never spoke much about home. If you lived here, you wouldn’t be able to keep quiet about all of the luxuries. They’re extremely lucky.

When you took your seat, your face contorted at the vast arrangement of cutlery in front of you. You were only used to the classics, unsure of why there were spoons of different sizes displayed neatly in front of you. Sunday pulls out the chair beside you and sits down, patiently awaiting permission to begin tucking in.

“Um… I think your dad gave me too many spoons…” You fidget with the spoons of different sizes, and his gaze drifts over to you. He seems perplexed by your statement. 

“Huh? You have everything you need.” 

“Why do I have two spoons?”

“This one is the main one you’ll eat with,” Sunday picks up the bigger spoon, then slides it over to you. “Use that one first.”

“What about the little spoon?”

“It’s the one you use for dessert.”

“Oh.” You nod your head, blissfully unaware of fine dining etiquette. “In my house, we use big spoons for everything.”

“Really?”

“Before we eat, it’s fair that we show our gratitude for receiving this meal.” Sunday’s father stands to his feet, followed by Sunday. Unsure of what to do, you remain gawking at the two until Sunday tugs you by the sleeve, encouraging you to stand too.

There was a moment of silence over the dining room until his father bowed, followed by Sunday, then you. A domino effect. Now that it had been announced that you could eat, you didn’t hesitate. You weren’t sure what the exact name of this dish was, but one thing is for sure—you devoured it. You could hear the small chuckle Sunday’s father attempted to suppress as he looked at you. It was embarrassing; you thought he would be mad at you, but he seemed to understand the circumstances. 

“If you’d like more, I can get you another serving.”

“It’s okay! Thank you. It’s sooo good! You’re super lucky, Sunday! Your dad is such a good cook.”

“Ah, I didn’t cook it. Our chef did. I’ll be sure to send your compliments later on.”

“You have a chef?!”

“We do indeed.”

“Wow! Like a private chef?! Do they make anything you want?”

“That’s the sole purpose of a chef’s career, dear.” Sunday’s father snickers, reaching for his glass of aged red wine. 

When everyone had finished their plate, a waiter appears from a door you hadn’t initially acknowledged and collects the dishes. Just seconds after, another appears with two bowls of dessert. Your eyes widen as you see the ice cream placed in between you and Sunday. It appears to be drenched in syrup and other toppings. 

“I figured that Sunday would like to share his dessert with his new friend. Is that okay with you both?” His father glances in your direction, watching the nods in unison.

Sunday didn’t seem to eat much, mainly scraping at the sides of the bowl. When you looked up at him, he was smiling to himself, pleasantly happy with the small serving he was given. 

It was about time that today came to an end. You walk towards their door with Sunday and his father following behind. Your parents had already rang the doorbell—now greeted face to face with them as you ran out. Sunday remains close to his father’s side, his cheek resting against his leg while he watches you. Your parents show their gratitude and encourage you to say your thanks and farewells. With a small pinch on his shoulder, Sunday speaks up.

“Bye, I hope we can play again one day.” There was a pout on his face—you swear you saw his lip wobble.

“I hope so too!” You give your final wave as your parents cart you back to the car, setting off as soon as everyone is buckled in.

Inside the house, Sunday sniffles and runs back upstairs, gently closing his room door over. Cuddles and Patchy remain sitting next to each other, and he begins to cry. Tears spill from his eyes at the thought he might not be able to play with you again. After all, you were Robin’s friend first. When Robin is home, you probably won’t even look his way if you come over. That doesn’t remove the memories he made with you from his head though, and he keeps his hope that one day the two of you will reunite and continue to construct Cuddles and Patchy’s future together. 

[spaghettixdemon]

J Stands for more words than one PT.1

“While introducing his new girlfriend to the team, JJ is automatically confronted with her feelings for Spencer when they begin to get in the way of things"

DISCLAIMER You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Minors do not interact. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read it.

Warnings: Drinking/Drunkenness, P in V, getting freaky in a car, fighting, slight mentions of death, Jealousy??

Pairing: Spencer Reid x F! Reader

Word Count: 1.3k

This was originally in my Google Doc but I seem to have lost access to it :( SO I am re-writing it! (I will definitely add more chapters bc omg this is long)

part 2 here | part 2.5 here | part 3 here

—————————————————————————————————

"Alright anndd finally done!" Emily turned to JJ, clapping her hands together and beaming. Today was a paperwork day, and everyone had been working until the late hours. "These reports are killing me...I've been on the same one the majority of the day..." JJ spoke to Emily with a sigh and a slight smirk playing on her lips. Yes, JJ had been stuck on the same case most of the day, but it wasn't just the amount of work, no. That wasn't the only reason her day was moving so slowly.

Right across from her desk, in perfect view, was Spencer Reid- their little resident genius. His legs were crossed in his office chair, his curly hair fell in front of his eyes, and his long, slender fingers traced down the written report, scanning every word and spreading it within seconds effortlessly. JJ had always been close with Spencer- because of their tight-knit team, their ages, and of course, the butterflies she would get around him. They were the two closets in age at the BAU, so maybe that was part of the reasoning behind her crush, but honestly, she just thought he was very attractive.

So earlier today, when Spencer was talking on his phone nonstop, JJ was confused. Spencer was not a fan of technology, thinking back on how it took Spencer literal years to finally sign up for an email address. So, whatever was keeping Spencer on speed dial on the other line clearly didn't bother him too much. JJ would sneak glances towards her coworker hourly, taking in his body language and how he seemed to be head over heels. He would fidget and spin in his office chair as someone talked to him, he had a faint blush on his cheeks, and a smile plastered on his face. In all actuality, she'd never seen Spencer look so dopey- maybe he truly was just happy right now, but the emotions on his face surprised her.

"Hey lover-boy, what's going on over here?" JJ shot her head down, burying her face in her work. It was Derek who popped the question already on JJ's mind. Derek crossed his arms and leaned against Spencer's desk as Spencer looked up at Derek. Rolling his eyes and hanging up the phone, Spencer set the phone down on his desk. "Was that a girl on the other end of the line? I don't think I've ever seen you so happy to pick up a call at work." Both men laughed as Spencer grew a little quiet, sheepishly shrugging. "I mean- yeah, actually, you're right for once." Spencer laughed as an expression of excitement and shock plastered onto Derek's. "Wow really?" He laughed, a little in disbelief "Congrats man! That's awesome!"

JJ watched as the two guys hugged and discussed Spencer's new girlfriend. Weirdly, JJ felt a pang in her chest of embarrassment...or more like frustration. Why? She wasn't sure. JJ could read anyone within minutes, but she could never read her own emotions that well.

-----------------------------------------------------

Days had passed, and work was pretty much back to normal. Normal meaning JJ wasn't constantly hearing about Spencer's new girlfriend, who he adored so much. It was cute, yeah, and she did feel happy for the man and his newfound love, but it would get pretty repetitive after a while. Derek and Penelope, in particular, would not let up on the subject. It was cute when Penelope giggled and twirled her hair when asking about this girl, but the way Spencer would drop information on her so easily was frustrating.

Penelope beamed, ecstatic over all this new news. Then, looking at Derek, she gasped and clapped her hands together. "You should bring her here! We could all meet her it would be so nice..!" Spencer looked a little uneasy. The few times his relationship did start getting this serious, work would interfere and often kill the relationship. Though, Derek backed up Penelope and agreed it would be fun.

"I don't know guys...That might be a little intense..." JJ heard this and thought over the idea in her head. Meeting the girl Spencer was so enamored by might be interesting...to say the least. She looked up and smiled at the three talking. "No Spence you should totally bring her in! I want to meet this girl!" Spencer gave JJ a hesitant look, visibly thinking over the interaction in his head. He slowly smiled and rolled his eyes, looking at the three before him. "Ok Ok..I'll bring up the idea and if she's cool with it, I'll bring her here next Friday"

Penelope and Derek cheered while JJ sat there, smiling quietly. She clapped her hands together and sighed "Amazing! I can't wait".

-----------------------------------------------------

The week that followed that conversation wasn't a pleasant one. The team had traveled out of state to work on a pretty gruesome case- Spencer, in particular, had a rough time during the case. He should be used to the horrible feelings that came with the job, but it was never really easy dealing with death so often.

The team had thankfully made it back to base Friday, and everyone was exhausted. They spent the day quietly filling out paperwork and trying to unwind as they worked into the early hours of the night. Around 7pm, Spencer got a call. JJ noticed this in particular because of how eager he was to answer the phone. A small smile appeared on his face, and the faint blush was back. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, hanging up the call with a simple goodbye.

Spencer looked around at his friends as the smile on his face grew. "My Girlfriend is apparently downstairs in the lobby! ...I was thinking of bringing her up is everyone ok with that?" The office was suddenly filled with energy again, and everyone seemed to wake up. JJ in particular, shot her head up and looked at Spencer, a little shocked. She had completely forgotten this would be happening...She made eye contact with Spencer and looked a little hesitant as she spoke up. "um...yeah that would be great..!"

"Yes, PLEASE bring her up! I need some fun to distract me from all this work." Penelope popped her head out of her office as she spoke to Spencer. Spencer looked a little confused by what JJ had said but smiled and nodded anyway. He slowly made his way towards the elevator, a bit of pep in his step.

-----------------------------------------------------

Everyone in the office had quickly wrapped up what they had been working on and made their way to the office cubicles to meet this girl Spencer was so into. Penelope pulled up a chair next to JJ and beamed. "Are you excited to meet her?" JJ...still felt very conflicted. Just earlier that week, when they had been solving the case, She was staying in the hotel room next to Spencer's. She thought about how she ran into him shirtless and wearing sweatpants. He apologized and made his way inside his room, but she felt so conflicted.

She wasn't upset that he was shirtless...definitely not...but something about getting caught off guard like that made her blush. She remembered the feeble nerd she used to work with. He was in his mid-twenties and looked so new to the BAU world. Now, the man she saw earlier that week and today was a bit different. He had toughened up more and was a bit more muscular- not to a Derek level, but he definitely wasn't feeble anymore.

"Something like that" JJ mumbled to Penelope, a faint blush on her face. Penelope was about to question JJ, just as an elevator 'dinging' noise saved her. Everyone's attention was on the elevator and who was inside.

-----------------------------------------------------

[consultingskeletondetective]

Virginal, chapter 1

Michael accidentally discovers his dick while he's trying to kill you, and then he comes back for more.

Or: you awaken something animalistic and sexual in Michael Myers, and he cannot resist you in any way. You just hope you survive it.

masterlist ❤️🖤 ao3

chapter tags: serial killer, death, violence, blood, gore, weapons, knife, non con, female reader, rutting, forced orgasms

You didn't even know why you were running, not really. You could hear the heavy thud of his booted footsteps echoing almost cruelly in your ear. It was a cosmic joke, that no matter how fast you scrambled, Michael would always catch you, leisurely following behind as if your blood on his knife was a certainty he was merely playing into. 

Still you ran, into the pitch of night, darting between trees and praying to something that you didn't smack face first into one you couldn't see in the hellish gloom. You hear his breathing, amplified by the mask that hides his face from the world, as if it's ghosting over the flesh of your neck and leaving goosebumps there. 

You wail, low and stupid, as fear carries you, your trainers crunching loudly on every twig and leaf on the floor as if screaming 'follow me! find me!' and he does. 

Large thick fingers curl around the back of your neck like a solid brick and you squeak, terrified, as you're held immobile by Michael's gargantuan hand. Your fingers scrabble back, both of your hands barely able to close around his wrist, boiling hot and solid, as you try and tug him from you like you're batting uselessly at a statue. 

"Please - Michael - please don't do this, you don't have to - I don't…" 

You hear his breathing in your ear, the rubber of his mask against your cheek and you freeze, paralysed, as everything goes silent. 

In a rush of air you're swooped forward, pushed, until your forehead is richoteing off of a tree directly in front of you. You wail low in your throat as pain spirals out onto your face and down your neck, blood dribbling down your nose and into your mouth. You have no time to do anything else as you're yanked back, your body bowed against his, you can feel every hard line of his hulking form through his boiler suit, the small of your back only connecting with his thighs and you scream - expecting to be thrust forward again into the tree, expecting this to be the blow that kills you. Everything goes quiet again. Eerily quiet. 

Michael doesn't move you, his fingers still firm on the back of your neck, he keeps you tucked snug against him for minutes as if he was thinking. 

You're too scared to think, until your brain onlines from the pain and fear and you try again to scrabble your nails across his wrist, to wriggle your small body free and break his hold. His free hand comes sharply down, resting heavy and dangerous on your hip, you freeze again. His message is clear. Stop struggling.

His fingers curl dangerously around your hip, pinning you immobile against him, and your heartbeat is erratic in your chest. Why is he taking his time with you? Why doesn't he just end this? What's he going to do? Choke you? Shatter your pelvis with the barest flex of his fingers?

Moments pass, his grip on your hip tightens and he pulls you back into him, you scream, short and shocked, as he - he wriggles you against him, pulls you in tight to his hot heat, his thighs framing yours, large and muscular and intimidating and - and - is this fucker hard?

Your breath comes out in a stuttered exhale as you feel the unmistakable drag of Michael Myers' erect cock over the small of your back, just above the cleft in your ass. He's utterly silent still, except for that breathing, that hasn't changed pitch or volume, but you can somehow tell he's thinking, calculating, only if in the slowness of his movements. His hands on you are not gentle, you can feel bruises blossoming beneath his fingertips, but you're not dead. 

You'd never heard those kind of stories about Michael Myers before, as far as you knew he was pretty much sexless, either killing or comatose. You'd never heard even a single rumour that he got off on killing. It only served to increase your fear, making your death that much worse. He moved again, hips pistoning slowly until you feel his cock jam against the cleft of your ass and a sharp exhale leaves Michael's mask and he stills to a statue. Except his cock, his cock, twitches against your ass and you tremble violently. You're utterly defenceless and vulnerable, trapped in the arms of a brutal subhuman killing machine as he rubs his thick arousal against your defenceless, weak body. 

Something dribbles traitorously in your underwear. 

You feel it then, tears, hot and thick as the blood drying in rivulets down your face and you sob openly. You didn't want Michael Myers to fuck you, or kill you, so why were you clenching so hard? The white hot fear in you was making you crazy. The waiting, it was torture, you couldn't stand it - you were close to begging, but for what? For what? 

The hand on the back of your neck was gone, and your head snapped forward, tendons in your neck springing back to life painfully and you sucked in air through your scream-damaged throat. Then pain was shooting through your spine as something metal and sharp sliced down the skin of your back, nicking the tops of your trousers and the hands on you were gone completely as Michael seized the frayed edges of your slashed waistband, the muted rip of fabric being torn apart in his bare hands loud in the silent woods as he tore your jeans down to your thighs, leaving you exposed from the waist down in nothing but your panties. 

"No, no, no, Michael, please don't do this, you don't have to do this - I'm begging you -" 

He doesn't listen, maybe doesn't even hear you, as you hear the drag of teeth as he pulls his zip down and then there's nothing in the air but your twin breathing, Michael's measured and heavy, yours panicked and trembling. 

The hot weight of his stiff cock presses between your thighs, slippery with blood that had been dribbling down from your ruined back, and a burst of breath comes from his nostrils like a wild bull as he bucks into you, fucking the slick coppery cleft of your thighs, his gargantuan hands coming to rest on your hips, pushing your legs together to give him something tight and motionless to fuck into. 

You honestly don't know how to react, each one of his tight pistoning thrusts is hard enough to shake every bone in your body, and you can feel each ridge, each thick vein of what you can only imagine is an immense cock to match this immense man. You shake violently as he uses you, the sharp snap of his hips the only indication of what he's doing, his entire body is still, his breathing unaffected, the rubber of his mask brushing the back of your neck a constant reminder of how close he is to you, how fucked you were, figuratively and literally. 

You don't have time to wonder why he's doing this, to humiliate you? To get off without having to fuck you? Because his thrusts speed up, the height difference between you enough that he's lifting you off your feet with every upward brutal shift of his hips, and enough that he's jamming his thick cockhead, weeping with precome and slathering you as thick as the blood between you, against your clit with each thrust. 

The pleasure is sudden and all-consuming, the repeated rough treatment of your poor clit nothing you've ever experienced before, it's painful having your sensitive nub rubbed like this, merciless and uncaring, igniting waves of pleasure in you you didn't even know you could achieve. Your core feels violently hot, your thighs squeezing Michael's length of your own volition and he likes that, he must do, because he squeezes your thighs in response, whole body tensing, and it's the first time you've managed to communicate with the murderer in any way. 

You realise, with dizzying, bone-shaking horrific delight that you're going to come, his cock is too hard and unyielding against your clit. Your knees lift all by themselves, your thighs tense and shake as your vision blacks and you all but collapse back against Michael's body as pleasure ignites every one of your nerve endings. He doesn't stop fucking you through it, stringing out your orgasm until you're a jolting, trembling, mewing mess, every muscle twitching as you soak his cock with more than just your blood. Your cheeks are scarlet, your body alive and thrumming with fear and pain and you think your orgasm has hurtled you off into another realm. 

Your hands scrabble back to grab at him, seizing fistfuls of his boiler suit if only to anchor yourself as you babble. 

"Michael, Michael, Michael -" 

He stills completely, jammed right against your weeping cunt as you feel his cock pulsing, and suddenly your clothed and dripping seam is flooded with hot wet seed. He doesn't make a single sound, except for the flexing of his fingers on your bruised and wrecked thighs, he might as well be made of stone. 

You're trembling, you can't do anything else, shrill little animal screams of pure emotion ripping themselves from your throat every now and again before he's stepping back, releasing you completely, and your ruined body hits the woodland floor like a ragdoll. You feel twigs snapping under you and you register somewhere in your brain that it probably hurts. 

You roll onto your back, the biting sting of the cut and the devastation to your mottled and purple thighs, the size and shape of Michael's hands, making you twitch in pain but it's worth it to look up at him. 

He's stood where he first caught you, huge and towering, the emotionless mask not even out of place on his face. The only indication of what just happened was the opened zip on his boiler suit and his cock, good fucking christ his cock, hanging heavy and hard and scarlet with blood and white with come, if it had been inside you it would have torn you apart, of that you're certain. 

You hazily register that you're going to die now, you've served your usefulness, Michael Myers' cooling come between your legs a testament to that. You know you should run, but your feel drugged somehow, fuck drunk, your brain supplies somewhat stupidly. How pathetic was that? How pathetic was it that arousal shot through you even now at the mere sight of this colossal beast standing in front of you? 

He doesn't look at you as he zips himself back up again, not bothering to wipe his cock as he does. He might be looking at you, you'll never know. But those blank eyes seem to be staring ahead as he bends and retrieves his knife, crusted in your blood just like his cock was. 

Lazily, your hands find purchase as you try and push yourself up, animal brain finally kicking in to tell you to move now, or you're going to die. A sharp incline of his head stills you, he's definitely looking at you now. His mask cocks, regarding you almost, and your heart stutters and stops. 

It barely begins beating again as he turns his hulking form around and disappears off into the trees. 

What, your brain tries, Where is he going?

There's nothing around you but trees, you hug the nearest one to you when you finally stand, seeing the outline of your own blood there in the dim moonlight. 

That shakes something in you, and you remember the pain in your forehead, concussed probably right? That's why you'd acted like such a maniac. Your whole body ached with pain and shock. 

But you were alive. 

Why?

link to chapter 2

[lilacxquartz]

A SIGHT FOR SORE EYES

part 1 of 3 • mahito x reader

summary: following an accident that destroyed your vision, you begin to suspect that your boyfriend, your caretaker, was actually replaced by an imposter.

tags/themes: body horror, psychological horror, reader insert, disturbing themes, dead dove, dark

ao3 • masterlist • more series • part 2 >

1. Fade Away

The accident itself came out of nowhere.

All you could remember was the squeal of the tires and the slamming force that threw you forward against the dashboard. The glass around you held for maybe a second before it collapsed and fell like sharp, near lethal snow.

Soon after, darkness followed, but not the slow pull of sleep or even death, but quite literally something pitch black and devoid of colour that crept into your vision, or lack of.

Before you knew it, the world was taken away from you and as was your remaining hope.

Essentially, you were left unable to see.

At least maybe temporarily, or so the doctors had otherwise claimed, feeding you a false sense of promise that the light could one day return. Days, maybe weeks all blurred together in perpetual darkness otherwise, so it didn’t take too long for your hope to fade.

The recommendation was to wear eyepatches over your eyes, or rather, a dual patch to both protect your eyes as they heal as well to hopefully make the gradual return of vision not feel so overwhelming.

You hated the things if you were honest; the very feel of them resting atop your eyes only served as a mocking reminder of just how easy it was to ruin the course of your life within mere seconds.

Your boyfriend however, as sweet as he was, tried to see you through it all. His calm and kind voice was the only consistent thing throughout your entire experience. He was always there to guide you when you couldn’t find your way—telling you it was all going to be okay—even if that word no longer made sense to you.

What was it… to be okay anymore?

Everyday, you looked forward to his calming voice and his gentle touch, except for when you didn’t; at least not anymore.

It was a subtle shift in the air, but something had changed.

When he walked into the room, something about his presence felt off. He greeted you the same way that he did before and the sound of his voice was familiar enough, but there was a different quality to it. It wasn’t wrong, at least not exactly, but something about the way he spoke had suddenly felt unnatural.

The way he touched you felt slightly… off, too. His touches were usually light against your skin; yet whoever this was, seemed to apply an uncomfortable amount of weight against you.

The scent in the room, the scent of his cologne that he wore was the exact same, although it was certainly faint, as though stale.

Maybe you were just going insane…?

It wasn’t that unlikely, you supposed. The trauma was life altering enough and after being in a loop of total darkness for the last couple of weeks, it was highly probable that the very last strings of your sanity were finally on their last threads. This whole thing was disorienting enough, since you essentially lost what you knew as the entire world in just a matter of minutes, so maybe it was the case of your senses being elevated a little too much.

It was a possibility, right?

Your mind was probably to blame, playing sneaky and cruel little tricks on you and feeding into the exhausting paranoia of losing one of your most vital senses.

The feeling however still persisted deep down. It was a creeping unease that would sink to the depths of your stomach and bubble away into poorly digested yet festering doubt every time he would reunite with you.

His laughter, while soft and familiar, now carried a hollow tone. His breath felt somehow hotter, his words felt almost… rehearsed. Your heightened remaining senses be damned; you knew it in the core of your very being that you weren’t crazy for picking up on such things.

It was the way his footsteps walked down a methodical path on his way to be with you. or how he hesitated to say your name, instead calling you sickly sweet nicknames that he had otherwise never before in his life used on you.

It was strange, but the company of someone you supposedly had loved for the last five years, had become almost foreign to you.

At one point, you reached for his hand while lying down next to him in bed and your fingers grazed against his, only for you to pull back away in an instant. His soft palms were now calloused and you could feel strange sorts of sutures line up his wrist in brushing retaliation.

You continued to try and drill in the idea that this had to have been all in your head out of desperate delusion, hoping, praying even, that it was the fault of the darkness for twisting everything into something so vile.

But still, that nagging feeling persisted. It wasn’t fear clouding your judgement; it was an innate warning to trust your gut to understand that something was actually terribly wrong.

You didn’t dare question him however, because after all, this person—whoever he actually was—was the only one who had fed you, bathed you and cared for you. How could it not be him? You kept telling yourself that it had to be because you were otherwise stumped on all other plausible explanations.

Whoever it was that tucked themselves away next to you in bed and idly traced haunting patterns in your skin was not the person you once knew.

It was absolutely, without a doubt, someone else.

Someone pretending to be him.

~~~

The doctors had been cautiously optimistic concerning your recovery; a phone call with the person who had initially treated you had revealed that while the accident had been devastating, your future might not be in ruins just yet. With time and provided that you were correctly taking the medicine that your boyfriend had been giving you, you should actually begin to heal.

There were signs to look out for in your returning vision; flickers of light, passing shadows and the like. They warned you that it might at times seem alarming, but it was all positive; a sign of healing, if you were lucky enough.

And much to your delight, you started to indeed notice hints of your vision returning after a while. Exercised moments without the eye patches would reveal partial sight in the form of colourful blurring patches manifesting within your view. It was something so little yet so hopeful, but you couldn’t help but cling to the fleeting glimpses of colour that painted your vision with almost elated anticipation.

Anything but constant darkness.

If you could at least see colour, even if it wasn’t so clear, then suddenly the future wasn’t as bleak as before.

Yet, every time you thought you were getting better, the progress would soon slip away every time he visited.

Just like the initial shift, it all started subtly. The brief casted moments of light would be stolen from you the second that he left the apartment, leaving you behind in a suddenly plunged black void and whenever you would mention this in a call to the doctors, they were simply perplexed. According to them, if you were seeing positive changes in your vision, then it should be improving—not deteriorating.

They told you that they would arrange for your partner to pick up a changed strain for the medication, hoping that an adjustment to your treatment should guide you in the correct direction.

But try as you might, the pattern continued to repeat itself, again and again.

You would heal and then the lights would go out.

You could have sworn that it was his doing somehow, even if the assigned blame was insane in its own right. With every touch from his tainted fingertips, he would somehow weaken you despite being otherwise gentle. It was so odd, because it was like he eluded poison from every stroke against the contours of your flesh.

You soon grew to fear contact with him as a result; dreading any sort of contact with the impostor who claimed to be your lover, lest he would damage you again. It was as though every time his fingertips brushed against your skin, he changed something about you and with every recurring visit, it only got worse.

You kept trying to talk to him about it, hoping that his once warm personality would return and tell you that you were wrong about your assumptions but you never got such comfort.

Again and again, you would ask him something of the same sort of variation, “I’m getting worse, aren’t I?”

But there would be no comfort that followed.

“Don’t be silly,” he would often taunt, almost, his words always so playful as they flicked off of his tongue with hidden venom. “Why would you feel worse, huh? That’s so funny to me, because you shouldn’t. I’m taking such good care of you, silly. You should be feeling better.”

His voice was soft when he spoke too, like smooth dripping honey against your weary ears. “Maybe you’ve got it all wrong, even. You’re feeling worse from me not being around. Don’t worry though, I’ll keep you running, safe and sound.”

His words were now more erratic, almost playful. He no longer carried the same patterns that your partner once did with his speech. You wanted nothing more than to pull away from this monster—because that’s what he must have been—to escape from him, to scream at him to leave you alone because how dare he pretend to be someone you loved?

And yet you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

Instead, you did nothing, resigning yourself to just sitting there, laying there as he would continue to purr falsely planted reassurances into your ears with promises that you prayed that he would not keep.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere,” he would say, “I’ll be right here, always. Watching every last bit of you unravel—I mean heal. We’re in this together, right? I’ll stay with you until there’s nothing left—I mean, until you’re fixed right up.”

You could only sigh and endure, the ache behind your eyes getting gradually worse, as if something was pushing and pulling inside of your skull somehow; messing around internally, poking and prodding in places that should have remained untouched.

It didn’t take long for your body to feel wrong, like it wasn’t put together correctly anymore.

Like it didn’t belong to you anymore.

You could have sworn that your skull was contorting under your skin, slowly twisting and waning through whatever pressure his passing touch would apply.

Sometimes, late at night (or what you assumed to be night), you would lie awake and feel things moving inside of you; slowly, and deliberately—as though something was crawling beneath your flesh.

And all you could do was just sit there.

Broken, blind and waiting for the next visit.

For the next time that this thing wearing your boyfriend’s persona would return and wrap its hands around your body once again, uttering sweet little lies while tearing you apart from the inside.

“It’s all gonna be okay,” he would murmur or rather, mock, “I’m here for you, after all.”

But it wasn’t going to be okay.

That much you did know.

In fact, you had a very good idea that nothing was ever going to be okay ever again.

[bettystonewell]

TO YOU I BELONG: CHAPTER 7

Series Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Summary: Dean isn't looking for a mate, and the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain't real. He still has free will, and saving you is just another part of the job. Except, monsters aren't the only things you need saving from... 18+ only MDNI

Chapter Word Count: 6.7k words

Chapter Warnings: SMUT including knotting, claiming, and marking; language, references to past sexual abuse, fluff, Dean being an overprotective alpha, soulmate bonding

A/N: *Holdsbreathandhitspost*

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over, arms leaning on his thighs, Dean twisted the small pill bottle in his hands, listening as each tablet fell to the bottom. There weren’t many, six at most, and they rattled around in there, waiting for him to open the lid and take one out. 

Or man up and throw them in the trash like he’d planned.

The problem was, he knew how his body would react to not taking the daily suppressant. He’d experienced it before. And if his inner alpha was overprotective of you now, it was about to turn into a possessive dick the second the drug’s effects wore off in T minus twenty-four hours, if he…

No. 

Not if. 

He was doing this. He was gonna claim you and make you his.

Which is why even though the trashcan was only three feet in front of him, he still sat there unmoving from the memory-foam cushioning his ass…

Fuck. Why was this so hard? 

He put the pills down on his bedside table and leant back into the mattress, fishing his phone out from his jean pocket. The denim hugging his hips was too tight, and he had to lift himself up a few inches to yank the device free, unlocking it with a couple of taps and a swipe up.

His fingers continued to work the touch screen, locating contacts, flicking down to the letter J, and hitting the green call button. At least there was one thing he wasn’t hesitating over.

He heard the click and a familiar voice fondly speak his name before he’d even brought it up to his ear. 

“Dean Winchester.”

“Hey, Jody. How’s it going?” Dean stood up off the bed and moved to the closet. 

“Good. Although I’m a little surprised to hear you ask me that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” The door creaked in protest, as did his back, though it cracked more than creaked when he arched over to reach his green duffle he’d thrown on the floor after the hunt in Iowa. The couple of weapons he hadn’t bothered to put away hit against each other as the bag swayed and gravity played with their weight.

“Just that you don’t call me unless you need something or someone’s dead. Oh god. Is Sam okay? What have you boys gotten into now?”

“Alright, first off, that’s insulting.” He emptied the contents onto the bed, pulling out a shirt that had wound its way around his shotgun. “And second.” He brought the fabric up to his nose for a sniff test. It needed washing, or burning with added salt. The remnants of nameless monster guts clung to the collar, and he didn’t hesitate to throw it out. Those pills though... “Everything’s fine. Sammy’s alive last time I checked.

“I wanted to know how you were. What’s wrong with that?” He caught the phone between his neck and shoulder, freeing his hands up to open the chamber of his prized weapon. The racking was rather loud when he closed it back again, and he grimaced. Jody was going to notice that.

“Nothing,” she said. “But that’s not why you’re calling.”

Why did he attract people who could see right through him? “Well, ah, to be honest, I need a favour.” He took a long breath in, preparing himself to deliver his news. “I met my soulmate and—”

“What?” Her high-pitched squeal had him dropping his shoulder and her. “Are you sure?”

Seriously! It’s like she was trying to cut him deep. “What do you mean, am I sure? I know my own damn initials,” he shouted down at his phone. Luckily, it had only landed on the bed. He did not have the patience or time to get a new one.

He ditched the shotgun and picked up Jody, bringing her back to his ear. 

“So you’re no longer running solo, huh? Finally claimed someone! What are they? An omega, a beta? Or another alpha like you?” She chuckled. “I’d love to see that.”

‘Bitch.’

‘Dude. This is Jody.’

‘She’s insulting our mate.’

‘No, she’s insulting you, you dick.’

“Ah, an omega, and I haven’t claimed her yet,” Dean said, cringing when his inner alpha interrupted him again. His eyes searched for the pill bottle and gave it a once over. No, no. This was gonna be hell, but he’d grin and bear it. “That’s why I was calling—”

It was mid-afternoon when he pulled up in the expansive car park the next day. Dean had chosen a space at the back of the lot, leaving at least two free ones in between the Impala, and nowhere near the return bays. The last thing he needed was some asshole being careless with their cart and scratching Baby’s sleek paint job.

He shifted the stick into P, shut her engine off, and released a loud, drawn-out sigh, before turning to you and your smiling face. It was the only thing making the inevitable onslaught of other people and his first ever venture into Walmart worthwhile. 

If he had his way, you’d be sitting out front of a secluded Gas n Sip. There was nothing wrong with gas station snacks and take out. At least that’s the argument he’d used against you. Needless to say, he’d failed. You had the doe-eyed look down pat and gave even Sammy a run for his money.

The leather squeaked beneath him as he reached over you and opened the glove box. He dug through the fake IDs and old maps that had no hope of leaving the small compartment anytime soon and retrieved his 1911, tucking it into the waistband of his pants like usual. When he sat back up, he found you staring at him in disbelief. “What?” he asked.

“You’re taking that?”

His jaw tightened. “I always carry it with me. You know that.”

“Yeah, but…we’re getting groceries. What are you expecting to happen in a grocery store?”

“Nothing.” Try everything. “But you can never be too careful.” Wolves like Garth had to buy their raw steaks from somewhere. Not that the ordinary bullets he’d pre-loaded into the gun would kill anything other than a human. They’d slow the rest down, though. That was enough for him, and he’d keep telling himself that.

“Let’s get this over with,” he grumbled, searching for the door handle.

Before he could squeeze his fingers against the cool metal, however, you had reached for his right and tugged at his arm. “You can wait here if you don’t want to go inside. I’m happy to—”

“Nope.” He gave one very forceful shake of his head. “Absolutely not.” There was no way he was letting you out of his sight with your impending heat. Screw his rut. 

Your pheromones had been changing by the hour, making you smell the sweetest and most enticing you’d ever been. His inner alpha was driving him crazy, and had done the entire drive, chanting, ‘Mine,’ ‘My omega,’ and now it told him to ‘Bring the machete.’ 

If only he could. 

‘I can’t hide a blade that big under my clothes,’ he reasoned. Although the demon knife wouldn’t hurt. It was a shame opening the trunk, with the devil’s trap on display in a place like this was bound to raise a few eyebrows. He did not want to draw any more attention to you.

Fuck. This was gonna be worse than hell. The rearview mirror was full of bodies and cars coming and going, and that was just the outside of the gigantic building. 

Who knew how many more people were still inside? Plenty by the stench of it.

It was too late to change his mind, though. He looked at you, holding your purse all ready to go on your lap. Frowning when it finally dawned on him that of all the things you had to wear today, you’d chosen a dress that accentuated your curves. 

He’d appreciated the view at lunch, but that was at a small town diner, somewhere off of route eighty-one. Now it was a different story, but you were clearly excited and while he didn’t for the life of him know why, he couldn’t just demand you waited here instead. That was as bad as you going in alone.

“C’mon,” he said, and climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind him with the usual creak and groan.

Dean would rather chow down on burgers than run for ‘fun’ like Sam. He wasn’t afraid to admit it. But on that day, in the middle of the Sioux Falls Walmart’s parking lot, he jogged even though he wasn’t being chased for the first time in his adult life, scooting across the gravel to intercept you before you crossed the safety of the meaningless lines.

Your eyes traced over him, studying him with a wry smile, your scent spiking along with it, as did his interest.

He could hear your heartbeat if he listened carefully. It thrummed in his ears as quick as his was, but unlike him, you seemed to contain it well. 

“Just think of it this way.” You patted his chest. “The more we buy, the longer we won’t have to leave Jody’s cabin.”

Now that was something he could get on board with, and though he thought it impossible in a place like this, his own mouth grew wide, drawing his blood back up and away from the conspicuous semi he was sporting.

The change didn’t last long.

“Woah.” He gripped your hand tighter and yanked it, making you stop. That fucking douche in the station wagon had come way too close to the curb for his liking. “Watch where you’re going, jackass!” he spat. His head following the rear bumper, oblivious to the other “dangers” the car park held.

‘She was almost hit.’

‘She’s fine.’ 

Your thumb moved to stroke the tops of his knuckles. “It was nowhere near us, Alpha.”

He turned to you with a furrowed brow at first, only picking up on your discomfort from his death grip when your other fingers started squirming under his. “Sorry, sweetheart,” he said.

Your arm retreated with a shake of your wrist and he went for your lower back instead, guiding you with a gentle nudge and an extra look left for any more assholes who didn’t know how to drive.

The automatic doors opened as you both stepped onto the oversized mats and Dean beelined for the shopping carts grouped together on the side. Naturally, he needed to push yours. He’d be a purse-bitch if he had to, too. Anything to stop himself from acting rash and ripping your arm off again.

He let go of you, and yanked one out, swinging the steel trolley around with ease as if he were figure skating with it and reached for your waist when he had the thing facing in the direction of a second set of automated doors. The place was like airport security. 

“Are they gonna let us leave when we’re done?” he whispered to you.

“Not if you break something with that.” Your hand came up to his shoulder and tugged on his flannel, veering to the right while pointing to a large sign that said fresh produce. “Come on. I wanna go here first”

Great. Vegetables. Not to mention the abundance of people wandering around there and the just as many aisles and fruit he’d never seen before.

How many apples did you need?

Because you passed by red and green ones, mountains of them, and even then, they were apparently all different. Grandmas. Mount Fuji’s. What the hell did golden delicious mean and would it go into a pie?

You stepped away from him to look at a display that was labelled Pink.

They weren’t like any ladies he’d ever seen. The colour didn’t come close to anyone’s, including yours.

In each subsequent aisle after, Dean was both awestruck and dumbstruck at the amount of variety the place had. 

You led him past an entire rack of peanut butter, through a row of refrigerators that had him breathing out cold air from his nose, and he was still in doubt over what was in those cans that claimed to have a whole chicken in them. He was thankful you hadn’t stopped there to find out.  

Soon enough though, your cart filled up to the point he found himself playing Tetris with its contents after discovering Walmart also sold booze. 

Even if he didn’t drink it all on account of his rut, the case of his favourite beer he’d selected was coming with you and he was determined to make it work, with only a single banana being harmed in the process as he rearranged it all for a third time. He ditched the fruit on a shelf displaying margarita mixes and the two of you headed for the cashiers, his arm still wrapped around your waist.

He’d become a pro at steering the metal cage, though honestly, he could drive anything, and he was proud to say, you could leave the store as he’d had no accidents and no alpha had been harmed for looking at you.

Yet.

“Are you sure we need all this stuff?” he asked as you passed another couple with only half the things you had.

“This coming from the guy who had two slices of pie on top of his burger at lunch?” 

Point taken, he supposed, but you’d eaten just as much. You’d had more than him, come to think of it. Lunch, breakfast, the night before. So when you patted his stomach, and he looked down at you grinning at him, he couldn’t help but return a knowing smile.

“You’ll thank me later,” you said.

He knew he would. In more ways than one. 

Still on your way to the front, you passed the nesting department located opposite the cash registers. Of course, it was just another convenient ploy to gain some extra impulse buys from naïve omegas who hadn’t realised they needed that new blanket or another stuffy until they saw the giant pile of fluff.

To Dean’s distaste, you were also won over by the gimmick and he was pulled along for the ride. 

Yes, he was annoyed. He wanted to get you home, maybe taste your pink lady before things really started, and definitely not add more crap to your cart. But he couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your hands glide over every piece of fabric that piqued your fancy. 

Your fingers preened the threads. They stroked the tassels and the weird little fuzzy balls that stuck out like skin tags on an old person. Everything was falling into place, and he pushed all his grumbles aside.

Soon. Tomorrow at the latest, you would be his officially.

But while your inner omega delved into the world of fuzz and all things fluffy and he stood back contented with watching you, an elderly alpha whose back would snap if the wind blew at him too hard was also eyeing you as you picked up a certain colourful blanket that looked very familiar to Dean. 

The fucking perv was hanging around, preying on omegas such as you. He had to be. And he had the nerve to walk up to you and ask your opinions on the thing, as if he was interested in buying one. 

You humoured him, but Dean? He saw right through him.

So did the dick in his head. It was sending messages to his pants and his fingers flexed over the plastic handle of your cart, pulling his knuckles in and out of focus under his taut skin.

“I’ve had this before, but I used it in the living room when I wasn’t nesting too,” you said. “I find it holds scents better—”

As the old guy’s arm reached over to touch the blanket you were holding, Dean stepped in. That was too close for his liking and his inner alpha snarled, “She’s mine,” leading to the more sane version of himself, regretting not bringing the cart closer so he could push him with it. The floor was waxed enough for the wheels to slip and be blamed for any accident.

“This is your alpha?” the Master Roshi wannabe asked, looking Dean up and down. “But you haven’t—”

“Your nose works just fine, asshole,” Dean said through his teeth. “We’re here to get supplies for it, so fuck off.”

Dean turned his back on him and focused on you. His blood was boiling and had he been anywhere else, and that dick been any younger, he would’ve clipped him one. 

As it was, he could feel the old guy still hanging behind him and he dared not turn around for fear of really doing something.

He took the blanket you were holding from your hands and inspected it before placing it on the edge of the pile. It wouldn’t do now that he’d put his mitts on it.

Your mouth opened, about to protest, but Dean flashed you a grin, picked up another that he pulled from the very centre. “It holds people’s scents, yeah?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

“Then this is the one. Only touched you and me,” he said.

He was about to place the bundle on your piled shopping cart when he saw you pout. His hesitation, giving you the chance to pluck it out of his hands and into your arms where it stayed as he paid and drove, taking you to your final destination. A little cabin about thirty minutes north of the small city.

The first thing Dean noticed when he opened the door to Jody’s cabin was the pungent smell. “Is that…lavender?” he asked. His arm balancing the precious case of beer he’d found at Walmart.

“I’m surprised you know what it is.” You chuckled.

So did he, but it wasn’t like he selected the shampoo Sam bought. He just used whatever was on the shower shelf at the time and now recognised the word along with the purple packaging that meant the same flavour old folks and museums liked to spray in their bathrooms was contained inside. 

This didn’t suit Jody, though. She was a badass, and sure she enjoyed chick flicks and bubble baths (he assumed, because who didn’t), but… “She’s too young for this crap,” he muttered as he ran his free hand over the wall, searching for the light switch. 

At first, nothing besides the place smelling like grandma seemed out of the ordinary, but as he readjusted his load and stretched his bow legs over the threshold, it wasn’t the moaning of the floorboards underneath him from the weight of the glass bottles and their contents that caught his attention. It was the spots of something on the floor further inside.

Blood is what his mind went to. What else would a hunter with his skills think? 

Jody had become rather renowned for her side profession and could’ve pissed off a few dicks. Plus, this far into the woods would be an ideal location for wolves or even a nest to squat, and this town had seen its fair share. 

Of course, that wouldn’t explain the stench, or the fact she’d left the key for him under the mat and would’ve noticed something was amiss already, so unless whatever potential threat who was presumably squatting liked pot-pourri and hoodoo, it was a far stretch. 

Then again, witches? Maybe. But also, fuck, not again. Especially when he was this close to going into rut.

Dean looked over his shoulder and, “Wait here,” he said, moving only when your head acknowledged the instruction. 

Those same bow legs carried him down the wide hallway, his free arm kept right next to his side, ready and waiting to draw his gun. If it came down to it, he’d risk the booze, but he soon realised he didn’t have to. Whatever was scattered on the floor cast shadows over the wood grain and smelt just as nasty as the lavender.

The light from the entry wasn’t enough to see clearly even with his keen eyesight, so he lunged the case onto the small dining table with a thump and a tinkling from the glass and searched for another light switch.

Click.

The exposed bulb overhead flickered on, and Dean’s eyes went straight to the ground to be met with… petals? Red ones? 

Huh.

“S’okay, sweetheart. You can come in now. It’s just a bunch of flowers.”

Your steps across the floorboards barely made a noise over the crinkle of plastic from the shopping bags you carried. 

Dean strode over to you, pried the handles from your fingers, and lifted them up beside the casing of beer.

“Flowers and wine,” you said, and Dean flicked his head in the direction you were now headed.

On a small coffee table in the centre of a brilliant brick fireplace and a couple of old couches, two bottles of the stuff and what looked like a card had been placed. 

You picked the piece of folded paper up and read it aloud. “Congratulations, and enjoy your time alone together, J.” You handed the note to him as he approached with a sly smile. “We should buy her a gift before we leave town as a thankyou.” 

“More shopping? We got all that stuff so we wouldn’t have to go anywhere.”

While he was snarking, he scoped out your home for the next week, maybe two, noting the floofy pillows that would suit your needs for a few scenarios. 

“Later. Not now,” you said, and his arm pulled you close, wrapping tightly around your waist.

“It’s a nice idea.” The other scooped between you and shucked up your dress. “Enough about Jody. How’re ya feeling?” he asked against your mating gland, inhaling your scent. Sweet apple, spicy cinnamon, and a touch of whisky nipped at the edge of his throat. “Any changes?” 

Dick’s marks had completely gone. As had any traces of what he’d done to you and Dean was met with options. The right side, or the left for his claim. Maybe even both.

You leaned back with a quirked brow as his fingers ran over your underwear. “Not yet.”

“But you’re wet.” He brought you closer. You weren’t the only one excited. He found the elastic of your panties and slipped inside, skimming through your folds and your warm channel.

“Shouldn’t we get the groceries,” you said, but there was a hitch in your voice at the end when he dipped his middle finger further again.

“Can wait.” He breathed into your ear, pulling you closer to the fireplace and his lap on the couch.

Soon one touch led to another, and despite the many things that still needed to be done around the place before you settled in for the night, they were long forgotten, along with the rest of your groceries in the Impala. It was cold enough out in the woods that an hour wouldn’t hurt, and he would deal with the sigils and logs for a fire later. 

Dean wasted no more time sinking into you, meeting each rock of your hips for a thrust on the worn sofa by the fireplace, clothes still on. 

Best. Decision. Ever.

Even though the wooden frame creaked under your weight and he felt the need to plant his boots firmly into the shaggy rug beneath them to keep the thing upright.

His hands snuck up your dress and cast aside the cups of your bra to knead your slick covered tits. Your panties, pulled to the side, created an extra layer of friction as the elastic caught on his growing knot. 

An ever better decision than he thought, and he sat back, enjoying the show and the little gasps of pleasure you gave him when your clit hit his pubic bone at the perfect angle and ground against it.

“Dean, fuck.” Your hips buckled with one forceful slam.

“Feel good, baby?” He knew you were close. Your muscles fluttering around him and the fresh wave of your juices coating his twitching balls kinda gave it away. “You gonna come on my cock? Let me knot you?”

You were too lost in the moment to answer him. He didn’t care. He revelled in your grinding, how you were growing desperate, and by the way your eyes sparkled when he spoke of his knot.

“Alpha. Need your—” But you didn’t finish your sentence because your body finished on him. 

The climax ripped through you, drawing tremors from your legs, tickling his thighs and lower stomach. 

His hands took yours and pulled them to his neck, soothing your taut arms from your wrists to shoulders, grounding himself in the process. 

His balls were heavy, his sack on fire. Your cunt had sucked his knot inside and the pulses and trickles of your release had his instincts screaming to plough into you. But he wouldn’t. Not yet.

When his fingers moved to your hips and raised them up so that only the tip penetrated your core, your forehead dropped to his. Sweat mixing with sweat. Panted breaths warming his cheeks and lips. 

“Think you can give me one more?” he rasped.

Your laugh was airy. It came out as a shudder. Your skull rocked against his as you shook your head with it, and your hair tangled into his short brown tufts.

“Yeah, you can.” His eyes stared into yours, bouncing emerald green off of the pearly white that surrounded your own vibrant irises. 

His hand moved to stroke your clit with the rough pad of his thumb. 

“Fuck,” you whimpered, and Dean’s chest swelled with pride. 

“Yeah?” he asked with an air of confidence and pressed harder over the sensitive nub.

Your walls clamped around him again, just as he’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you cried.

As much as he loved the idea of you begging him for it, the pressure down below was reaching boiling point, and he knew a couple of thrusts would do it for him. 

He lifted his ass off the cushion, and sunk halfway into you, tipping the sofa by the weight of his shoulders alone. His fingers on your hip gripped tighter, bruising the flesh below, as he steadied himself and in one fluid motion slammed you and him back down into the seat.

The furniture groaned in protest. 

Your moan was more of a high-pitched cry, and when he raised you up and down again and again in a vicious pace, and his thumb continued to press into your overstimulated clit, it turned into the best version of his name he’d ever heard.

“Omega,” he grunted. 

Your pussy was an inferno. That heat, the friction from your panties and your folds rubbing against him, and the vice-like crush from your inner walls on his shaft soon had him seeing white behind the eyes, leaving his other senses to pick up the slack. He felt each drop of blood pump through his body, from his ears to his knot. 

When it popped and thick, creamy waves of his release flooded your insides, dousing the flames, he swooped in for a searing kiss. 

Your lips were tart and sweet. If he didn’t know better, he’d say you’d been sipping that wine already or chowing down on strawberries, but he’d sat across from you at every meal that day and watched you like a hawk at Walmart so he knew exactly what you’d done and eaten. “Tell me that’s your heat coming on,” he said when he slumped backwards to look at you. 

“Likewise.” Your fingers twisted through his hair. “You feel warm, Alpha.” 

Dean’s boyish chuckle was breathy. “Sweetheart. It’s a house fire down there and that ain’t on me. I already tried putting it out.” 

You didn’t let him down. Your snort was adorable, and he gave you his best cheesy grin in return. 

His inner alpha was not so light-hearted, however, and even after it had gotten its fix and his knot was still very much stuck inside of you, it continued to grumble in the far reaches of his mind, wanting more.

The chant that he should claim you was growing old. He fucking knew that, but while your heat was close, it just hadn’t set in yet, and chomping down on your mating gland now was gonna hurt you unnecessarily. No. Dean would wait, focusing on what you needed in the moment, like any good mate would.

His hands moved to your thighs, grazing his fingers over your sweat lined skin. It was heated, and you shivered at the new sensation, but he wasn’t surrounded by copious amounts of slick and you seemed to have no discomfort. That was part of it, right?

“How’re you feeling?” he said again, and your whole body tensed. Even your inner walls, that had relaxed some, squeezed him tight once more.

“You really wanna know all the nitty-gritty details?” Your eyes narrowed on him. Your frown only deepened the intense gaze you were pulling, and Dean swallowed.

“You’re my mate.” He flashed a grin. “Claim and paperwork pending.” And when you shook your head and sunk into his chest, his lips brushed over your hair, moving his arms to wrap around you and pull you in tighter. “Tell me.”

“Fevers coming,” you mumbled. “Probably smell different?”

He sniffed the air. The usual cinnamon, a touch of vanilla, plus the apple and whisky, sex, and something he couldn’t quite put his finger on infiltrated his nostrils. Your scent was still as intoxicating to him as it had been the very first day you met. “You smell good,” he said, realising how terrible that sounded only after it had spewed from his mouth.

“I should hope so.” You swatted at him, and he hummed in amusement.

“What else?”

“Back aches. My whole lower half, actually.”

On that, Dean moved his hands and began kneading your heated flesh where he could only guess the worst discomfort was. He may not not have claimed someone, but he’d helped the odd omega through their heat, and he knew a thing or two.

“Here?” he asked, but your purr and a contented sigh answered him, and he smiled with reverie.

You fell asleep on him after that, allowing the impending fever to take over your body. He’d have preferred you to have eaten something or even made a trip to the bathroom, but he reminded his inner alpha that you both knew what you were doing.

Not that it was listening.

As he dead locked the back door and drew the last of the salt lines at the base of the wooden frame, it whined, and had Dean looking down.

“You scratched the circle.”

Yes, he was standing on the devil’s trap he’d drawn earlier, but there was not a scratch in sight.

“It’s fine,” he said, not bothering with internal thoughts, though his ears did prick for any hint he’d disturbed you in your sleep. He turned himself around to peer at your form on the other side of the room, but you were still on the couch where he’d left you.

Even from here in the kitchen, he could see the sheen of sweat on your forehead and your cheeks, now a different hue. Your oncoming heat had indeed brought on a fever and he knew when you awoke it would be game time.

The groceries had been brought in, beers sat in the fridge, and he’d even moved the mattress from the master bedroom and set it down before the roaring fire he’d started in the fireplace.

His body and mind were prepped, too. He just wished things would hurry along because you and the flames weren’t the only things heating up the room.

The tip of his cock was a painful red. It was swollen and oozing pre-cum, and though he’d emptied himself into you a couple of hours earlier, as he opened the fridge door and leant down to retrieve a beer, a few drops left his slit and dribbled down his shaft to pool at the dip above his knot.

Fuck. He was overflowing now.

He’d almost come twice in his pants from your scent alone, and after the second occurrence, he ditched them, choosing to wear just his boxers and undershirt.

He reached down and wiped his hand over the soiled underwear, hissing from pleasure and pain as his palm swiped over the sensitive head. But when more leaked from his slit, he gave up and removed them instead, leaving them on the floor to clean up later with the spill.

He grabbed his drink and shut the door, turning back around to find you sitting up, staring at him, and time stopped.

You were awake…

And he was…

“Omega.”

The switch somewhere deep inside of him flicked, and he found himself falling into a familiar place in the backseat of his mind.

Dean was no longer in control of his body, but he still saw, heard and felt everything. His heartbeat, his feet padding across the floor, and the irises in your eyes as he drew closer, sparkling from the flicker of light in the fireplace.

And when your voice said, “Alpha”, just as his had been replaced by the low rumble he knew as well as the back of his hand, yours had changed to a softer, more melodic version of the one he recognised as yours.

You were on him the second he stepped up to you. Your fingers wrapped around his agitated cock, and Dean’s growl reverberated low in his chest as the sweet flavour of apple flooded his senses. “Omega. Mine,” his alpha rasped.

He could practically taste you on his tongue. He could certainly feel your heated skin on him as you worked his length, but the massaging did little to douse the flames in his pulsing sack, and his slit continued to weep.

“Alpha,” you purred, as his seed created a trail down onto your hands. 

‘Fuck.’

Dean licked his lips and grabbed at your dress, yanking at the fabric to get you free. He wanted to see you. To feast his eyes on your breasts and, more importantly, bury himself in your dripping cunt again and again. 

His hands pawed at your neckline, growing flustered when it didn’t budge, and red marks from the edging cutting into your skin from his tugs appeared.

“Let me.” You touched his cheek, nodding your head with assurance when his alpha glowered with his pride. 

The thought of needing assistance and less friction on his hardened flesh had his temper rising. “Fine,” he spat. “But hurry up.”

Your breasts pushed towards him as you reached behind yourself to undo the zip. Each click of the metal prongs being pulled apart met his ears, but it was far too slow for his alpha’s liking and soon Dean was pawing at the garment again. 

Once it was loose enough, he plucked it from your body and threw it along with your bra and panties over his head, corralling you where he saw fit.

He planted your chin, chest and calves into the mattress. He forced your rear into the air, presenting your glistening folds, much to his delight. The copious amounts of fluid Dean had imagined earlier engulfed your entrance and laced the inner creases of your thighs.

His nose honed into your centre, breathing in the tangy slick as he ran his lips through yours. The pad of his thumb found your clit, and it flicked against the small bud, eliciting moans, whimpers, and gasps, all stroking his ego. All urging him to continue.

When you shuddered, his mouth curved at the sides. His alpha taking everything it wanted from you, pulling more and more of your release from deep within your body. His dick throbbed at the sight.

If you were making a mess, he’d created an oil spill. Pre-cum continued to leak from his tip, and soon even he was begging the beast in control to do something about it. 

‘Claim her. Make her ours.’

He’d agonised over claiming you since you’d met and now that the opportunity presented itself, he didn’t wanna draw it out any longer. He needed you in more ways than one, and the alpha obliged. 

With a feral smirk, his fingers ran back over your folds, earning another whimper from your lungs and another wave of slick to surge from your body. The same hand came up and took hold of himself, pumping once, twice, three times, before lining up and ramming into you. 

Your hips buckled at the intrusion. Yet when he pulled out again so that only his head sat warm and snug inside, you inched back onto him, demanding his attention.

“There’s my beautiful omega.” He chuckled, as you continued to drag your pussy over him. “So perfect, and still hungry for more.” His fingers dug into your hips and he pushed into you again, giving you what you both wanted. “You need your alpha to knot you, baby girl?”

Your response was to moan, and the sound urged him on. “Yeah, you do,” he grunted. His thrusts, hard and fast. “You need your alpha to put out the fire.” 

Every piece of him enjoyed the view of you taking him in, from the tip to his swelling knot. Your walls kept squeezing and pulling him in deeper. “So fucking good ‘mega. Gonna fill you up and make you mine.”

He relaxed his grip on you and crawled up your spine, pushing your body down further into the mattress, and himself further into you. “Say it. Tell me you wanna be mine.” 

“I wanna be yours,” you said between pants, and Dean groaned against the edge of your hairline. He was so close to your mating gland, he could taste the sweet blood below the surface. 

He pulled your hair to the side and traced his tongue over the delicate skin of your neck, licking and sucking a path to his goal. He inhaled your scent when he found the pulse point and rubbed whiskey and leather and a hint of buttery pastry onto you before his teeth moved to scrape over the sensitive flesh. His body froze above you.

The canines broke the thin barrier first, and when his incisors sunk into you next, the metallic warmth of your lifeblood rushed into his mouth and trickled down his throat. 

As he swallowed, and continued to press his bite into you, a wave of electricity spread over him. Every nerve, every hair, every drop of sweat tingled and while his arms and legs grew heavy, his head lightened and memories long forgotten climbed to the surface and flashed before his eyes.

Amongst them, Bobby’s death, and his time in hell before it. The agony of losing Sammy to the cage when Dean knew what awaited him. The mark taking over his life and losing people because of it. Their screams. Their cries. The hatred as his own weapon carved into them. The Steins, Abbadon, Randy.

But then the voice of a female overtook them. One so familiar, yet one he couldn’t quite place. Her pleas cut him deep, churning his insides as if each organ were drowning in a sea of acid.

“No, no. Please don’t.”

“I swear, I’ve never seen him before.”

“He just helped me, that’s all.”

“Baby, please.”

The more he heard her words, the more his face cut into Dean’s memories, and “Ritchie, stop! Please!” stood out amongst all else.

That’s when he realised who the cries belonged to. The tears, the pain, the dread. They weren’t his, they were…

…yours.

Brilliant green eyes stared back at you as your alpha licked at the wound on your mating gland. He’d started thrusting again, and while the pressure deep in your gut begged for his knot and his essence, your mind was more focused on those eyes.

Their sparkle that you’d come to know was lost, faded, and full of pain. He was being tortured. Fire and chains reflected in them and on his freckled skin, marred by blood and scars so fresh, you couldn’t place them from what was before you now.

Dean was hurt. He was—

“Sammy!” he yelled.

“The mark isn’t gonna kill me,” he spat.

But when you tried to call out to him and soothe the ache you felt, he couldn’t hear you because your inner omega was in the driver’s seat. And while she cared for you as much as you did for her, for Dean, she was more concerned with the alpha’s thrusts. With mewling. With encouraging him. With drawing his knot in.

Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

And there we are ✌️

I've been agonisingly waiting for this one, and I do hope you were surprised. I’m rather proud of the POV switch up. We will still get in Dean’s head, but we’ll also be in hers which is perfect for what’s about to come.

Remember how I keep mentioning not to get too comfortable, well, here we are. Do you think they'll pull through all this new information?

The next chapter will potentially be triggering for some readers. Mentions of pregnancy loss is included amongst what we've already seen and explored, but things are going to come out in more details including how extensive Dick’s abuse was.

Chapter 8: Disconcerting 11/04

You.

You weren’t supposed to be a part of that chapter in his life. He’d planned to keep you at a distance from all of it. He…

He.

He looked up so that he wouldn’t see your face through the kaleidoscope of colours that his wet eyes brought with them. “I—” All he could do was squeeze you tighter.

“Dean. It’s okay.”

He still didn’t have the words to continue his apology. Nothing could ever make up for what you’d seen, and his voice caught in the lump that had manifested in his throat. By the time it did reach the surface, it sounded more like that of a small child, then that of a grown man.

“No, it’s not.”

“It is.”

“S’not. This is what I was trying to keep ya from.” 

He was dangerous. He was a grunt. He was mud on the sole of his boot, and you? He’d brought you into this shitty life of his. “It’s bad enough you had to go through what Dick did to you. But he did it ‘cause of me. I’m poison, and if you hadn’t met me, you—”

@globetrotter28 @ambiguous-avery @arcannaa @jollyhunter @zepskies

@reluctanthalfwayoptimism @supernotnatural2005 @jackles010378 @kaz-2y5-spn @applelovesposts

@jaydensluv @foxyjwls007 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373 @waynes-multiverse

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@31miw-inkpsycho @yoursrosie @Theantisoci-alone @roseamie13 @krazykelly

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If you’d like to be tagged in anything, please let me know, or you can add yourself HERE

[angelthefandomobsessed]

Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Chapter 2 - Leona Kingscholar x Reader x Ruggie Bucchie

This is a continuation of the first part, which can be found here. I'm thankful for all of the support that BTBCBT (what a terrible, wonderful acronym) has received - I'm glad people enjoyed it!

This one still carries the slightly suggestive energy of the last one, but it's a little bit less strong. I hope you enjoy!

(Link to AO3: Between Teeth, Between Claws, Between Them - Angel_Ashido - Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own])

༺═────────────═༻

Spelldrive was a weird game. It seemed simple enough, but you could never quite grasp all of the rules. Luckily, the photographer didn’t need to know the ins and outs - they just needed to capture the best action shots.

And with a model like Leona, every shot was one hell of an action shot. He was toned, and though his magic was doing most of the work, his muscles flexed with every spell he slung.

It was difficult to focus on anybody else. The prince stole the show with his perfect balance of strategic play and raw power.

You tried to take snaps of the others, but when you tore the lens away from Leona, you always seemed to find Ruggie. Ruggie, who was quick and underhanded, always aiming at the opponents who didn’t expect to come under fire. His acrobatics made for some pretty dynamic pictures.

During their break, Ruggie and Epel ran over to you.

“Getting my good side?” Ruggie asked, water dripping from the sides of his grin. He was clutching a water bottle like his life depended on it, his breath coming to him quick and uneven.

You flicked through the photographs on the digital camera, trying to hide the fact that most of them featured Leona. Finally finding the perfect shot of Ruggie, you presented it to him. “You tell me.”

Ruggie leaned forward, scrutinising himself. “Ooh, nice. Definitely my good side.”

“Woah, that looks really cool!” Epel chimed. Despite his petite frame, he didn’t seem tired in the slightest. “What about mine? I bet I look super manly!”

A picture of Epel… There had to be at least one, right?

You pulled the camera back and set about your search.

“Hm…” Not much luck. “Sorry, I haven’t got much of you, Epel. I’ll make sure to get the perfect picture in the next half,” you promised.

“Ah, that would be appreciated, but no pressure or anything,” Epel reassured you. “I told my ma and pa about the magazine thing, and they seem pretty excited about it. It would be awesome if I could make it in!”

Once Epel had wandered back to the field, Ruggie raised his eyebrows. “Poor little frosh… I’m flattered that a lowly hyena such as myself got to share the spotlight with the Prince of Spelldrive, though. Dashing good looks, bold plays, thirty-per-cent biceps by volume… I can’t blame you for neglecting everyone else.”

“Sounds like you need to keep your eye on the disc, Ruggie,” you pointed out.

“I’m good at multitasking. I’ve been stealing looks at you this whole time, too.”

“Really?”

“Do you doubt me?” Ruggie let out a small laugh. “I’ve always got one eye on you.”

With that, Ruggie left.

Before the game started back up, you flipped through the images once again, this time paying closer attention to them. True enough, Ruggie was in the background of several of them, staring right at you.

“You ruined the shot…” you mumbled to yourself.

“Who did?”

You yelped, eyes snapping up to see Leona, leaning over the railing in front of you.

Startled, you flew into a state of pure, confused instinct and yelled: “Hello!”

Mortifying.

If only the elusive Malleus was playing, so that he could strike you down with lightning.

Leona seemed equal parts amused and perplexed by that. “Hello, yourself. What were you muttering?”

“Oh, just that…” Your heart was pounding. It was as if you were being chased, yet you were sitting completely still. “In some of the pictures, Ruggie was looking directly at the camera, so… They aren’t very good.”

Leona humphed. “Amateur mistake.”

“It’s fine, though, because there are a lot of good pictures too. So… It’s no big deal, or anything.”

You were talking far quicker than usual. Why were you acting so… Idia-ish? Leona seemed to notice the change in your disposition, as he turned a more analytical gaze upon you.

“Do you need a break?” he asked, sounding… considerate, almost.

“No, I’m fine. Just a little startled by you suddenly appearing. That’s all.”

“Alright.” 

Leona walked off, as if that was the end of the interaction. You had just begun to calm your racing pulse when he strolled back into eyeshot.

“Here,” was all he said as he handed you a water bottle. It was ice-cold and covered in condensation, yet the way his hand bumped into yours sent warmth fluttering through your entire body.

“Thanks,” you managed to choke out.

Leona smirked. “No problem. I like to take care of what’s mine.”

You didn’t know what to say to that. How could you possibly know what to say to that? Back in the cafeteria, you had mustered up so much confidence, but now the sheer audacity of your actions was coming back to haunt you.

The cafeteria felt like a dream. This, beneath the soon-to-be-setting sun, felt far too real.

“Unless,” he continued, “You don’t want that.”

Leona dripped confidence in that moment, but you didn’t miss the way his tail curled, to the left, and then to the right.

“I do,” you reassured him. “I like you. And I like Ruggie. A… A lot. I just don’t know where the line is.”

Leona’s tail slackened, and all felt right in the world. “That can be discussed. Don’t let it distract you from taking a half-decent set of pictures, little mouse.”

“It won’t. I’ll consider it motivation, I suppose.”

“That’s what I like to hear. Now… That sorry lot has been lazing around for long enough.” Leona turned to the rest of his team. “Alright, places, people. Make sure to give it your all - practice your curtsies and look good for the camera, boys.”

With a general roar of enthusiasm, the match continued.

You managed to get at least one suitably ‘cool’ shot of Epel, as well as a few of the other members. When the game finally came to its end, the team wandered off to the locker rooms. Everyone except for Leona and Ruggie, who made a beeline for you like you were an oasis in a desert.

“Did you get what you came here for?” Leona asked, leaning on the railing once more.

Ruggie, on the other hand, vaulted the thing and sat right beside you. He threw an arm around your shoulder, which was, admittedly, unpleasant, as he his entire being was dewy with perspiration.

“I bet you fell head over heels for me and my moves, right?”

“The only thing that was head over heels was you, when you were hanging upside down,” you retorted.

“Pretty impressive, right?” Ruggie pressed, bringing his face close to yours.

You smiled at that. “Very impressive.”

“Don’t stroke his ego too much,” Leona said.

“Well, somebody has to, it’s not like you’re dishing out the compliments…” Ruggie mumbled, loud enough for both you and Leona to hear.

“Oh, I get it,” you said, reaching an epiphany. “You have a thing for praise.”

“H-Hey, you don’t hafta be so blunt about it…” Ruggie bristled, hiding his face in your shoulder.

“Gross, you’re all sweaty!”

“Good! Suffer!” Ruggie whined, the sound muffled against you.

Leona’s eyes danced with mirth. “This is a truly pathetic sight, Ruggie.”

“Leonaaaaaa…”

Another epiphany struck you. “Ruggie, do you also have a thing for humiliation?”

“You two are the worst.”

“I think it’s easier to put it as a thing for attention. Attention of any kind,” Leona added.

“So… If I were to call you a pitiful, adorable mess..?”

Ruggie said nothing. He let the wagging of his tail do the talking.

“Got it… I’ll keep that in mind,” you said. “But seriously, get off of me, you reek.”

The hyena backed off, face covered in pink. “You’ll pay for all of that,” he grumbled.

“Looking forward to it.”

“You seem to be back to your usual self,” Leona observed in his usual drawl. “Good. It suits you more than being uncertain.”

“Yeah, I feel a lot better now.” You reached out to put a hand on each boy, one on Leona’s hand, and the other on Ruggie’s head. “I would feel a lot better if you two would go and shower, though.”

“Hm… I guess if my kitten is asking…” Ruggie stretched before springing up from his seat. “Alright, I’ll go. C’mon, Leona, before you fall asleep on the field.”

“Don’t boss me around, Ruggie.” In spite of that, he took a step back, signalling that he was going to go. His green eyes fell to you, holding the last of the sun’s warmth. “See you tomorrow, herbivore?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you both tomorrow. I can pick out the best pictures and run them by you.”

Leona’s teeth flashed as he let out a single, low chuckle. “Looking forward to it.”

All three of you knew that Leona didn’t care in the slightest about the pictures.

༺═────────────═༻

I've just opened asks for this blog, so by all means, feel free to get involved. Request pairings, ask questions, scream into the void... It's all very welcome (I don't have any TWST friends, can you tell, is it obvious?)

Next chapter is available: here.

[cryptidghostgirl]

Make You Wish Chapter Five -- The Conversation

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: None that I can think of but please correct me if I am wrong.

Word Count: 1,324

Previous Part: Chapter Four -- Vox

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List 

Make You Wish Master List

A/N I promise I will get to the rest of the requests soon, I've just had a lot of people asking for part five of this series.

The shadows released Alastor and Y/n in his old studio. They melted into the ground around them as Y/n smiled brightly, her eyes traversing the familiar space.

"Happy to be back?" Alastor asked, watching her excitment fondly and Y/n nodded.

"I most certainly am. This is the most fun I've had in ages."

"More fun than murder?"

"Fucking with Vox like that? Definitely more fun than murder. That was the funniest thing I've seen in a long time."

"That's why you're lucky to have me around."

"Hey, you're the one who left, not me. You don't need to convince me I like spending time with you. Rather, you are in a need to be proving your care for me I should think."

"Am I, my dear?" Alastor crooned, leaning in slightly with his hands behind his back.

"Yes, you are."

He laughed.

"Well, I will have to get on that."

As Alastor approached the desk, his horns sprouting in shadows from his head, she made her way over to the corner of the space covered in of pillows and blankets. Hitting the pillows, they released a cloud of dust. Y/n shrugged slightly, waving the dust away from her nose before sitting down.

Alastor held his microphone to his mouth, recommencing his recording.

"Lets begin." Alastor announced as he sat down in his chair and began fiddling with the knobs on the table, "I'm gonna make you wish that I'd stayed gone, tune on in."

Y/n spotted her old crocheting project she'd started seven years before and smiled. Taking it in her hands, she began to continue her previous work.

"When I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run." Alastor continued, his demon form becoming even wilder and sharp at its edges.

"This will be fun." Y/n mused, watching him carefully.

Alastor turned to her, his smile sickeningly wide.

"Yes, it will be."

It was just like the old days. Alastor broadcasted his show while Y/n watched, working on whatever craft project was nearest to keep her hands busy. There was a deep seated comfort rising in her soul, a sense of belonging she hadn't felt in years.

Every once in a while over the course of his show, Alastor would turn his head back towards her. Y/n wasn't sure if he was checking in or making sure she hadn't left. Either way, she didn't care. After about three hours, Alastor at last signed off.

As soon as he hit the button that stopped his broadcast, Y/n placed her crocheting to the side. Getting to her feet, she walked over to him and took a seat on the desk, smiling brightly.

"What did you think, my dear?" Alastor asked, leaning back in his chair as he looked up at her.

"Amazing as always, Al. I swear, your voice was made for the air waves."

Alastor laughed lightly at this comment.

"I missed it. I missed you."

"I found myself missing you too, my dear. I had become so used to your constant presence, it was an odd thing to suddenly be alone."

"You like me!" Y/n teased in a singsong voice and Alastor smiled back at her, "Admit it!"

"Perchance. So, seven years." Alastor sighed.

"Seven years." Y/n confirmed.

"You work for an imp now? Seems an odd turn of events."

Y/n shrugged, turning her head to look out the window at the street far below.

"Blitzo is a friend. He helped me out a lot when you first left."

"So you joined his little team? How sinful, breaking the law and going to the living world to reap souls for paying customers."

Y/n turned back to him.

"I didn't realize you knew that much about what we did."

"I have my sources."

"Husk? Are your sources Husk? He's the only one that knows what it is I do now from the old crowd."

Alastor didn't reply.

"It's for sure Husk. How is he doing?"

"Y/n." Alastor warned, "Answer the question."

She sighed, kicking her legs slightly.

"I mean, nothing we do is technically legal." she admitted, "None of them have human disguises and our way to the human world is a book Blitzo stole from a fucking Goetia."

"You don't say." Alastor mused, "That would happen to have anything to do with this contract you're under."

Y/n's eyes locked with Alastor in silence. They glared sharply at one another in a battle of will. At last, Y/n relented.

"Yeah. It does."

"So, what is it? Why does a member of the Goetia family own your soul. Why is it that you have fallen so far."

"You really aren't gonna let this one go."

Alastor shook his head.

"Blitzo... well he was friends with the guy. Stolas, one of the Goetia princes in charge of the heavens or some shit. It's... Basically, I made a deal that if Stolas stays away from Blitzo and let us use the book, I would give him my soul."

"How altruistic. Though not unexpected from you, I suppose."

"It was only a few months after you left, Al. I couldn't take him on. Hell, you can't even take him on. He's a fucking Goetia. I did... I couldn't think of anything else. I did what I had to do to keep my friend safe."

"And why did he deserve your protection? He dug his grave and instead of lying in it, put you in."

"It's not his fault. Stolas got all weird with stuff and Blitzo was uncomfortable. There's this big threat of him tattling on us he hangs over our heads at all times. I... Blitzo did so much for me, Al. He helped me pick up the pieces of my life when it was clear you weren't coming back. I've become better now, stronger but back then, it was all I could do for him."

Alastor opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by Y/n's phone buzzing.

"Sorry, gimme a second."

Alastor eyed the device in irritation as she pulled it from her pocket. Whatever was on the screen dampened her mood even further than their conversation had. She jumped down off the table, hurriedly typing something out on her phone.

"Shit, Al. I have to go, I'm sorry."

"Work?"

"Sorta."

"Ah. Your deal. Why does he not just pull you to him like a normal demon would."

"Well," Y/n began, sliding her phone back into the pocket of her dress, "first off, he's a hellborn not a demon. And second off he has this weird thing about being wanted? Well, not weird. Everyone wants to be wanted just like, he doesn't want to force me to come. At the same time, he knows if he asks for me, I have to. It's... he's complicated, Alastor. It's complicated."

"I could kill him for you. Make it a whole lot less complicated."

Y/n laughed.

"Thanks hun but I don't think even you could manage that one."

"You could make a deal with me, that would most likley cancel it out."

"And have you own my soul? No, I've seen how that pans out for people. I think I'll pass."

"Just a suggestion, my dear."

"Is it? You've been trying to make a deal with me since I first met you, Al. I feel like you shoulda caught the hint by now."

"It was worth a try." he shrugged.

"Uh-huh. Sure. Why is it you want my soul so badly anyways?"

"No reason. No reason at all."

"Yeah. I totally believe that."

Y/n's phone dinged again and she pulled it once more from her pocket. At the sight of the words on the screen she sighed, her brow furrowing in irritation.

"Pushy pushy." she hummed, "Look, I gotta go. I'll be back later."

And with those parting words, Y/n disappeared through the studio's door.

----

Next Part -> Chapter Six -- Stolas

[urinarythreatinfection]

Is This Love?

Luffy x Male Reader. Angst. 1551 words. Part 6

Desc: You meet Luffy in the kitchen, stress piles up.

You walk into the kitchen with a sigh and look around, trying to find something to eat. Your stomach has already started to rumble now that you’re more aware. Thankfully when you open the fridge you see a plate with foil covering it, saved for you. There’s a note that says “Felt you’d probably be hungry.” and then another that says “LUFFY DO NOT EAT. THIS IS FOR (Y/N).” Hell yeah. You grab the food and take off the foil, putting the plate in the microwave. While it’s heating up you hear the door open, quickly facing it to see Luffy. He pauses, staring at you.

…

…

beep beep beep

The unusual silence is interrupted by microwave beeps, your food is done. The captain’s eyes trail to the machine. Uh oh. “Luffy, please, I'm really hungry.” You plead with him, slowly stepping in front of the microwave as Luffy visibly starts to drool.

“...I won’t eat it.” He states with a shake of his head, as if shaking the gluttony way. It makes you stop.

“You won’t?” Maybe he just ate?

“You can eat it, I’m not hungry.” Wow, so kind. You’re still cautious though, taking the food out of the microwave while continuing to keep your eyes on the rubber man. He says he’s not hungry but his eyes are still instinctively following the plate. The scent travels to his nose and he pinches it shut.

“Did it go bad?” He looks away, then shuts his eyes. Out of sight out of mind. “Oh, you’re trying to resist. You can get Sanji and he can just make something for you, we can eat together.” He perks up at that and turns to go get the cook before remembering that he came in here in the first place to talk to you, turning back around. “Did you forget something?”

“The kiss.” You flinch, so focused on the food that you’d forgotten about it too. He tilts his head at you, confused by your reaction. “I thought you liked it?”

“No-” He frowns and you backtrack. “I mean no, I did. But not too much. Since we’re friends obviously.” You clear your throat, nice going. He’s silent again before walking over to you, grabbing your plate while you’re distracted but putting it to the side before you could think that he’ll eat it. “Uh?”

“(Y/n).”

“Yeah..?” Why’s he so serious all of a sudden?

“You liked the kiss because we’re friends?” He’s pressing, none of his usual playfulness sighted.

“Y-Yeah.” You repeat, nervous.

“I thought you loved me. Like a lover loves their lover.” He’s looking at you so intently.

“Oh.. uh.” This is sudden, you haven’t prepared an answer.

“Did you change your mind so fast?” Luffy asks and you panic a bit. Wording it like that makes you seem like the bad guy if you say yes, but saying no would admit that you haven’t been able to move on at all. While you’re thinking Luffy slowly gets closer until your noses are touching.

“Luffy..?” You’re getting nervous, blood already rushing to your head again. ‘Is he gonna kiss my nose again?’ Luffy hums in response, his eyes trailing down to your lips. He’s getting that urge again, like he wants to kiss you on the lips, but off. It’s like his heart is telling him it’ll be amazing but another part, the deep remnants of his brain that’s also connected to his heart, makes it feel wrong. That something isn’t right. His cheeks and the tips of his ears flush slightly as he looks back up at you.

“I feel like I’m gonna throw up.” His voice is breathy. The feeling of throwing up at the thought of kissing you but nausea not kissing you; but now he’s getting sick just being close to you and these feelings that are a mix of too positive it's nauseating and too negative it's sickening are swirling around in his body. A clash of what he’s been wanting his whole life and this sudden, strong, unfamiliar new want that he doesn’t know what to do with; especially when he isn’t even sure how you feel now. He slowly starts to heat up, face hot while his stomach grows cold. It’s too much. “I think I’m sick.” You don’t know what’s going on either, Luffy suddenly going limp. You manage to catch him in your arms before he falls to the ground, but he’s panting and letting out struggling murmurs. This is bad, He rarely gets sick, but is this even a regular sickness? You lift him up to eye level.

“Did you eat something bad?” You ask him but he shakes his head, eyes unfocused with one thing still in his mind. Something that he has to do to finally find some sort of answer.

“Axe… axe in.. shoe ate..” You aren’t sure what he’s talking about but he hasn’t passed out though, which is a good sign. Just in case you rush to bring him to the medical bay.

__________________________

“Again!?” Chopper yells in shock when you burst inside. This is the 3rd time in 2 days that you’ve ended up here, though he notices it’s not for you this time. “Luffy!?”

“I feel sick…” The usually energetic man mumbles, letting you carry him. You lay him on the bed and he groans.

“Did you eat something bad again?” The reindeer asks while checking Luffy’s temperature with his hoof, quickly pulling it away when it burns him. “You’re burning up!” The doctor quickly puts a cold towel on the captain’s forehead to cool him down. “What happened?” He asks you this time, the victim unable to answer from dizziness.

“I don’t know, we were talking in the kitchen about what happened and he suddenly got feverish and limp.” You explain, going more into detail in hopes it’ll help even if it’s embarrassing. “He was asking if I was still in love with him.” There’s a sudden sizzling noise and the two of you look to see Luffy’s gotten so hot he’s literally steaming. The heat from his forehead is evaporating the water in the towel. Chopper runs and grabs an ice pack to replace the towel, putting more all over him as a temporary solution. You stare in horror, is how things are going to end? After all that he’s survived before?

(Luffy’s POV)

Everything is muffled. He can hear faint voices but can't make anything out. All he feels is heat, discomfort, and the cold sensation on his body that is working less and less. Still… he can’t die like this. He isn’t King of the Pirates yet. Those feelings stir in his soul, trying to reach his body and strengthen him like they have so many times before; but before they can… they’re restricted. Emotions and thoughts, these new sensations, they’re restricting them, corrupting him so strongly it causes havoc in his very flesh. Uncertainty if you really moved on so easily, worry over what’s going to happen now, confusion of why it feels so much worse thinking of you moving on. All forcing its way in his heart, amalgamating into a debilitating fear. Fear of these sudden emotions. Why… why are they hurting him?

“....y ..ffy..” A voice again, unintelligible but it’s enough to remind him of himself; of his determination to live. He manages to focus his eyes just enough to see you leaning over him. You, with tears in your eyes. Why? His eyes start to close again… “Luffy, please! I’m still in love with you!” ..but something drums in his chest and his eyes snap open, feeling a tear plipping onto his face. You’re still in love with him, you haven’t moved on. Heat starts to dissipate from his body and the fogginess in his head clears. He has an answer. Finally. His vision starts to blur again, but from something different. He’s tearing up. Ahh.. he’s so relieved. The chains that were paining him break and travel from his heart out through his eyes in the form of tears. A wobbly smile forms on his face.

“I’m h..appy “ His voice is shaky as he speaks. There are still worries, unanswered questions in his chest; but right now all of them are overwritten by the joy of knowing you still love him. Before you can respond though he says something else, “I’m sleepy..” and with that he closes his eyes and falls asleep.

(Your POV)

You stand there, not quite knowing what to do after crying thinking your captain was going to die. Kind of embarrassing. You turn to see Chopper awkwardly holding fever medicine, also not knowing what to do. “S-Sorry.” You step back to let Chopper walk over to Luffy and check his temperature. It’s still a little warm, but no longer feverish.

“Okay.. um..” He takes the ice off of Luffy and you decide to leave to let the doctor handle the rest. However, as soon as you get close to the door you hear a struggled groan as Luffy’s face reddens again. You step back from the door and he goes back to a peaceful sleep. You decide to not leave. “...Can you stay here?”

“Yeah—yeah I’ll stay.” You say while sitting down, Luffy snoozing. Good for him.

Would be crazy if he actually just fucking died huh. He dies and thats the end of the story, thanks for reading guys make sure to read my other stuff. How mad would you guys be? Personally it'd be just a little funny, but only a little. He didn't die though, so you're welcome. Almost forgot @yuurivalr

[distantdarlings]

BY THE FIREPLACE (PT. 4) // t. nott

RATING: R / 2.3K WORDS

Theodore Nott x Fem Reader

+ SUMMARY - *Requested* In an attempt to forget about the events of the last few days, you try to relax yourself as best you can. You pull a book and some tea down to the common room but are shocked to see that Theo had the same idea.

+ WARNINGS - Language, sensuality (described in mind), nothing else really

+ MUSIC (listened to while writing) -

affection - BETWEEN FRIENDS

*sorry for the short chapter

- - -

You awoke early the next morning. Much earlier than normal. The small clock sat on the desk beside your bed barely had its big hand brushing the four. There was little to no light outside. You pulled your hand to your face to rub some of the sleep out of your eyes.

The only sounds around you were the occasional soft snores from your roommates and a deep rumbling in your stomach. Shit. You must have fallen asleep last night without eating anything. You raised your arms above your head and coaxed a few cracks out of your spine before slipping out of bed. The green, fur-lined slippers lay right beside the head of your bed, waiting patiently for you to sleep your feet in.

You were no longer tired and didn’t feel like laying in bed until classes started, trying to urge yourself back to sleep. You figured you could catch up on some personal reading and have a mug of tea.

Beneath your bed, was a small wicker basket your mother had made for you on your eleventh birthday. It was intricately woven with two pastel ribbons secured on either handle. You loved it dearly and it had held many things as you grew up. At the moment, it held a large assortment of teas and a small kettle that you could hang over the fire in the common room. You knelt down and retrieved the items, deciding on a nice rose and lavender blend.

You gathered the things together, slipped the book you were currently reading into your arms, and made for the common room. At 4 o’clock in the morning, where the sun was not even up, you were expecting few students, if any, to be occupying the room. You were hoping for none.

The common room was always pleasantly splashed in moonlight around this time of the morning. Its cool rays showed through the water just outside the windows and bathed everything in the whiteness. Everything except for the warm fire in the middle of the room. You waltzed over to one of the plush couches, not seeing anyone else around—thank Merlin.

Wandlessly, you conjured some water, watching as it filled your small kettle. You hang it on the fireplace hanger and collapse into the couch, propping your book open. It had been over a day since you’d last read—some fiction about a knight’s journey dealing with the PTSD of his position—and you wondered if you even remembered what had happened the last few chapters. Your eyes found the small words on the page and let yourself fall into the story.

After a few minutes, the kettle began to whistle. You marked your place in the book and tossed it to the cushion beside you. You wanted to get the kettle off the flame before it started screaming and waking up the whole Slytherin house.

You wrapped your hands in your night robe and slipped the kettle away from the fire. With a whispered incantation, your favorite mug from under your bed appeared on the side table. You poured the steaming water into it and watched as the steam poured over the lip of the cup, its billowing moisture brushing against your bare legs.

Once you’d allowed the tea to steep and it had cooled, you became comfortable once again, leaning against the edge of the couch’s arm, sipping your tea every once in a while. It really was a good book. You’d almost found yourself forgetting about the ridiculous events of yesterday.

Until….you sigh. Out of the corner of your eye, a pair of legs appear coming down the stairs to the male dormitory, then a chest, then a face. A particularly difficult pair of eyes met yours. You all but groaned and rolled your eyes. You could not believe it.

“Hey,” he said, a small chuckle coming out of his mouth. It was awkward and the silence that followed it was somehow worse.

“Uh, hey?” You knew he was just talking to you now because he felt just as weird as you did—at least, that’s what you assumed. Before, he never went out of his way to acknowledge you, now…

No one spoke for at least a minute, the both of you just stared at one another, briefly found the other’s eyes, then quickly glanced away again.

“Well don’t let me interrupt you, I was just passing through,” he says, shoving his hands in the pockets of the plaid pajama pants he was wearing. Your eyes followed him as he began to walk towards one of the bookcases in the corner. He wore a black tank top that showed off his muscular arms beautifully. Your line of vision traced the thick vein that wrapped around his arm, curled down his wrist, and disappeared with his hands in his pants pocket. The pajama pants sat low on his waist and framed the sharp edge of his hip bones. You watched closely as he contemplated the options on the shelves before him.

His eyes caught something interesting. He raised up on his tip toes and lifted his arm to grab it. The tank top slid up his stomach, revealing the strong line of muscle that traveled from below his ribs and down to what lay beneath his waistband. The band of his undergarments traveled briefly over his hips. Fuck. He looked absolutely edible.

You shake that thought off and turn your head back to your book, forcing yourself to focus on the words before you. Surely, this was a normal feeling. It was just natural hormones forcing you to look for a mate. This was simply Mother Nature taking its course. Completely ordinary.

But Merlin, the way he had looked at you when he’d come down the stairs. His eyes, so dark and wanting, glancing over you in your too-big night robe and your ratty shorts. You felt like the most desirable thing in the world with the way he looked at you. Maybe you were just imagining it, but he looked as though he wanted to devour every inch of you.

Your fingers scraped over the book’s pages, letting the light scratch of the parchment control your thoughts. Intrusive ones that you indulged for just a moment before realizing what a weakness it was. Ones that gripped your hips and bit your chest and traced your thighs.

“Do you mind if I sit here?” His voice appeared behind you suddenly. You jumped at his abruptness.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s fine, Nott, take a seat wherever you’d like,” you sighed, trying once again to refocus yourself. But as he traveled over to the love seat at the far end of the rug probably no more than ten feet from you, you couldn’t help but glance up over the pages every so often.

You watched as he made himself comfortable, legs spread wide open with one ankle resting on the other knee, one hand against the arm of the chair propping his head up, the book balanced against his raised leg, and a strong arm coming up every once and a while to flip the page. As he launched himself further into the story, he began to fidget a bit. His thumb and forefinger pinching his bottom lip, the knot in his throat sliding up and down as he swallowed, his hips readjusting themselves, sliding them slowly against the cushion and—

You slammed your book shut. You couldn’t live like this. You were just going to force yourself back to bed. At the sudden sound, Theo’s eyes shot up in a worried glance.

“You okay?” he asked. You began to gather your things, tucking your now-cooled kettle under your arm. When he realized what you were doing, his book dropped to the cushion beside him and he stood abruptly. You stopped and the two of you watched each other, waiting for the other to speak. His eyes were slightly widened and he was breathing a bit heavier than usual. You watched as his chest rose and fell quickly. Neither one of you moved.

“You know I’m—” “I’m sorry if—”

You both began talking and stopped at the same time. Theo dropped his head and you glanced away, finding the stained glass windows particularly interesting.

“You go first,” he says. You sigh.

“I was just going to say that I’m going to go back to bed,” you explained, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh,” he says, sounding particularly dejected. Or maybe he didn’t. You couldn’t tell what you were and weren’t imagining the last few hours.

“What were you going to say?” you ask.

His eyes glanced around the room. His fists opened and closed, flexing the tendons that ran gracefully along his forearm.

“I was going to say I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable with the whole…,”

“Yeah, it’s fine,” you brush it off, “let’s not make it more than it is, okay?”

“No, yeah, I didn’t mean to,” he quickly says. “I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

His eyes find yours and for a second you feel your heart liquefying, melting and rushing down your ribs, sliding across your stomach and legs. Your eyes hold and it feels as though neither of you can look away. You can hear your heart pounding in your ears and echoing against your back.

His lips open and close multiple times and the heavy breathing is back. His chest rising and falling, rising and falling. His honeyed lips pulsing with each breath. His eyes slipping down the length of your body but your vision is too shaky to even notice it. And when did you guys get closer to each other? His hand now rested delicately on the back of the couch you stood in front of. There was but an arm’s length between the two of you. You could just reach out and touch him…

“Yeah, uh…,” you interrupted, your eyes falling away from his. You broke the moment. “I’m fine. Thanks for checking in, Nott.” He chuckles.

“Do you even know my first name?” His eyes find yours once more. No, thank you. You finish gathering your things and begin to walk around the side of the couch.

“Um, I do but…you know, if we aren’t making this weird, I figure we just go back to the way we were. You not knowing I exist and me not caring that you do.” Yikes. Fucking harsh. You shake your head and start walking past him to the staircase.

His hand suddenly wraps around your arm, your skin stinging like he had electrocuted you. You jump and he pulls away quickly. He mumbles a quick apology. You brush it off swiftly. God, this was painful. You imagined your friends watching this play out and cringing so hard they passed out. Because you were on the verge of doing the same.

“Is that seriously what you think of me?” he asks, his eyebrows furrowed and eyes filled with concern. You sigh again.

“I’m sorry, that was rude, I shouldn’t have said that,” you apologize. “But before…this whole situation, we didn’t talk to each other. We went about our days, blissfully ignorant to one other.”

His eyes hit the ground. He knew it was true. The both of you knew that if this hadn’t happened, nothing would have changed between your relationship—or lack thereof.

“If you want to…you know, be friendly,” you start. His eyes raise to yours. “Come to the library with me or have lunch with me.” You felt pretty sure he wouldn’t. He had a reputation to uphold.

He and all of his friends were ‘well-known’ around Hogwarts. They were all handsome, smart, and hailing from very old, wealthy Wizarding families. Everybody liked them or wanted to be them and you knew that well. All cliches aside, you were a Half-Blood and probably none of their concern if not the subject of their bigotry.

“Okay.”

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, I will do those things with you,” he shrugs. “Give me a time and place.”

You were flabbergasted. And you were sure your face was showing it painfully well. You didn’t know what to say without sounding like a fool.

You wanted to say yes. God, how you wanted to say yes…Should you? Is it even worth all of the trouble? You know if anyone sees the two of you chatting it up at lunch, rumors will fly and you’re not so sure you’re comfortable being at the center of those. Yeah, no. You’re definitely not. Say no.

“Um…alright,” you breathe, smiling nervously. “I usually eat lunch by the Black Lake and read. I’ll be there today.” Merlin, help.

“Okay,” he says, smiling. “Well, don’t be reading while we’re eating lunch together.” You laugh.

“I won’t, as long as your conversation can keep my interest.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it can.” He sends a wink your way. Embarrassingly, a bit of heat blossoms in your stomach. This was ridiculous. You weren’t thirteen. You needed to get it together.

“We’ll see.” The two of you smile and begin to slowly separate. You didn’t really understand what was going on and you half-wondered if this was even worth it simply due to the amount of teasing you were going to get from your friends. But he seemed…nice. You wanted to see what lunch was all about today. It couldn’t hurt to have a new friend.

Part 5!

[badkitty3000]

It's A Wonderful Life, Five Hargreeves

So, I got two asks today about Christmas stories:

**are you going to put your other Christmas story on here? Not trying to be pushy it's just easier to read them on here and I saw you linked others. I love your stories btw :⁠-⁠**

and

*I loved your Santa Five story. Would you be willing to do another like it? Something for the season? 🙏🙏🙏*

So, first of all, thank you so much to both of you! Wow! I was assuming the first ask was about this story? This is a multi-chapter one I wrote a year ago on AO3. It's a cross between It's A Wonderful Life and A Christmas Carol, with Five getting a visit from his guardian angel after he's not doing well without his powers in Reggie's new world, post-season 3 (written before season 4 came out). I will post it below.

In regards to the other ask, I won't be writing any new ones most likely this season, but I do have a couple other one-shots that were part of a series and that @kaybreezy3000, who is the co-author on them, and I are currently working on to make them into reader-inserts for tumblr. Those should be posted soon.

Thank you again and I hope you enjoy this sexy, sad, but sweet with a happy ending Five story! Have a wonderful holiday everyone! Cheers!

A Five x Female OC, 22k words, multi-chapter, cross-posted on AO3 from 2023

Warnings: Explicit sex, rough/angry sex, but also sweet sex, little bit of daddy kink

Chapter One: Candy

Number Five does not believe in God, or Heaven, or Religion as a whole. He knows what Klaus has told him, about the Void, and he knows he’s not lying. It’s just that Five is a man of science and logic, and he operates on proven theories and facts. He figures whenever he dies someday, if there is something to see, then and only then will he develop a belief system. He doesn’t really see the point in speculating about something that is inevitable anyway.

So, if someone were to tell him that guardian angels really existed, he’d laugh in their face. He’d ask for proof; solid evidence on which they could base this claim. And when they couldn’t produce any, he’d smirk in that knowing way, basking in the glow of always being right.

There was just one tiny flaw with not believing in the existence of angels, however, and that was the very real presence of the one currently lying naked in his bed.

🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️

The seedy bar was mostly empty, occupied by only a few sad and lonely patrons that had nowhere better to go. The lone bartender looked about as despondent as his customers as he mindlessly poured the cheap whiskey and beer that they asked for. A few strands of red and white lights hung over the bar, casting a reddish glow over the dirty countertop, and someone had set up a sparsely decorated tree in the corner. Somehow, those small attempts at cheeriness just made the place feel more depressing. The jukebox playing “Blue Christmas” for the third time in a row wasn’t helping, either.

Five sat in a booth near the back wall, the table in front of him wobbling periodically on its mismatched legs. He was on his fourth drink. Or maybe it was five. He had lost count and frankly didn’t care either way. He sat staring wistfully across the table, lost in his own dark thoughts.

Along with the number of drinks that he had consumed, somewhere along the line Five had also lost count of the number of years he’d been on the planet. He thought he was around 63, but then once you factor in all of the time travel, who knows exactly. Well, actually, he should know. He was the genius, or so he had thought. Calculating his age shouldn’t exactly be a brain buster. Whatever it was, he was still younger than he felt, which was about a million years old.

Not that it mattered, really. He was here now, in this timeline, with no powers and nothing much to show for all of the effort he’d put into trying to save the world. The world was still standing, he supposed, but how much of that was him and how much of it was Reginald?

Five years had passed since he and his siblings had been dumped into this fucked up, dystopian world created by his former adopted father. He refused to think of him as anything other than an alien in human skin that used them all as living batteries and abandoned them without powers. What a giant dick.

Having no idea where to go or what to do was bad enough, but to be suddenly without the power that had coursed through his body his entire life was a real fucking drag. It took Five at least six months before he stopped trying to blink away from things or teleport as a mode of transportation.

He’d narrowly missed getting run over by cars several times, and got his face beaten in more than once for running his mouth to the wrong people and then not having an exit strategy. He could still fight, but it was a lot harder without time and space manipulation on your side. Even now, every so often, he found himself staring down at his clenched fists in surprise when his body automatically tried to jump and nothing happened.

Not surprisingly, Five had found it difficult to adapt to normal life. Part of this was the years spent in isolation and not really having a good foundation for living a normal life in the first place. He had been told, on several occasions, that he lacked “basic social skills”, and was “surly” and “borderline psychotic”, whatever that meant. If people couldn’t deal with his attitude, so what? He wasn’t exactly dying to make new friends, thank you very much.

He and his brothers had managed to stick together, despite a rocky start. And as much as he hated to admit it, he did love them, even if they were astonishingly infantile and annoying. He no longer had a sister, or at least one that he acknowledged. Allison was off living her best life, probably laughing at all of them. But the rest of them, they were ok. And they were all Five had.

All things considered, the past five years had been decent to his siblings. They still struggled with having their powers stripped, just like Five did, but overall, they were doing much better than he was. Diego and Lila had started a new life together, and now had an almost five-year old daughter. The fact that the two dimmest people on the planet were responsible for another human life was astounding, but despite all odds his niece was actually a delight to be around and insanely smart. Luther had found Sloane, although it did take a couple of years. He never gave up hope, and eventually he found her, convinced her to fall in love with him again, and they were now married for a second time.

Viktor probably had the most successful turn-around out of all of them and had moved a few miles outside of the city where he had opened his own music school exclusively for trans kids. Five didn’t see him that much anymore, but they talked about once a week on the phone. As time went on, though, Five found they had less and less to talk about.

Klaus was still Klaus, albeit much happier. With no more ghosts tormenting him, he had found he had no reason to go back to hard drugs anymore. He still liked to grab an occasional drink with Five, but overall, he was sober and doing well. At least, Five assumed he was doing well. He actually had no idea what the hell he did for money, but he always seemed happy and well cared for. Maybe he had a sugar daddy or an old lady somewhere that took care of him. Five never asked and Klaus never volunteered.

Ben (the asshat version) was still around, but he kept his distance most of the time. He had tried to go crawling back to their dad at the over-the-top skyscraper that bore his name, but was quickly dismissed by security staff, saying that Reginald Hargreeves had no children. Ben had been obviously hurt and embarrassed, but since he never really considered himself part of the Umbrella family, he went off by himself. Occasionally he would check up on Sloane, though.

So, that left Five. There were only two things from his father that Five could say he was thankful for. One was that, on top of giving him his arm back, he had also added on a few years to his body when the universe was reset, so that Five had been 18 when they emerged into Oblivion Park. The other was that all of the siblings had found a bank card in their pockets, giving them access to individual bank accounts with a few thousand dollars in them, allowing them a chance to start a new life.

Five still lived in the small, crappy apartment he had found and rented back then. He could afford a better place now, but he didn’t see the point in moving. It was just himself there and anything with a roof over his head and simple furnishings still felt like a luxury. He didn’t have a job like the rest of his brothers, but he did have a steady income. Right from the start, he took half the money from Reginald and made investments that paid off nicely. The thought of working some dead-end office job at his age made him cringe, so he was perfectly happy to play the stock market from the comfort of his living room.

With no need for a car in the city, and no interest in a fancy apartment or house, Five had plenty of disposable income. Most of it was spent on his family, particularly his niece, who he liked to spoil as often as he could. He loved watching her face light up when he brought her a present and she was about the only person he would tolerate and enjoy hugs from. It made him happy to see her happy, with the added bonus of pissing Lila off by being her daughter’s favorite uncle.

The rest of his money went to his wardrobe. Afterall, what was the point in having a trim, young body again if you didn’t put in an effort to showcase it? Between his school boy Academy uniform, scrounging for clothes in the Apocalypse, and the drab Commission-issued suits he’d had to wear throughout his life, he was finally getting a choice in his style. And while that was a small victory in the scheme of things, his finely tailored and expensive suit collection was one of his only pleasures in life.

Five had tried to fix things, in the beginning. He had tried to figure out what Reginald’s end game was and how to take him down once and for all. Luther and Diego even got the taste for revenge, and for a while they were a small team. But after that first year, they determined it was fruitless. There was no way to get to Reggie, up there in his tower. He owned the city, literally. And without their powers, his forgotten children were no threat. Five never really gave up, though. He knew there had to be a way; he just couldn’t figure it out. Even now, it’s always there in the back of his mind.

With his family off living their lives as best they could, Five was alone. Which you would think he would have been used to by now, but this time seemed different. Five had gotten used to having his siblings around again. Even if they were obnoxious and had the collective IQ of a fruit fly. He had liked talking to them, and fighting alongside them again. He had even liked fighting with them again. After all, everything he had ever done was for them.

Five knew that he needed to open himself up more. It’s not like they didn’t try to have a closer relationship with him. But he remained closed off for the most part, often alone. He knew the reason, too. He was angry. Angry at Reginald for landing them there, angry at the Handler and The Commission, who had really screwed him over. Or maybe he screwed himself over, he still wasn’t sure how that worked. But most of all, he was angry with himself. And that anger was so big and so raw, that it was always threatening to burst out at any moment. So, it was just better that he kept to himself.

The same went for relationships outside of his family. They were constantly bothering him about dating or finding someone to settle down with. While they were all a little fucked up in the head, and maybe had some major daddy issues, Five knew he was different. He wasn’t blind to women, despite what his brothers thought. He’d even tried to date a few. But there was too much baggage, too many secrets. And that was not even including the mind/body age difference, which was a whole other complication to add to the mix.

Because of the constant turmoil inside, Five hadn’t let himself get close to anyone. The last few “relationships” he’d had were nothing but one-night stands that he’d barely remembered the next day. And even those left him feeling guilty and even worse than he had before. Because what would Dolores say if she knew?

He had worked so fucking hard for everything, and for what? One time when he was drunk, he had asked Klaus that same question. Klaus had told him that he had saved them; that he had technically achieved what he had wanted, just maybe not in the way he had envisioned. But Five had just laughed and poured another drink. They didn’t get it.

So, there he sat, alone on Christmas Eve, at a shit bar, drinking shit booze, and wondering what the fucking point was. He just couldn’t find a purpose anymore.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he groaned when he saw the caller ID, but he answered.

“Hi, Diego.”

“Hey, where are you? I thought you were going to come over for dinner tonight. Everyone is going to be here.”

“I can’t. I have plans,” Five answered dryly, his glass raised halfway to his mouth.

“Bullshit. You don’t have any plans, you just don’t want to come.”

“If you know that, then why did you ask?”

Diego sighed heavily on the other end and Five took another drink. Then he heard some shuffling and a small voice screamed into the phone, making Five wince and pull it away from his ear.

“Hi, Uncle Five! Are you coming over? Are you bringing me a present?”

“Grace!” Diego scolded. “Stop screaming into the phone, and also that’s not polite.”

The girl ignored her father and continued talking loudly with her mouth way too close to the phone.

“My mom said you’re being a grumpy twat. What’s a twat?”

Five couldn’t help smiling. “It means a really cool person.”

“Ohhh! Ok. Well, I hope you’re coming for dinner and I hope you’re going to come over and watch me open presents tomorrow morning, too. It’s Christmas tomorrow!”

“I know, Gracie, and I did get you a very nice present. I just don’t know if I’ll be able to be there tomorrow morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I might be doing something else.”

“Why?”

“Because I just am.”

“But why?”

Five ran a frustrated hand down his face. “Can you put your dad back on please?”

“Ok. DAD!”

Five pulled the phone away again before he went permanently deaf in that ear.

“Ok, here’s my dad. Hey dad, you’re a twat!”

Five laughed loudly, unlike his brother.

“What the fuck, Five? If we get a call from the school saying she’s calling the other kids twats I’m giving them your number.”

“Lila started it.”

“Jesus, you two. Anyway, are you coming over or not?”

“Not.”

“You’re kind of being an asshole.”

“This is not new information to you, Diego.”

“Fine. Well, Merry Christmas or whatever. Have fun drinking alone.”

“Thanks.”

They hung up and Five set his phone down, lifting his glass back up. He shook his head. “Fuck, I really am an asshole,” he muttered to himself.

As Five sat there, contemplating when he had become such a jerk, a waitress came over. He hadn’t noticed any waitress before, just the bartender. But she sidled up next to his table and he looked up.

“Can I get you something, handsome?”

Five blinked at her a few times. She was extremely pretty, with long, thick black hair, dark eyelashes and full, red lips. But that wasn’t the only thing that caught Five’s eye. She was dressed head to toe in what he could only describe as a slutty elf outfit. An extremely short, flared green skirt with red trim, and a tight red shirt that buttoned up the front. The neckline was so low and her tits were pushed up so high that Five was honestly perplexed at how she was keeping them from just spilling out altogether. The red headband in her hair was adorned with tiny bells that jingled anytime she moved her head. A brief vision of that headband jingling loudly as it banged against his headboard passed through his mind, but he was in no mood for company tonight. Not to mention, she was probably half his age.

The waitress smiled down at Five and spoke again after she received no response. “Did you want anything?”

Five looked back down at his half-full glass. “No, I’m all set.”

“Are you sure? There’s nothing you want that I can get for you?”

Five sighed, annoyed with her persistence, and flashed her his best fake smile. “Nope. All good.”

She pursed her lips and put a hand on her hip. “What are you doing here on Christmas Eve? You seem way too classy to be hanging out in this dump. Don’t you have a family to go home to?”

Five looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn together in irritation. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no, I don’t have a family. I’m here to drink and be left alone.”

She nodded thoughtfully, then looked around the bar again. “It’s pretty slow tonight. Mind if I join you?”

“What part of alone did you not understand?”

Pretending like she either didn’t hear him or didn’t care, the girl shrugged her shoulders and plunked herself down in the chair across from Five, her headband jingling. He gritted his teeth together.

“If you don’t have a family, then who were you talking to just now?” she pried.

“Are you always this annoying to everyone, or am I just special?”

She shrugged again, unaffected by his insult. “I just overheard you talking and saying you didn’t want to go somewhere. Was that your family? Did they want you to come over for Christmas?”

Five slammed his glass down. “Jesus! Look, I don’t know what your angle is here, sweetheart, but I just want to be left alone. Go bother someone else.”

“I don’t have an angle. And my name’s not sweetheart. It’s Candy.” She extended her hand out to Five, which he promptly ignored.

“Candy?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “That’s a little cliché, isn’t it? Even for made up names.”

“It’s not made up! That’s my real name. Candy.”

“So, what’s your last name, Cane?”

She laughed, moving her head so the bells jingled. It wasn’t a funny joke and Five wasn’t being nice to her, so he had no idea why the hell she was still sitting there with him and laughing, of all things. He looked down at his glass, which was now empty from when he sloshed it all over the table.

‘No, silly. We don’t have last names where I’m from,” she answered with a giggle.

Five chose not to address that odd statement. “Well, then, Candy , looks like I could use another drink after all. And since you apparently have no other customers at the moment, would you mind grabbing that for me?” Five picked up the empty glass, waving it in the air to demonstrate the emptiness as he smirked at the waitress.

She frowned. “Are you sure you need another drink?”

Five rolled his eyes. “You just asked me ten seconds ago if I wanted anything!”

“Maybe I wasn’t talking about a drink,” she smiled, leaning forward so that her ample cleavage was even more on display.

As aggravated as Five was by her, his eyes were still drawn to her chest. Because of the buzz he had going, too, his look wasn’t exactly inconspicuous. She noticed and ran her hand across her collarbone, drawing attention to the delicious looking divot between her clavicle and neck as she brushed her hair off her shoulder. He tried not to think about what it would be like to run his tongue across that very spot.

Five leaned back against the booth, his arm slung across the back of it. “Thanks, but no thanks. Not interested.”

Candy pulled back in shock, even though she was still smiling. “I find that a little hard to believe, but that’s ok. My feelings aren’t hurt. As much as I would love to get inside those tight pants of yours, I can take a hint.”

Five leaned in again, speaking through clenched teeth. “Then if you aren’t getting in my pants, and you aren’t going to bring me a drink, I think our little conversation here is done.”

For the first time since she’d wandered over, Candy looked a little bit at a loss of what to do. Then she smiled again and stood up. “Ok, one more drink, I’ll be right back.”

When she turned to walk away, she glanced down at the black suede ankle boots she had on. One of the laces had come undone and she bent over, directly in front of Five, not even trying to hide what she was doing. Underneath the miniscule skirt, were an even smaller pair of red and white panties, striped like a candy cane. They were cut in a way that showed off a good portion of her ass and Five found himself staring yet again. He was also very glad she was not looking at him right then, because as he was caught in the tractor beam that was her tight little rear end, he licked his lips and let out a puff of air.

“Damn,” he murmured, hopefully quietly enough that she didn’t pick up on it.

She righted herself and looked over her shoulder with a grin before she set off to get his drink. Just as Five was imagining a hypothetical scenario involving those panties and his teeth, she appeared in front of him again, fresh drink in hand. When she handed it over to him, Five paused.

“Where did you..how did you get over here so fast?”

She shrugged again, and Five found that just that small action of her shrugging was really starting to get on his nerves. In her hand was her own drink of some sort and she took a generous sip.

“I’m a really good waitress, I guess.”

“Huh.” Five eyed her curiously as he lifted the glass to his lips.

Without any invitation, Candy dropped herself onto Five’s lap, her legs swinging to the side. Five gave her what he intended to be a very murderous glare, but considering her perky round tits were right under his face, it didn’t have the same effect that it normally did. He kept his hands at his sides, not touching her in any way, but he also didn’t push her off. Because her skirt was so short, he knew that the only thing between her and his lap were those little striped panties. He could feel the warmth of her thighs seeping through onto his. She may have been annoying as fuck, but he still had a brain and a dick, and sometimes those two things got very confused about which one was in charge.

“So, if you’re not spending time with your family tonight, what are your plans?”

“To finish this drink, stagger home, and pass out in my bed. If I’m lucky, maybe I won’t wake up until Christmas is over,” he answered.

“Well, that sounds terrible. Why would you want that? Don’t you like Christmas?”

Five shifted in his seat, the irritating jingling of bells now closer to his ears. “I used to.”

Candy nodded with a small frown. Then she placed a hand on his chest. “Maybe I can help you like it again.”

Five lifted his eyes to hers, raising one eyebrow.

“I’ll let you roast your chestnuts over my open fire,” she purred with a grin.

He rolled his eyes. “Subtle. But, even after that cute show you put on for me a minute ago, and this little stunt you’re pulling right now, I’ll be going home alone this evening.”

She stuck out her bottom lip, shiny and wet with lip gloss and her drink. She traced one finger down the side of his neck and over the buttons of his white dress shirt. “That’s a shame. I was really hoping you’d have a special package for me to unwrap later.”

One side of Five’s mouth curled up and his jaw twitched as he took another drink, trying to decide how drunk he was and how much of a hassle it would be to get rid of this girl in the morning. He leaned in closer, placing a hand lightly on the small of her back.

“Sweetheart, I would shove my package down your chimney so hard and so deep, you’d still be feeling it by New Year’s. But that’s not going to happen tonight, I’m afraid.”

She laughed and then nodded, like she hadn’t expected him to say anything less. “I just thought maybe I could remind you how wonderful Christmas is. And maybe how to enjoy yourself a little more and stop closing yourself off to everyone.”

With narrowed eyes, Five lowered his glass that had been midway to his mouth. “What the hell are you talking about? You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know a lot about you, Number Five. And I know that your family loves you and they wish you could have a full and happy life.”

Five’s hand flew up and he grabbed her wrist, pulling her forward and squeezing it hard.

“How do you know my name?” he hissed in her face.

The girl only smiled again. “I’m your guardian angel, Five.”

He clamped down harder onto her wrist and roughly jerked her towards him again. “Cut the shit. Who are you? What do you want? Do you work for Reginald Hargreeves?”

She had the audacity to laugh, those fucking bells ringing again. “Of course I don’t work for your father. Like I told you, my name is Candy and I’m your guardian angel. And I’ve been sent here to make sure you know what a wonderful life you could have here, Five. If only you could let yourself.”

“I don’t know who the fuck you are, or what you want with me, but you have seriously underestimated what I could do to you right now.”

“Oooh, I would love to find out all the things you could do to me,” she said, still not trying to pull her arm away or move off his lap. “I bet you could really put me on the naughty list.”

“How about this? If you don’t get away from me right this second, I snap that pretty little neck of yours?” he growled, digging his fingers into her wrist.

Candy sighed, rolling her eyes skyward and talking out loud to the empty air above her, gesturing to Five with her hand that held her drink. “I know, I know…you warned me. This is going to be a tough one, like you said, but I still think he’s hot, though.”

Five shoved her roughly off his lap and stood up, pushing the table back with a loud screech. “Since you know all about me, then you should know what I’m capable of. So, keep that in mind; because if I ever see your face again, you’ll get to witness it firsthand. Now get out of my way.”

He shouldered past her, out of the bar, and into the cold night air. All around him, just like every other day and night for the past five years, he saw the glowing signs bearing his last name. He paused and took in the giant Hargreeves Enterprises building that loomed over the whole city. The first few snowflakes of the night had started to fall, landing in his hair and onto his eyelashes. With another look back at the bar, he hurried off down the sidewalk. His apartment wasn’t that close, and he had forgotten his coat inside the bar, but he didn’t care. He needed to walk and clear his head and try to figure out what the hell just happened back there.

Five knew the girl had to have been sent by someone. But who? And why? Maybe she was sent from another timeline, here to stop him from doing something that will affect the future. But she didn’t say that. She said she wanted to help him, which made no fucking sense. Then, to matters more fucked up, how the fuck did she know how he felt about things?

After a few more blocks, Five came to a bridge that spanned over a large river. He stopped halfway across, nearing the icy rail and peering down at the roiling and freezing water below. It was windy on the bridge, and he bent his head against the falling snow. He remembered how a year ago, he’d stood in that very same spot, looking down. He had been drunk and in a dark place, just like he was now. He hadn’t gone through with it then, and he wasn’t going to do it now, either. After everything he’d been through and survived, it seemed like a pretty stupid way to end things.

Five huffed out a short laugh, speaking into the empty dark night. “Guardian angel my ass. If that were true, where the fuck were you when I was wasting away in the Apocalypse? At least then I could have had something else to fuck besides my hand.”

“I was there with you, Five, but you didn’t need me then. You do now, though, and you’re much too hot to just be flinging that body of yours over the side of a bridge.”

Five pulled the gun he was carrying out from his waistband, spun around, and pressed the barrel into the side of the girl’s head, clicking off the safety. She gasped a little, but otherwise didn’t seem afraid. She had thrown on a red, faux fur coat over her skimpy outfit, but it remained open, blowing in the wind.

“Why are you following me?” he yelled, a little more frantically than he had intended.

“I don’t know how many times I can tell you, Five. I’m your guardian angel.”

“Forgetting for a moment that angels don’t exist; if they did, I highly doubt they would look like you.”

She stuck her bottom lip out in a pout. “Why? What’s an angel supposed to look like?”

Five couldn’t believe he was actually having this conversation. “I have no idea, but not someone that’s dressed like they just came from working the pole at Santa’s workshop.”

Candy actually laughed, despite the very loaded gun pointed directly at her head and the blatant insult he had just hurled at her. “Santa’s strip club? That’s good! Oh! I bet it would be called ‘The South Pole’.” Her eyes flitted down to where Five had pulled out his gun. “And I wouldn’t mind getting my tongue frozen to your pole.”

“Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! God, you are annoying!”

“Yeah, I get that a lot. But I’m very delightful once you get to know me.”

“I highly doubt that. I’m also not going to find out. Because, even though I could blow your brains out and throw your body into the river very easily right now, I’m not going to do that. So, I highly recommend that you walk away from me before I change my mind.”

“Oh, Five,” she said with a smile, running her hand down his arm. “You’re not going to hurt me. That’s not you.”

Five blanched at her words, lowering the gun. Even though he had liked the feeling of her warm hand on his arm, he shook her off and got in her face.

“I have killed more people than you could ever know,” he snarled.

“263.”

Five’s eyes widened and he took a step back. “What?”

“I do know how many and it’s 263.” She pointed up to the sky and shrugged her shoulders. “We keep track.”

Five didn’t know what to say to that. His heart began to race and his hand trembled as he shoved the gun back into his pants, trying to process the craziest thing this woman had said to him yet. She was right; he had kept track, too.

Chapter Two: Christmas Past

“Fuck.” 

When Five shivered against the cold, Candy opened up her coat, pulling it around his back as she stepped in closer to his side. “Here, let me warm you up.” She leaned in even closer and whispered next to his ear, her lips ghosting over his cheek. “You’re an amazing person, Number Five, and I want to show you that.”

“How?” Five’s voice came out soft, and he realized he was quickly losing his control of the situation.

Candy pressed her body into him, her arms circling his waist. When she kissed him, he didn’t try to pull away. Instead, he felt himself giving in to her and the heat of her hand as she touched the side of his face with her palm. The snow was still falling and landing over them both, but Five was no longer cold. The heat radiating off of her body was more than enough to warm them both. His eyes fell closed as he felt her pull away just slightly, her voice sounding both far away, and directly inside his head.

“Just relax, Five. Let me remind you.”

“Remind me of what?” he whispered, although he wasn’t sure he’d spoken out loud.

“When you were happy.”

Five’s vision started to fade; the snowy landscape around them shimmering like water. For a split second he thought he had his powers back. The sensation was the same. The same surge of energy through his veins, the pull of time and space on every molecule in his body. His heart raced with the possibility that his old self was back. But instead of appearing out of a portal, it was as if he stood still and his surroundings shifted into something new.

One second Five had been standing on a freezing bridge with Candy’s body pressed to his; and the next they were standing in the warm living room of the Hargreeves’ mansion. He was inside of his childhood home and Candy was holding his hand loosely in hers. None of this made sense and he looked to her for an answer. Instead of an actual explanation, she smiled cheerfully, as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened, and squeezed his hand.

“Just watch,” she chirped.

Five really had no other choice but to wait and watch, considering he had no idea what the fuck was going on. The main room of the mansion had been decorated for Christmas, with wreaths on every window, garland on the mantle above the fireplace, and a tastefully decorated tree in the corner. Looking up, he noticed that some of the trophy heads his father had collected had lights strung across their antlers and necks and he smiled. He actually remembered helping Ben string those up, with both of them wondering if they would get in trouble when Reginald saw. By some miracle, their father either didn’t care or didn’t notice, and the rest of their siblings had laughed and clapped when the oryx and wildebeest were suddenly illuminated with twinkling lights.

Five’s smile turned back into a frown when he realized how old that memory was. They had been around 8 years old then. How the hell was he seeing this now? Before he could question Candy, he heard the stampeding sound of multiple feet running down the hallway towards them, accompanied by loud shrieks of laughter. He watched in disbelief as the 8-year-old version of himself, along with the rest of his brothers and sister, came clamoring into the room.

Five immediately ran his hands over his face and down his arms, fully expecting his body to start sweating and itching like crazy. But he felt fine, and he didn’t feel the normal paranoia creeping in. Maybe it was the denial, though. He looked back at Candy, who was watching him, and she shook her head with a smile.

“Don’t worry. There’s no psychosis here. It’s more of a flashback or like watching a home movie. They’re real but they can’t see us.”

Five rolled his eyes. “So, we’re doing the Christmas Carol thing? How original,” he muttered.

Despite his suspicions of all of this, he went back to watching the scene in front of him. He remembered that exact Christmas Eve because it had always been his favorite. They were still too young to have officially formed the Umbrella Academy, and so life was a little freer than it would be in the coming years. Even though they fought sometimes, and formed alliances behind each other’s backs, that was all forgotten at Christmas time. Everyone was happy and getting along. Their mother brought in a tray of seven mugs of hot chocolate with marshmallows and each kid excitedly grabbed one.

Five watched his younger self double over with laughter when Diego stuck a marshmallow up his nose and shot it into Luther’s mug. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed like that, and seeing it was both heartbreaking and uplifting. He smiled, wishing so badly he could step out of whatever bubble Candy had put them in and warn his little innocent self not to ruin his life on a whim just to prove a point.

“I remember this Christmas,” Five said to Candy, not taking his eyes off of his family. “Klaus and Allison had written a stupid play called ‘The Unhappy Christmas Tree’ and forced us all to be in it. We performed it for our mother and Pogo on Christmas morning.”

His supposed guardian angel laughed. “And what part did you play?”

“I’ll give you one guess.”

“The unhappy Christmas tree?”

Five nodded and chuckled. “I had absolutely refused to speak any lines or sing their dumb song, so they made me stand there covered in garland with a star on my head while the rest of them performed around me.”

“I bet you were an adorable little tree.”

“I don’t know about adorable. I was a pretty pissed off little tree, anyway.” Five sighed and shook his head. “Of course, you would have thought it was worthy of a Tony award based on our mother’s reaction. Not that that was real in any way, but it made Allison and Klaus feel good.”

“Did your father enjoy it?”

Five snorted with derision. “Fuck no. He never would have lowered himself to actually spend time with his children. No, I’m sure he was either out with his high-society crowd, or up in his office planning our eventual demise.”

They watched in silence for a few more minutes as his young family laughed and played. They really were a real family once upon a time, all seven of them together. Here was the proof. Ben was alive and Five hadn’t even thought of time travel yet. They even included Viktor in everything back then. Five’s chest tightened with the emotion of a lost childhood and he turned to Candy.

“Make it stop,” he told her, his voice cracking.

“But there’s more to see, don’t you want to—”

“Now,” he demanded harshly. “Stop doing whatever you’re doing.”

She looked sad, the smile that she always seemed to wear fading and she nodded her head slowly. The time travel sensation was back and gone just as quickly, and they were back on the bridge with the wind and snow whipping around them.

“What the fuck did you do to me?” Five yelled at her, yanking his hand away.

“I brought you back to a happy moment in your life. So you could remember what it used to feel like.”

Five wiped aggressively at his face, telling himself that it was wet from the snow, and stumbled backwards away from her. “Stay away from me, whoever or whatever you are!”

Candy raised her arms up and let them drop back down to her sides in frustration. “Five, please! I’m trying to help you.”

“Stay the fuck away from me! Understand? If I see you again, I will kill you!” he yelled into the wind.

He took a few more steps backwards, to make sure she wasn’t going to follow him, but she stayed where she was. Then he turned around and headed towards his apartment as fast as he could without breaking into a sprint.

Head down, Five pressed on for the few remaining blocks, not daring to look behind him. He didn’t know what had happened back there, or who that woman was, but he wanted no part of it. She probably drugged his drink at the bar and everything he had seen was a hallucination. That was the only logical explanation. Logic aside, it had still scared the shit out of him, and Five did not like being the scared one in any situation. He liked to be in control, and back there he had let himself lose control. All because she had pressed her body against his and kissed him.

So what if she was insanely hot, and had a nice ass and her tits were perfect? And so what if she was actually nice to him, even though he was being a dick to her? She was clearly insane. Even attractive people with amazing boobs could be insane, he reminded himself.

When he finally reached his apartment, Five hurried inside and shut and locked the door behind him. He stood shivering with his back against the door, breathing hard and flexing his frozen fingers to try and warm them up. He was still a little tipsy from the bar, but after what he’d just been through, he needed another drink. Striding over to his small, drab kitchen, he pulled out a glass, pouring a generous amount of bourbon, and tipping it back to swallow it in one gulp.

“Fuck,” he said out loud to no one, grimacing from the burn of the alcohol.

Before he could think what to do next, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, startling him back to reality. With a glance at the screen, he sighed heavily, but was actually grateful for someone else to talk to. If only to make sure he wasn’t completely losing his mind.

“Hello?”

“Heyyy, Cinco! We miss you buddy, where are you?”

Klaus was just about as loud as his niece had been, and Five found himself pulling the phone away again.

“I’m at home,” he answered flatly.

“Well, what the hell are you doing there? It’s Christmas Eve, Fivey!”

“I’m aware of the day.”

“Then why would you want to be alone? Come hang out with us. We miss you!”

Five’s heart tightened just a little on hearing that. He missed them, too. A little, anyway. But he stayed silent.

“You’re not still mad at me for spilling guacamole on your suit jacket that one time, are you? Because it really was an accident.”

Five pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers and closed his eyes. “No, Klaus, I am not mad about that. I just don’t want to come, ok?”

There was a pause. In the background, Five could hear the rest of his family being loud and obnoxious as always, with Lila’s voice carrying over all of them. “Klaus, don’t waste your time with that crabby old fart. Let him be miserable and alone. That’s clearly what he wants.”

“We’d really like you to be here,” Klaus said apologetically.

“Yeah, sounds like it.”

“Fivey, come on—”

“Really, Klaus, I’m fine. But as Lila said, don’t waste your time on me, because I’m not coming.”

“Can you at least tell me why?”

Five huffed angrily and raised his voice. “Because maybe I just don’t want to spend Christmas with you people, ok?”

There was silence on the other end and Five immediately felt like shit. Klaus didn’t deserve that. None of them did. Why did he have to be such a stubborn asshole all of the time?

“Yeah, ok. Ten-four, big bro. Have a nice life.”

Five watched as the call went dead and he slammed his phone on the counter.

“Fuck,” he said quietly. But as usual, no one was around to hear it.

He was still wet and shivering from the snow, so after a quick check out the window and a glance at his locked door, he went into his bedroom to change. He just needed to go to bed and go to sleep, that was all. Whatever drug that girl put in his drink would wear off by tomorrow, and maybe then he could think straight. Then maybe he would go over to Diego’s in the morning and apologize; if he wasn’t too hung over, that is.

After pulling off his soaked shoes and socks and peeling off his shirt, Five was in the process of unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly when he heard it. Those fucking bells. He paused, his hands on his waistband as he listened with his heart pounding loudly in his ears. There was no fucking way he had actually heard that. He must be going crazy. But then he heard it again, and he gritted his teeth together.

When he stormed out of his bedroom, there she was. Standing in his kitchen, helping herself to his bourbon, and looking like she had every right to be there. Her red coat had been discarded in the living room, thrown onto a chair. Five also noticed she had thrown her boots off by the door. When she saw him, she smiled happily and raised her glass.

“This is good! I see why you like it.”

Five wanted to scream or yell or do something. Something other than what he did do, which was to stammer incoherently and run his hands so hard through his hair a few strands were pulled out.

“What the…how did you…god damn it! How the fuck are you here?”

He looked over at his door, which was still dead bolted from the inside. If he had been freaked out before, that was nothing to how he was feeling now. Candy, however, only tilted her head like she had no idea what he was talking about and took another sip of her drink.

“Angels don’t need to use doors, Five. I thought that was common knowledge.”

She shrugged her shoulders, drawing his attention to the smooth skin of her collarbone again. He really wished he could stop thinking about running his lips over that skin and wondering how it would taste. He did not want this girl here. He wanted her to leave him the fuck alone. He’d been very clear about that.

“Get. The fuck. Out,” he spit out between clenched teeth.

Candy ignored him and hoisted herself up onto the kitchen countertop, wiggling her sparkly red painted toes. Her skirt was riding up far enough that Five was able to get another glimpse at those red and white striped underwear of hers. She made no attempt to try and hide them and she looked Five up and down, only just then realizing he was standing there shirtless with his pants halfway undone. She raised her eyebrows.

“Damn, Five” she exhaled quietly. “You can deck my halls anytime.”

Five’s eyes darkened and he strode over to her, muscles dangerously flexed, and he grabbed her around the neck. Only inches from her face, he hissed menacingly as he pressed his fingers in harder.

“I told you I would kill you if I saw you again, didn’t I?”

Candy clasped onto his wrist, but she didn’t seem panicked at all. In fact, it looked like she was trying to smile.

“You’re not going to kill me, Five.”

He tightened his grip again and he heard a small gurgle in her throat.

“What makes you think I won’t?” he snarled.

“Because I think you’d rather do something else to me,” she breathed out.

Five’s chest was heaving and his teeth were bared as he stared her down, his fingers not loosening from around her slender neck. Up close like that, he could see down her shirt and he realized he was standing between her legs, with the inside of her thighs brushing against his hips.

“Is that really what you want?” he growled as he leaned in even closer. “You want to get fucked by some stranger on Christmas Eve? Right here, in this shit hole apartment?”

He saw a small twitch at the corner of her mouth and she inhaled as best she could while he was choking her. Five could feel the intense heat pulsing off her body again, just like when they were out in the snow. She looked him directly in the eyes and nodded.

The one ounce of resolve he had left in him to not let his lust for this woman take over in any way dissolved immediately with that nod.

“Shit,” he cursed to himself in between his heavy panting.

Her head was slammed back into the cupboards behind her as Five moved his hand to the back of her neck and kissed her brutally, his other hand sliding roughly up her skirt and onto her hip, where his fingers dug into her skin.

Five leaned down and sucked a dark bruise on to the delicious looking indentation next to her collarbone. He heard her hissing inhale from his teeth scraping against her and he let up, grabbing a handful of her hair.

“I don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into here, honey. Because I’m not the nice guy you think I am.” He kissed her roughly before pulling away again. One hand was still in her hair while his other traveled around the font of her skirt and he pressed his entire hand between her legs, pushing his palm hard against her until he heard her let out a little moan. “You are going to get fucked hard and rough, and I’m going to come inside of you because I don’t really give a shit about anything anymore.”

It hadn’t been a question; his drunk self just blurted it out there. He waited for her to tell him to drop dead, or to finally realize who she was dealing with and leave him alone for good. Instead, she reached down and pressed his hand in harder and smirked.

“It’s not nice to tease.”  

With a vicious smile that was more like a snarl, Five pressed his body into hers so that she could feel his hard on grinding into her thigh. He left more bruises over her neck as he eagerly bit and sucked at her skin.

“Get these fucking panties off.”

With one hand he yanked the tiny red and white striped underpants down, letting them fall to the floor while he started fingering her under her skirt. He watched with satisfaction as her eyelids fell closed and she tipped her head back with a low groan.

He wasn’t gentle with her, but she seemed to like it, and even in his inebriated state he knew what he was doing. Five pushed his groin into her again, rubbing himself against her while he stroked the soft, wet folds between her legs. She was starting to roll her hips into his hand, urging him on with the way she was panting, her chest heaving and her breasts pushed up against his chest.

When Five began finger fucking her, hard with two fingers, her moans came out louder and she thrust her hips into him.

“Ohhh…yes,” she whined, her hands clutching the edge of the countertop.

With another growling noise, Five pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping for air. He ripped open the front of her shirt, the buttons pulling apart and exposing her breasts. The bra she had on was striped just like her underwear. He pushed the shirt the rest of the way down her arms and let it fall off of her.

“Let’s see those tits you’ve been shoving in my face.”

Five reached around and unhooked her bra, throwing it on the ground. The sight of her perfectly round breasts displayed before him was too much and he let out a pathetic noise from deep down in his throat. He couldn’t wait any longer, he needed to fuck this girl and he needed to fuck her now. Candy watched, breathing hard, as he unzipped his pants the rest of the way.

“Fuck, Five…I knew you would have a big package to load into my sleigh.”

He was filled with nothing but rage and lust when he pulled her forcibly by her hips, shoving her skirt up around her waist. With one hand he began stroking his straining cock while the other grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back so she was forced to look at him. Her mouth gaped open and her rapid breaths were loud and rasping.

“Tell me you want this,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

She nodded as best she could with his fist in her hair. He shook her slightly and her head hit the cupboard again, the bells on her headband jingling.

“You haven’t shut up all fucking night, so don’t stop now, sweetheart. Tell me you want me to fuck you.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she whimpered quietly as one side of her mouth turned up in a half smile.

Five let go of her hair and positioned himself carefully, using his hand to slip the head of his cock inside of her. She sucked in a sharp gasp at the same time that Five sneered in her face.

“I am going to ruin you.”

The first hard thrust all of the way inside pushed her back and she cried out while grabbing onto his shoulders for support. Five had her hips and ass held tight in his hands as he began to pound into her hot, wet core. Candy’s headband continued to jangle pleasantly each time the back of her head hit the cupboard behind her.

“Fuuuck,” Five groaned out.

“Oh my god you’re good at this,” she moaned. “Keep fucking me like I’m your ho ho ho,” she added with a smile as her head bounced off the cupboard in time with each ‘ho’; those god damn bells ringing.

“Shut. Up.” Five panted. Then he reached up and grabbed her headband, flinging it across the room, the bells making one final, sad tinkling sound as they hit the linoleum. “Jesus, I hate that thing.”

Candy’s laugh was quickly cut off by another desperate moan as Five banged into her over and over again and she clutched at his shoulders. In contrast to his apparent anger and viciousness towards her, he couldn’t help pulling her closer. He liked her impossibly warm skin and the weight of her body on his. He began to kiss her mouth, hard and hungry, sucking at her lips and tasting her tongue on his. She was delicious, like her name, and he kept going back for more until he was clutching her against him and feeling the soft skin of her cheek under his palm and her firm tits pressed against his bare chest.

“Whatever you’re doing to me, stop it,” he begged her as his lips grazed over the corner of her mouth.

“It’s not me, this time. This is all you, daddy.”

“Oh, fuck…I like that,” he groaned into her neck.

“I know you do,” she smirked.

He was still drilling into her hard and fast, and Five could tell that he was doing something she liked because she finally shut the fuck up. The only sounds he heard were the slamming of his body into hers and her whines and cries that were getting louder and more pleading. Her fingers were digging into his skin and her head was thrown back.

“Yes…please,” she gasped in between more of his voracious kisses.

He felt her release against him as she clung to his body with her legs wrapped around his waist and her hands on his back. Her body seemed to give off a shimmering glow as she climaxed and she felt even warmer to the touch, her hot walls pulsing around his dick.

Five picked up his pace, slamming even more violently into her as he chased his own high. He felt like he wanted to break her, to crack her open with each thrust of his hips. He wasn’t even angry at her anymore, but she was the outlet for his chronic rage and he poured every ounce of it into her. It was unrelenting as he shamelessly used her as a way to get his rocks off and maybe a little relief from the constant ache of resentment he felt every day.

The aggression and ferocity kept building until finally Five couldn’t take it. He was barely aware of her existence anymore, just mindlessly penetrating her over and over again. His own orgasm came hard, and he did exactly what he said he was going to, coming inside of her with no warning. Sweating, shuddering, and with a final long, low grunt, he finished unloading into her and fell limply against her body.

“Damn it,” Five groaned sadly under his breath as he rested his forehead against his shitty cabinet door, her hair brushing against his cheek.

He was still breathing heavily, but he wasn’t pent up with rage anymore. He felt the inevitable shame washing over him like a thick, creeping fog. He had let his anger and fear get the best of him, and he had taken it out on her. When he felt Candy’s fingers threading lightly through his hair at the back of his neck, he flinched and drew back, pulling out of her and stepping away.

He immediately zipped his pants back up and pushed his hair off his face. He was having a hard time looking her in the eyes, but he watched as she hopped casually down from the counter to retrieve her bra and panties that had been thoughtlessly discarded on the floor. Once she had them back on again, she stepped closer to Five. He had no choice but to look at her.

“Wow,” she breathed out with a satisfied smile. Her eyebrows creased together when she saw his expression. “What’s wrong?”

Five wasn’t sure how to answer that question, considering it seemed pretty fucking obvious to him. He looked away from her again, turning back to the bottle of bourbon on the counter. With a shaky hand, he poured more into his empty glass. Then he felt her hand on his arm and he turned back around.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Five. I asked for something and you gave it to me. I know you were mad, but that’s ok. That’s what I’m here for. To make you feel better.”

“That’s what you’re here for? Jesus, what kind of fucked up thing is that to say?”

She sighed. “See, this is exactly why I needed to come down here. You think you’re this cold-hearted, uncaring person, but I’ve seen the real you. And you have so much love inside you, Five. You just need to figure out how to let people see it.”

Five turned his back on her, bracing his hands on the counter so that the muscles in his back tensed and flexed and he let out a short, sarcastic laugh.

“How can you even say that, after…” His voice trailed off, too ashamed to finish the sentence.

She placed a hand on his back. “Can I show you more?”

“More what?” he asked miserably.

“Well, even though one of my objectives tonight was to take a ride on your Polar Express, that wasn’t my main one.”

Five rolled his eyes at her stupid innuendo, but he also had to fight down the smile he felt creeping up. He turned to face her again, crossing his arms over his chest.

“And now I suppose this is the point where you show me another vision or whatever it is and I come to some conclusion that life is just one big fucking ray of sunshine?”

Candy shrugged her bare shoulders, standing there in just her skirt and peppermint striped push-up bra. If Five had been in more of a romantic mood, he would have thought she looked adorable. Instead, he just rolled his eyes again, thankful that at least that fucking headband was gone.

She took another step towards him, prying one of his hands away and taking it in hers.

“Don’t you trust me?”

He shook his head slowly. “Not even a little.”

Chapter 3: I'll Stuff Your Stocking

With another soft smile, Candy placed her hand on the side of his face, just like she had done on the bridge. She leaned in to kiss him, so softly and sweetly that Five couldn’t stand how much he loved that feeling. Just like he had gotten lost in the sensation of kissing her while he roughly fucked her, he was losing himself again. He didn’t care about whatever it was she wanted to show him. He wanted to keep kissing her while her warm body was against his. There was something comforting about it and he let himself relax into her.

When he opened his eyes, he and Candy were fully dressed again, standing in another warmly lit home, with her hand clasped in his. He shook off the strangely familiar feeling of teleportation and glanced around. He knew exactly where they were and he let out a disappointed groan.

“Here?” he asked, turning to Candy with a pointedly annoyed look. “Ok, I get it. I’m a big jerk that everyone hates. Can we go now?”

Candy shook her head with a smile, and Five noticed the fucking bells were back on her head.

“Sorry, that’s not how it works.” When she saw his unamused face, she laughed. “Hey, I don’t make the rules, I just carry them out.”

Five reluctantly turned back to the scene before him. It was happening in real time, on that same night, and he watched his entire family as they gathered around Diego and Lila’s small but cozy living room.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath and he felt Candy squeeze his hand.

“So, why isn’t Uncle Five here again?” Grace asked, as they all took seats and she sat on the floor surrounded by presents.

“He is just very busy, sweetie, that’s all,” Luther lied.

Diego and Lila exchanged eye rolls behind their daughter’s back.

"I’m sure you’ll see him soon. Now, why don’t you go ahead and open up the presents everyone brought for you?” Diego said.

Distracted by the presents from her other uncles, Grace started tearing into the paper while everyone watched. Five felt a stabbing sensation in his chest, knowing she was asking about him and he hadn’t even had the decency to show up.

He and Candy watched as the little girl opened each gift, and each time she held one up to show everyone, Five would scoff, growing increasingly agitated.

“Barbies? Please. She doesn’t even like dolls!”

“She already has Candy Land! I know because I bought it for her two years ago. She cheats, by the way.”

“Pink fuzzy bunny slippers. Ok, Klaus, you’re supposed to pick out things for her, not you. Gracie hates pink. She likes purple.”

Five was getting more and more worked up as Grace continued to open her ill-thought-out gifts. He was gesturing wildly to the scene in front of them and looking over to Candy in disbelief.

“Oh for fucks sa—are you seeing this? Dr. Seuss books? Her reading level is much too advanced for those.”

Candy stood silently next to Five, watching his reactions with her usual smile. Grace finished opening her presents and thanked and hugged everyone politely. But Five could see she was secretly disappointed.

Candy finally piped up. “Too bad you aren’t there to give her your gift. You seem to know her the best.”

Five huffed. “Well, it’s not that hard to figure out what a kid likes. All you have to do is pay attention once in a while. Dumbasses.”

“What did you get her again?”

Five hesitated. “A telescope. I told her how I used to look at the stars every night when it was just me and Dolores and she said she wanted me to show her. I was going to take her outside of the city so we could see them better.”

Candy nodded. “When were you planning on doing that? Before or after your very busy plans of getting black-out drunk all by yourself?”

Five’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t say anything. What could he possibly say? She was right. He had no excuse as to why he wasn’t there with his family and doting on his niece like he loved to do. Only that he was a selfish asshole.

“Alright, so are we done here?”

Candy shrugged, and Five noticed the bruises he had left on her neck and chest were gone. “That’s up to you. Have you seen enough?”

Five turned back to his family. Grace had already slipped away from the group of adults, leaving her new gifts on the floor untouched. He was about to tell Candy that he had seen enough, when he realized his siblings were talking about him.

“…couldn’t take ten minutes out of his busy schedule of tossing off to mannequin catalogs to hang out with his family?”

Five flipped Lila off, even though he knew she couldn’t see him.

“I don’t know, I feel bad for him. He’s been through a lot.”

Surprisingly, Luther was defending him. Then Klaus spoke up.

“I know, but haven’t we all? And we’ve somehow managed to get on with life.”

“Yeah, but we have each other. He doesn’t have anyone,” Diego added.

Lila snorted. “Well, he could have if he tried even a little bit. It’s like he loves being a miserable little shit.”

“I do want him to be happy, though,” said Viktor.

Klaus sighed and nodded. “Yeah, me too. It’s just too bad he can’t let himself. I’m not sure the old man even knows how anymore.”

After that, the subject switched to something else and Five was left standing there with a dull ache throbbing in his chest.

“That’s enough,” he said quietly to Candy.

She nodded and took his hand again. The room started to shimmer and then disappear altogether. In a second, they were back in Five’s apartment. Candy was back to wearing nothing but her skirt and bra, her red headband lying on the floor where Five had so rudely flung it. Five was wearing just his pants, which only brought back the shame he had been feeling earlier. Shame heaped on top of shame.

“I thought you said you were supposed to make me feel better.”

“I am!”

“Well, then you’re terrible at your job because I feel shittier than before. Maybe you need to go back and take a guardian angel refresher course.”

Candy laughed. Because of course she would. “I’m sorry, Five, really. But can’t you see how your family just wants you to be happy? And little Grace…she loves you so much.”

Five nodded and leaned against his kitchen counter, hands braced behind him. “Yeah, I heard. And that’s great. But I just don’t know –” his voice trailed off and he looked away from her.

“What?”

“I don’t know how.”

“To be happy?”

Five nodded.

“Five, everyone has the ability to be happy. Some people just have to work for it a little bit more than others. But I have no doubt in my mind that you could be if you just tried.”

Five flung his hands up in frustration. “You keep saying that! How can I try to be happy? That makes no sense. You either are or you aren’t. It’s not like I can wake up in the morning and say ‘Gee, I think I’ll be happy today!’”

“Actually, that’s exactly what you can do.”

Five sighed angrily, but stayed quiet. She obviously didn’t know what she was talking about, and was the world’s worst guardian angel. Amazing body; terrible angel.

“What do you think Dolores would say?”

Eyes flashing and jaw set, he glared at Candy. “Don’t talk about Dolores,” he warned.

“I’m just saying, maybe if you listened to her –”

“STOP! RIGHT NOW!” he shouted, his voice loud enough to make ripples in the bottle of bourbon next to him.

Candy put her hands on her hips, tipping her head back and exhaling loudly. A piece of her dark hair floated upwards from her exasperated breath. With her head back like that, Five could see the love bites he’d left on her neck, renewing his guilt.

“Wow, you are making my job difficult,” she spoke out loud, to him and to whoever else was listening above.

When she looked back at him, her normal smile returned and she let her arms relax at her sides.

“Ok, how about this? You take some time to reflect on things, while I go take a much needed nap in your bed.”

“A nap? Now?”

“Yes. You are very exhausting,” she huffed. Then she smiled and winked at him, reaching out to run a hand down his arm. “In more ways than one.”

As she sauntered past him, towards his bedroom, Five continued to stand in one spot, thoroughly confused. Just when he thought he had her figured out, she’d trip him up again. He had shouted at her, insulted her, and angrily banged her into his yellow, Formica countertop. And what had she done? Nothing. Nothing but continue to be sweet, and encouraging, and sexy. Damn, she was sexy. But why was she still here? He just didn’t understand.

After a few minutes, Five wandered over to his bedroom doorway. Candy was under the covers, lying on her stomach with her head on his pillow, on the side of the bed he normally reserved for himself. He tried not to let that little fact irritate him, though. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing soft and rhythmically.

"Why are you here?” Five asked out loud.

Candy opened her eyes slowly and smiled when she saw him standing there.

“What do you mean? You know why I’m here.”

“I mean, why are you still here? I’ve been awful to you. I threatened to kill you, I screamed at you. Nothing I’ve done has been nice. And you’re still here. Why?”

She propped her head up on one hand. “Those things don’t bother me.”

Five took a few steps into his room, closer to the bed. “They don’t bother you? How?”

“Because I told you, Five. I know you. The real you. And I know you don’t mean any of those things. I’m not scared of you.”

As he was mulling that over, he came and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled.

“I know.”

He looked at her, lying there in his bed, looking serene and peaceful despite everything that had happened. “Really, Candy, I am sorry. I’ve treated you like crap and you don’t deserve that. Even if I still think you’re a lunatic.”

She laughed and nodded her head. “It’s ok.”

With another, longer look at her, the sheet hanging loosely over her, he realized something. “Are you naked?”

Candy giggled and nodded. “All guardian angels sleep naked. We generate a lot of heat, so it’s much more comfortable that way.”

Five blinked a few times and swallowed. Apparently being sorry for treating someone like shit did not deter instant boners when that someone was a beautiful woman lying naked in your bed. He shifted, pulling at the crotch of his pants.

"I guess it’s a good thing that I got you as my angel instead of a 300lb hairy man.”

“Ah, that would be Todd. I actually fought him for this job. So, you’re welcome.”

Five wasn’t entirely sure if she was kidding or not, but then she laughed at his confused face, which made him smile in return. He still sat there on the edge of the bed.

“So, are you going to keep me company under these covers, or do you want to just sit there in your uncomfortably tight pants?”

“Only if that’s what you want.”

She nodded.

With a grin, Five stood up and shed his pants while Candy looked him over with an approving smile. He slid into bed, close to her so that he could run a hand gently down her back and over her tight butt. She was still lying on her stomach and she wriggled under his touch.

“What, no clever Christmas-themed sexual innuendo, this time?” he teased.

“I can’t think of any good ones right now.”

“Hmmm…” Five leaned in close, his hand resting on the small of her back. “How about I stuff your stocking and give you some of my special eggnog?”

Candy burst out laughing, burying her face in the pillow, before looking back at his smirking face. “I knew you were funny! See, you just need to loosen up a little.”

He looked thoughtful as he continued to trace soft lines down her shoulders and back with his fingertips. When he pushed her long hair off to the side, he saw what he hadn’t been able to before. Two angel wing tattoos, intricately drawn on each of her shoulder blades. He let out a soft laugh as he touched each one lightly.

“So, what did you have to do to earn these?”

“Nothing. Standard issue.”

“I thought guardian angels were supposed to do something special to earn their wings. You know, like every time a bell rings…”

She shook her head with a smile. “Nope. That’s just in the movies. We all have them. This is just my Earth version. My real wings would look a little too obvious down here.”

He looked at her dubiously, with one eyebrow raised. “Then what do you get if you successfully turn me into a believer?”

“I get to stay.”

“Stay where?”

“Here. On Earth.”

He let out a loud, short laugh. “Why in the hell would you want to stay here?”

She shrugged. “I like it here. You have the ocean, and the sun. Rain, trees, snow, buildings, cars, people. Oh! And the food! It’s all so wonderful!”

Now Five really thought she was bat-shit crazy, but he didn’t comment. She continued.

“It’s an incredibly difficult wish to have granted, though. That’s why they gave me you. Or rather, I chose you.”

“And why is that? What’s so special about me?”

Candy smiled coyly, shifting her body over so that she was pressing Five back into the mattress by his shoulders. She climbed on top of him, straddling his thighs and letting the covers fall off of her.

“Because you, Five Hargreeves…” she rocked her hips into him and he groaned. “…are a very hard man to please.” She rubbed herself against him again, sliding her wet heat over his cock.

Five grabbed her hips and she straightened herself, allowing him to see her fully naked body on top of him. He let out a stuttering breath.

“Well, I’m pretty fucking pleased right now. Does this count?”

She shook her head sadly. “I’m afraid not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun in the meantime.”

After reaching up to cup each breast, rubbing his thumb over her stiff nipples and watching her throw her head back, Five ran his hands slowly down her sides. He loved the softness of her skin and the curves of her body; the intense heat that got stronger with her arousal. He desperately wanted to feel himself inside of her again, but without all of the anger and malice that he had projected onto her the last time.

“If you kiss me, will you make me see things again?”

“No. Not this time.”

Five nodded. “Then kiss me,” he whispered. "Please."

When she leaned over him, she paused for just a moment, an inch from his mouth, and then her lips met his as he closed his eyes. His hand caressed the side of her face and his fingers found their way into her long hair. This time there was no anger or violence; no screaming urge to drive her away or control her. He just wanted to keep kissing her, to touch her hot skin, and feel the weight of her body on top of his. He hadn’t realized it before, but it felt so good with her naked body pressed to his. There was something comforting about it. And he was so rarely comforted.

Five wasn’t sure when she had adjusted herself so that his cock was sliding inside of her again, but her hips were moving in a steady rhythm against his, her sex so hot and wet that he was positive he’d never felt anything so amazing in his entire life.

She moved her mouth to the side of his neck, still slowly riding him, as he breathed loudly into the sweet scent of her hair.

“Five,” she whined, drawing his name out as her lips brushed across his skin.

“Oh, fuck…” He knew he had a tendency for arrogance, but he never realized just how much he loved hearing his name moaned next to his ear while he was being fucked. But he could say for absolute certainty now that he would not get tired of hearing it.

His hands were on her hips again, urging her to ride him faster and harder, all while her chest remained flush with his. Their soft kisses had turned into hungry ones, and Five latched onto the creamy skin next to her collarbone again, sucking another purple mark onto it.

“I want to give you what you want. Just tell me,” he panted, his breath hot on her already flaming skin.

“I need you in deeper, Five. I want more of you.”

“Sit up.”

Candy took the direction, pulling herself away from Five’s mouth and neck, and sat up, sinking deeper down onto his cock. Five’s strong hands pushed her down further, harder, and he thrust his hips up to meet hers.

“Oh fuck yes !” she yelled, letting him roughly guide her body.

Grasping hands; fingers digging into hot, damp skin; the sound of the bed slamming into the wall, and her desperate moans and cries were mixing together into one erotic symphony as Five drove into her again and again. It was the most blissful experience he’d ever had. He couldn’t even remember why he was so angry towards her earlier. Oh right, she claimed to be a celestial being, wouldn’t shut up, and broke into his apartment. Well, right now he didn’t care about any of that. Right now, he watched her amazingly tight body rock back and forth on top of him, his dick buried deep inside her.

“You feel so goddamn good right now. Maybe you’re my guardian angel after all.”

She let out a breathy laugh and bit her bottom lip as she continued to ride him.

“That’s another reason I want to stay here…fuuck…the sex here is…oh god, yes, do more of that…amazing…ah shit, Five!”

With a long wail of pleasure, Candy tipped her head back, mouth open, as she came undone. Five watched her face, lost in ecstasy; took in her body that was writhing and shuddering on top of his; felt her tight cunt pulsing around him. The arrogant, asshole part of him that lived inside his brain was practically gloating over the fact that he was the one responsible for all of it, too. And, fuck, if that wasn’t the final push he needed to be filling her up with his cum again, groaning through a clenched jaw as he pressed his fingers further into her flesh.

Afterwards, they laid there in silence, Candy’s head next to his on the pillow as she smiled over at him and let out a contented sigh, stretching her body out long like a cat warming itself in a sunbeam. Five laid on his back, staring at the ceiling, a million thoughts running through his head. That old feeling of guilt was creeping back in again.

“I really am sorry,” he said quietly. “For earlier.”

“And I already said it’s ok.”

He tapped his fingers on his bare chest, as one of the many nagging thoughts in his brain surfaced again. “Candy, how old are you?”

She let out a giggle that she quickly suppressed. “Are you worried that you’ve taken advantage of an impressionable, young woman that’s half your age?”

Five looked over in surprise, and then remembered that she seemed to know everything about him. Even things no one should know. So, of course, she would know his true age.

“That’s a bit of a concern of mine, yes.”

“Well, if anyone is taking advantage of anyone in this scenario it’s me with you.”

“How so?”

“We don’t really have years like they do down here, but if I were to guess, I’d probably be around 390.”

Five raised his eyebrows at her and let out a disbelieving laugh. “390 years old.”

Candy stretched out languidly again, showing off her body that could not have been more than 22 years old by the looks of it. After a yawn, she nodded. “Yep. I’m the ultimate cougar, aren’t I?” She laughed at her own joke.

With a shake of his head, Five let out a soft sigh. He was not even sure why he bothered. Every time she answered one of his questions, it only created more. In the matter of a few hours, he had gone through about every emotion in his inventory, and he still didn’t understand what was going on. Just a couple of hours earlier, he had threatened to kill this woman. He had held a loaded gun to her head. And now, here she was, lying naked next to him in his bed, as comfortable as could be. The even weirder part was that Five felt comfortable, too. He had no panicky urge to kick her out with some lame excuse; no sudden need to get up and shower, remaining aloof until she left on her own.

He liked her. He thought. Or maybe she drugged him again, who the fuck knows? Whatever was going on was strange, to say the least. He looked back over at her, and she had fallen asleep. If this little game of visions they were playing was going to continue, then that meant there would be one more. The future, he supposed. He laughed quietly to himself. Jesus, what was wrong with him?

He laid there for a while, thinking, and watching her sleep. He wasn’t tired, though, so eventually, after covering her gently with a blanket, he slipped out of bed. In the bathroom, he washed his face and looked in the mirror. He thought about what Candy had said. “What would Dolores say?” Well, he thought, what would she say? If he wanted to depress himself even more, he’d realize he could literally ask her right then. She was there, staring him in the face as he looked at his reflection. He wasn’t stupid. He knew the love of his life had been just a branch of his subconscious. Created for the sole purpose of not going completely insane. Five wasn’t sure that had worked entirely, though. Just look at him now.

“She’d say you’re being an asshole.” He spoke out loud to the mirror. “She’d tell you to stop being a whiny cry baby all the time and try to be grateful for once.” Five ran a hand down his face. “She’d tell you to stop drinking so much. And maybe be nice to people. Even if they are idiots. And to stop closing yourself off to your family.”

He sighed. Then he looked down at the chipped porcelain sink and smiled to himself.

“As usual, my darling, you are right about everything.”

As Candy slept, Five sat in the dark of his apartment, in his underwear, and thought. He had poured himself another bourbon, more out of habit than anything else, but then thought better of it and dumped it down the sink. He’d had more than enough to drink that night. So, he’d chosen water instead, and sat in the worn armchair in his living room, staring out at the skyline.

He normally hated looking out that window. When he had moved in, he had asked if they had anything on the ground floor, but the only availability was on the sixth. So, every day he had to stare out into the world that he supposed he was partially responsible for creating. In the very far distance, he could make out the obnoxious search lights that circled the night sky from the roof of his father’s skyscraper. He would listen to the sounds of the police sirens wailing continually, the constant roar of choppers overhead as they completed their nightly rounds. Each one of the vehicles were emblazoned with his father’s HE logo, since he owned the law, too. Most nights he would slam the blinds down so he wouldn’t have to look at it.

But Five was tired of being angry and resentful. He was tired of being a miserable, crabby old fart, as Lila had said. He was exhausted, actually. So, maybe it was time to take Candy and Dolores’ advice and move on. Be grateful for the things he did have. Be happy for once.

Chapter 4: White Christmas

Five was still sitting there an hour later when Candy came strolling in from the bedroom. She had thrown on one of Five’s white t-shirts, with it barely covering the striped panties she had put back on. She hadn’t bothered with a bra, and Five could make out the faint outline of her nipples through the material. When she walked over to him, she smiled and sat down in his lap, putting an arm around his shoulder.

“What are you doing out here all alone?”

“Just thinking,” he mused, while looking her delicious looking body up and down.

“Good, you need to think. Thanks for letting me sleep, though.”

Five’s hand immediately began stroking her bare legs and not-so-subtly trying to grind up onto her tight little butt.

“I guess that means you have more energy now?” His hand crept up higher, onto her hip. “Why don't you let me do something about that.”

He gave her a playful nip to her neck and she giggled. He was starting to like that sound. Better than the bells, anyway.

“That is very tempting, and I can tell, or rather feel , that you are ready for another round of ‘Hide the Yule Log’, but we can’t do that just yet.”

Five frowned. “You can’t expect me to behave when you come in wearing nothing but my t-shirt and drop into my lap like this.”

She laughed. “I know, I’m rotten. I do like seeing you squirm, though.”

Five would rather be squirming into her underpants, but considering his earlier transgressions, he decided to behave. That didn’t mean he had to stop running his hand up and down her smooth thigh, though.

“You’re going to make me see things again, aren’t you?”

Candy nodded. “It’s time.”

“Please don’t make me do this again.”

His voice had come out soft and the words caught in his throat. He looked away out of embarrassment.

“Why not?”

“Because if you’re going to show me the future, I’d rather not see it.”

“Why is that?”

“I’m scared,” he croaked out. “I don’t exactly have a good track record with seeing future events. Or future versions of myself, for that matter.”

She smiled sadly, but nodded, tracing her fingers lightly over his lips. “I know, but it’s ok. You need to see it.”

“I don’t need to. I get it. I’m an old, ungrateful bastard that needs to let people in more and live a happier life. See? I don’t need this part. I figured it out already.”

“That’s not really how this works,” Candy argued.

Five let out a frustrated groan. “Who cares? I learned my lesson, end of story. Now, why don’t you give me my shirt back and we can do something much more fun.”

He leaned in to kiss her and she held him back with a hand on his chest, shaking her head.

“Later. Right now, I need to show you.”

Five inhaled a deep breath and swallowed hard, giving her a small nod of assent. “Ok.”

Another soft kiss, another pulling sensation over his body. When Five looked up, they were back in Diego and Lila’s living room. It was the same house, but things were different. Different furniture, wall paint, and light fixtures. He was about to ask Candy if she screwed up, but then there were voices and his brother and Lila entered the room.

They had aged, that much was clear. By how many years Five wasn’t sure, but there were deep wrinkles in their foreheads and around their eyes. Diego’s hair had streaks of gray running through it.

“We don’t have to invite him, you know. It’s not required.”

Diego sighed and put his hands on his hips, addressing Lila. “He’s my brother. We kind of do.”

“Well, by that logic, do you want to send off an invitation to good old Reggie, too? Just because he’s your adopted brother, doesn’t mean you owe him anything. Besides, do you even know if the little shit stain is still alive? We haven’t seen him in like, what? At least three years.”

Five balked at that. They hadn’t seen him in three years? How was that possible?

There was another long sigh from Diego and he shook his head. “I guess I just assume he is. The old bastard is hard to kill.”

Lila crossed her arms and looked at him in the pointed way that hadn’t changed in so many years. “And do you really want another incident like Grace’s college graduation?”

“No, of course not. But maybe he’s changed; maybe he’s better now.”

“Diego!” Lila threw her arms up and looked at him in disbelief. “The man showed up hammered drunk, interrupted the commencement speaker to yell at them about how wrong they were, and then proceeded to upchuck in the parking lot in front of all of Grace's friends! I highly doubt he’s just miraculously better now.”

Diego nodded in agreement.

“And it’s not like that’s the only time. Remember that Thanksgiving when she was in high school? He drank all the wine and passed out on the floor in the living room? All in front of her boyfriend? She was so embarrassed.” Lila’s voice softened and she put a hand on Diego’s arm. “You tried your best. We all did. But you can’t change someone that doesn’t want to be changed.”

“You’re right. It’s probably for the best that we don't invite him. I wouldn’t want anything horrible like that to happen at her wedding. Besides, I don’t think she will want him there, either.”

Five’s insides were churning and the tightening sensation in his chest was making it hard to breathe. He looked over at Candy, who was watching him with a pitying look on her face.

“This can’t be real. I would never do those things. Ever! Especially not to Grace.”

Candy shook her head sadly. “I know you don’t think you would. But it’s a slippery slope from where you are now.”

Five shook his head, refusing to believe it. There was no way he’d ever let himself stoop so low. Would he? And they weren’t even going to invite him to Grace’s wedding? He clutched at his stomach.

“No. There’s no way. This did not happen.”

“But it has happened. This is the future. Unless you do something to change it.”

Five was silent for a moment, taking that in. “Lila said they weren’t sure I was still alive.” He turned to Candy again. “Am I?”

“Well, see for yourself.”

There was more shimmering around them, the living room fading away as it was replaced with a different scene. As it came into view, Five could see that it was his apartment. Or, at least a version of his apartment. It looked like many years had gone by and it had fallen into disrepair. The paint was peeling on the walls, the window looked like it had been broken at one point and was now half-hidden behind some plastic held up with duct tape. The kitchen was falling apart, with cabinet doors hanging crooked on their hinges, and the faucet dripping continually into the old, stainless-steel sink.

The television was on, tuned to some news station. The anchor was talking about the upcoming New Year’s Eve gala that was held every year inside Reginald Hargreeves’ tower. Only the very elite of the city were invited, of course, but that’s not what Five was focusing on. It was the date. He was looking twenty years into the future.

If that were true, that meant he’d been living in the same shit hole for two decades? And it really was a shit hole now. The place looked like it should be condemned.

Just as Five was about to question Candy, there was a groaning sound coming from the beat up couch in front of the tv. A figure slowly hoisted themselves up and ran a hand through their graying hair. He couldn’t see his face, but Five was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“Shut the fuck up! Fucking Hargreeves bullshit.”

Five watched as his older self grumbled out loud at the tv, standing up to turn in their direction. His heart sank. How many times was he going to have to face his future self? Of all the versions so far, however, this one might have been the worst. He should have only been in his early forties, but he looked about eighty. Even his 100-year-old self had looked marginally better.

With thinning hair and a prematurely aged face that looked like it hadn’t been shaved in several days, the older version stumbled into the kitchen, scrounging in the cupboards. Five noticed that his clothes were wrinkled and stained, like he’d been wearing them for days at a time. In fact, he looked like he hadn’t showered in about that long, too. His expensive clothes that he was normally proud of were now thread bare; his dress shirt looking more yellow than white.

Once he finally found the bottle of cheap whiskey he had been searching for, his older self poured a large glass and then wandered back to the couch again.

Five looked to Candy, his face horror-struck. “This can’t be…how could I live like this?”

“It’s pretty sad, isn’t it?”

Five nodded guiltily. The other version was mumbling out loud to himself and Five listened to his own voice croaking out of the pile of detritus that was his older body.

“Yes, I know what you said, but this is the last one for the night, I swear.” There was a pause. “You don’t even know what you’re talking about. This is only my second one.” Another pause and a heavy sigh. “Alright, Dolores. Whatever you say.”

Holy shit. He was back to talking to Dolores? And he didn’t even have a solid, mannequin version of her to at least give some realness to it. He was just mumbling to himself; like a crazy person.

Five closed his eyes and shook his head like he was trying to erase this vision from his memory, but of course that didn’t work, and he turned to Candy, his eyes wide with fright.

“Stop it. Please, I can’t stand this. This can’t be me. Change it back,” he pleaded.

“I can’t do that, Five. Only you can change it.”

“Fine. I’m sorry, ok? I’m sorry for all the ways I’ve fucked up over the years, and all of the horrible things I’ve done. I’m sorry!”

She shook her head, the bells on her headband jangling sadly. “I know you’re sorry. But that’s not enough to change things.”

“Well then what the fuck! I…I can’t let this happen. It’s such a…”

“What, Five?”

Five’s eyes filled with tears and his voice broke. “A fucking waste of a life! After everything I have done. I did not spend 45 years in a fucking wasteland to save my family and the world, just to end up as a sad, old drunk all alone. I worked too hard for it to end like this. Why didn’t I appreciate what I had? Why did I pull away from my family?” He shook his head. “No, this is not going to happen. I refuse to go out like this. I have to make it right. Starting now, I’m going to make this right.”

Candy smiled warmly and pulled him in close. She kissed his cheek and put her arms around his shoulders. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

When they were back in Five’s apartment, even though it looked the same as usual and in better shape than the future version, he still couldn’t help but cringe. He needed to find a new place, and soon, that was for certain.

Candy was not on his lap anymore, but sitting across from him in another chair. She was still wearing his t-shirt and nothing else, but Five wasn’t really focused on that at the moment. She leaned forward, her forearms resting on her legs.

“Please tell me we’re done. That was horrible and I never want to see that again,” Five begged.

“You won’t have to. As long as you change and don’t let yourself become that version.”

He nodded and exhaled a long and shaky breath. “I won’t. I’m going to stop being such a prick and start living my life.” He scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to forget everything he’d seen, and then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was still the middle of the night. Too early, or late, to really do anything now. But first thing in the morning, Christmas morning, he was going to start making things right. Five looked back to Candy.

“Even though I hated all of that, you helped me see what I really needed to see. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Does this mean you believe in guardian angels now?”

Five narrowed his eyes, a smile quirking up the corner of his mouth. “I guess I have to, don’t I? I have no other explanation.”

Candy laughed and clapped her hands together, then pumped her fists in the air. “Yes! Ha! I knew I could make you believe!”

Five laughed along with her, that horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach starting to fade away. Then he quieted again and looked at her thoughtfully.

“So, does this mean you’re leaving now? Now that your job is done?”

She shrugged, and Five found he didn’t find that little mannerism nearly as annoying as he used to.  “Yes, eventually. But I don’t have to leave this very minute.” She smiled and spread her legs just enough so that Five could get a glimpse of the red and white stripes between them. “Why? Have something in mind?”

“Well, I figured I have a few more hours before I have to start being a better person. Might as well make the most of it.”

Candy stood up and crossed over, plopping herself in his lap again, making sure to wiggle her butt over just the right spot to get him hard again.

“And just what naughty thing were you thinking?”

Five smiled slyly. “It is after midnight; technically Christmas.” He leaned in to kiss her neck, not hard like before, but gently; trailing his lips over her hot skin, teasing, until he heard her make a little sighing noise and she shifted in his lap, rubbing against the growing tent in his boxers. His hand crept back up her leg and onto her hip, where he slipped one finger into the waistband of her underwear. “And since you’re sitting here on my lap, grinding your cute little ass into my crotch, why don’t you go ahead and tell Daddy what you want?”

Her breath hitching in her throat, Candy closed her eyes for a moment, teeth digging into her bottom lip before looking back at him, her breasts rising and falling with each labored breath. She grazed a finger down his neck and over his chest.

“Will you give me anything I want?” she purred with a smile.

“Anything.”

“Then I want you to bend me over…” she kissed his lips softly, “…grab my hips…” another kiss, “…spread me open…” one bite under his jaw, “…and give me a White Christmas, Daddy .” With the last word she pressed into him harder.

“Jesus Chri—” he started to moan, but he was cut off.

She was kissing him. Slow and deep, lacing her fingers through his hair while he swallowed each whimper and moan she breathed into his mouth. Five couldn’t stop his hands roaming over her body, her skin like hot silk under his fingers. Every part of her was a piece of heaven, maybe even literally, and he wanted to commit every curve to memory. She was still kissing him when he stood, picking her up with him, and carried her into his bedroom. When he placed her on his bed, she immediately yanked his stolen t-shirt over her head, propping herself on her elbows and displaying her flawless breasts.

After removing his own underwear, Five climbed onto the bed, kneeling between her legs. Leaning over her, his hands on either side of her and holding himself up, she was forced onto her back.

“I’m going to give you what you asked for, sweetheart, don’t worry. But first, I need to get a taste of this stunning body of yours. See if you live up to your name.”

He leaned in, like he was going to kiss her, stopping just before their lips met, and then he pulled away again. Flashing an overly-confident smirk, he moved south, massaging each breast and taking turns with each side; licking and sucking at each perfect nipple. Five could have spent an entire day just worshiping those soft mounds of flesh. He’d always considered himself a titty man. Tits and ass; that was his thing. As long as a woman had a nice rack and a tight ass, Five didn’t really care what else was going on with them. And fuck, did Candy have a nice one of each.

After a particularly hard bite onto her sensitive nipple, Candy gave a small shriek, but that only spurred Five on further. His bites got harder and he sucked at her skin until he left more marks all over her chest. With each one, though, her back would arch off the bed and she’d push her hips up into him.

“Five…” she pleaded softly.

“I know, sweetheart, I’ll get there. But these gorgeous tits are just too good to ignore.”

She threaded her fingers through his hair as he continued to blissfully torture her. “Please, just…I want your partridge in my pear tree!”

Five rolled his eyes and ignored her remark.

Candy hissed sharply as his teeth dragged across an already bruising mark. “Load up my one-horse open sleigh.”

He resisted the urge to laugh, and instead gave her a hard pinch on her already abused nipple.

“Ah!” she cried, digging her nails into his scalp. “But I need you! Stuff my Christmas turkey, frost my gingerbread house, eat my fruitcake, mmmph!”

Five clapped a hand over her mouth and raised himself up so he could look down on her face, his lips pressed into a thin line of annoyance. He could feel her smiling beneath his palm.

“Candy?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut up.”

After she nodded, he released his hand, and thankfully she did shut up for once. He knelt in front of her again, frowning as he started pulling her panties down her hips.

“And don’t ever wear these again. They just create more work for me.”

He shoved them the rest of the way off and flung them over his shoulder with a scowl as she laughed. Five took a moment to appreciate the fact that this amazingly stunning woman was stretched out before him, completely naked, and waiting for him to fuck her. She was dying for it, too. Chest heaving and hips twitching, it was a small miracle that Five wasn’t shoving his dick into her already. But he really did want to know what the rest of her tasted like.

When he ran his tongue up her wet slit, she thrusted up so hard that he had to forcefully hold her hips down so he wouldn’t get bucked off.

“Oh shit!” she cried out, her hands clutching the sheets underneath her as her head flung back. “Five, oh my god, that’s –”

She was cut off by her own high-pitched whine as Five sucked at her folds and her clit, using his tongue to penetrate her and hungrily lap up the slick wetness that was running out of her. He didn’t have much experience in eating anyone out, since most of his one-night stands got right down to the fucking with not much time for foreplay. Even though he was making it up as he went along, it seemed to be working in his favor, judging by the sounds she was making and the strength it took for him to hold her writhing body down.

When he felt her getting close; when she was panting loudly and moaning his name, he started drawing it out longer. He slowed down his pace, no longer devouring her, but licking languidly at her hole and pausing to kiss her inner thighs. He smiled when he heard the disappointed groan.

“Five…”

He stopped altogether and raised his head to look at her, one eyebrow raised and a crooked smile on his wet and shiny lips.

“Yeah?”

She exhaled loudly and tried to buck up into him again, but he was still holding her down. “Damn it…don’t stop now!”

“Why? Did you like that?”

“Fuck…Five, please.” Her desperate whine was on the verge of turning into an all out sob.

“Well, since you asked nicely.”

It didn’t take long after he was back on her before her moans turned into loud screams and her back was arching off the bed again. Five worked her into more and more of a frenzy as he felt her pulsing against him, coming against his mouth and soaking the sheets underneath them. He had started grinding himself into the mattress as his own arousal peaked, and Five was very afraid of blowing his load with his dick not even touching her.

He sat up and looked at her lying there with her hair in a mess around her, her chest flushed pink and littered with his bites and bruises, gasping for air from the intense orgasm that he gave her. Holy fuck, he needed to come.

Five moved up, straddling her waist as he clutched his straining dick in his hands.

“I want to fuck your tits,” he breathed out desperately.

Candy nodded eagerly and Five positioned himself so that his cock nestled in the valley of her cleavage and she pushed her breasts together, sheathing him in her warm skin.

“Oh fuck, yes,” he groaned out.

Straddling her chest, Five started thrusting hard and fast, all while he looked down so he didn’t miss out on the pornographic visual. His dick was so hard that the leaked pre-cum that was dripping steadily out smeared over his shaft and between her tits. Candy was massaging and squeezing them around him, running her thumbs over her nipples as he rutted into her. She was so soft and tight at the same time, and the feeling was so fucking good. So much better than when he used to try and use Dolores in the same manner. Back then, he’d had to envision a real live woman beneath him, but now it was very real and he was going to lose it in about ten seconds.

Not wanting to risk it by coming in her face, Five backed off, slipping out of her. Still kneeling over her, he grasped his rock-hard dick and jerked himself vigorously. He tipped his head back with a groan while he worked his fist over himself faster and faster until he was just on the precipice.

“Fuck, I’m going to come on you,” he groaned, as if that wasn’t already obvious.

He gave her the White Christmas she had asked for, painting her perfect tits with ropes of cum, covering her until it was sliding down her sides and onto the bed. Five continued to work himself over, each spasm seeming to create another spurt of semen that was strewn across her chest. When he was finally spent, he let go of himself and climbed off of her, flopping on his back in post-orgasmic bliss.

“Holy shit,” he murmured between ragged breaths.

After a minute, he looked over at Candy, who had propped herself up on her elbows and was watching him. The sight of her covered in his dripping load was quite possibly the hottest thing he’d ever seen, and if he had a few more minutes, he could probably use that image to get hard again. But that wouldn’t be very nice to leave her like that, and even he wasn’t that much of a selfish asshole.

“Hang on, I’ll be right back.”

When he returned with a washcloth, Five helped to clean her up.

“Sorry. I guess I didn’t really ask if that was ok.”

“No, you didn’t, but that’s ok. I like when you take charge.”

Five gave her a sexy smirk, but then it faltered with the realization that she was probably going to leave him soon.

“Do you have to go now?”

Candy hesitated, but then she shook her head. “Not quite yet. I can stay for a little longer…if that’s what you want.”

Five nodded, then pulled her into him, trapping her in his arms, her back flush with his chest as they laid side by side. Candy wiggled in closer and pressed her ass against him.

“Stay as long as you can, ok?” he whispered.

She squeezed his hand and placed it on her stomach. “Ok.”

With his free hand, he traced his fingers down her side and over her hip and thigh. She let out a soft sigh and relaxed into his chest. Five kissed her neck and her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“You already thanked me.”

“This time I mean for everything. Thank you for making me see what I couldn’t before. But also, thank you for just being here. I didn’t realize how lonely I had become.”

“You’re welcome. And…I wish I could stay.”

He gave her another kiss to her neck and she closed her eyes. “Why can’t you?”

“There are rules. And I have to go back.”

“Will you ever come back?”

“If everything goes the way I want, then yes.”

Five pushed his groin that was already starting to harden again, into her firm backside. Candy let out a tiny moan and pushed back.

“Then I hope you find me,” he said softly against her skin.

“I think it would be very hard to stay away from you.”

He could feel her skin getting warmer again, and he moved so that his cock slid between her legs, brushing against her folds that were already wet for him.

His mouth sucked another mark onto the nape of her neck as he lowered his voice and his hand slid down to squeeze the inside of her thigh. “Do you want me again?”

“Yes,” she whimpered. She pressed backwards, slick running down her inner thighs and wetting his dick as he rubbed between them.

“God, I could keep fucking you all day,” he groaned.

“Just fuck me for as long as we have.”

With a deep growl, Five pulled her hard against him, as she lifted her leg and rested it on top of his. He inhaled sharply when she reached back and grabbed his cock, guiding it into her dripping cunt and thrusting backwards so that his full length was completely inside of her.

“Five,” she moaned sweetly as he rocked into her.

He kept up the slow pace, pulling at her hip and kissing any area of exposed skin that he could reach. He had wanted to hold himself back; to draw it out as long as possible. He had wanted to drink in the scent of her hair and trail his mouth over her soft skin. But then she moaned his name again.

Digging his fingers into her hip, he hissed next to her ear.

“Be a good girl and let Daddy fuck you hard, ok sweetheart?”

With the shamelessly loud groan that she released as her back arched against him, he really didn’t need an answer, but he waited for one anyway.

“Fuck yes. Give it to me.”

Five pulled out and roughly flipped her over so that she was on her stomach and he positioned himself behind her. Grabbing her hips and jerking them backwards, he lined up with her entrance again and shoved himself inside of her. With teeth clenched and jaw set, he got to work. Banging into her ferociously, his hips slapping against her as he railed into her as hard as he could. He didn’t need to feel guilty. She wanted it like this, and he wasn’t doing it out of rage. Anger wasn’t driving him this time, just pure animalistic lust and feral instinct.

He continued pounding into her and they were both lost in their own highs. Candy was moaning loudly, begging for more and clutching at the sheets underneath her. Five was grunting through gritted teeth with the effort he was putting in to fucking her; fueled even more by the hypnotic visual of her angel wing tattoos flexing and twisting as she braced herself against his powerful thrusts. After a few minutes, it was clear that neither one of them were going to be able to take much more.

With another long whine, Candy reached down to rub her clit while Five slammed into her. He could feel her hand every time he thrust forward and his balls slapped against it.

“Five…I can’t…I’m going to come!”

“Go ahead, baby. Come on my dick while you touch yourself.”

“Oh fuuuck, Five!”

When he heard her scream, he came with a loud growl, holding her flush to his body as he pumped one more load inside of her. He could feel her contracting around him as his hips stuttered against her backside. Candy’s legs were shaking and Five pulled out so she could lie down flat, her hair covering her face as she sucked air into her lungs. He sat back on his knees and gave her a playful slap on the ass before lying down next to her.

As they both laid there, trying to steady their breathing, a few minutes passed in silence. Then Five heard her giggle under her curtain of hair. When he pushed it out of the way, she was grinning up at him

“When I think about you, I touch my elf. ”

Five shook his head with a smile. “Have I told you how annoying you are?”

“You may have mentioned it once or twice.”

He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Then he flipped her hair over her face so she was hidden again. “There. Much better.”

Chapter 5: It's A Wonderful Life

In the early morning hours, Five finally drifted off, warm and content, with his arm flung across Candy’s stomach. She never let him know before she left, but in the morning when he woke, there was no sign of her. He didn’t know why he was surprised; he knew she wasn’t going to stay for much longer. But when he walked into the living room of his apartment, there was no red coat. No black boots by the door. And, most notably, no red headband. All evidence of her existence was gone. All except for the lingering scent of her hair on his pillow and one tiny bell that he found on the kitchen floor and slipped into his dresser drawer.

He was sad she was gone, but not in a way that felt permanent or oppressive. She had shown him there was a lot more to live for, and it needed to start with himself. He didn’t need her with him to make the changes he needed to.

It was still early, but he knew Grace would have woken up at the crack of dawn on Christmas morning, so he was sure Diego and Lila were up. The rest of his family would probably sleep in a little but then they would be over at their house again, too.

After a shower, Five changed and grabbed the wrapped present he had for Grace on the way out. He stopped by a bakery that happened to be open that morning, and then caught a cab to Diego’s. When he knocked on the door at 7am, he tried not to laugh when his brother opened the door. Diego was still in his bathrobe, looking disheveled and sleep deprived, a cup of coffee in his hands. But the look on his face when he saw Five standing there was priceless. He actually poked his head out of the door and looked around him, as if there might be some kind of prank being played on him and there were cameras around to film his reaction.

“Five, what are you doing here? Are you still drunk from last night?”

“No! I’m here to watch Grace open her presents. And to hang out with you guys, too, if you’ll let me.”

Diego frowned like he couldn’t quite comprehend what he was hearing. He looked Five up and down, taking in his clean-cut appearance, and coming to the conclusion that he must not have come directly from a bar.

“So, can I come in, or do you want me to stand out here all day freezing my nuts off?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah…sure, come on in. Grace and Lila are in the living room.”

He stepped aside to let Five in, still not completely believing what he was seeing. After a moment though, he smiled and clapped Five on the back.

“I’m glad you’re here. We missed you yesterday.”

Five nodded. “I’m sorry about that. I won’t miss any more family things from now on.”

Five handed off the box of pastries he had picked up and headed into the room where Lila and Grace were gathered around the Christmas tree. When Grace saw her uncle, she let out a little screech and ran over to him, throwing her arms around his waist in a big hug.

“Uncle Five! I knew you would come! My mom said you weren’t going to, but I knew you would!”

Five laughed, then he looked at Lila who was staring at him with the same expression Diego had given him.

“Merry Christmas, Lila,” Five said with as much of a smile as he could manage, and only a hint of snark. He could learn to be nice, but he still had his limits.

“Yeah, Merry Christmas to you, too,” she said slowly, her eyebrows creased together in confusion.

Five didn’t even respond when he heard her add “wanker” under her breath.

“Is that my present?” Grace asked when she eyed the large box that Five was holding.

“It is. Do you want to open it? I think you’ll like it.”

She nodded and sat on the floor as Five handed it to her and then joined Diego on the couch. They watched as the little girl ripped open the paper and gasped.

“A real telescope?!”

Five nodded, smiling. “Yep. Now we can go look at the stars together.”

Grace looked up at him with her little chubby face and wide, dark eyes. Then she jumped up from the floor and ran to Five, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug.

“Thank you thank you thank you! I love it so much!” As Five hugged her back, Grace pecked his cheek with a kiss. “This is my favorite present and you’re my favorite person.”

Five grinned and gave her a kiss on the top of her head “You’re my favorite person, too, Gracie.”

As she returned to the telescope and busied herself with getting it out of the box, Five heard Diego sniffing next to him. Lila groaned.

“Oh my god, are you crying , Diego?”

“No! I’m not crying. It’s just…dry in here…and I have allergies…and I’m probably getting a cold.”

“Uh-huh. Ok, babe. Sure.” She rolled her eyes, but she was obviously just as happy as he was.

Diego turned to Five. “So, what happened? You just suddenly changed your mind, got your shit together, and decided to be a decent human being? Overnight?”

Five shrugged, reminding himself of Candy’s annoying habit. “Without going into the boring details, yes, that’s what happened. And I apologize for not being around more. But that’s going to change. I’m going to change.”

Diego raised a suspicious eyebrow at him. “Wow. I don’t know where this is coming from, but I’m happy. Like, really happy.” He grinned widely at Five. “I’ve missed you, buddy. We all have.”

“Speak for yourself!” Lila exclaimed from across the room.

Five turned towards her. “You know, Lila, you should really think about letting go of some of your anger. Try to be a little bit happier, sometimes.” As she looked at him like he was deranged, he mouthed “Fuck you” to her over Grace’s head. Lila just shook her head and smiled, glad to see that it wasn’t the end of the world after all.

Five stayed at the house for the rest of the morning. His other siblings trickled in, as well, and it eventually turned into another official Hargreeves’ family party. Seeing that their notoriously high-strung and unhinged brother was suddenly acting like a mostly sane person, they were obviously concerned. But after they realized he wasn’t going to suddenly snap or turn into a pod person, they all loosened up a little.

Klaus sidled up to him at one point, offering him a freshly made glass of Lila’s famously strong Christmas punch. Five waved him off, though.

“No, thanks. I’m not drinking today.”

“Uh, ex-squeeze me? Did you just turn down a drink? You know it has alcohol in it, right?”

Five laughed, a little embarrassed, and put his hands in his pockets. “I know. Just trying to turn over a new leaf.”

“Ohh…I get it. You met a girl, didn’t you?”

Five looked up at him in surprise. “Why would you say that?”

Klaus took a drink from his glass and grimaced at the strong mixture. “You hanging out with us, not drinking, being nice …it reeks of new girlfriend.”

“Huh. Well, in a way, yes. I mean, not a girlfriend, but there was a girl.”

“You should have brought her! I’d love to see what kind of woman managed to snag my darling, murderous brother.”

“I’m not sure that’s possible at the moment. But maybe someday. Stranger things have happened.”

🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽❤️🪽

“Gracie, honey, we’ve been here for thirty minutes. Pick a book, already.”

The little girl sighed and looked down at her pile on the children’s table where she and Five were seated. One of them comfortably so, the other scrunched up with his knees to his chest.

“But I can’t decide.”

“I told you, pick as many as you want.”

“Yes, but I want to make sure they’re the right ones. What if I get home and I change my mind?”

Five rolled his eyes and shifted in the tiny plastic chair. “Then I’ll return them. Or you can throw them out, I don’t care. My ass is falling asleep.”

Grace gave her uncle a disapproving look. “That’s a bad word.”

“Yes, it is. But if you don’t pick your books in the next five minutes, I’m going to say a lot of bad words.”

She sighed again, as if this was the most difficult decision in the world.

Five and Grace had spent the day together, just like they had once a month for the past six months. It was now July. July 3rd, to be exact, and they had opted for indoor activities to escape the oppressive heat of the city. Earlier, they had gone to the movie theater where Five sat through one of those horrible movies where they take real animals and CGI them into playing sports like soccer or basketball. Oh, and the animals talked, too. Completely asinine. It was ninety minutes of torture and Five wanted to stab his eyeballs out with Grace’s lemonade straw, but she giggled through the whole thing so he deemed it worth it in the end. Now they were at the bookstore next to the theater, where Five told her he would buy her some new books.

As he sat there with his expensive pants jammed into a chair in the children’s section, he decided he was going to give her about two more minutes before they were leaving. Books or no books. Who was he kidding…he’d probably sit there all day if it made her happy.

His young niece was about to say something to him, when Five snapped to attention and held his hand out for her to be quiet. He thought he had heard something. Something very familiar. But he was probably just going crazy.

“I think—”

“Shhh!” he hushed her again.

Grace sat back in her chair, arms folded across her chest with a pout. She did not like being quieted.

Five concentrated, listening for the sound he thought he had heard. There was nothing, though, which made a lot more sense, and his body relaxed again. He turned to Grace to apologize, but then he heard it again.

Those fucking bells.

It could have been anything, of course. The bells over the store door, or a baby’s toy. Maybe someone had their dog with them and its chain was jangling. But he would know that sound anywhere. He heard it in his sleep sometimes.

The sound seemed to be coming from a few aisles away. Five sprang out of his chair, his body stiff from being folded up like a pretzel for so long, and the chair tipped over behind him. Grace looked up at him, confused.

“Are we going? I haven’t made my decision yet.”

“Yes, come on. Just…grab all of them, let’s go.”

“But…”

Five groaned with his head back, wishing he could say what he really wanted to which was “Get the fuck up now.” Instead, he looked hastily around him at all the books on the shelves and on the table.

“Here.” He began scooping up piles of them, not even looking at the covers. He was grabbing four or five at a time off the shelves and balancing them in his arms. He shoved a couple at Grace, too. “We’ll just get all of them.”

Grace’s eyes widened. “All of them?”

“Yeah, sure. Come on, let’s go.”

With one arm full of random kid’s books, he held out his other hand for her to take. He all but pulled her arm out of the socket as he yanked her out of her chair.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, Gracie,” he mumbled, still dragging her behind him as she tried to keep up.

Five hurried through the store, looking frantically down each aisle. He couldn’t hear the bells anymore, and he was afraid maybe he was too late. But as they rounded a corner into the “Religion” section, he stopped. And stared.

There she was, just like he remembered her. She wasn’t wearing the slutty elf outfit, but her body was still as sexy as ever in a pair of small cut-off shorts and a tight, red tank top. Her long black hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was looking over the back cover of a book in her hand, and Five could see she was smiling. Of course she was smiling.

Five walked slowly towards her, Grace still in tow. When she looked up, her smile grew bigger.

“I thought I told you to stop following me,” Five said with a smirk.

“Who says I’m following you? Don’t you believe in coincidences?”

Five shook his head. “Not really.”

Candy actually looked flustered and she chewed at her bottom lip. “It’s good to see you again.”

Five let out a sigh of relief. “It’s really good to see you.”

Candy looked down at Grace, who was staring up at her in curiosity, and then back at Five.

Five cleared his throat. “Oh, this is my niece. Grace. But you already know that, I guess.” He looked down at his niece. “This is a…friend of mine. Candy.”

Grace smiled shyly. Then she stuck out her hand and pointed at Candy’s wrist. “I like your bracelet.”

Five’s eyes were drawn to the jewelry at the same time Candy smiled down at Grace in return. “Thank you. It’s one of my favorites.”

Then she moved her wrist to show off the gold bracelet made up of tiny, jingling bells. The source of the bells Five had heard. He laughed, shaking his head and looking at the floor.

“I really hate that sound.”

“No you don’t.”

“You’re right, I don’t.”

There was an awkward pause, and Five glanced over at the book Candy had in her hand. The title was The Path To Enlightenment: Discovering Your Guardian Angel .

“Brushing up on things?” he asked, gesturing to the book.

“This? Oh no, this is what I read when I need a laugh. This whole section should be titled “Humor”. I mean, you should read some of the things they try and pass off as fact.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

Candy looked to the books Five was holding and pointed a finger at the top one on the stack. “I hear that’s a good one.”

Five looked down, seeing that one of the random books he’d pulled out was I Pooped on the Potty, And You Can Too! , complete with a drawing of a cartoon elephant sitting on a toilet. Five blushed, but then he laughed.

“Well, better late than never.”

Candy nodded. “Definitely.”

Five felt a tug on his hand and he looked at Grace, who was motioning with her index finger for him to lean in closer. He crouched down so he was at eye level, and she leaned in to whisper in his ear. Although, being a kid, the whole damn book store could have heard her whisper.

“She’s pretty.”

Five feigned surprised, then looked back up at Candy, then back at Grace. “You think so?”

Grace nodded. “You should take her on a date,” she whispered loudly and Five heard Candy giggle.

“What do you know about dates?”

“I know that girls like them because my mom always gets happy after my dad takes her somewhere to eat.”

Five nodded like he was mulling this over. “I see. So, I should ask her now?”

Grace nodded, her face serious. “If you want her to like you.”

When Five stood up, Candy was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. Then she waited expectantly for whatever Five was going to say to her.

“My tiny wingman here has informed me that I should ask you on a date. Would you like that?”

Candy nodded. “I think I would, yes.”

“Would you like to come over to my brother’s house tomorrow? He’s having a family barbecue for the 4th. It will probably be a giant shit show, but I said I’d be there.”

“How could I pass that up? I would love to.”

When Five looked back down at Grace, she gave him a thumbs up. Then she sat on the floor to look at her books since her job as matchmaker was now done. He set his own books down and took a step closer to Candy, reaching out to touch her hand lightly, brushing his fingers over the back of her hand. He wanted to do a hell of a lot more than that, but seeing as how they were in a bookstore and his niece was present, he held himself back.

“I really missed you.”

“I missed you too, Five.”

“So, you’re here now? Permanently?”

She nodded. “I am. Thanks to you.”

“Why did it take so long? Where have you been?”

“Oh, I’ve been around. You needed some time to get things sorted out by yourself. But I’ve been keeping tabs on you.” She looked down at Grace. “Seems like you’ve got things figured out now.”

“Yeah, I think I do. Thank you.”

“Just part of the job.”

Five laughed and then reached up to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “I really want to kiss you again.”

“I would love that,” she breathed out.

He was about to lean in, when he stopped himself. “Wait. You’re not going to make me see anything weird again, are you?”

She shook her head. “No. I promise.”

“Good. Because I’ve had enough of that shit to last a lifetime.”

In a second, he was kissing her, softly and deeply, while he pulled her body in closer with an arm around her waist. He let out a sigh when he felt her fingers trace down the back of his neck. She felt and tasted just like he remembered and it was taking everything inside himself not to pull her down to the floor right there in the Religion section.

“Ew! Gross!”

Five pulled away, the disgusted sound of his niece snapping him out of his trance. Candy laughed and Five looked down at Grace, perturbed that she had abruptly turned from adorable wingman to major cock blocker. But he supposed this wasn’t the most appropriate place for a steamy make-out session anyway.

Five cleared his throat. “Well, I guess we should get going. I have to get her home.”

“Ok. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Five nodded, gathering up his books again. “Oh, wait. I’m not very good at this dating thing, but don’t you need my phone number?”

Candy shook her head. “No, that’s ok. I know how to find you.”

Then, with a sly smile, she added “Oh, and Five? Keeping in the spirit of the holiday tomorrow…you can declare my independence anytime you want. Give me your John Han cock . If you’re up for it.”

With a slightly evil smile of his own, Five stepped in closer to her again, close enough to lean in next to her ear.

“Baby, the British won’t be the only ones that are coming. Not when you red, white, and blow me.”

Candy laughed loudly, her entire body shaking and her stupid bracelet jingling. Five just smirked and turned to walk away, holding his niece’s hand and feeling undeniably happy.