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flowersforbucky · 7 hours

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by the end of the night

logan howlett x reader - 7.2k words

summary: reader is a mutant with emotional regulation and healing powers, who frequently helps logan through nightmares - without him even knowing. what happens one night when he wakes to find you in his room?

warnings: 18+only mdni, smut, ptsd, nightmares, friends to lovers, unprotected p in v, oral, fingering, pet names, language, reader is afab, no use of y/n, slightly angst but mostly fluff! implied age gap as logan calls reader "kid" but reader is 21+

a/n: written with worst!logan in mind. reader lives in the x-mansion and is a long time friend of wade's who let's logan, laura and wade move in when al's place gets too cramped.

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You had lost track of how long you had been standing under the hot, harsh stream of the showerhead. You had yet to wash your hair or scrub the sweat and grime from your skin, allowing yourself the well-earned luxury of letting the water beat down on the aching muscles of your back while you rest your forehead against the emerald colored porcelain tiles. By the time you've finally finished rinsing the last two days down the drain, the water runs cold.

You secure a towel around your midsection and swipe the side of your hand across the foggy bathroom mirror to take in your appearance. Hollow, peaked eyes and more fine lines than usual - you definitely need the full twelve hours of sleep that calls your name.

You brush your teeth with one hand and pick up your phone with the other, checking the time - 11:22 pm. You probably have a few hours to get some shut eye before –

A distinct, deep roar interrupts the midnight silence and echoes off the walls of the mansion, startling you. Your phone falls out of your hand, bouncing off of the linoleum flooring.

Before that.

It would be your luck for it to happen hours earlier than usual tonight, of all nights. When you’ve just got off of a seven hour flight from Ontario, after two days of helping people who had been wounded in severe flash floods. Not only healing their physical injuries, but calming their nerves with your powers. And, of course, when you’re fresh out of a shower, naked except for the large, white fabric that covers the middle part of your body.

You don't even bother to pick your phone up before you're stepping out of the bathroom, clutching the towel to your chest. The door to the room directly across the hallway opens, revealing a wide-eyed Laura, donning pajamas and sleep-ruffled hair.

“You're back,” she exhales. The relief she feels at the realization that you're home radiates from her from across the hallway. “Good. Last night was–”

Another guttural yell pierces the air, silencing her.

“I can imagine,” you sigh, staring in the direction of Logan's room. “I'll take care of him,” you assure her, knowing all too well how badly she worries for him every night. “Get some sleep,” you tell her gently. You start to walk toward the sound of his pained cries, when Laura calls your name. You look back at her over your shoulder.

“You're.. only wearing a towel,” she states softly. You glance down, pulling the towel even tighter around yourself. Your bedroom is just on the opposite end of the hallway, but by the time you dress yourself and make it back to Logan’s room, he could hurt himself.

“I’ve been helping him without waking him up for months now,” you remind her. “Let’s just cross our fingers that this time isn’t any different.” She gives you an uncertain nod, and reluctantly retreats back into her room.

You proceed towards Logan's door, turning the handle as quietly as you can. Thankfully, he never locks it. You're good with picking locks, but it's not something you want to waste time with in these instances.

Your heart cracks and simultaneously sinks to your stomach as you click the door shut behind you. He's visible in the pale yellow glow of an old table lamp that he’d left on.

You don't think that seeing him like this will ever get easier - so helpless and vulnerable, not in control of his own mind or body. Before you've even reached his bedside, you're hit with a ripple of panic and despair. You may not be able to see the visions that torment his mind, but his emotions that wash into you paint a vivid enough picture.

He lays flat on his back, his arms at his sides with his fully-extended claws sunk into the fitted sheet and his comforter thrown onto the floor next to the bed. You briefly wonder how many sets of sheets he has had to toss out and replace in the last few months.

His head jerks violently from side to side, as if he’s trying to get away from something that you’re unable to see. “No, no, no,” he grunts through gritted teeth.

You’re silent. It’s best this way - you, Wade, and Laura all agree on this. Everyone who has slept within the same building as Logan is privy to the nightmares that plague him, and the three of you agree that the best way to help him is without him knowing about it. As if the man isn’t already riddled with enough self-loathing for things that had happened in another timeline, the last thing he needs is to feel guilty and embarrassed for waking up his closest friends and loved ones nearly every night. So, as badly as you’d like to comfort him with your words and tell him that he’s okay, he’s safe, he’s just having a bad dream and he’s here in the mansion with you, and Laura, Wade, and the rest of your friends - you don’t.

Instead, you slowly bring your palm to his bicep, mentally conjuring the essence of your powers to flow through your skin and into his body. You feel the surge as the energy breaks through the barrier of your palm and begins to radiate across the flesh of Logan's exposed arm. Usually, he begins to still right away - the loud, angry yelling will dwindle to pained moans that soon cease to silence as he slips back into a calm and dreamless sleep.

This time, however, the groans don't quiet and the sharp thrashes don't still. Your brows furrow together in concentration, forcing more of your energy into his being.

He yells out something unintelligible, digging his claws deeper into the mattress, stuffing falling out around his hands. You try not to panic, growing increasingly confused as to why your powers don't seem to be helping. It's never taken this long to calm him. Normally, placing one hand on him is enough to ease his mind.

His skin is clammy and flushed beet red with thick beads of sweat forming across his forehead and neck. Knowing that you need to force more of your energy upon him, you lean against the edge of his bed so that you can reach across him and place your free hand on his opposite bicep. Just as your palm is about to make contact with his skin, his eyes shoot open.

You yank your hands away from his body, prepared to step back and give him space when he quickly raises off his pillow, his right hand darting towards your face. You instinctively flinch away as the tip of the metal talon between his index and middle finger lands directly across the pulse point of your throat. Your breath hitches in your throat, completely opposite of how his chest heaves up and down with ragged breaths. You're frozen beneath his claws as you wait for him to take in the scene before him.

“You're okay,” you manage to squeak out. “You were having–”

“What the fuck,” he grumbles, his voice raspy from yelling. His eyes dart from your face down to your lower half, lingering for a moment longer than necessary as he takes in your current attire - or lack thereof. His eyebrow shoots up in confusion and he retracts his claws back inside his hands.

“I had just got out of the shower when I heard you yelling.” The words spew out of your mouth like vomit. His gaze moves from you to his mattress, noticing all of the foam that he had ripped out while unconscious. “I was just trying to–”

“Trying to what?” he snaps, interrupting you again. He looks back at you, a mixture of anger and frustration now blooming on his features. “Get your jugular sliced? What were you thinking?” His words are laced with a venom that you've heard directed at Wade many times over the course of the last few months when they're at each other's throats over God knows what - but never, ever has that tone been directed towards you.

“I was thinking that you were screaming loudly enough to wake the whole mansion,” you bite back, crossing your arms over your chest. His harsh stare makes you feel even more exposed than you are. You can tell that your words hit a nerve by the way that he purses his lips together.

“I'm sorry for disturbing the peace, kid,” he spits with a sarcastic huff. The condescending pet name makes your blood boil. “If it happens again, save yourself the hassle and send Wade to risk getting stabbed.”

“It's not a hassle–” you start and then throw your hands up in surrender. It's late, and you're exhausted, and you don't trust yourself to not throw it in his face that it's you who has been soothing him through these nightmares for the last three months, not Wade, and nevermind the fact that you have regenerative powers too, so even if he accidentally did stab you -

He's looking at you expectantly in the thick silence.

“You know what? You’re right,” you give an exasperated shrug, trying to keep your voice even so it isn't obvious that his reaction has hurt your feelings. “It won't happen again.”

He looks as if he’s going to speak, but you are already turning on your heel and stomping out of his room, slamming his door closed behind you.

You retrieve your cell phone from the bathroom floor and start to head to your room, when Laura peeks her head out of her doorway. You pause, quickly trying to conceal any signs of frustration from your expression.

Given the look on her face, you can tell that she overheard the interaction.

“He's just embarrassed,” she whispers sympathetically. You're hit with a wave of her emotions - worry, helplessness, uncertainty. You don't mean to pry. In fact, you usually do everything in your power to keep other's emotions out, but sometimes people feel so many things at once that those feelings just pour into you against your will. “He’s doesn't know how to accept help without feeling like a bur-”

“It’s okay, Laura,” you interrupt her softly. “We knew this is how he would react.”

“I could try to talk to him about it,” she offers, leaning against the doorframe. “Once he calms down some. Explain how you've helped–”

“You don't have to do that,” you assure her. You don't know why it was so difficult to settle Logan's nightmare tonight, or why he woke up this time after months of successfully soothing him, but despite his harsh reaction and telling him that it wouldn't happen again, you were still hopeful that you'd be able to continue to help him. You also wanted to save him the further embarrassment of knowing that this was far from the first occurrence.

“Let's just call it a night and I'll deal with it tomorrow, okay?”

She opens her mouth to respond, but you end the conversation with a quick goodnight and hurry onto your room.

Behind the confines of your bedroom walls, you unhook the towel from around your chest and let it drop to the floor before belly-flopping onto the cool velvet fabric of your duvet. You release a muffled groan into the bed before rolling over and staring up at your ceiling. You hope that no one needs you for the duration of the night, because you are too physically exhausted to walk five feet away to get pajamas from your dresser.

Despite feeling frustrated and hurt at how the interaction with Logan had just gone, you worry for him. You worry that he'll have another nightmare tonight, or that he'll keep himself awake out of fear that he'll have another one. You worry that the friendship that you've developed over the course of the last few months will be affected by tonight's encounter, and as silly as it may be - you worry that he'll feel weird around you after waking up to find you in his bedroom in only a towel in the middle of the night.

The last thing you remember thinking before finally falling asleep is that you wish you could use your powers on yourself to ease your own anxiety.

••••••

The next morning, you smell coffee and hints of vanilla and cinnamon before you're halfway to the kitchen.

This is surprising to you for two reasons - one being that you're typically the one who brews the coffee and starts breakfast. Two being that you expected an empty house this morning. Colossus is usually out with the trainees on Friday mornings, and Wade had told you right before you left for Ontario a few days ago that he, Laura and Logan would be visiting their old roommate - Althea, or Blind Al, as Wade so lovingly calls her - today.

You come to a halt when you enter the kitchen and see who's responsible for the aroma.

With his back turned to you as he pulls a dish out of the oven, you instinctively pull the plush robe that you wear tighter around you as you are hit with the memory of what you wore in his bedroom last night all over again.

“Good morning,” you greet him in a neutral tone as you pull your favorite mug from the cabinet. “Smells good,” you add lightheartedly, not looking in his direction as you pour yourself some coffee.

“Yeah, well,” Logan starts with an awkward clear of his throat. “They're for you.”

Your head snaps to where he's leaning against the kitchen island, next to a circular glass dish filled with fresh cinnamon rolls. It's not as if it's some grand declaration of love - but it turns your stomach into a butterfly garden all the same.

“They're just from a can,” he shrugs, staring down at the pastries to avoid your gaze that's now locked on him. “Probably can't compare to the ones you bake from scratch. It's definitely no steak and eggs like you made for us last weekend–”

“Thank you,” you interrupt him to stop his rambling. You don't need to seek his emotions to know that he is nervous - it's apparent in both his voice and his posture. In fact, you don't think you've seen Logan as visibly on edge since you met him. “This is very thoughtful of you. I woke up starving this morning.”

“I figured you would be after your late night.” He opens a cabinet and pulls out two small plates. “And I just wanted to apologize for.. that.” Waves of embarrassment wash from where he stands just a few feet from you.

You take a step closer to him as he extends a plate to you. “You don't have to apologize, Logan,” you assure him in a gentle voice as you accept the ceramic plate and turn back to the cinnamon rolls. “There's nothing to be sorry for.”

“There is, though. You were only trying to help me and I snapped at you. You didn't deserve that, sweetheart.”

“Well, no,” you shrug with a mouthful of bread and icing, hoping that he couldn’t detect the way your heart skipped a beat at the pet name. “I didn’t. But you were startled, and confused. You woke up from a horrible nightmare and the first thing you saw was me hovering over you. I don’t blame you for reacting poorly.”

He takes a step closer to you, digging into the dish to serve himself. There's still mild undertones of embarrassment breaking through the barrier of his emotions, but the main thing that you're feeling from him is relief.

“I talked to Laura before she left this morning,” he says with a fresh hint of nervousness. “She told me what you've been doing for me for the last few months,” he confesses, pausing for your response. You would feel nervous yourself, if it weren't for your ability to know that he isn't feeling any kind of anger.

You're surprisingly relieved that Laura had filled him in on what had become your nightly routine. You knew from the beginning that it was only a matter of how and when he'd realize what was going on. You didn’t like feeling like you were hiding something so intimate from him.

“I'm sorry we didn't tell you,” you sigh. “We just.. didn't want you to feel bad. And we were worried that you would–”

“React exactly how I did?”

You exhale a small laugh through your nose. “Yeah,” you admit. “Something like that.”

“I just wanted to say that I'm sorry. For all of it. For waking you up every night, for snapping at you, for–”

“Logan, really,” you stop him, setting your cup of coffee down to bring your hand to where his is gripping onto the edge of the marble countertop. You give it a reassuring squeeze, and don't pull away as you look up at him. “Please don't apologize. I wanted to help you. It's what people do when they care about you, you know? And you deserve a peaceful night's sleep as much as the rest of us do.”

“If you won't let me apologize, will you at least let me say thank you?”

You smile up at him, reluctantly pulling your hand away from his. You can't help but notice a small note of disappointment emanating from him when your skin breaks contact with him.

“You don't need to thank me either, but..” you hesitate, suddenly feeling a pit of anxiousness in your stomach at what you're about to ask him next. “Now that you know what's been going on the last few months, maybe there’s something you'd be willing to let me try?”

“And what would that be, sweetheart?”

••••••

Later that evening, after the sun has set and your friends have all retired to their private spaces for the night, you make your way to Logan's bedroom under much different circumstances than the previous night.

Tonight, if all goes well, you won't have to worry about startling him from a night terror ridden slumber. Tonight, you are going to attempt to prevent the bad dreams before they can begin tormenting him in the first place.

You were pleasantly surprised when he agreed to your idea as soon as you suggested it. You expected him to reject the offer of help - as he is so naturally prone to doing. You thought that you'd have to try to convince him that he's worthy of this effort. Although he seemed uncertain that this would work, he was willing to give it a shot because he trusts you.

You hesitate for a moment before working up the courage to give a soft knock to his bedroom door. He opens up almost instantly, revealing himself in dark gray sweatpants and a loose white t-shirt with hair that still glistens wet from a recent shower.

You'd be lying if you said the sight didn't make your stomach do somersaults, but you quickly clear your throat, reminding yourself why you're here.

He seems to take in your appearance, too - his eyes trailing from your painted white toenails that peak out from your fuzzy slippers and up to your matching black pajama shorts and tank top.

“Well, you look quite a bit different than you did the last time you were here,” he observes with the kind of smile that brings out the laugh lines around his eyes. He opens the door further, allowing you to walk past him and into the cozy yet minimally decorated space.

“Thought I'd spare you the shock of the towel this time,” you retort, your cheeks heating at the memory. He closes the door behind him and follows you into the room. “So uh, how exactly are you proposing that we go about this?”

You take in the state of his bed - you would never guess that his claws had shredded multiple large gashes down it less than twenty-four hours ago. He must have flipped it over and hoped for the best. You take an apprehensive seat on the edge of the mattress, nervously wringing your hands together.

“Well,” you begin as he takes a seat next to you at the end of the bed. His body is angled so that his knee brushes the skin of yours ever so lightly. “Last night proved that for whatever reason, your nightmares are becoming harder for me to get under control. Maybe with my powers, I can help you relax enough so that you don’t have those kinds of dreams at all.”

You can’t help but doubt yourself - you’ve never done anything like this before, and you truly have no idea if it will be effective. You’re worried that you’ll disappoint yourself and Logan both. Earlier, he seemed apprehensive, too - but sitting here with him now, you’re not feeling any sense of uncertainty from him. Only from yourself.

As if he can feel your hesitation, he takes your hand in his and gives it a reassuring squeeze. “Just tell me whatever you need me to do, and I’ll do it.”

You nod, pushing down the feelings that flood through you at the knowledge that not only does he trust you, but he believes in you - enough to help him with such a vulnerable part of himself.

“Okay,” you say, reluctantly pulling your hand from him as you begin to scoot up his bed, so that you’re in the middle of the mattress. You cross your legs at the ankles, and motion for him to follow your lead. He moves to sit directly in front of you, copying your position and sitting so that both of his knees touch yours. You hold out your hands, palms up, and he takes them in his own. You can’t help but think that if any of your friends were to walk in, it would look like the two of you were performing a seance.

“We can stop anytime that you want to,” you remind him. “If at any point you’re uncomfortable and you want to stop, just say the word.” He gives you a small nod and another reassuring squeeze to each hand as your sign to continue.

“I’d like you to start by thinking of whatever it is that you’ve been seeing in your nightmares. You don’t have to talk about it,” you assure him quickly when you feel a spark of anxiety flicker where your hands rest in his. You notice that his jaw clenches at the notion of dwelling on what torments him in his sleep. “Just replay some key images in your head, and leave the rest to me. I’m going to read your emotions and attempt to use my powers to alter them to something more positive. It may take a few sessions of practicing this for it to be effective, but I’m hopeful that we can train your brain to not panic at what you’re seeing in your nightmares.” You pause, giving him a chance to ask questions - or tell you to get lost and forget it.

“Replace panic with peace. Got it.”

“Close your eyes,” you instruct him gently. He obeys without hesitation, though you can't help but notice the small surge of unease that begins to flow from his palms into yours. You counteract the feeling right away, sending back a wave of calm in its place. You watch as he unclenches his jaw and unforrows his brows - a clear indication that he's feeling the energy that you're emitting.

“Now think about your nightmares. Start with your most recent one. Try to remember as many details as possible. I'll be right here, holding your hand and helping you through it,” you encourage him in a soft voice, tightening your hold on his hands.

You begin to release a slow, steady stream of tranquility that flows from your fingertips and into his body. You know that he's doing as you have asked him to do - you can tell he's replaying the images of his latest nightmare by the way it feels as if something is pushing back against your powers.

Guilt, fear, and hopelessness - all push back against their counterparts that you try to instill in him. He grips your hands tighter, the hold on them borderline uncomfortable, but you keep still and allow him to anchor himself to you.

You find yourself thankful that you can't physically see the images that he's working through. The negative emotions that accompany the thoughts is enough for you to know that whatever he's seeing, it's far from pretty.

“You're doing good, Logan,” you offer in a small whisper. You're not even sure if he hears you - he's focused, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. You send a more powerful wave of energy to him and watch as his shoulders slouch in relaxation. You can still feel the pain that radiates beneath your power as it flows through his being - but it’s dull; muted.

“We’re going to switch it up now,” you say louder. “I’m going to continue exactly what I’m doing, but instead of thinking of your nightmares, I want you to think of something happy. Your favorite place, your friends, a good memory - anything that makes you happy.”

His eyes stay closed, but he gives a small nod of his head to let you know that he’s hearing you.

There’s a noticeable shift in the emotional energy that courses through him. His fear fades to joy, dread is replaced with hope. With the positive emotions being amplified by your powers, a faint smile grows across his face and a hint of rosy pink blooms on the apples of his cheeks. Now, you wish you could see whatever it is he's thinking of.

You can't help the smile that forms on your own face, soaking in the moment where he's possibly the most carefree that you've ever seen him.

“I'm going to pull away now,” you tell him gently. You feel a pang of disappointment - it's hard to tell who it comes from. His feelings have bled so thoroughly into your own.

You slowly pull your hands away from his and his eyes snap open at the loss of your emotional influence.

“What do you think?” You almost ask him how he feels - but you stop yourself, already knowing the answer to that.

“I think that you're fucking incredible,” he answers bluntly, his hazel eyes staring at you in awe. You feel your cheeks warm at the compliment, hoping that he didn't hear the way your heart all but stopped in your chest. “I've never felt anything quite like that. Even if I do still have a nightmare tonight.. It was nice to feel so at peace, even just temporarily.”

You’re taken aback by the sincerity of his words. “It’s okay if it doesn't work,” you tell him. “We can try again tomorrow. And I'll be right down the hall if you need me tonight. Okay?” You uncross your legs, hopping off of his bed. You start to wish him goodnight when he grabs your hand in his once more. It feels different than just a moment ago - more intimate.

“Thank you,” he tells you before reluctantly dropping your hand. “For doing this for me - for trying.”

“Of course,” you murmur. You feel lightheaded - you don’t know if it’s from exerting so much of your powers, his words, or the feeling of his hand in yours, but the air in his room feels suffocating and your skin feels flushed. “Goodnight, Logan.”

You give him a soft smile, and then dash out of his room before he can say anything else, closing his door behind you.

After you’ve power walked back to your own room, you spend a while decompressing before even trying to fall asleep - Logan’s words, feelings, and touch replaying through your mind on an infinite loop.

You don’t know exactly how long you spend tossing and turning beneath your sheets before your brain finally gives into sleep. When you wake up, you’re not sure what time it is - your room is dark except for the moonlight that trickles in through your window. You sit up and look around your room, confused as to what woke you up in the first place when a gentle knock sounds from the other side of your door. The soft call of your name from a voice that you recognize right away has you throwing your covers back and all but jumping out of your bed to go open your door.

“Logan,” you exhale in a sleep-ridden voice, eyeing him from head to toe as if to make sure he’s okay. He stands before you in the same sweatpants and t-shirt as earlier, though his hair looks far more ruffled than when you saw him just before bed. “I'm sorry, I didn't hear you wake up. I'm normally a light sleep–”

“I think what we did earlier is helping,” he interrupts you. That's when you notice it - there's no fear radiating from him. Instead, you feel a prickle of hope. “I did start to have a nightmare,” he continues. “But I didn't… I didn't feel trapped in it. I was able to pull myself out of it before it escalated.”

You take a step forward, raising your arms to him and pulling him towards you by his shoulders. It takes him a second to process what is happening, but then he wraps his arms around your waist and returns your embrace in a tight hold, nearly lifting you off the ground.

“That's amazing, Logan. I'm so glad,” you murmur next to his ear. You don't even care that it's the middle of the night. After how many times you've woken up to the sound of his tortured screams, you're happy to instead wake up to him standing at your bedroom door with good news.

He pulls his head back enough to look down at you, but doesn't release his hold around you. Your face is so close to his that you can make out your reflection in his eyes. Your gaze flickers to his lips for a split-second before his voice snaps you back to reality.

“I'm sorry,” he says, suddenly overcome with a rush of embarrassment. “I shouldn't have woken you up for that,” he all but whispers. “I was just having a hard time falling back asleep and I selfishly wanted to see–”

“Do you want to come lie down with me?”

You can tell the question takes him by surprise. His hazel eyes widen and you can feel the shock that surges through him at the proposal. “No big deal if not,” you add quickly. “I could try to help you fall back asleep.”

His hold on you tightens, and you're hit with a wave of different emotions that answer before he can reply.

“Yeah, sweetheart,” he grins down at you. “Yeah, I'd like that.”

Before your nerves can get the better of you, you grab him by the hand and pull him through the doorway. He pulls it shut on his way in - the click of the bolt making reality set in.

You don't let go of his hand as you guide him to your bed through the darkness of your room. You crawl onto the mattress and scoot to the opposite side, letting him take the spot where you'd previously been asleep. You hold your comforter open for him as he crawls in next to you. Your king size bed, which normally feels ginormous with only you to occupy it, suddenly feels less than half its actual size. He's not even touching you and you can feel the heat radiate from Logan's body underneath the blanket that you now share.

You're torn. On one hand, you want nothing more than to sink into that warmth and feel him pressed against you as you lull him back to sleep. On the other hand, you don't want to cross any boundaries that can't be uncrossed.

“How do you want me?”

Goddamn. As if your heart isn't already beating a mile a minute, he has to phrase it like that?

You turn away from him, hoping you won’t be able to smell the intoxicating hints of his Old Spice deodorant if you face the opposite direction of him.

“However you're comfortable,” you whisper to conceal any strain in your voice. “Just give me your hand,” you instruct as you reach a hand over your side to where he's nestled behind you. He rolls onto his side so that his chest is a mere few inches from pressing against your back. His large hand clasps around yours.

Forget skipping a beat - your heart all but stops in your chest at what washes over you.

It's faint - as if he's trying his hardest to push it down so that you won't realize that it's there.

Longing.

He exhales, his breath fanning across the exposed skin of your shoulder, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I thought of you, you know.”

“What?” You lift your head off of the pillow, turning back to look at him in the illumination of the full moon that pours into your room from your open curtains. His face is just inches away from yours from where he lays behind you. “What do you mean?”

“When you asked me to think of something that makes me happy. Every happy memory that flashed through my mind, they were all from the last few months. And they all involved you.” He pauses, rubbing circles across the side of your hand with his thumb.

Longing. Desire. Yearning. They all bubble over and bleed together - his, and your own.

“I thought of the first time we showed up here and you took us in with open arms. I thought of the time I walked into the living room to find you teaching Laura to braid her hair.. and all of the times that you've cooked for us. I could've picked any moment, really. Any moment with you since I met you would've worked.”

“Logan,” you breathe in an almost whiney voice. “Logan, I–”

“Tell me how I'm feeling right now, sweetheart.”

You turn over to your other side so that you're facing him. You prop your head up in one hand, and bring your other to his face that still rests on your pillow. You cradle his jaw in your palm, grazing his cheekbone with the pad of your thumb.

“You feel the same way that I do.”

You're not sure if you lean down to him, or if he raises his head to meet yours - all you know is that his lips are moving with yours and his hand is on your lower back, pulling you flush against him and closing what little space is left between your bodies.

He kisses you hungrily, a mess of tongue and teeth that makes your brain turn to static. His beard and mustache tickles the soft skin of your face in a way that leaves you wanting more, more, more.

He hooks his hand under the curve of your ass and hikes your thigh over his own, maneuvering you over his body while keeping his lips locked with yours. With both of his hands planted firmly on your hips, you're now straddling him and feel the evident bulge of an erection through the thin material of his sweatpants and your pajama shorts.

He breaks the kiss, leaving you wanting and breathless above him.

“We can stop right now, if that's what you want,” he whispers - his voice sounds strained, as if the thought alone pains him. “We don't have to go any fur–”

“I don't want to stop.” And to reinforce that sentiment, you grind your core down against his hard length. He releases a noise that’s akin to a growl, sounding from deep in his chest. He grabs you by the shoulders as he raises off of the pillow, shooting into a sitting position and crushing his lips to yours again.

Even with you straddling his lap and your tongues taking turns exploring each other's mouths, you still need him closer - need to feel more of him. You snake your hands between your bodies, gripping onto the hem of his t-shirt and tugging upwards. You break your lips away from his to pull the fabric over his head. As soon as you've tossed the shirt across the room, he's copying the exact motions on you, discarding your tank top.

He grasps a breast in one hand, roughly palming it as he takes the other in his mouth. He tugs your nipple between his teeth, hardening it before soothing it over with his tongue. You encourage him with soft rolls of your hips over the bulge in his pants.

Logan lifts you off of his lap, flipping the two of you over so that you now lay flat against the mattress, underneath him. He hooks his fingers into both the waistband of your pajama bottoms and panties and begins to ease them down your thighs.

“Gotta get you out of these little shorts,” he murmurs, pulling them over your ankles and leaving you completely bare for him.

“Logan, please,” you whimper. You don't even quite know what you're begging for - but he does. He reads you like an open book.

“I know, sweetheart. ‘M gonna take care of you.”

His words send an intense gush of arousal to your core. He pushes your thighs apart at the knees and nestles himself between them, bringing his face level with your pussy.

Your hands fly to his head as his tongue makes contact with your clit. You weave your fingers through the short tufts of his hair, clenching your thighs around the sides of his head as he works the swollen nub with his mouth.

He licks lazy strips from your clit down to your hole and then brings his middle finger to your entrance, swirling it around in your slick before easing it inside you. He groans at your taste and the feeling of your walls constricting around his finger, sending vibrations through your body.

He increases the speed at which he pumps his long finger into your cunt, each time drawing a more sinful moan from you. You buck your hips to meet the thrusts of his finger, chasing the building warmth in your lower belly as it builds and builds.

His tongue laps through your folds and he adds a second finger to his movements. Maybe it's due to the fact that you can feel waves of his arousal in addition to your own and it's amplifying your pleasure, or maybe he's just that fucking good with his fingers and tongue - but you can feel yourself soaking the sheets beneath you. The room is filled with the wet echoes of your walls gushing around his fingers in the silence of the night, and you find yourself thankful that there's several empty rooms in between yours and the other people that you share this mansion with.

He brings his free hand up to your breast and rolls your nipple between his fingers and it sends you crashing around him. The white hot coil in your belly snaps and you cum around his face with a low cry of his name.

He sits up on his knees when you've stopped writhing above him, yanking his sweatpants and boxers down. He pumps his length in his hand that's soaked with your juices, lubricating himself with your essence before he's even inside you.

“Sweet girl,” he coos as he stares down at you in the limited view of the moonlight. “Taste how sweet you are.”

Hovering above you, he props himself up on his forearm and brings his free hand to your chin, tugging on your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Open your mouth for me.”

Feeling drunk in your post-orgasm haze, you don't hesitate to do exactly as he asks of you. You eagerly part your lips wide for him and he hums in satisfaction before releasing a thick drop of his spit from his mouth into yours. It falls on your tongue and you close your mouth, reveling in the flavor of your juices mixed with the flavor of him. You groan at the taste and pull him back down to you by the back of his neck, molding your lips to his.

His cock juts against your folds, torturously teasing you before finally sinking his head past your entrance. You gasp into the kiss as he buries himself to the hilt, stilling momentarily to let you adjust to his size.

“Fuck, Logan,” you groan into his mouth when he begins to move again, pulling half of his length out before easing back in at a steady pace. “So big. Don't know if I can–”

“You can,” he interrupts, and to prove his point he fills you all the way up again. His head rams against your cervix and takes your breath away. “See? You're doing such a good job, honey.”

You've never felt so full before. You swear you can feel him in your stomach. He starts to rock in and out of you, slowly as you acclimate to the fullness of him. He kisses you through it, drinking in each whimper and moan that he draws from you.

“So tight and wet for me,” he grunts when he pulls away from your mouth. He brings one of his hands down to where your body meets his, placing his thumb directly over your swollen clit and begins to rub you with fast, pressured circles that have your cunt clenching around him.

“Close,” you grunt out in between moans of his name. “I'm so close.” He rocks into you harder, making you see stars when he hits that sweet spot just right.

“Gonna cum around my cock?” He mutters between gritted teeth as your walls flutter around him. “Yeah, you are. I can feel it.”

His thrusts become erratic and you know he's right behind you. A few more hard thrusts that have your headboard slamming against the wall and you're cumming around him as he spills into you.

He goes still inside you as you both regain a normal pattern of breathing. He gives you one, two, three wet, open-mouth kisses down your throat before pulling out of you. You whimper at the sudden lack of fullness, already missing the way he fits inside you.

He flops down beside you on the mattress and tugs you into his side, your head coming to rest just above his rapidly beating heart.

“I think I should be able to sleep just fine after that,” he exhales. He trails his fingertips down the exposed skin of your arm. You grab his other hand in yours and pull it up to your mouth, where you plant kisses on each of his knuckles.

“Probably,” you whisper with a laugh. “I think you should probably stay here with me, though. Just in case.” You don't have to look up to know that he's smirking down at you - you can tell by the way he's feeling.

Light. Carefree. Happy. Loved.

“I'm not going anywhere, sweetheart.”

♡♡♡♡♡

thanks for reading!!! as always comments & reblogs are so appreciated 🫶🏻

#logan howlett x reader #logan howlett #logan x reader #logan howlett smut #logan howlett x you #logan howlett oneshot #logan howlett fanfiction

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barcaatthemoon · 2 days

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friend of the bride || lia walti x reader ||

You hook up with Lia at your best friend's wedding.

MINORS DNI, 18+, Smut warning.

You knew about Lia. You had never played against Lia, but you knew all about her. It was your job to know about football, both international and domestic. She hadn't played in the NWSL, but you were a pretty big Arsenal fan even before she had joined up. But even before then, you had heard people in the business talking about the Swiss player.

It made sense that she'd be in the bridal party. Lia was Ana's best friend, and maid of honor. In a way, you thought it was wild that the two of you weren't better acquainted. Obviously you understood Ana being hesitant about introducing the two of you. You were a bit of a womanizer to say the least, even if you had settled down quite a bit since starting your gig as an official NWSL commentator.

"Excuse me, I don't know if we know each other. I'm (Y/n)." You could feel Ana's eyes on you as you approached Lia. There weren't many people that made you nervous, but your best friend's new wife was definitely one of them. The two of you had been teammates years ago whenever Ana played on the Thorns, and maybe, just maybe, you had seen a spark all those years ago.

Nothing had ever come of it, and you were happier because of it. Ana was cool, and she definitely would have hated you whenever you transferred across the country at the end of the year. You weren't a native to New Jersey, but Rutgers had offered you a full ride, so you counted yourself as a bit of a Jersey girl. Sky Blue wasn't perfect by any means, but it was definitely the place that you had wanted to retire playing for.

"I'm Lia, and no, we haven't been properly introduced," she said. She outstretched her hand, and you took the offering. Behind you, you could practically feel Ana attempting to burn holes into the back of your head to deter you. "My friend is watching us."

"If I'm being honest, I don't blame her. She's heard stories of how I can be at weddings." Bashful wasn't something that normally worked well with you, but Lia found the blush cute. It became obvious as she patted the chair in front of her that she knew a bit about you. Ana had to have warned her before either of you arrived in Seattle for the wedding.

"I've heard stories of how you are away from weddings. I get it though, life feels a bit more special with all of this love in the air," Lia said. You thought that she was sweet, and a part of you was about to back out when she grabbed onto your wrist. "I fly out tomorrow afternoon, and I'd hate to leave without as many good memories as I can get."

"She'll kill me if we leave together," you told Lia. She glanced behind you and waved at Ana. You did everything in your power not to turn, but Lia seemed amused by whatever was going on behind you. "Is she being mean?"

"Not at all, but you should say your goodbyes and get your coat. I'm in room 615," Lia told you. She slipped her key card in your pocket, and you wondered how long she had been watching you. Lia left first, leaving you to sit there stunned for a moment. It was hasty, but you said your goodbyes and promised Ana that you'd be safe with her friend. She was a bit dismissive, but you didn't miss the little twinkle in her eye. If you had any more to drink, you would have considered that she was happy about you and Lia running off together.

It seemed almost too good to be true that Lia's room was on the same floor as yours. You made a quick stop at your own room to shed your suit jacket and make sure that you still looked good. Your room was only a few doors down from Lia's, and you wondered if she had seen you at all over the week. The entirety of the wedding party had been flown in several days earlier than all of the other guests, and you doubted the maid of honor had been an exception to that.

"You left your jacket. That's a shame, it looked good. At least I can still do this," Lia said as she grabbed you by your tie and pulled you into the room. You stumbled a little, but caught yourself as Lia's arms wrapped around your shoulders. She was still in her dress, but without her heels on, you were a couple inches taller than her. "You know, I had always hoped you would find your way to the WSL. I would have liked to play against you."

"I bet we could have had a lot of fun together." Lia seemed to catch onto the hidden meaning of your words quickly. You were a bit surprised by her forwardness as she kissed you. It was welcome, as was the feeling of her hands pulling your button out from where it had been tucked into your pants.

The women you hooked up with had all definitely wanted you, but they were rarely as confident in themselves as Lia. She was sweet and gentle, but it wasn't submissive in the slightest. She took what she wanted without overstepping, and it took you several moments for your brain to kick in and join her.

"Take my dress off," Lia told you. You didn't hesitate for even half a second to turn the Swiss woman around. There was a little clasp by the small of her back, and once it was undone, Lia let the dress slip off from her body and pool onto the floor.

You could see that her chest was bare, but that did nothing to prepare you for the sight of her. She stood in front of you completely topless. You weren't being subtle in your staring, but Lia didn't seem to mind it. She let you keep staring as she pushed you back onto the bed. Lia climbed onto your lap, and there she sat straddling you as she looked down at you.

"There are plenty of more comfortable places for you to sit," you started. Lia showed her amusement with a little half-smirk. Normally, your jokes garnered a bit more of a reaction, and the fact that she hadn't given you one made you want to try again. You wanted to impress this woman with every part of you, and you had no idea why. Nobody was supposed to mean this much to you, not for a single night anyway.

"I'm already practically naked on top of you, lines aren't necessary," Lia told you. You nodded and swallowed, somewhat nervous as she stared at you. It was like she was studying you, less out of curosity, but more in the way a predator would study its prey. "You're wearing too much, and I'd hate to ruin your very nice suit."

You nearly let out a whine as Lia moved off of you. You scrambled off of the bed and hastily undressed yourself, not caring that for a moment, you were more bare than she was. Lia hummed in appreciation as you stood in front of her, completely naked. She guided you down onto your knees in front of her and leaned over her own lap to kiss you.

"Show me what you can do. I hope everything I've heard about you is true," Lia said. Even after she broke the kiss, you didn't stop kissing her. Your mouth moved all over her neck and jaw, occasionally stopping to mark a couple of hickeys for her to take as a temporary souvenir. You were a lot less careful with your marking whenever you got to her chest, sucking as many love bites onto her skin as you could.

Lia tried not to rush you, but you could tell that her patience was growing thin. She ground herself against the palm of your hand as you cupped her over her underwear. You let out a pleasured groan at the feeling of her heat through the fabric. You could practically feel her arousal growing as she moved against your hand.

"More, I want more," Lia told you. You took your time teasing her as you took her underwear off. Your face was buried into the side of her thigh when your attention was pulled by a frustrated growl. Lia looked down at you with a look so sweet that you almost got whiplash from the way her hand balled into a fist around your hair.

You let her guide your face, only sticking your tongue out to give her something to seek out. Lia loosened her grip when she felt your lips wrap around her clit. Her thighs clamped around your head, holding you against her as she rocked her hips back and forth gently. You pried her thighs apart to make room for your fingers to tease at her entrance, stroking over the hole with the promise of penetration.

This time, Lia didn't have to ask or tell you to keep going. Once you got into your groove, everything came very naturally to you. Lia was moving wildly on the bed, each buck of her hips punctuated by a little creak of the bed. Between Lia's moaning, the bed creaking, and the absolutely obscene sound of your fingers fucking in and out of her, there wasn't a moment of silence.

"That's it, right there. Don't you dare stop. Oh fuck!" Lia exclaimed. You felt a sharp tug to your hair as her other hand wrapped around the back of your neck. You could feel her nails dig into your skin, but the pain of it just made your eyes roll back in your head a little. Above you, Lia's body held you close even as she tried to squirm away from you, torn between wanting to stop and wanting to see just how hard you could make her cum. Ultimately, she ended up pushing you away just a couple minutes later as her body began to approach overstimulation.

"I think you did a number on me," you muttered as you rubbed at the little nail indents on the back of your neck. Lia sat up on her elbows, just enough to see her reflection in the TV. She looked gorgeous to you, disheleved in the most perfect of ways. There was no denying what had just happened, not when you looked at Lia.

"I can do a lot worse," Lia laughed. You clammed up a bit at her words. You had no idea what was wrong with you because Lia shouldn't have been getting to you this badly. She was practically a stranger, and yet, you didn't want to just gather your clothes and run off to your own room just yet. "If you ever find yourself in London, message me. Now though, I think you should get going. Guests are going to be back any moment now."

"I've never been asked out and kicked out at the same time. You are something else," you said in disbelief. Lia could tell that you weren't angry, and just to keep it that way, she walked you out. A part of you wanted to linger, but aside from a pretty chaste kiss, Lia didn't give you the opportunity. You just had to hope that you'd catch her before she ran off the next day, but even if you didn't, you couldn't be mad about how your night went.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso smut #lia walti smut #lia walti imagine #lia walti x reader #minors dni #minors do not interact

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captainmalewriter · 3 days

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This story is a part of Occam's writing prompt challenge. I highly recommend y'all check out #occam2000 to read the other amazing entries by the other talented writers!!

LATEST REPORT ON RECENTLY DISCOVERED METAMORPHOSIS GENE

Few things in this world are as beautifully intricate as human reproduction. However, it is not a perfect system. Any number of things could go wrong during the conception and/or birth of a human being, one of which includes genetic mutations. The chances of gene mutation are never zero. While modern-day doctors and scientists continue to fight the good fight of keeping harmful genetic disorders at bay, there is one particularly potent mutation a tiny percentage of the human population carries.

How long this mutation has existed within our gene pool is currently unknown. What is known is that although this malignant gene usually remains dormant within the human body, it can potentially rearrange an individual’s genetic composition and expression when active. Unfortunately, this information was only recently discovered after it had already wreaked havoc in [redacted]. The mutation has been dubbed the Metamorphosis (MM) gene. The MM gene is linked to the Y chromosome in humans. Fortunately, a male’s X chromosome usually functions as a suppressor, thereby keeping the malignant gene dormant in afflicted individuals. However, it is still possible for the MM gene to rekindle if certain conditions are met.

First, an afflicted male must lack the appropriate allele(s) for their X chromosome to properly function as a suppressor against the MM gene. Second, the individual’s body must be in a state of heightened activity due to intense physical exertion. Lastly, on a neurological level, the individual must experience high levels of dopamine, oxytocin, and norepinephrine (or, in simpler terms— love). Should all these conditions be met, the door opens for the MM gene to potentially awaken within the subject.

As you may have already surmised, statistical probability works in our favor against the MM gene. Unfortunately, however, there remains a chance, regardless of how slight, that the proper conditions will align for this chaotic mutation to awaken and wreak havoc on both the carrier male as well as any surrounding, non-carrier parties. This was the case with one individual in the town of [redacted].

Numerous questions about how the MM gene operates and spreads among non-carriers despite being classified as a genetic disorder inundate microbiologists with, unfortunately, little to no answers at the time of this report. Further research into the matter remains a high priority.

END REPORT

***

It was supposed to be an ordinary day like any other when Geovanni R. Diaz stepped into the gym that afternoon. He drank his pre-workout in the front lobby while waiting for his friend/gym partner Evan Washington to arrive. The two men had met at the beginning of summer when they both started hitting the gym on the same day. They bonded over making fools of themselves as they misused several exercise machines. They became close friends and regular gym buddies since then.

Some 20 minutes had passed, and Evan was still nowhere in sight. Geo finished the last few sips of his pre-workout and decided to start without him. It was common for Evan to flake out, especially as of late. While Geo initially shared Evan's casual approach to the gym, he eventually decided he wasn’t satisfied with doing the bare minimum. He took on an intense 60-day workout regime to really challenge himself. Evan supported his friend’s endeavor, but the differences in their goals eventually showed themselves when Evan regularly skipped days while Geo kept at it. He didn’t take it personally; he had grown used to it, although he’d be lying if he said he didn’t miss having someone to joke around with between sets. Regardless, Geo claimed a chest fly machine, powered up his headphones, and then proceeded to get to work.

“Hey papi, mind if I work in with you?”

Geo heard a familiar voice behind him as he finished his warm-up set. He smiled as he turned and saw Evan leaning against the machine.

“Hey, handsome, I thought you weren’t coming today.” Geo stood up and embraced his close friend.

“Wasn’t planning on it if I’m being totally honest, but then I decided maybe I’ve been skipping too many days and forced myself out of bed to come here. Did you just start?”

“Yeah man! It’s chest and shoulder day today so I figured I’d start with my favorite machine,” Geo looked at Evan with a grin. “Care to join me?”

Evan only laughed in response. They both already knew the answer, but they enjoyed asking anyway as a joke. With that, they proceeded to go through Geo’s workout plan together. Naturally, Evan couldn’t keep up with Geo anymore and had to lower the weight after every set, but that didn’t stop them from enjoying their time together. By the end of the workout, they were both tired and sweaty in the locker room after hitting the weights hard.

“I have no idea how you manage to stay on track with this whole fitness challenge thing…” Evan huffed as he caught his breath. “I’d probably give up after the first day. You look good though! Your hard work is paying off and it really shows!”

“You think so?” Geo said as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “It’s hard to tell sometimes. I look in the mirror and I feel good, but then I stare at myself too long and I start worrying if I’m just lying to myself.”

“That’s just body dysmorphia talking, you look great!”

“Aw thank you Evan, you’re too kind.”

“Of course! Anytime you need reassurance, I’ll always be here.”

Evan flashed Geo a broad smile, and he smiled back. A few minutes passed before Evan started talking again.

“Hey, are you free tonight? I was thinking of making my world famous lasagna tonight, and I'd love to have you over for dinner.”

Geo stopped drying himself after he heard Evan say that. He turned slowly to Evan and saw him with a shy smile. The same smile formed on his face as he began to answer.

“I would love to have dinner with you, Evan. Of course I’ll come over tonight.”

Evan practically exploded with excitement. He ran to Geo for a hug, almost knocking him over due to the impact. Geo wrapped his arms around Evan and held him in a tight embrace. Their hugs always put Geo in a good mood. He was more than overjoyed to discover that Evan shared his feelings. He knew this hug would quickly become one of his top favorite memories. It was a tender moment between two men falling in love, which made it all the more noticeable when loud indigestion ended their sweet moment abruptly. Geo pulled away and held his stomach as he kneeled over in pain.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Evan asked.

“Ugh… I’m fine. I think I just need a bathroom. I’ll be right back.”

Geo ran off while Evan stayed behind in the locker room. Evan finished packing up their things while he waited. Ten minutes passed, then twenty, then thirty. Growing worried, Evan walked to the bathroom stalls to check on his beloved friend. He heard heavy, labored breathing coming from the only closed stall.

“Hey, is everything okay?”

Evan knocked on the stall door and found that it was unlocked. He pushed it open slightly. His jaw dropped to the floor when he found Geo naked and drenched in sweat on the tile floor. His eyes were clenched closed, and his face was distorted due to unbearable abdominal pain. Evan ran to his side.

“What’s going on!? What’s wrong?” Evan asked with apparent urgency in his voice. Geo could barely get words out as he was too busy hyperventilating.

“So… Hot…”

Evan held a hand against Geo’s forehead and almost immediately recoiled from how hot it was. Geo was running an extremely high fever, unlike anything he had ever seen! Evan’s eyes darted around the bathroom as he desperately sought solutions but couldn’t think of anything due to his panic. He was desperate. He knew he needed to act fast before—

“Ohhhh it hurts!!”

Geo’s sudden shriek stopped Evan’s negative line of thinking. At that moment, time seemed to slow down to a crawl. Evan’s gaze shot back to Geo. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw what was happening to his soon-to-be boyfriend. Unbeknownst to both of them, Geo was a carrier for the Metamorphosis gene, and all the right conditions were met for it to awaken. The gene was hard at work rearranging Geo’s DNA, and he began transforming right before their very eyes!

It began with his body hair. Like the other men from the paternal side of his family, Geo had never been able to grow much body hair, if any. However, he did have the genes needed for ample body hair, and thanks to the MM gene, it was finally able to express itself. Thick, black hair began sprouting out of his legs in spurts. With each hair follicle that grew in, Geo’s legs grew just a little bit thicker than before, causing Geo to moan obscenely loud as a result. The accelerated hair growth traveled up his legs and into his crotch area where his pubic hair grew in at an alarming rate until he had a jungle of bushy pubes covering his groin. His hairy balls hung lower than before after growing in size and his cock grew an inch thicker in width. Within a few minutes his entire lower half was transformed. His legs became as strong as tree trunks, and with a new, well-endowed package to boot— all covered in a thick layer of hair too!

The transformation wave continued to ripple throughout the rest of his body. Geo twisted and writhed on the floor as the rest of his body underwent rapid changes. A prominent happy trail formed on his lower abdomen, connecting his belly button and pubic region with a line of long, messy hair. His pecs grew more plump as hair ran up his ab line and onto the center of his chest where it spiraled outward until it formed little rings of hair around his nipples. His chest and abdominal areas were only covered with a slight dusting of body hair compared to his legs. The stubble on his face grew until a thick, connected beard replaced the short goatee Geo once sported.

His armpits were hit the hardest by the transformation. His pit hair grew and grew until it curled from its long length, leaving Geo with obscenely hairy underarms. Combined with the heavy sweat of an intense workout, Geo’s hairy pit smell began to fill the room. Evan recoiled from how unexpectedly strong Geo’s musky body odor had become, though he couldn’t resist helping himself to a couple of sniffs after he got a whiff of his powerful musk.

The MM gene had thoroughly scrambled Geo’s DNA sequences, leaving him as a completely unrecognizable, alternate version of himself!

“WHEW!! God I feel sooo much better now… Hey what’s wrong, babe? You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”

“G… Geo? Is that you?” Evan stood in shock from disbelief. If he hadn’t witnessed it for himself, Evan would’ve never believed that the hairy, smelly jock lying in front of him, staring at him with a lustful smirk, was the same man he had just invited over for dinner.

“Of course it is, mi hermosito, who else would I be?” Geo winked as he threw his arms up, leaving his hairy underarms exposed. “By the way, I saw you sniffing the air earlier… How about you come and have a whiff right from the source?”

Evan chuckled nervously, but Geo wasn’t joking. His laughter died down as he realized just how dead-serious Geo was.

“No… You’re not seriously—”

“Oh but I am,” Geo interrupted. “Just a little taste won’t hurt anyone. Call it a preview for what’s to come later tonight.”

“But right here? In the public bathrooms?”

“Why not? It’s not like anyone else is around right now. We’ll just have to keep our voices down if someone comes in. So, what do you say? I know you want to…”

Geo got up from the ground and approached Evan. He stood close enough that his scent naturally filled Evan’s nose without him needing to sniff. Evan’s eyes rolled to the back of his head as his friend’s intoxicating musk left him in a state of deep arousal. Of course, Evan had some reservations about hooking up with Geo after he had just randomly transformed right in front of him, but between how close Geo’s pits already were to his face and the fact that it still seemed to be the same man he had come to know and love on the inside, Evan couldn’t bring himself to reject the offer. Before he could think about it properly, he was already leaning in without even realizing it.

Once Evan started, he couldn’t stop. He buried his face deep into Geo’s sweaty, rank underarms. Geo’s coarse black hair tickled Evan’s nostrils as he nuzzled against the crevices of his pits. Muffled groans filled with pleasure escaped Evan’s mouth as he indulged in the manly, sweaty scent, each sniff leaving him more satisfied than the last. Soon enough, both Geo and Evan grew rock hard from all the sensual physical touch. The tents in their gym shorts poked and rubbed against each other as they continued pressing their bodies together. For Geo, the thought of getting worshiped in a public place like a gym bathroom was the hottest thing ever while Evan was just happy he got to service a hairy, sweaty gym rat.

Evan briefly lifted his head out of Geo’s armpit for air. At that moment, Geo held his face and planted a firm kiss on his lips. Their tongues wrestled inside of Evan’s mouth as they locked lips. Once they had their fill of making out after a while, Geo began pushing Evan down onto his knees, to which Evan happily obliged. Geo’s cock stood at full mast, nearly poking one of Evan’s eyes out as he got into position. Evan was in awe as he held the heavy piece of uncut brown meat in his hands. He was drooling just from the sight of it! Not able to restrain himself anymore, Evan dove right in and guided the leaking tip into his mouth.

Arghh… Mmmmm…

Geo let out guttural moans as his friend went down on him. The sound of a man’s deep moans encouraged Evan to service him as best as he physically could. It was almost like he forgot he needed to breathe as he slurped Geo’s entire length up and down with his tongue until it hit the back of his throat. Geo squirmed and grunted obscenely loud as Evan wrapped his cock with his warm, moist mouth. He only lasted a few minutes until he couldn’t hold in his load anymore. Geo held Evan’s head down, his nose pressing against his unruly bush, and let out a loud groan from deep within his lungs as his load came rushing out. Evan whimpered with pleasure as he swallowed Geo’s heavy load, the salty taste of cum filling up his mouth. Once it was done, they both pulled away with a satisfied ahhh!

“Alright, get up. Your turn.”

Geo helped Evan up to his feet, then got down on his knees himself. Evan didn’t deny Geo’s advances, but he also didn’t help him get into position either. He had a blank expression as Geo proceeded to go down on him. Even as he swirled and sucked on his sensitive head, Evan didn’t react or say anything aside from an occasional soft moan. All he could focus on was a prominent cut on the inside of his cheek that he could feel with his tongue. Was that always there? Evan wasn’t sure, but regardless, it was already too late. The damage was done. He had contracted the MM gene from Geo.

Evan winced as he began to notice a pain growing in the pit of his stomach. It started as a slight ache, but it quickly became unbearable. Evan hunched over, letting a low groan as he held his hands against his side where it hurt the most. It felt like he was being stabbed from the inside out! The next thing he knew, his muscles rapidly stretched and constricted as the gene started rearranging his DNA.

Because Evan was a non-carrier and his immune system was not already accustomed to suppressing the malignant virus, the MM gene was able to activate without delay and transformed him much faster than Geo. He threw his head back and quietly moaned as the transformation happened. Geo was too busy giving him head to even notice. He just thought he was doing a good job.

The MM gene was hard at work bringing out Evan’s hidden genetic traits. Although he was only 12.5% Black from his mother’s side, that was more than enough for the virus to play around with. Various points around his skinny body began to inflate with muscle mass. His thin frame and scrawny chicken legs filled in with much-needed mass, giving him sturdy legs with sharp ab lines and impressive cannons for arms. His biceps swelled to the size of melons as his body flexed under the tension of rapid transformation. Evan himself was surprised with how heavy his new body was becoming.

His facial structure shifted and morphed. His nose widened while his jawline became stronger and sharper. A bushy goatee beard grew in where he once could only grow peach fuzz. The once wholly flat-chested Evan Washington now sported two massive slabs of meat resting on his torso. His pecs were firm, strong, and hung low from their own weight. Coupled with bright pink nips, it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he now possessed a perfect chest. Although his pale skin tone stayed the same, the MM gene brought his Black features out to the forefront, giving the once undeniably White young man a more visibly biracial appearance by the end of his transformation.

While Evan underwent a total identity change, Geo kept blowing him all the while. Although he did notice a sudden change in Evan’s girth and overall size, the taste of a nice, sweaty cock kept him focused on the task at hand. Geo simply took a breath through his nose and opened his mouth up even wider to keep deepthroating him. Evan’s body was still sensitive from having undergone rapid growth, which only made the pleasure of having his dick sucked sloppily increase tenfold. The veins in his thighs and cock twitched and throbbed as he climaxed and pumped out his thick load straight down Geo’s throat. Geo swallowed, sighed with deep satisfaction, and got up from the ground.

“Mmm! You know, yours tastes kinda tangy!” Geo gathered and licked up the few stray drops dripping from Evan’s tip.

Meanwhile, Evan was trembling, struggling to breathe after all the physical stimulation. Only after Geo finished cleaning up the spunky mess did he realize that the Evan standing before him no longer looked like the Evan he once knew.

“What the— Who are you!! Where’d Evan go?” Geo yelled. Evan turned to look at him, and Geo saw his pupils dilating unnaturally rapidly. “Dude, what’s wrong with your eyes!?”

Evan said nothing in response. The MM gene fried his mind with a heavy concentration of hormones, leaving him in a state of severe brain fog. Evan stumbled forward to the nearby mirror. His cock was still semi-erect. The sight of his own dick was enough to make Evan drool as he admired and flexed his arm muscles. Geo tried calling his attention but to no avail. Evan was unresponsive to his shouts. He had one thing and one thing only on his horny mind.

“More…” Evan muttered.

“More what?” Geo replied. Evan snapped his line of sight back at Geo. His dazed eyes wandered to Geo’s exposed junk, then narrowed as they met his eyes. He let out a low growl as his eyes suddenly had an intense look that caused Geo to take a few steps back. It was the same look a hungry lion gave a gazelle out in the wild. Geo swallowed his breath. He became acutely aware of the situation he was in.

“Dick! I want more dick!!”

Evan puckered his lips and lunged towards Geo, though Geo managed to sidestep him in time.

“Get away from me! Look man, you might be hot as hell but I’m not interested! I’m a taken man!!”

Geo quickly gathered his discarded clothes and hightailed it out of the bathroom. Naturally, being in the hyper state that he was, Evan wasn’t going to give up until he got what he craved. He stumbled out of the bathroom stall ass naked, where he was about to run into the perfect target.

“Man! Today is just not my day,” a bodybuilder mumbled as he walked into the locker room. Dylan was a muscle gay, and he came to the gym solely to go cruising that day.

However, despite his efforts, he struck out. He was getting sexually frustrated, which made him incredibly willing to hook up with some random stranger in the bathroom.

Dylan was as equally surprised as he was impressed when Evan stepped out of the stall with his cock out. The smell of sweat and cum hit his nose, arousing him. Dylan loved what he saw and decided to make his move on the muscle-bound hunk.

“Hey there, stud! Need a hand there?” Dylan whistled at Evan, catching his attention.

Evan turned to him. He was still visibly sweaty and was breathing heavily. Dylan wasn’t sure what to make of him, but Evan didn’t give him a chance to reconsider.

Evan charged at him, planting his lips against his upon impact. Dylan was caught off guard but had no problem matching Evan’s energy. He kissed him back as their frisky hands began feeling up each other’s bodies. Although Dylan loved making out, Evan’s kissing style was quickly turning out to be way too rough for his tastes. Evan forced his tongue in, had an obscene amount of saliva, and even bit down on his bottom lip with enough force to draw blood.

“OWW! What the fuck man!?”

Dylan pushed Evan away and held his bleeding lip. He was glad that there wasn't a lot of blood, but was still rightfully pissed off. As ravenous as he was due to the MM gene, Evan was oblivious to what he had done. Instead, his attention shifted to another guy wearing only a towel near the showers. He ran off in that direction and left Dylan in the dust.

“Prick…”

With that, Dylan decided to just give up and get a quick workout in. He took out a rice bar and ate it as he returned to the main area. He did his stretches, picked up a couple of barbells, and claimed an open bench. But just as he was about to start his first set, a powerful hunger overcame him. He grabbed at his stomach and kneeled over in pain as the MM gene took effect.

All of Dylan’s hard-earned muscles melted away within a matter of minutes. He rapidly gained pounds upon pounds of body fat. What were once washboard abs complimented by chiseled biceps were replaced by flabby arms and a protruding, hairy gut. His pecs lost their firmness and began to sag as they became nothing but a pair of man boobs. All the while, the same overwhelming lust Evan had began growing within Dylan too.

A handful of nearby good samaritans came to Dylan’s aid after he collapsed. While they all tried to help Dylan, most stayed back after witnessing his sudden transformation firsthand. Nobody knew what was happening behind the scenes, leading to anxious rumors and worried whispers floating around the gym. While most people were too cautious to get near Dylan, one brave man decided to step forward and help Dylan. Unfortunately, as he tried to help Dylan get up to his feet, Dylan accidentally scratched him on the back. The young man recoiled and dropped Dylan to the ground as a result.

As other people began to help Dylan, the injured man stepped off to the side to tend to his wound. He felt unusually warm as he finished putting on a bandage. He didn’t think much of it and ignored it but soon found himself sweating bullets as he rejoined the group. It got to the point that he needed to take a seat to try to cool off, but it was no use. He soon joined Dylan on the floor, writhing in pain due to contracting the MM gene.

At this point, everyone in the gym had gathered around the two men. The crowd stood back as they bore witness to yet another transformation. They watched in bewilderment as the short man rapidly grew in height. He groaned and gasped in anguish as his limbs stretched out. His torso grew and widened until he had the body of a tall bear. He pawed at the growing tent in his sweats as he thrashed around the floor, massaging his manhood as hormones continued pumping throughout his body. Within minutes, the infected man had gone from a stout 5’4 to a big, burly 6’4.

Although the afflicted man already had a healthy spattering of trimmed body hair, the MM gene forced his hair to grow to what was genetically possible. His body hair grew out beyond what Geo experienced. From his chest and belly to his legs and arms, every hair follicle grew longer and thicker, leaving him a pelt of curly body hair. His facial hair, in particular, grew out the most. His mustache grew longer and longer until it practically covered his mouth! His beard became bushy and unruly with coarse black hair as it reached his chest. All the while, the hair on the top of his head fell out one by one until he had a shiny bald head. He became an unrecognizable version of himself thanks to the MM gene. Once his transformation was over, he sat up and let out a bellowing belch that echoed throughout the gym.

“Mrmph… Feels sooooo good…”

The crowd of witnesses backed away from the two transformed men. The two men turned to the crowd and smiled. A cold, ominous air filled the atmosphere. A few intuitive individuals saw the writing on the wall and left before shit hit the fan while the majority stayed behind, anxious and confused at what was going on. A few moments filled with tense silence passed, only for it to be broken when Evan came charging in from the men’s locker room and locked lips with the closest man. Almost as if on signal, Dylan and the burly bear joined Evan’s rampage and lashed out, too.

Pandemonium broke out as everyone made a mad dash for the exit. It was like a zombie attack as Evan and the other transformed men attacked every healthy man they could get their hands on. The unfortunate victims contracted the MM gene. Once infected, they, too, succumbed to genetic rearrangements. Some grew insanely muscular, and others became incredibly overweight. Hair was grown and lost; skin colors changed, and every physical feature rearranged until they were completely unrecognizable. All those transformed men wanted nothing more than to kiss, fuck, and spread their seed to as many people as possible until their hyped-up urges were satiated.

“Shit’s getting crazy out here…” Geo whispered to himself. He poked his head out of the locker room and saw the chaos he unwittingly caused. He wanted nothing to do with the madness and ran out of the gym as fast as he could, though the infected men paid him no attention as he was already one of them. Police were beginning to arrive on the scene as Geo drove away with only one thought: his dinner date with his best friend and crush, Evan.

Though unfortunately for him, the Evan he knew and loved was long gone. It would only be a matter of time before Geo forgot all about Evan, and his body gradually returned to its original state after the MM gene returned to a state of dormacy.

At least, until the next time Geo or some other carrier falls in love.

***

PUBLIC STATEMENT ISSUED BY THE SHERIFF’S OFFICE

Good evening.

As you may have already heard, a horrific incident has occurred at one of our local gyms. Dozens of men went on a rampage. It took several hours and almost all of our manpower, but our police department has successfully arrested all of the sexually rabid men and have placed them in custody.

Security camera footage shows that all of these men were physically transformed before attacking. After an initial investigation, medical experts suspect that a rare genetic disorder called the Metamorphosis gene is responsible. Unfortunately, while there were no casualties, some of our own brave policemen were affected by the viral outbreak and were transformed themselves.

Two big questions remain tonight: how did a genetic disorder manage to spread like a virus, and how did these men contract this previously unheard of disorder? The arrested men were questioned about the events that led to this mass riot. None have been able to provide any concrete information. None of them seem to recognize their former identities, citing amnesia and severe migraines as the cause.

Patient 0 has yet to be found. An active investigation continues as research efforts for a potential cure to the Metamorphosis gene’s effects continue.

END OF STATEMENT

#occam2000 #male transformation #male tf #muscle tf #weight tf #hairy #hair growth #virus tf #permanent change #musk #pit tf #long fic

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lidiasloca · 1 day

Note

can i request a funny drabble? one with nyx being friends with reader for and she finally meets feyre and rhysand and she whispers to him,

” i see where you get your looks from, your mom and dad are dilfs snd milfs ”

and anytime they’re out she always kind of flirts with feyre and says hi ms archereon with a smile.

meeting the high lord and high lady

nyx x reader - rhys x reader - feyre x reader

fluff

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄☆

you knew who your best friend’s parents were. of course you knew. it was, in a way, the reason why you had become friends.

on the first day at the training camp, you saw him there, alone, no one brave enough to speak to the high lord and lady’s only son.

but you couldn’t have cared less when the most powerful boy in the camp set eyes on you and asked if he could borrow your wooden sword, having lost his. his words were soft, and his eyes so timid – you instantly knew you’d be great friends.

and you are now. such good friends that he finally asked you to meet his parents. it was no big deal meeting your friend’s parents – unless they were none other than the high lords of your court.

so, you were very, very nervous.

“alright, i’m going to knock now, okay?” nyx asked, holding his hand up. “calm down.”

“i am calm.” you clearly were not.

his lips formed a thin line, obviously holding back a remark. then, he finally knocked.

and – oh gods.

you could almost hear your friend’s words echo in your head. “act normal, stupid.”

but how could you? in front of you stood a literal goddess. no, it was beauty in the form of a female.

“hi! you must be y/n.” she smiled, and you felt like swooning. “i’m feyre. nice to meet you.”

“you are so beautiful,” you found yourself whispering.

her smile turned into a surprised beam, and from the corner of your eye, you saw the mortification of her son.

“thank you, love. you’re a beauty yourself.”

you chuckled nervously, almost ready to jump into her arms.

was it crazy to propose to her on your knees right there in front of nyx?

“let’s get inside, for fuck’s sake,” he grumbled in irritation. your best friend had told you how he always had to endure people drooling over his parents, and now you understood why.

“language,” feyre warned, and it was the most beautiful threat you had ever heard someone sing. gods – you had to play it cooler than this.

“could you behave, y/n?” he whisper-yelled as you followed feyre into the house.

you gave him a nod, accompanied by a cheeky grin that told him you were no longer nervous, just excited to spend the whole dinner watching his beautiful mother. by the way his sharp eyes glared at you, you knew he was not happy about it.

“rhys! they’re here!”

“coming,” a masculine voice called from somewhere far off. if the male was half as beautiful as his raspy voice, you knew you were really going to swoon.

you almost had to catch yourself when the high lord appeared through the door. “oh, gods.”

nyx elbowed you hard, but you couldn’t care less as the male smiled at you. “i’m rhysand. and you are?”

you couldn’t form any words, but the cauldron gifted you with feyre’s enchanting voice to help. “she’s y/n.”

“y/n,” he repeated, and it sounded heavenly. “great to meet you.”

“is dinner ready?” nyx cut in, clearly tired of this.

“yes, it is,” rhysand responded, his sharp eyes telling his son to act nicer. “and i hope you don’t mind,” he continued, now looking at you, “a friend is coming over to dine with us.”

“uncle cassian?” your friend asked.

“not exactly,” another voice you didn’t recognize answered. and – what a voice...

“please tell me it’s not azriel – y/n is going to swoon,” nyx muttered under his breath, but you heard it perfectly well. in fact, it was the last thing you heard before the most handsome male walked into the room.

“i’m azriel. nice to meet you.”

-Characters by Sarah J Maas

a/n: guys! lizzy mcalpine's "come down soon" is so so great. no, but really, go listen it, bc wow. well, hope you like this fic, if you did, maybe go check my masterlist :))

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surielstea · 2 days

Text

“Hey, Stranger.”

Based on a request.

Pairing: Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: In attempt to get away from the ball, Rhysand encounters a generous stranger and seems to find exactly what he’s looking for when she invites him in.

Warnings: Mention of sickness | all fluff | teensy argument at the end but has a HEA :)

4.1k words

Rhys had yet to decide where it was exactly he was going. His hands were tucked into his pockets and the darkness of his power swirling from his neatly pressed jacket.

He left the ball thrown in his honor quickly after it started, it was an event meant solely for him to find a High Lady, or at least scope out the options.

A night of mindless women vying for attention that he had no care for, none of them held what he was looking for, and none of them were her. Who she was, he had no clue, but he would, once he found her.

A low whistle came from his lips, the tune the same one he heard as he snuck out of his own damned party.

I was squatted down beside the bar sign, writing the nightly specials with the chalk in my hands when the stranger approached.

"One free drink with the order of a meal? It's almost too good to be true," The male said. I turned, not noticing his footsteps, and glancing towards him. I chuckle, rising to face him— even if he towered over me, and readjusted the sign to stand on its own. "You hungry? I could open up a few minutes early," I offer and his dark, manicured brows lift in slight surprise. He was beautiful, truly, his tanned features and hair dark as night complimenting his stunning violet eyes that seemed to be stealing the breath from my lungs.

"Such generosity, from a stranger," He smirks, his eyes softening as he took in my modest dress and simple hairstyle. It wasn't pity that shone in that glorious violet, but warmth. Then those eyes flick down from my face, lower, then slowly trail my figure all the way back up— lingering for a moment on the way my neckline dipped a little too low for comfort. I blurt out my name and his eyes snapped back to mine, not at all looking ashamed for his staring.

"There, not strangers anymore." I shrug with a gentle grin. He mirrors it with a charismatic smile that has been guaranteed to have dropped panties before.

"Lead the way then," He jerked his head back towards the tavern and I nodded, swiveling on my heel and heading towards the propped open, slightly worn red door. The tavern itself was a little rough around the edges, the paint chipping from the walls, the fireplace dusty, and half of the table legs were uneven. But it paid the bills and the regulars didn't seem to mind as long as we served drinks.

"Why aren't you at the ball tonight?" The male asked as I loved my way around the bar counter and he sat on one of the stools.

"I have to stay and look after my mother," I explain, and I wasn't sure why I told him something so personal, so I quickly added, "Besides, once that ball is over this bar will fill tremendously. Someone's got to run it."

He simply nods in reply, leaning onto the counter with fascination in his eyes, as if I were a creature to be studied.

"And what about you? Why'd you leave?" I ask, turning away from his stare to pour him a mug of ale.

"I didn’t find what I was looking for there," He explains as I place the mug in front of him. "Out here, though, much better." His eyes linger on me as he brings the glass up to his sensuous lips, and something tells me he wasn't telling me the entire truth.

"That's all? I don't buy it, you're too polished to be wandering like this, what's the true reason?" I lean my hands onto the counter, tilting my head at him.

"Polished, huh? If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're flirting with me." He taunted, setting his mug down and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"And I'd say you're deflecting," I retort. "So tell me, what are you hiding, stranger?" I smirk, using the nickname to my advantage, if only to further show I knew very little about him.

"Perhaps I found a better reason to stay away?" He suggests, leaning back in his stool with casual grace as if he comes to this bar nightly.

"Oh? And what might that be?" I arch a brow, pushing off the counter and crossing my arms over my chest.

His smirk widens. "I'm looking at her." He purrs and a blush blooms across my cheeks and my heart rate picks up, I prayed to every god that he couldn't hear it.

I steel my features into submission as I say, "You're not a very subtle male are you?"

He snorts, looking down at his pressed black suit. "What about me says subtle?" His eyes come back up to mine, reaching to his lapel and picking an invisible piece of lint from it.

I chuckle and shake my head. "Very little," I say with an amused smile, going over to the sink and grabbing a damp cloth that hung over the faucet, wanting to busy my hands, I begin wiping down the countertop.

"So is this what you do, then? Tavern maid by day, barmaid by night?"

"No, I only work the night shift here, I'm a teacher at the school down the road during the day," I explain, a proud grin on my lips as I think of all my young students.

"A teacher? I thought they were supposed to be strict?" He suggests and I smirk, glancing up at him with a wicked gleam in my eyes.

"I can be strict if you'd like," I shrug, feigning innocence.

"You're bold for someone who doesn't know who they're talking to," He purred in reply and I scoffed.

"Bold?"

"Inviting me in? Flirting with me?" He suggests, leaning onto the bar, closer to me.

"I am not flirting. And I'm only being nice, you looked like you needed saving from your own thoughts." I shake my head, turning away from him and discarding the damp rag back over the sink faucet before moving towards the kitchens where I could prepare him a meal.

"And you think a meal will do that?" He asks from behind me, I can feel his stare on my figure as I shuffle behind the bar for a plate.

"I've been told I make a killer pie, you'd be surprised how far a slice will get you," I say while playing with a piece of my signature pie.

"I'll take one then," He hums and I walk back over to him, placing the plate of warm pie in front of him.

"Good." I hold a fork out to him. He takes it with wild amusement in his gaze before digging into the slice and taking a large bite. I tried to pretend I wasn't watching his reaction, instead refilling his ale but his minor groan did not slip past my notice.

"So, you never told me your name, what should I call you?" I lift a brow, glancing over at him and pushing his mug back over beside his plate.

"Handsome? Mysterious? Dashing? All three? I'll let you decide." He replied unflinchingly and it takes everything in my power not to scoff.

"I think I'll stick with 'stranger' for now," I give him a pointed look but he only replies with a one-shouldered shrug.

"Your loss."

———

The Stranger came back the next day, and the next, and the next. I always set a slice of pie aside for him. He usually came in at the end of the night, when the crowds dwindled and the barstools were put up, and once he was done with his food he helped me with the dishes, and I tried not to acknowledge the way my heart skipped a beat when our hands would brush beneath the warm soapy water. He'd always walk me home afterward and bid me farewell at the door, and only once he was gone would I realize that I never got his name. And if I did remember he'd change the subject or call himself handsome again.

I didn't get too hung up on it, I was far too distracted by his casual grace and clever remarks.

At some point we had shifted into him walking me from the school house to the bar, then meeting with me again to walk me home, I don't even know how it happened, how he had interwoven himself so much into my life. Not a stranger, a friend, whom I still did not know the name of.

I hadn't been expecting to see the stranger today. I wasn't working at the bar tonight, I told him that, yet here he was at the school house grouped with all the parents there to pick up their kids. They stared sometimes, at me and him. It was unabashed and more of a gawking look than a stare but if the love life of their children's school teacher is the only drama they have in their lives then so be it. I let them stare as the Stranger slung an arm around me and guided me along.

"I thought I told you yesterday I'm not working tonight?" I say, propping my hands on my hips as I stare at him with a pointed stare. "Which means no daily pie?" I say because that's what this was, right? He'd walk me to and from the tavern for some free food then be on his way. That was all.

He shrugs, his hands in his jacket pockets casually as he utters, "I still wanted to see you, slice or no."

"Shouldn't you be busy with more important things?" I ask, taking a few steps closer as a gaggle of young kids rush past me with their bags halfway on their shoulders, running to their parents.

"Who says this isn't the most important?" He suggests and a pink hue graces my cheeks. I look down at one of my students struggling with his bag.

"Well, you're always welcome," I say while leaning down and adjusting the boy's straps onto his back. The kid thanked me then rushed off, staring slightly at the Stranger in wonder. "Though the kids might ask you to read a story if they see you hanging around too much." I smile teasingly while brushing the front of my clothes off.

"I think I can manage that." He hummed, staring at me like I hung every star in the night sky that this court worshipped.

"I hope you know I'll be holding you to that," I say with a small smile, grabbing my own bag from its cubby and slinging it over my shoulders.

"Can you hold me to walking you home as well, or should I take my leave?" He asks, leaning against the doorway of my classroom.

I scoff a laugh, shaking my head amusedly. "I suppose some company would be nice." I drone dramatically and he returns my chuckle with his own rich, deep laugh.

The crunch of shoes on gravel sounded as the Stranger walked beside me, his black suede shoes so contrasting to my colorful kitten heels that the younger girls in my class adored so much. "So what does a school teacher do on her night off?" He asks after a pause of comfortable silence. Our hands brush as we walk, so I shove my hands into my pockets and shrug.

"Oh you know, wild stuff, baking pies, reorganizing the pantry, going to bed after dinner, truly living on the edge," I remarked, tossing him an incredulous glance.

"Dangerous, I might have to stick around just to make sure you survive." He intones and a soft giggle leaves my lips as I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear.

I could feel his stare linger on me at that moment, and perhaps it was the sun setting behind me, or the echo of my laugh, but I could’ve sworn he whispered, “Beautiful.” I glanced at him curiously but he looked away.

"You know, I've been thinking—" He started and cut him off.

"Treacherous words." I purr, earning myself a sidelong glare.

"Rude, as I was saying, I've been thinking that you might be one of the most interesting people I've ever met." He confesses and I snort, looking at him like he’s gone mad.

"What's funny about that?" He frowns, crossing his arms over his chest— and I most definitely did not miss the way his muscular arms strained against the fabric of his jacket.

"I work two jobs and live with my sick mother, there's not much interesting there," I utter, looking at the familiar slightly run-down town townhouse in front of me.

He shrugs. “I stand by what I said,” He hums, continuing to stay beside me all the way up to the front door.

My hand rested on the doorknob but I didn’t make the move to go inside, instead, I turned to him— my breath hitching at our proximity. I hadn’t realized how close he was, but now I could feel the warmth radiating off of him, his smell of sea salt and citrus invading my senses. I swallowed thickly as his eyes glanced down to my lips, then quickly back to my eyes.

"You've got flour on your cheek," He murmured and I flushed beet red in embarrassment.

"Still? Oh gods, I was prepping some dough for the tavern this morning," I replied, rubbing at my cheek with panicked movements and he chuckled, moving forward and reaching towards my face, then hesitating before touching me.

"Here, can I?" He arches a dark brow and I blink up at him but nod.

He cups my jaw, his thumb swiping over my cheek in a lover's caress. His touch was so intimate, and his calloused hands only brought warmth.

“There,” Again, his gaze went down to my lips, but before he could lean in I turned towards the door, fumbling with my bag for my keys while clearing my throat.

His touch didn’t linger as he retracted his hand and then took a few steps back. “So do I get an invite inside or am I subject to wandering the streets looking lost until I find my way home?" He suggests, simply filling the silence as I scrounge for my keys.

"Something tells me you're often lost," I say slightly shakily, finally finding my keys and unlocking my door.

"Not with you." He says casually and heat rises to my cheeks. I swing the door open, scanning the room for my mother then figuring she must be in bed. “You can come in, for a few minutes,” I say, entering the house and sliding off my shoes.

He follows my actions and closes the door behind me, taking in the warmly lit cabin, the fireplace crackling in front of the sofa, the curtains spread and welcoming in the last of the sun's rays.

I silently shuffled into the kitchen, and the stranger followed on my heels.

“So this is where the magic gets made, hm?” He said, eyeing a pie half dug into on the counter.

I frown at the sight of it and his brows furrow. “What is it?” He asks as I scan the room.

“I made that pie for you,” I say softly. “Hold on, just a moment,” I say and stalk towards the dining room separated by a partition wall. I peek my head through the open archway, finding my mother at the end of the table with incriminating crumbs and jam on her plate— and the corners of her mouth.

"Mom, what are you doing out of bed?" I sigh, more worried about her health than her stealing a slice from a container that I specifically told her this morning not to eat, granted she was half asleep and any food she could get down was as valuable as gold to me nowadays.

"I need a few moments of feeling young, and this pie will get anyone out of bed." She waves her hand at me dismissively, making a sour face as I attempt to look disappointed.

"Who's your friend?" She jerked her chin in the direction behind me, but she didn’t even glance at him. I turn to see the stranger now leaning against the open doorway, taking up the whole space with his height.

"Uh, he's—” I begin to say, only to realize I could not answer, for I still did not know his name. Yet here I was, inviting him into my home.

"By the cauldron— the High Lord." My mother gasps, standing up, her chair scraping against the tiled floors.

I rolled my eyes. "Oh, gods, you'll have to excuse her, she's a little out of sorts—" I wave her off but the Stranger simply smiles and bows formally to my mother.

"At your service, my Lady."

My mouth goes dry. "You... you're the High Lord?"

The stranger— no, High Lord Rhysand, smirked. It dawned upon me that I never learned his name because he made sure of it, he only visited me during opening and closing hours, and that first night, the night of the High Lords ball, he said he hadn’t found what he was looking for, a potential wife. He had been looking for a High Lady that night.

Yet here he stood in my dining room like he’s always belonged here, his dark hair, his violet eyes, and his tanned skin all slotting into place in my memory of what I’ve learned of my courts High Lord. I swallowed thickly, glancing between him and my mother, then back at him.

“Can we speak, in private?” I say with a polite smile.

He pushes off the doorframe and moves for me to pass through. “Lead the way.” He gestures for me to pass with his hand in a dramatic manner. “It was nice meeting you, Miss,” The High Lord smiles charmingly at my mother and I grab his arm, dragging him down the hall towards my bedroom.

“You too, dearie!” My mother calls in a slightly frail voice.

I ignore him and pull the male into my room, closing the door behind him and then staring at him like he’s turned my world upside down.

I didn’t know how to react or what to say. I wanted to be furious at him, wanted to scream and yell and throw something at him to express the suffocating emotions clawing up my throat, but for some reason, I couldn’t.

Because beneath the betrayal, the anger, and the shock, lay something I thought I’d never experience. That flutter of something warm I felt when he smiled at me, or when our hands brushed, made me feel safe in ways I thought I never could before.

“Why didn’t you trust me enough to tell me?” I whisper, quiet but not weak. My words were barely audible but he heard me, he always did.

“It’s not that I didn’t trust you, I just, I got lost in the feeling of you seeing me, for me.” He expressed but my glare did not waver.

“But you still have duties, you have a title— you have a gods damned court, you can’t just use me to play pretend,” I argue.

His eyes soften at my words and he takes a dangerous step forward. “I’m not using you, and I’m not playing pretend— in fact, it’s quite the opposite. With you Darling, I feel more like myself than I have in centuries.” He admits and I swallow, wringing my hands anxiously. “I wanted to tell you,” He adds.

“You should have,” I stress with narrowed brows, a furious expression that didn’t quite meet my eyes.

“But would you have treated me differently if you had known from the start?” He suggests and I clamp my mouth shut.

He was right, I doubt I’d be as unguarded with him if I knew of his title, and I certainly wouldn’t allow him to walk me home every night, and gods— oh gods, I flirted with him. The High Lord.

“I don’t know,” I sigh, rubbing at my face, unsure how to navigate any of this.

“I’m still me, nothing has to change.” He takes another step, less than an arm's distance away now. Too close, or too far. I didn’t know.

“But they do, you’re a High Lord and I’m just—”

“Don’t. Don’t finish that sentence, you are far more than ‘just’ anything.” He cuts me off and I release a low, well-earned sigh.

“High Lord,” I muttered under my breath, the weight of the title seeming to make my room close in around us.

“Rhys, please, call me Rhys.” He grabbed my still fidgeting hands, his familiar callouses still the same, the warmth still the same.

“I could never fit in your world,” I express.

“You already do, in ways I thought never imaginable.” He expressed, his thumb caressing over the fluttering pulse in my wrist.

“I don’t know what the future holds, but I know I want you in it— beside me, I mean.” He confessed and I swore my breathing stopped and the words were stolen from my mouth.

“You, you can’t be serious,” I shake my head, disbelief encasing me.

“I told you I didn’t find what I was looking for the night of the ball, but I did— an equal, a High Lady.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Everything was a phantom wind, except those violet eyes that I feel like I’ve known my entire life. Those remained steady, constant. “Rhys,” I whisper and the tension in his shoulders dissipates, as if hearing his name on my lips had lifted a weight atop them.

“I don’t know the first thing about, any of that,” I admit and a soft smile tugs at his lips.

“That’s okay, we can figure it out, together.” He promised. “You don’t have to decide right now, you don’t have to decide for another century if that’s what you prefer— just think about it, because I truly believe no one else could fill that role, not the way you can.”

I nodded slowly, still processing everything, and leaning into his touch, his hand slipping into mine while his other came to cup my cheek.

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I nod. Because I had to weigh my job at the schoolhouse, and my situation with my mother— I couldn’t just uproot my life and move into a palace.

“Will you also think about finally letting me kiss you?” He mutters, our noses nearly brushing.

I crack a sly smile. “I’ve done enough thinking about that, come here Stranger,” I grab him by his collar and he grins wildly the moment our lips connect.

His hand on my jaw slides to the nape of my neck while his other moves to my hip, pulling me impossibly closer.

My arms sling over his shoulders, my chest pressed to his, slotting together like the final piece to a puzzle I’ve been trying to finish for years.

Everything else faded away as my back made contact with the cold wood of my door and his wicked tongue slid over my bottom lip. I gasped softly and he took advantage of the moment to invade my mouth. He explored and tasted and savored every inch he could find, memorizing the feel of me against him, my taste, my rapid heartbeat, my muffled noises.

I didn’t know I was suffering from lack of oxygen until he pulled away and I had to take a deep, recovering inhale.

I blinked a few times, the kiss tilting my world on its axis.

He chuckled, the sound like velvet against my bare skin. “That really did a number on you, huh?” He taunted and I glared up at him, wrapping my arms a little tighter around the back of his neck.

“Don’t get cocky, I’m still mad at you,” I grumble but his smile didn’t falter.

“In my defense, you never asked if I was the High Lord,” He said matter of factly and I rolled my eyes.

“Oh, right because that’s a normal question to ask people I meet on the street.” I scoff and he nods, staring down at me with a love-drunken smile.

“I might take you up on that High Lady offer sooner than expected if kissing is a part of my job description,” I murmur, ghosting my lips over his.

He gifts me a wolfish grin in reply. “Much more than kissing is on that description,” He purrs, matching my tone.

“Tempting.” I rise onto my toes and connect our lips once again, and again, and again. Prepared to do so until I was sure I was sick of the taste of him.

I knew it was reckless to make such life-changing decisions so suddenly, but internally it was clear what my answer would be to his offer.

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mehiwilldoitlater · 2 days

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please my dear author , please!!!!! I'm begging you, Give me satisfaction with your story, please😭❤️...

May i've a reaquest headcannon for, wife s/o x sun wukong,They both are always together and fight together, even die together 😭... Please my dear author, you are my only hope .

(btw, s/o is good at healing magic, she even fights using magic)

How funny and how ironic, Wukong thought, to be held in his last moments in the arms of the sword brother that once he had tò defeat in battle.

His breath reduced by a raspy whisper, his chest now covered in blood by the wound... eh, come to think of it, he didn't feel any pain now, just numbness.

His hears, then, grasped One of the many breaths there, one that, like him, was reaching their last moments. He could recognize that breath between thousands, and then he sensed a feeling of dread. He wanted to reach her. The bull sensed his desire and obliged.

In a pool of blood, a feminine body lay. Her chest covered in arrows, her once white hanfu now in a Splendid Crimson shade. The eyes of the monkey gleam from the sad view.

A bride, even in her last moments. His bride, his wife, his everything.

You were his, and he was yours, and so the sage wanted to be until the end.

The bull was able to lay him down next to you, a small moment of peace on the battlefield.

You two really did a lot together?

///

You were mere servants for one of the seven fairies, a body between many. You never asked for something more, you never asked to be different, and you never asked to be noticed by anyone. Too much trouble, you always thought.

But you were different. Despite your humble position, you were born with abilities that, even amongst many immortals, were quite rare. Healing powers, a sacred ability that just a few could learn but were born with? You were special, but you just hoped for a humble life.

But even in the celestial realm, nothing can just stay the same.

You first saw him when he was ordered to the Jade Emperor. Hiding behind some officials and other servants, the first thing that caught you was his manners. He wasn't a bride; he was just treating the most important being in the world like some random people. You should be shocked, but... It's nice? You wondered what kind of person was the new keeper of the horses...

///

"Master Wukong Is Amazing!"

"Since he's the one who's taking care of the celestial steed, all of the beasts are in great shape!"

Wukong was always someone who loved the praise and the compliments, but something was quite off. It was true, he was the best keeper that the Celestial stables everything had, but he had noticed something a little strange.

Sometimes, maybe by accidents or by distraction of the owner, one of the horses came back injured or with some small wounds. He had always done his best to take care of them, of course, and the next day the same wound was soon gone. More than anyone, he was supposed to be happy or proud by this, but he knew something was playing a trick on him. Surely, another one would have believed that it was the same horse that had such an ability like that, or everything that stables themselves, but why then call for someone to take care of the horses if there was something like that?

One day, he finally knew the answer.

When the day was almost over and the Night Patrol deity started to prepare for his work, Wukong wanted to check on the horses and remembered that one of them seemed quite unwell after a bad day with its owner.

When he reached the stables, he seemed quite pleased to find the door unlocked, especially since he knew that all of his helpers had left for the night. He noticed there the light of a small lantern, and there he decided to move. Taking the form of a fly, he started to buzz in the direction of the light, and what he saw left him pleased.

"Poor one, did they mistreat you, uh?"

Your voice seemed so kind and gentle; the horse was immediately putty in your hands. Sitting on an overturned bucket, you gently caressed its snout and Maine, coercing it to give you its injured leg.

"I know what it means; don't worry, I'll treat you right away."

And, under the incredulous eyes of the Great Sage, a dim light started to shine in your hand, and, by just caressing it, the wound was good and gone!

"There, all done!" You said happily, keepnon caressing the horse, "Now you look good as new!"

The Great Sage couldn't control himself; you had picked up his curiosity like nothing before! Like a bolt, he immediately took back his true form and started you and the horse.

"Easy horse, brother!" He esclaimed, calming the beast, "Do not scare the precious one!"

You feel a sense of panic. You were caught, red-handed, in the celestial stables tending the horses that weren't even your own duty, by the keeper himself. You kneel before him, your face in the dirt, hoping to appeal to his kindness.

"Forgive me, master! I didn't intend to do any harm! I just wanted to cure these poor creatures! Please don't report me! I beg you!"

He looked at you with quite the interest, bent down to touch your head, laughing a little.

"Come now, precious one! I'm not in need of this kind of guidance! I punish who's wrong me, not who does good!"

You raised your head a little, your forhead dry from the mud of the pavement.

"You...you won't?"

"Not as long as you're going to share with me that trick of yours, precious one!"

"My Lord, I'm not precious at all! I'm just a servant."

"Tell me your name; even if you'll be precious to me!"

"I'm Y/N, master; I work under the Seven Fairies, daighters of the Jade Emperor. And...my powers are just my powers; I was born with them."

"Oh, a servant?!" He seemed indignant by your statement, "How can it be?! Such powers are for gods and immortals! Not for servants and cleaners! They had made a mistake with your position!"

"Oh, no, master! I'm where I wanted to be! I do not care for my position; I just enjoy my life as it is."

He pondered, Little, what a strange little thing you were. Such amazing powers, and yet so humble?! So interesting, very much indeed! He circled you a few times, causing you to emit a few giggles, even if you tried to keep them in your mouth.

"Say, do you like these horses?"

"Yes, master! Quite Indeed!"

"Then! Come to me every day at this same time! I want to know you better!"

///

And so you kept your promise. Every day, after your choirs, you were welcomed in his own palace, treated like an equal. Sometimes you've dined, sometimes you've just drunk tea, but every time talking with him seems so natural. You showed interest in his home, to the point that he wanted you to pay a visit there with him next time.

He loved having you around; you've never looked him down, always so modest and kind. You were truly a precious one to him! He never loses a chance to greate you, even in front of the other servants and celestials.

And so rumors started to spread.

The Bimawen found a friend in the Seven Fairies servant. The girl likes to spend time with horses and monkeys, they said. Some even complained that you smelled of animals.

Once, one of the seven sisters even forced you to take a bath and tò not touch anything until you were completely cleaned. It was so humiliating.

But you decide not to tell anything to the Bimawen, afraid of some reaction. And yet, something still happened.

One incautious immortal had decided that he needed to provoke the monkey and reveal his true position in the heavens! You were sure he was aware of it. Instead, they decided not to inform him! He was furious! He destroyed the stables and fled away from Heaven.

He had one regret: leave you there alongside those foolish arrogants! But he could not force you, not someone like you.

So imagine his surprise when the youngest monkey proclaimed to have captured an immortal, only to come to him withbyour in their grasp!

"Y/n?!" He screamed, reaching you with a jump and taking you in a bone-crashing hug. "My precious! Why are you here?! Did you finally decide to come and green my children?!"

"Oh Wukong," you caressed his head. "The Celestial Palace is enraged! They want to capture you! They're sending an army here!"

He laughed, finally setting you down, caressing your delicate hand.

"Old Wukong is not afraid of them; I'll let them regret having provoked the Great Sage equal to Heaven!"

And while you wondered when the battle could begin, he showed you his kingdom. A land with no palaces, no rules, only swore brothers and sisters that believed in each other's strength and power. They were equal in each eye, and all of them were ready to fight for each other. It felt right...

Sun Wukong had shown you to everyone with pride, calling you his precious one, the one that can heal with her hands. And even if he loved to braga about you to everyone, he had always shown respect and never forced you around. He wanted to praise you like he should, but he wanted you happy.

It was the first time in his life.

///

"My precious... I wonder...do any of those morsels up there ever tried to court you before?" He lay on the ground, enjoying your scratch on his head.

"Not at all, my Lord. They never looked me at all, and since I know you, they avoided me."

"It feels me with pride then! That I'm the only one that had the chance and the right to court you properly!"

"You...courting me, my lord?" Your cheeks took a crimson shade, embarrassed but yet intrigued.

"But...why me? Of all the matches, why me?"

"Because you had made something that a few had done, you had intrigued me." His hand taking yours, covering them in kisses, "so say yes, bye mine forever. Let's live in peace!"

And so, with a kiss on his lips, you accepted.

///

He did keep his promise; he defeated the immortals that had been sent to capture him. He forced him to find a new strategy, giving him what he wanted!

And most definitely, he decided to have you have his own. His wife, his precious wife, was the only one that he really cared to have by his side.

You wanted to be more—not for everyone to acknowledge you, but for him. Rakshasi had you as her disciple. She taught you, and she was able to unlock your true potential. And he knew, and he loved you for that.

When you both returned to the Celestial Palace, he wanted people to greet you both, but your hopes weren't so high.

In their eyes, you were still a servant, and he was still just a monkey. That was something that they would never stop seeing.

But you learned that respect should be earned, not given, so you stopped being the respectful one. If someone offended you, you responded, well, know that now not only your own fury was feared, but the one of your husbands too.

///

"My love, this is wrong!" You tried to convince him, whispering between the peach trees. "We shouldn't! We should guard the immortal peaches! Not eating them!"

"AH!" He picked another one, giving it a huge bite. "I'm the Guardian! Why shouldn't I? And those knuckles head Will never noticed of a few have been eaten, my dear."

He extended the same peach, his mischievous eyes tempting you.

"You and I... We deserved more, my love. Why deny it?"

Yes, why? The immortals were never Just with both of you, that was the right payment that he deserved. Your mouth became full of the peach pulp, and soon the lips of the monkey claimed your now immortal ones.

You desecrated even the same soul of that orchad.

And soon, you both were meant to desecrate more.

///

When he learned from your former masters, the Seven Fairies, that you weren't invited to the banquet of the mother of the west, he was furious.

You were at his side when the Seven Maiden started to mock him and yourself.

"A stone monkey and his mate to the royal banquet? How absurd!"

"He can come and make a dance for us; she can serve us for sure!"

Their laugh was what enraged him the most. How dare they mock you in front of him?! How dare they make funny of the Great Sage wife?!

When the maidens were immobilized by his spell, by the look on his face, it was clear that he planned nothing but troubles.

When the two of you came in the Great All, he put everyone to sleep and then started to drink and eat everything that his eyes could possibly lay on.

"Wukong, this...this is not necessary! We should stop!"

"Stop?!" He looked at you, throwing away a cup full of wine. "They made me do it! They've never been fair to us! I won't stop! I refuse! Come, my beloved, let's drink and wine at their own expense! Let's feast! And when we're full, let's bring the rest to the children!"

And so you did; you drank and drank wine with him, uncertain of this action. The emperor... he would be enraged... but he was right, they treat you both poorly... still...

And so you drank, trying to put down your worries in the alcohol, afraid of the future. You tried to put at rest the fear. And so, Cup After Cup, you fell asleep. You didn't remember all; only your spouse brought you something shining in your mouth, with a huge grin on his face.

When you woke up, you were both back to your mountain, and your fear was true.

///

"I BEG YOU!" your head on the ground, like the first day you both met, "ask forgiveness! Do as they say! Don't bring your people to war! Do not harm them! Please!"

His swore brothers Look at you with pity while he keeps on looking at the thundering skies. He couldn't turn back down.

"My precious one, I refuse to beg for Mercy! I'll make them see what happens when they play against me!"

Then his eyes became gentle only when he looked at you. His hand cupped your face, looking at your crying eyes. How he hates to see your gorgeus face crying.

"Go with Who can't fight my beloved; stay with them! The world of war is not meant for you."

"If you refuse to beg for Mercy," you held his hands against your trembling chest, "then I'll fight with you."

///

And so you did; you did fight alongside him and his generals against the celestial army... but it wasn't enough.

Not against Erlang Shen.

When he was taken away, you were held hostage in the palace, forced to see the tortures and every plan to kill him. But in the world, nothing has ever worked.

When they put him in the Lao Tsu Trigram furnace, you thought they had lost him. No matter how much they torment you, no matter what pain, the thought of the loss of your husband was too. much to bear, but he wasn't dead; no, he became stronger.

Nothing could have beat him, and, for a moment, you really thought that he could become the new emperor...

But he played against more capable opponents.

///

You could still Hear him moving, struggling against the rock, gnawing at the mud, trying to get out and break free from the golden sigyl.

"You're hurting yourself more..."

"WAIT until I break free!"

"You won't..."

"Are you doubting me?! "

You get, starting to walk away, your cold expression couldn't even manage to hold his fiery eyes longer than a second.

"Where are you going?! Stop!"

"I'm going to find our people. They fled in the fight. I'll do what I can."

"We'll do it when I'll break free! WAIT!"

When you turned around, you were the one holding an enraged expression. Your fists were so tight that your hands were white, and your lovely (y/c) eyes were of a deep red color.

"I wanted you to stop! To reconsider it! But you didn't listen! We could have been happy and serene, but you... you just wanted more."

He wanted to scream back, but he heard it—your hiccups, your sobs.

"No, please! Don't cry! I can hold everything, but seeing you cry breaks me deeper." He struggled again to reach you, to console you, but another strike from the sigyl stopped him. You didn't want to hear him again; you just wanted to leave, and so you started to walk away again, ignoring his screams.

"PLEASE! I'll Fix Everything! I'LL DO IT! PRECIOUS ONE, PLEASE!"

///

As the seasons change, you change for the worst. You became something else.

Your power, once maid to help and protect, became cold like ice. Your colors disappear, pure white, like a ghost you became. You even started to forget your name.

With no one to come back, your people were hunted by the Celestials, abandoned, and hated by everyone. With no place to go, you became a demon.

For 500 years you prey on mortals, other demons, and such, until fate acts again and a monk and three pilgrims cross your path.

And your heart longed for two things: your husband and the flash of the Tang monk.

But your story was short-lived, you guessed.

///

Wukong held you in his arms, your fragile body against him. You were like a child, deep in slumber, while your old color started to come back.

He did what he could; he suffered enough, all for one thing: a second chance for you.

He sensed your struggle in your sleep, his footsteps echoing in the depths of Mount Huaguo.

"Shhhh...sleep..."

Yor hands grasped his tunic, feeling the rasp material under your finger.

"Wukong, I had... a dream."

"A Dream? It was good?"

"No, it was a nightmare. I did so many bad things... I hurt you and someone you care for."

He stayed silent, only holding you closer to him. "It was Just a Dream, my love...nothing more."

He laid you down on the altar, covering you with some furr. He stayed there, admiring your tired expression.

"Sleep now; when I'll be back, you'll tell me all."

"Where are you going?"

"...finish a job...but I'll come back soon, so do not fret. Your husband would never abandon you."

You smiled, feeling his lips caressing your forhead. You felt safer now; he would come back soon.

And so he closed the door made of rock of your secluded prison. A sygil, one similar to the one that he once had, and a spell made to you sleep.

He didn't noticed, but he started to weep while he was closing It.

///

He did it; he finished the job. He became Buddha; he obtained a position so secure that he could grant you and himself freedom.

But he was never meant to be free, wasn't he?

He wanted you out of this conflict; he tried to protect you, but you were so stubborn, so eager to protect the husband that had pulled you back from those 500 years of misery...and instead there you were, at the brink of death.

How ironic and unkind...

He felt something—a warm touch to his chest. Your palm emitted that kind light; you tried to use your power on him one more time. He held your hand and stopped you.

You were so tired and you looked at him. He seemed so tired...and yet he smiled.

It's fine. That's enough. No more.

In your last moment, you couldn't help but cry, sobbing, with one consolation of dying at his side.

He wanted to hold you close to him, tell you that everything would be okay, and not be scared because he was there with you. He could only caress your face, trying to stay closer to you, avoiding more pain from the arrows.

And while the divine light was ready to engulf you both, he prayed one last time.

He prays that, if his plan works out, to meet you again, to fix the mistakes of the past, and to tell you how much he love you one more time.

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poohsources · 3 days

Text

🐝 * ― 𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛ do what i say and you'll see them again. ❜ ❛ what do you live for? what do you try for? ❜ ❛ say no more, i know tat i'm ready. ❜ ❛ the blood on your hands is something you won't lose. ❜ ❛ is the price i pay endless pain? ❜ ❛ something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke. ❜ ❛ we should try to find a way no one ends up dead. ❜ ❛ why should we take when we could give? ❜ ❛ i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart. ❜ ❛ have you forgotten the lessons i taught you? ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛ it's almost too perfect, too god to be true. ❜ ❛ what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep? ❜ ❛ your life now is in my hand. ❜ ❛ remember them, we're the ones who carry on. ❜ ❛ what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use? ❜ ❛ i am your darkest moment. ❜ ❛ i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test. ❜ ❛ that's just like you, why should i be surprised? ❜ ❛ unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain. ❜ ❛ i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done. ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛ at this rate, we won't make it out alive. ❜ ❛ please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do. ❜ ❛ yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out? ❜ ❛ you rely on wit, and people die on it. ❜ ❛ you're like the brother i could never do without. ❜ ❛ and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out? ❜ ❛ keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust. ❜ ❛ 'cause the end always justifies the means. ❜ ❛ do you know who i am? ❜ ❛ you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great. ❜

The Circe Saga ❛ whatever you need to say can wait some more. ❜ ❛ there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save. ❜ ❛ wouldn't you like a taste of the power? ❜ ❛ don't thank me friend, you very well may die. ❜ ❛ did you do something to them? ❜ ❛ if you make one wrong move, then you're done for. ❜ ❛ you and i are now evenly matched. ❜ ❛ you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust. ❜ ❛ who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make? ❜ ❛ this is the price we pay to love. ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛ all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes. ❜ ❛ i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died. ❜ ❛ when does a man become a monster? ❜ ❛ now you tell us our effort's are for nothing? ❜ ❛ how has everything been turned against us? ❜ ❛ do i need to change? ❜ ❛ i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed. ❜ ❛ what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along? ❜ ❛ what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves? ❜ ❛ if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger? ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛ you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life. ❜ ❛ i've got a secret i can no longer keep. ❜ ❛ you know that we are the same. ❜ ❛ we must do what it takes to survive. ❜ ❛ tell me you did not know that would happen. ❜ ❛ if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame. ❜ ❛ how are we supposed to trust you now? ❜ ❛ how much longer must i suffer now? ❜ ❛ someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say. ❜ ❛ please don't make me do this. ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛ you've made your worst mistake here. ❜ ❛ this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good. ❜ ❛ you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more. ❜ ❛ did you know you talk in your sleep? ❜ ❛ i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here. ❜ ❛ you don't know what i've gone through. ❜ ❛ i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart. ❜ ❛ life would be so much worse if you had died. ❜ ❛ you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame? ❜ ❛ no one beats me, no one wins my game. ❜

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay meme #lyric sentence starters #sentence starters #musical sentence starters #rph #type: meme

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applestorms · 1 day

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L can be such a possessive character at times. he always strikes me as the type of person who is deeply aware of everything that he owns, both in a more literal sense and metaphorically-- like, he knows what money he has and how to use it, what resources are readily available to him and what he has to be sneakier to utilize, the habits and tendencies and emotional states of individuals and world governments both. the DN musical really puts an emphasis on the more computer-y aspects of how his brain functions, which isn't as obvious in the manga/anime but i think still works well as a way to follow his thinking. it's kinda what near does too: everything is a factor to them, every tiny detail a new opening to optimize for the best results, every person and location and object a part of a puzzle waiting to be solved. and as a part of that, L is deeply aware of every and any little thing he may or may not have control over, and exactly to what degree.

his habit of stealing titles as depicted in the LABB murders novel is such a good example of this. ryuzaki, eraldo coil, deneuve. he eats people alive and then takes their names for himself like some kind of fucked up fae or trickster god, creating new masks and personas to hide behind from the remains of the people he's devoured. i have to wonder if he would've used the title of KIRA for himself had he won-- i can hardly imagine what kind of power such a title could hold if held in his hands. of course, he could've just used the defeat of KIRA as a way to build up the L title even further, offering up the body of a dead god like perseus showing off the head of medusa. but L is so emotionally attached to the kira case, i struggle to see him allowing it to fade from existence so thoroughly as near does, even if it is only kept close on a private level...

this is part of why i think it genuinely makes a lot of sense that L's ultimate win state would include capturing light to some degree. even if the memory of KIRA somehow manages to fully disappear from the public consciousness, there is no fucking way L is letting light yagami out of his grasp. honestly, the moment that L truly loses this game is not when he starts investigating misa while still under rem's watch, not when light gets back his memories, not even when he dies, but the moment when he allows light to be freed from the handcuffs. the moment when he allows the other members of the task force to turn off the cameras and keep him from watching light and misa talk in the lobby. the moment when he gives up, lets light yagami go outside of L's personal sphere of control, is the moment when L starts the clock ticking down to the end of his own life.

this is one of the key ways in which i see light as a true equal and parallel to L, as after L's death he, intentionally or no, continues the same tradition and takes L's title for himself, twisting the two sides together into the L-KIRA amalgamation. only, the L title functions a little bit differently than every other persona or title that we see in the series-- because L's true name is L. that's all that he is. on a literal, legal, and emotional level, i don't think that L is anything more than L. he is the world's greatest detective, he's an incredible, weirdo super genius, but he does not afford himself much more than that, barely allows himself personhood or humanity outside of his work. light was the one to ultimately defeat L because he did not just put a stain on his character (as BB attempted), did not just kill him, but stole his very identity and took it for himself.

one of the biggest contradictions of L's character that i think you must accept should you attempt to portray him accurately is that he is both deeply detached from humanity while also having all of his work and effort and life be focused around saving it. it's one of the ways in which he is an exact opposite to light-- where light relies on humanity for external validation, to be Seen, while also looking down on it as dumb and immoral and spineless, L is so separated from it that he barely exists as a person, all the while dedicating almost every action he takes to helping it. remember: for all the emotional turmoil that wammy's house and the legacy of L may put on the kids living there, ultimately it's entire existence is nothing more than L's logical solution to his potential demise. if he dies, the world goes down with him, all of the cases that are yet to happen and he is yet to solve being left in the air. he has the foresight to set up a fail safe, but not to consider the emotional implications of what being that fail safe might feel like, how high the price of your own humanity is if you are not already alienated from it, the inability to have your own name on your gravestone-- though perhaps some of the blame also falls on watari's shoulders in this case, philanthropic old bastard that he is.

imo, playing his game really got it right in presenting L and light as one and the same, synonyms on either side of the mirror. in every action they take they are both so selfishly selfless, playing the game for themselves and their own pleasure but plastering the needs and will of humanity on top of it. L isn't invested in saving humanity for the sake of humanity-- he just likes the thrill of having the stakes raised so high. hard to shit on ryuk for wanting entertainment when the humans he finds are just the same as him.

#death note #astronaut rambles #l lawliet #*L voice* i need to get him in a collar #ahh the thematic cannibalism of light yagami and l lawliet #lawlight #also. i need someone talk to me about near's toys again #i reread mello's death + their final confrontation right before class today & i really like that near wears an L mask when they first meet #especially since that one author's note (?) about near probably hating L keeps standing out in my mind ahahahhaahah #that fucking house. it really fucks those kids up #did L ever even realize? probably not #too busy playing mind games with his psychological warfare fuck buddy boytoy to notice #feel like i should have more L thoughts honestly. i ramble about light often enough #but i suppose i'll just do with this for now and let it come naturally later #'what puts him at ease' 'the food that he likes' 'learn his routines' aww. they're planning a date :))

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simplygojo · 7 hours

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The Cool Uncle Blurbs - JJK Men

Author's Note: Heyyy, so I have been told by a few of y'all that I need to write shorter blurbs, so this was my practice piece!. Each character's blurb is about 1k each...writing something this short is so foreign to me, I am so used to having 8k minimums for school, so this may take practice! Please let me know if you like these shorter blurbs :)

Pairings: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader; Satoru Gojo x f!reader; Kento Nanami x f!reader; Suguru Geto x f!reader

Inspiration/summary: Inspired by some art by @clemenlush (linked here) that inspired me to write the JJK men as cool uncles, lol. Let me know if any of y'all want me to do another character!!

Warnings: alcohol use, mention of baby-making!, softboys & fluff

Requests are open! Please read the Request Guidelines before submitting a request <33

✧.* — TOJI FUSHIGURO — ✧.*

You glanced at Toji as he steered the car down the quiet, tree-lined street. The low hum of the engine was the only sound between you two, but that familiar weight of his presence filled the silence. He always carried himself with an easy confidence, a kind of quiet power that made him stand out without even trying.

“You don’t have to look so annoyed,” you teased, catching the subtle furrow in his brow as he pulled into Jinichi’s driveway.

Toji didn’t say anything at first, just smirked and glanced sideways at you. “I’m not annoyed,” he grumbled, though the slight tilt of his mouth said otherwise. “Just not exactly in the mood for the family dinner crap.”

You rolled your eyes.

Classic Toji.

“Be nice. It’s just dinner. You’re not walking into a fight,” you reminded him with a soft laugh, unbuckling your seatbelt. “And you know exactly how much your nephew adores you.”

That earned you a low chuckle as he cut the engine and slouched back in his seat.

“Kid's got good taste. I’m the only fun one ‘round here.”

You both stepped out of the car and as you made your way up the driveway, the front door swung open.

Your brother-in-law, Jinichi, stood there, smiling at you both, but barely had the chance to greet you before the sound of hurried footsteps followed behind him.

“Toji-ojisan!”

A small, dark-haired blur darted past Jinichi and straight toward Toji. Before you could blink, Toji’s nephew had attached himself to his leg, looking up with wide eyes.

“Uncle Toji! You came! Are you gonna tell me more stories about when you were younger?”

Toji raised an eyebrow, smirking down at the kid, then cast a sidelong glance at you.

“See? Told you. I’m the fun one.”

You shook your head, trying to suppress a smile as Toji crouched down to ruffle his nephew’s hair.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get too full of yourself.”

“Already am,” he replied, deadpan, before turning his full attention to the kid.

“What’s up, brat? You been behaving?”

The little boy nodded enthusiastically, practically bouncing on his toes.

“Yep! I’ve been practicing just like you told me. Can we go to the backyard later? You gotta see my new moves!”

Toji stood back up, arms crossed as he exchanged a quick glance with Jinichi, who gave a knowing grin.

There was an unspoken fondness between them, though Jinichi didn’t say anything, just stepping aside to let you in.

Inside, the house was warm and inviting, the scent of homemade food already filling the air. You noticed Toji’s posture relax—just a bit—as you made your way to the living room.

His nephew stuck to his side like glue, constantly asking about everything from Toji’s workout routine to his old school stories.

Toji answered in his usual blunt way, never indulging the kid too much, but just enough to keep him hooked.

After dinner, you found yourself sitting outside on the back patio, watching Toji and his nephew go over some silly mock sparring moves.

The boy had his fists up, trying to mimic Toji’s stance, all while Toji lazily dodged the punches, not bothering to hide the amusement in his eyes.

You leaned back in your chair, and for a moment, it was like your heart swelled in your chest—three sizes too big, you thought with a smile.

It was impossible not to feel that warmth as you watched Toji with his nephew, his tough exterior softened just a bit in these moments.

He’d never admit it, but seeing him like this, in his own way, playing the doting uncle…it made you melt.

You could see it in the way his nephew looked at him, hanging onto his every word. And the way Toji engaged—aloof but present—it warmed something deep inside you.

“You’re such a softie, you know that?” you called out, your voice teasing but laced with affection.

Toji turned, still holding up a lazy guard, eyes narrowing playfully. “Yeah? How d’you figure?”

You gave him a knowing grin, folding your arms. “Look at you—out here entertaining him like you don’t enjoy it. Don’t act like you don’t love being the ‘cool uncle.’”

He straightened up, brushing his hands through his hair as he cast a quick glance at his nephew—who was too busy practicing his “new moves” on a nearby tree—to respond.

Then, with a smirk that made your heart skip a beat, he stepped toward you. “Maybe I am a softie,” he started, voice low, “but only for you.”

You blinked, a playful roll of your eyes as you went to respond—

“Though, I’ll tell ya, there’s somethin’ I’m neverr soft for...”

It took you all of two seconds to realize where he was going, but before he could finish the joke, you flicked him right in the forehead.

“Toji!” You scolded, laughing despite yourself.

He grinned, all too pleased with himself, as he rubbed his forehead.

“What? You’re the one who brought it up, sweetheart.”

“You’re awful,” you said, shaking your head, though the warmth in your chest remained. You could never stay mad at him, especially not when he was like this—so smug, so sure of himself.

“And to think I almost thought you were sweet for a second.”

He leaned down, one hand coming to rest on the arm of your chair as he hovered over you, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

“Almost, huh?”

You flicked his forehead again, but softer this time. “Don’t push your luck.”

He chuckled, leaning back and crossing his arms as he glanced toward his nephew, still occupied in his makeshift sparring match with the tree.

“Brat’s got a lot to learn,” he muttered, but you could hear the fondness there, the warmth beneath his tough exterior.

“Kid might be cooler than me one day.”

You smiled, shaking your head as you watched the two of them together.

“Not possible,” you said softly, though Toji didn’t hear it—or pretended not to.

Either way, in that moment, your heart was full. This was your life, and honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

✧.* — GOJO SATORU — ✧.*

Gojo’s fingers tapped rhythmically against the steering wheel as he hummed along to the radio, sunglasses perched—needlessly—on his nose despite the fact it was well after sunset.

You shot him a side-eye.

“You do realize we’re just going to Shoko’s for dinner, right? You’re acting like you’re about to perform on stage.”

He grinned, his lips pulling into that signature cocky smile.

“Aren’t I always the main attraction, though? Especially tonight. Her kid adores me.”

You snorted. “Yeah, because you let him climb all over you like a jungle gym.”

“Hey, I’m just providing the fun. I can’t help that I’m a natural favourite,” he quipped, glancing at you for emphasis before focusing back on the road.

“You say that like it’s a talent,” you teased, though the warmth in your chest grew as you thought about it.

It was hard not to love Gojo when he was like this—carefree, playful, and so naturally magnetic, especially around kids.

By the time you pulled up to Shoko’s house, you could already hear the muffled sound of laughter and conversation.

The front door creaked open before either of you could knock, and Shoko’s five-year-old son burst out, arms outstretched, ready to greet his hero.

“Gojo-nii!” The kid’s excitement was so pure, it was contagious.

Gojo’s grin only widened, and he crouched down to scoop him up in one smooth motion.

“Hey, champ! Been keeping things under control at this house? Your mom can be a handful…”

The boy giggled as Gojo swung him around effortlessly, his small hands gripping the fabric of Gojo’s coat.

You stood back for a moment, hand still resting on the open passenger door, with a growing smile on your face.

Gojo’s childlike energy matched the kid’s perfectly, and it never failed to make your heart melt.

“He’s been waiting for you all day,” Shoko called from the hallway, rolling her eyes as she stepped into view.

“Good luck tearing him away from you tonight.”

Gojo set the kid down with a dramatic flair, straightening up and shooting a playful wink at you.

“What can I say? I’ve got that irresistible charm.”

“Careful, your ego’s showing again,” you quipped, nudging him as you all walked into the house.

As Gojo and the boy ran off to “catch up”—which likely meant some sort of wild chase through the living room—you found yourself watching from the kitchen doorway, arms crossed and heart swelling.

It always surprised you how soft Gojo could be, especially around kids.

His usual swagger and bravado were still there, but he had a way of connecting with them that was genuinely sweet. It made your heart skip in ways you had never expected.

You smiled to yourself, shaking your head slightly as you watched Gojo give the kid a piggyback ride, the room filled with their laughter.

Shoko came up beside you, handing you a glass of wine.

“Never thought I’d see the day where Satoru Gojo is someone’s favorite jungle gym,” she commented dryly, taking a sip from her own glass.

You laughed softly, nodding. “Yeah, it’s weird, right? But he loves it.”

Shoko gave you a knowing look. “Does he? Or does he just love being adored?”

You grinned, letting out a short laugh before responding.

“Both. Definitely both.”

Later, after dinner, Gojo had somehow convinced the boy to show him every toy he owned, and you found yourself watching them again, heart swelling even more.

You didn’t know how, but every time Gojo was around that kid, you swore your heart was overwhelmed with admiration.

“You’re good with him, you know,” you said softly as you sidled up next to Gojo, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping the boy assemble a toy robot. “It’s almost like you… enjoy this.”

Gojo raised an eyebrow, feigning offence. “Enjoy? What are you trying to say, love? You think I’m not the paternal type?”

You smirked, leaning down to whisper, “I think you love it, actually...”

Gojo leaned back slightly, crossing his arms and giving you a playful look. “Oh, I love a lot of things,” he said smoothly, lowering his voice.

“And most of them are when we’re not around a five-year-old.”

You blinked, realizing the meaning behind his words, and lightly smacked him at the back of his head. “Satoru!”

“Ow!” He pouted, rubbing the back of his head. “What? I’m just being honest.”

You rolled your eyes, fighting back a grin. “You’re the worst.”

“Actually…I’m the best,” he corrected with a wink, as the kid ran back to Gojo’s side, completely oblivious to the innuendo.

Watching Gojo with that playful smile and the way he effortlessly entertained the kid—who was still tugging at his sleeve to show him yet another toy—made you feel an overwhelming sense of warmth.

Sure, Gojo could be an insufferable flirt, but seeing him like this, so naturally connected and full of energy, reminded you why you loved him so much.

Even when he was being a ridiculous show-off, he had a way of making your heart burst with affection.

“Okay, okay,” you said, shaking your head fondly.

“Let’s see if you can at least try to behave yourself the rest of the night.”

Gojo stood up, stretching dramatically, and then leaned down to kiss your forehead.

“No promises. You know me—I always aim to please.”

You smacked him again, this time softer, as he flashed that signature grin of his and turned his attention back to Shoko’s son, who was already planning his next adventure with his “cool uncle.”

✧.* — NANAMI KENTO — ✧.*

The evening sky was beginning to blush with hues of orange and pink as you and Nanami made your way to your sister's house.

The quiet hum of the car and the familiar scent of Nanami’s cologne made the drive feel calm, though you couldn’t help the tiny flutter of excitement in your stomach.

Family dinners were always nice, but this time there was a little extra something—your niece loved Nanami.

“I think she loves you more than she loves me,” you said playfully, turning to glance at your husband as he kept his eyes focused on the road.

Nanami’s lips twitched into the smallest of smiles.

“Hardly. She just appreciates that I bring her books.”

“Books, toys, puzzles, snacks—don’t act like you haven’t been spoiling her.” You teased, gently nudging his arm.

He gave a small, almost imperceptible shrug, but you could see the way his eyes softened.

“I just want to make sure she’s happy.”

You grinned.

It was the kind of answer you'd expect from Nanami—thoughtful, selfless, and with an unspoken affection that melted your heart every time.

It was hard to imagine anyone not loving him, really.

As you pulled up in front of your sister’s house, you didn’t even have a chance to step out of the car before the front door swung open.

Your niece, a whirlwind of energy with messy pigtails and a huge smile, came racing down the path.

“Uncle Kento!” she squealed, her little feet pounding against the pavement as she made a beeline for Nanami.

He stepped out of the car just in time for her to throw her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly. Nanami looked slightly startled but quickly softened, crouching down to her level. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Her face lit up at his greeting, and she quickly started tugging him towards the house.

“Come on! I have to show you my new dollhouse! You’re going to love it!”

You watched them from a few steps behind, heart warming at the sight. Nanami—who always seemed so composed and serious—was completely wrapped around your niece’s tiny finger. It was an endearing contrast, watching the usually stoic man willingly get pulled into a child’s world of excitement and play.

By the time you reached the front door, your niece had already dragged Nanami inside, babbling non-stop about the dollhouse, the latest puzzle he bought her, and a new storybook she wanted him to read later.

You exchanged a smile with your sister, who had appeared in the doorway, laughing as she watched her daughter commandeer Nanami's attention.

“He’s got the magic touch with kids, huh?” Your sister remarked, raising an eyebrow at you.

You chuckled, stepping inside. “She loves him. I think she’s ready to keep him all to herself.”

“Good luck getting him back,” she teased, giving you a playful nudge as you both headed into the living room.

Dinner was filled with easy conversation, laughter, and your niece proudly showing Nanami everything she could think of—her new school projects, her favorite toys, and even a drawing she had made “just for him.”

He listened attentively, offering genuine praise, his voice calm but warm in a way that made it clear he wasn’t just humoring her. He cared.

You found yourself watching the two of them, your heart swelling with each small interaction.

It was impossible not to smile, seeing Nanami, the man who rarely let himself relax, so at ease around your niece.

Nanami had just finished reading her a bedtime story, and now she was fast asleep, curled up under the blankets with her favorite stuffed toy.

“She’s asleep,” he murmured softly, his hand brushing your niece’s hair away from her face.

You stepped forward, quietly gathering the blankets to tuck her in. “You’re really good with her, you know?”

He glanced at you, a faint smile on his lips. “I try.”

“No, really,” you said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his cheek. “She loves you. You’re her favorite.”

Nanami’s eyes softened at your words, but he didn’t say much more, his hand lingering on your niece’s small form for a moment longer before standing up.

The two of you quietly exited the room, letting her sleep in peace.

After saying your goodbyes to your sister and thanking her for dinner, you both made your way out to the car.

The night air was cool, and the streets were quiet as Nanami opened the passenger door for you, his hand resting briefly at the small of your back as you slid into the seat.

The drive home was calm, with the rhythmic sound of the tires against the road creating a peaceful background hum. You glanced out the window, watching the city lights blur into soft orbs as they passed by.

Nanami was silent beside you, his hands steady on the wheel. There was something thoughtful in the way he held himself, a quiet contemplation that you could sense even without looking at him.

After a few minutes, he finally spoke.

“You know, I’ve been thinking…” You tilted your head, curiosity piqued by the sudden weight in his voice.

Nanami hesitated for a moment, his thumb tapping lightly on the steering wheel before reaching over to rest on your thigh.

“Of what I want,” he said, his voice a little quieter. “Of what we could have.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the implication behind his words, and you turned to face him fully, sensing where this was going.

“Kento…” You began softly.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” he continued, his gaze fixed ahead on the road.

“For a while now, actually.”

Your breath caught in your throat, and you could feel your pulse quicken as the meaning behind his words settled in. He wasn’t just talking about your niece anymore.

“You’re talking about…” you trailed off, your voice barely above a whisper.

“A family,” he finished for you, his tone gentle but certain. “I want us to have a baby.”

For a moment, you just sat there.

You had always known that Nanami cared deeply, that he was serious about your future together, but hearing him say it like this, so plainly, so sincerely—it was something else entirely.

“You want a baby?” You repeated softly, your heart swelling with a mix of emotions.

He nodded, his eyes still focused on the road but softening as he spoke.

“Yes. I want to start a family with you. I’ve been thinking about it for some time, but… I didn’t want to pressure you.”

You reached over, gently placing your hand on top of his where it rested on your leg.

“You’re not pressuring me, Kento. I…” You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts.

“I want that too. With you. More than anything.”

When you finally pulled up to your home, Nanami turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, the faint glow of the streetlights illuminating his thoughtful expression.

He turned to you, reaching out to cup your cheek gently, his thumb brushing over your skin in a way that made your heart skip.

“I mean it,” he murmured. “Whenever you’re ready. We’ll do this together.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes meeting his with a warmth and certainty you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Well…I am ready now...” You said with a playful tone.

He smiled then—small, soft, and full of love—and leaned in to press a tender kiss to your lips, sealing the quiet promise you had both made tonight.

“Well then lets get inside.”

✧.* — SUGURU GETO — ✧.*

It was a peaceful evening, and the low hum of conversation filled the room, accompanied by the occasional clatter of building blocks. You sat cross-legged on the couch, watching as Suguru helped Utahime's son with his tower-building endeavor.

The little boy was fully engaged, eyes bright with excitement as Suguru gently guided his small hands to balance each block perfectly.

“Higher, Sugu! Make it taller!” the boy giggled, his enthusiasm filling the room with an infectious joy.

Suguru chuckled softly, his deep voice filled with warmth.

“Careful, we don’t want it to fall,” he murmured, adding another block to the structure with a steady hand.

His long fingers made the task look effortless, and the boy watched in awe.

You leaned back against the couch cushions, the sight of Suguru interacting with the child making your heart swell.

There was something about seeing him like this—patient, soft-spoken, so full of care. It was a side of him that you loved deeply, and it reminded you just how much of a natural he was with kids.

“You’re really good with him,” you commented, your voice a little more tender than usual as you admired the scene before you.

Suguru glanced over at you, the corners of his mouth lifting in a faint smile.

“He’s easy to please,” he said, turning his attention back to the boy, who was now clapping his hands excitedly as the tower grew taller.

“Still,” you said, watching the way the boy leaned into Suguru, clearly adoring him, “he’s obsessed with you. I’ve never seen him so attached.”

Suguru smirked, a playful glint in his eyes.

“What can I say? I’m just irresistible.”

You rolled your eyes at that, but your heart warmed anyway.

“Sure, sure. Let’s just hope you don’t break his heart when we leave.”

The boy turned to you, his face lighting up with joy. “Sugu is so cool, y/n! He’s gonna help me with my blocks forever!”

You chuckled, brushing a hand through your hair as you watched Suguru pretend to be serious.

“Forever, huh? That’s a long time, buddy.”

Suguru leaned down, lowering his voice conspiratorially as if sharing a secret with the boy.

“I don’t mind,” he whispered, his tone teasing. “As long as I get to build the biggest towers.”

The boy giggled, his eyes sparkling as he nodded enthusiastically. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight—it was moments like this that made your heart grow three sizes.

You leaned forward, nudging Suguru’s shoulder lightly.

“Admit it, you’re loving this.”

Suguru’s dark eyes flickered with amusement as he glanced at you, a playful smile tugging at his lips. “Of course! What’s not to love?”

Before you could respond, the familiar sound of keys jingling outside the door caught your attention.

You glanced at the clock—it was just about time for Utahime to be home.

The front door creaked open, and Utahime stepped inside, looking a little worn out but smiling when she saw the scene in front of her.

“Looks like I missed all the fun,” she said, her voice carrying a mix of relief and gratitude as she took in the sight of her son sitting on the floor, still glued to Suguru’s side.

“Mama!” The boy immediately jumped up, running toward her with open arms. Utahime knelt down, scooping him up with a tired but happy sigh.

“Hey, sweetheart,” she murmured, kissing the top of his head. “Were you good for Suguru and y/n?”

“He was an angel,” you replied with a smile, standing up from the couch. “Though, I think Suguru’s the real hero tonight.”

Utahime chuckled, glancing at Suguru with an appreciative smile.

“I don’t doubt it. Thanks for watching him—both of you. I owe you one.”

Suguru waved her off, standing up and stretching his arms.

“No need. He’s a fun kid. We built the tallest tower yet.”

The boy wiggled in Utahime’s arms, looking up at her excitedly.

“Mama, it was so tall! Sugu’s the best!”

Utahime smiled down at him, her eyes softening. “I’m glad you had fun, sweetie. Let’s get you ready for bed, okay?”

As Utahime carried her son off to his room, you turned to Suguru, your hand finding his arm as you gave him a gentle squeeze.

“You were great with him tonight,” you said softly, your eyes full of affection.

Suguru gave you a warm smile, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your temple.

“I had fun,” he murmured. “But we should probably head out.”

You nodded, glancing around the apartment to make sure everything was in order. After a few minutes, Utahime returned, looking more relaxed now that her son was settled.

“Thanks again, guys,” she said, walking you both to the door. “I’ll definitely owe you one for this.”

“Anytime,” you replied with a smile, giving her a quick hug before stepping out into the cool evening air.

As you and Suguru made your way to his bike, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment settle over you. There was something peaceful about nights like this—watching Suguru be so gentle and kind, seeing how naturally he fit into the role of caretaker.

It stirred something warm and familiar deep within you.

Once you both stepped outside into the cool evening air, Suguru glanced at you with a smirk.

“You know,” he started, his tone laced with that unmistakable teasing charm, “playing with Utahime’s kid is fun and all, but…” He paused, raising an eyebrow as he reached for your hand. “I was thinking we should get home and get to some 'baby-making' ourselves… if you know what I mean.”

Heat instantly bloomed in your cheeks as you laughed, nudging him in the ribs. “Suguru!”

But before you could respond properly, Suguru swept you off your feet with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“What? It’s a solid plan, plus you're the one who kept saying I'm just sooo good with kids.” He grinned, peppering your face with soft kisses as he carried you toward his motorcycle.

“Put me down!” You laughed, but your protests were playful as Suguru’s kisses continued, light and affectionate, his breath warm against your skin.

“You love it,” he murmured between kisses, making you giggle even more.

With one final press of his lips to your forehead, Suguru set you down beside his motorcycle, the playful glint in his eyes still there.

“Now, let’s get home,” he said, sliding onto the bike and passing you your helmet. “We’ve got some important work to do.”

You rolled your eyes, still smiling as you climbed onto the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

As the engine roared to life, you pressed your cheek against his back, feeling that same peaceful contentment wash over you once more.

And as you sped off into the night, the playful warmth of Suguru's teasing stayed with you, a reminder of just how lucky you were to have him by your side.

Author's Note II: Let me know your thoughts on these and lmk if you want me to do any other characters :)

LOVE Y'ALL

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kaybreezy3000 · 3 days

Text

(F-Reader, smut w/story, soft Five + our usual cocky Five, S4 fix-it)

Broken but breathing. Longing for something that always felt just out of his reach, Five was not okay.

With fates forever intertwined, a train, and a smile he would never forget, once again, the impossible became his reality, but like always, not without tragedy.

In the end, all that mattered are the people Five loved. For them, he would do anything.

Note ~I originally started this pre-s4 release as anon request for another headcanon like my last one, but after watching the show I decided this needed to more than that because Five deserved it. This is a full story, with each letter representing a chapter with something that relates back to Five, only with a new twist, you (female reader insert). For those concerned about the Five and Lila narrative, fear not, this story is not going that route.

~mature content so if not your thing, please stay away. TY.

Warnings and Tags: Rated R for sexually explicit content, Hurt Number Five, Alternate S4, Whump, Mental Break Down, Self-Doubt, Angst-humor-love, Uncle Five, The Deli Fives, Starts with Five in a very dark place, Not the end the show gave us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Amor Fati is a Latin phrase that may be translated as "love of fate" or "love of one's fate." It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one's life, including suffering and loss, as good or, at the very least, necessary.

It's an idea that everything recurs infinitely over an infinite period of time.

A-Aim

Whether Five was setting his sights on saving his family, or when he was focusing all his attention on the crosshairs of his scope, his focus was always impressive.

From a very young age he took on every challenge with a ruthless level of determination, but that unfortunately made him come off disturbingly detached, and now, even though Five no longer needed to be that feral creature, his behaviors from the past were alienating him from his family, and the rest of the world.

It's not that Five didn’t have a very good reason for letting himself become so removed, but now, gone were the days when he had glorious purpose.

Sitting alone in a powerless world that Reginald had dumped them in while biding his time at the end of a bar with his face curtained by the dark fringe of his shaggy hair, Five was feeling exceptionally defeated.

He hypnotically swirled the amber liquid in his fingerprint smudged glass.

Over and over, he repeated your name in his head.

He liked the sound of it, but he liked the way you smiled at him even more.

Five saw you nearly every day on his way to work, but as much as he may have wanted to, he never said a word to you. When you’d look his way, and catch him staring, your eyes would come alive as your lips perked up just a little, as if daring him to crack.

He didn’t.

He couldn’t.

That was the way Five thought it had to be.

But then, something happened.

He could still feel that...

That...

He didn't know what it was.

Shutting his eyes, Five raked a hand through his snarls while disappointedly shaking his head. He knew he shouldn’t let himself do this but he couldn’t help it.

It was just another day, mundane as all the rest. All the seats had been taken by the time you entered the train. You were stuck in the middle, standing in front of him with nothing to hold on to. Less than thirty seconds into the ride, the air between you filled with static.

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled.

The train unexpectedly shifted.

You started to fall, and the next thing Five knew, he had you in his arms so fast it was as if he had his powers to blink again.

With the warmth of your butt pressed against him and your hair catching in the light stubble shadowing his chin, Five inhaled deeply, trying to ignore how oddly alive he felt as he discreetly as possible savored how good you smelled.

Before he could put together why he felt so amazing, or before you could tell him off for being too handsy, the train shifted again, only sharper this time, forcing him to hold onto you even tighter or you would have tumbled into the man in front of you.

“Oh, my god! I am sorry,” you’d gasped as you clung to him, your fingernails digging into the thick wool suit coat covering his forearms.

Realizing you weren’t mad, Five let his hands slide a little further around your midsection, firming his grip.

“Thank you,” you embarrassingly gasped as the train continued to aggressively rock your body against his.

“It’s my pleasure,” Five breathily chuckled into the fluff of your hair.

A second later, the train switched tracks, and everyone was flung forward again and your computer bag swung backwards, violently jabbing him in the dick.

Still at the mercy of the wild train, with Five doing his best to widen his stance to gain more balance so you both didn’t fall, you sheepishly cocked your head back at him.

“Are you ahh -"

“I-I am good,” he coughed, cutting you off.

Then, to your surprise and his, though still visibly in pain, he started laughing.

By the time everyone stopped getting thrown around, you were laughing too. As you turned to face him, Five reluctantly let his hands slip from the narrowest point of your waist, his fingers gliding along the fabric of your shirt a little slower than necessary.

Face flushed, you quickly introduced yourself, but he said nothing as he smiled at you with a dreamy look in his eyes.

“I am pretty sure we just took a detour to the moon back there, but I still can’t believe I just did that,” you joked.

At a loss for words, other than things he knew he shouldn’t say, Five’s amused smile began to fade.

“Thank you for saving me from a nosedive. Let me at least buy you a coffee or something… It’s the least I can do after stomping on your foot and nailing you in the-”

You looked down.

“Shit… That big scuff wasn’t there before, was it?” you asked, anxiously referring to the mark on Five’s shoe, not something notable going on in the dick region of his expensive looking dress pants.

When the handsome stranger staring at you still said nothing, you began to worry your bottom lip, sucking it in on one side.

Feeling so many things he’d never let himself feel, Five wanted nothing more than run his thumb over the alluring pink flesh and tell you that getting his dick assaulted and having his shoes ruined was well worth it because of the way you were looking at him with your face more beautifully flustered than he’d ever seen anyone’s.

He wanted to say that, but he didn’t.

The train slowed to a stop.

The doors opened, and without another word, Five took off. Stepping into the crowd of commuters that were rushing out the doors as they elbowed their way through the busy subway station, he'd never felt more spineless.

That morning, when it came to his unbreakable determination and legendary aim, he didn’t even shoot for it with you, so he could hardly call it a missed target. Still, he felt awful. Almost as soon as he’d hit the street above and he was inundated with the less than savory smells of the city, he knew he’d missed something huge.

Racing back down the stairs, heart racing, the rush of air blew past him as the train with you on it pulled away.

B-Boners (AKA Mistakes)

At this point in his life, as much as Five hated it, he still had boner issues. Your overactive dick in your pants kind of boner issues, and the other kind, such as when committing social blunders, like rudely blowing you off when you were simply trying to be polite.

Being young again, with hormones what they were, the first boner problem was an unavoidable way of life, and speaking of which, his thoughts about you once again drifted back to how good it felt when your body melted into his, your ass perfectly molding against the crotch of his pants as he held you steady.

Feeling things he shouldn’t be while perched on a barstool at a bar filled with other people, Five subtly shifted his legs apart. Willing his over eager cock to calm down, he looked up at the mirrored wall behind the bottles of liquor displayed along the back wall.

The young man looking back at him frowned, but his body remained aroused despite his sorrowful reflection.

Unable to hold his own hateful glare, Five looked back down at his almost empty glass.

Hopelessly horny, and far past slightly buzzed, he muttered a slurred sounding, “ Grrrrrr- ate . ”

With an irritated huff of air blowing his hair out of his face, Five yanked his tie even looser and tipped back his head, swallowing the rest of his drink. Feeling like he could breathe a little easier, he threw down an overly generous tip, assuring that even though he technically wasn't 21 yet, his ID said he was, and combined, he’d be served again.

Ready to go, his hot palms gliding down his tensed thighs, Five’s eyes fluttered closed for just a second.

His head spun, but not with the sickness of too much drink.

In his whirl of thoughts, he was back on the train with you.

He could practically feel your ass in his hands, his fingers groping greedily as he shamelessly ground his shaft between your legs from behind.

Sadly, at this point, Five still had never been with anyone real. Yet, the disconnect of not knowing what this would really feel like, or how he should be going about doing it, was doing nothing to ruin his bizarrely timed fantasy of animalistically fucking his rock-hard erection into the warmth of your curvy body in any way he could.

God, he wanted to touch his dick!

Opening his eyes, the room spun even more and not in a good way, but still Five refrained from doing that and instead clung to the pleasant visions in his head.

Over the years, with little to give him the feeling of satisfaction he so desperately longed for, Five had unwittingly become addicted to self-stimulation, and it was not just the thrill of that chase that tormented him. Five craved anything that gave him that all-consuming high, though when it came to bloodshed, he refused to admit how great it felt being so good at his job back when he was the Commission’s most celebrated assassin.

Feet hitting the sticky floor, Five’s thoughts blurred with an endless reel of bad ideas, only one of them being the idea of hunting you down so he could re-start your conversation from the train, this time pushing past his reservations for why getting to know you wasn’t an option.

Screw that!

This time Five was going to charm you, wine and dine you, and take you home so he could do all sorts of naughty things to you- if you’d let him, of course . He was a monster, but not that kind of monster .

A few seconds later, hand pushing the bar’s grungy advertisement-covered door open, the cool night air hit Five’s overheated face, but it did nothing to get his head on straight or make him realize he had no idea how to treat a real woman who could talk back or think on her own.

Yes, in this body and one that was much younger, Number Five Hargreeves hit on strippers and waitresses to get a rise out of them, but having an actual two-way conversation with them, followed by any form of true intimacy, no.

No, he’d never done that, but today, with you, he wanted to, so damn badly.

No matter how drunk he was, Five knew that letting himself think like this about you wasn’t right or helping the tent in his pants get any less prominent and he hated himself for it. With his bloodshot eyes struggling to focus, he dizzily turned towards the staggering reflection in the store window next to him, taking in the sad face looking back.

“Pathetic,” he grumbled, before trudging away with his chin lowered to his chest.

C-Cycle of Loneliness

Stumbling along the sidewalks while on his way home, Five felt trapped. He was finally free of all the death and endless killing, but that didn’t mean he felt like he could live, or that he even knew how to.

With his past what it was, he was unable to let anyone other than his family know who he really was and like before ending up powerless in Reginald’s new world, they were failing to see that he wasn’t as okay as he was pretending to be.

Like always, despite what Five felt about this, in most situations, he managed to keep his composure. He acted like he was fine. Putting on a stoic face of impassivity, he attended most family functions when asked. He’d gotten his PHD in record time and handled his work within the CIA professionally, but at the end of the day, he was merely existing and the reasons for it were becoming harder and harder for him to justify.

D- Distance and Diffidence-the opposite of confidence

When it came to shyness and a lack of confidence, most of the time Five Hargreeves would be the last person you would think of, but self-doubt had always plagued him. Growing up with a father that never thought he was good enough was the trigger that inflamed his insecurities, but even worse, after the trials of his youth and his lifetime alone in the apocalypse, he believed that if he’d never left and messed up the way he did, his family never would have died.

Never a day passed that Five didn’t tell himself, If I hadn’t lost it and jumped to the future and got myself stuck, none of this would have happened.

Knowing that none of his siblings were exactly thrilled with how things had gone for them over the last five years, nearly every time Five was around them, he couldn’t help but feel like that was all his fault too.

Ironically and tragically, long ago, Five was the one that initially distanced himself from his family, but in typical Five Hargreeves fashion, now he’d been overcompensating for his feelings of inferiority by lashing out on those he loved, only further complicating his problems.

Only twenty minutes from the suburbs where Allison and his niece Claire lived with Klaus, who was dealing with the aftermath of his sobriety in their bubble wrapped basement, since they’d been there, Five had only been to their house once.

Looking up at the four-story brownstone looming over him, no less drunk after walking the twelve blocks it took to get home, Five realized that not one of his family members even knew where he lived, and he was surer than ever that they didn’t care to.

They didn’t need him anymore.

E-Egotistical

Five knew he could become preoccupied with his own affairs, often showing others contempt by rolling his eyes at them in annoyance and boredom, or both, but his smug behavior wasn’t as simple as him having an exaggerated perception of his own worth.

Five never meant to become so estranged from his family. They were everything to him, and in addition to that, he never meant to treat you as coldly as he did by running off when you were merely trying to treat him like any other normal person would treat someone else.

No one would have believed it, but the truth was, Five was scared of rejection more than anything. All along he had been trying to protect himself with a mask of indifference as his mighty shield.

F-Fumbling, Fuck It

Fumbling with his keys, Five was confused by his own behavior, and even more bothered by his inappropriate thoughts about you when he didn’t even know you. He was hardly what anyone would call a brainless idiot, but the title seemed to fit as he tripped over his own feet while talking to himself like a total nutcase.

“Hi. Sure… No problem, it’s all good. My shoe and my dick are fine, really. Oh, and what a lovely name. My name is Five. Yeah, that’s right. It’s a fucking number,” he sardonically laughed, then dropped his keys when after several tries, he couldn’t get them to align with the keyhole.

Swooping down to get them, he tipped over, his head banging into the door, swinging the flimsy panel of wood wide with the force of his skull until it slammed into the wall inside his apartment.

“It wasn’t even locked, you dipshit!” he cursed himself as glass skittered across his shoes from the picture frame that just smashed to the floor, the one with a picture of him holding his newborn niece, Grace.

“Fucking, FUCK!” he cried, picking up the picture.

He started brushing off the tiny shards of glass sticking to it.

When a white line tore right over the bundle in his arms, ruining her little face that was staring up at him as if he were worthy of her look of wonderment, instead of angrily throwing a fist into his already crumbling plaster, Dolores’s familiar voice started to filter into Five’s mind, proving he was doing particularly awful that evening.

As his once beloved mannequin, the one who wasn’t even there, encouraged him to move towards this kitchen and set down the photograph before his bloodied fingers damaged it even more, the suggestiveness he’d created in her calming words had Five’s lips turning up in a drunken smirk of craziness.

You need to sober up, Five… You can’t keep doing this to yourself. Come to bed with me…’

Dripping blood in his cast-iron sink basin, thoughts of a totally different kind of self-absorption filled Five’s head, and with them, a renewed rush of blood went places that had hardly let him forget they were dying for his attention.

Acting in an alcohol induced form of autopilot, obeying Dolores, Five poured himself a glass of water from the tap, drank it, then clumsily navigated the darkness of his one room flat, heading towards his bed, where he fell like a ton of bricks into the rumpled bedding, still fully clothed.

With his knees digging into the bed, lifting him, hands racing to unfasten the buttons on his waist coat and shirt, this was one of Five’s many, many fuck it moments, not that he had much of a choice in how he landed with his head smashed into his pillows.

But…

As he rolled onto his back, his dick twitching from the mere pressure of being pressed into the bed, his hand slipped over his pants, and that was another matter at hand that was all him.

The dips and valley of Five’s abs flexed as he lay there, his youthful body bleached and pale in the slivers of light streaming in from between his blinds. As he let his hands wander and he began to stroke his cock through the layers covering him, the languid motion of his hand was weak in contrast to the sharp angles of pleasure contorting his face.

With the cool air in his room hitting his exposed chest, Five shivered. His eyes narrowed, locking in on the long shadow of his erection that was making a mockery of his pants.

It felt so fucking good to touch himself. He whimpered, as he dug his hand into himself harder, then let up again.

He didn’t mean to, but he lived for this.

In the apocalypse this was all he had.

Now, going at it at his desk, having spent a long day at work, the papers in front of him hardly stimulating enough to hold his interest, jerking off was just another part of his daily routine.

Lying in bed, in the shower, or even sometimes in the bathroom at work if he found himself unable to reign in his body’s needs, Five would stroke his dick, hard and fast, and before he knew it, he would be biting back guttural moans, head leaned up against a bathroom stall, coming all over a wad of toilet paper, or at his desk, dispensing his load in an already used shirt or anything else that he could reach that was expendable.

It was juvenile, and perverted as all hell, and he knew it, but just thinking about it, the wrongness, and about you, Five was getting harder, his balls filling with that delicious ache that made him feel alive.

“You can touch it, sweetheart” he whispered as he began to unzip his pants, trying to concentrate on the illusion that Dolores was there with him.

He teased himself, brushing his fingers lightly over the cotton still covering his cock.

As if watching it from outside himself, the resin covered peachiness of his beloved’s hand merged with the fleshiness of your real hand.

Palming himself with growing need, the face Five had been seeing looking down at him suddenly smiled the way you smiled at him as the visions in his head became a muddling array of unquenchable desire.

“Fuck, I want you,” Five groaned as his fingers snuck inside the fly of his underwear for just a second before pulling out again.

Acting out your part, he tightened his grip on his girth, making pre-cum begin to leak through his underwear, forming a darkened spot where the head of his cock was begging to be let free.

“Yeah, just like that. Go slow,” he moaned, his fingers wrapping around his length, moving over the stretched fabric as he began to pump, still gently as he possibly could.

Pictures flashed through his mind. His lips on your jaw, your eyelids heavy and expressive as his lips slightly parted, his hair flowing away from his face, tickling your silky skin as he held you from behind like a trusted lover.

At the phantom like sounds of your little laughs filling his ears, Five’s dick pulsed in his hand, blood flowing full and fast.

Unable to take it, he reached inside his underwear, giving in to touching himself more directly.

Five twirled his finger around the end of his cock.

Lowering your head, the heat of your mouth began to slip over the thickness of his leaking tip, tonguing the pool of stickiness gathered there.

“I knew the second you looked at me, you wanted me,” he arrogantly huffed as you went down on him.

Though Dolores had heard it all before, glaring at him on the sidelines of his mind, she suddenly looked appalled.

You can’t say things like that! she chastised him.

Determined to shake her, Five put all his attention on the feel of his cock entering your throat.

Snuffing out any remaining thoughts of Dolores out of his head, Five quickened his pace, drowning out the sound of her panicky warnings that were trying to make him see that this kind of fantasy was even worse than his others with her.

Five! You are only hurting yourself with this!

“I don’t care!” he growled.

He bit down on his lip and closed his eyes, only to be greeted by the memory of your hair falling over your shoulders as it brushed against his face when you were both back on the train.

He breathed in and he could smell you.

Then his brain trying to piece together what really happened, he saw your look of shock as he rushed away from you like you were the plague or worse.

“What’s wrong with you?” he heard you angrily yell, even though you had said nothing when he did that.

“Please don’t stop. I’m sorry,” he panted, mad at himself for hurting you, and even more panicked by his own madness.

Fighting back, he kept his pace, and just like that, you just as quickly forgave him, taking him to the hilt, your nose hitting his pubic bone.

Dark hair in his eyes as he watched his entire cock repeatedly drive down your throat, Five hissed, “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes-"

Dolores’s voice cried out. Five! You’re losing it again!

‘Go away!’ Five’s mind screamed at itself, proving she wasn’t wrong-he was losing it .

For the next few minutes, the sounds of Five sadistically berating himself as he violently masturbated were absorbed in the quiet of his dark, empty room.

Shame filling him, his stomach twisted.

He was so fucking close.

His shoulder blades flushed as small beads of sweat formed on the back of his neck. The muscles in his back and arms tensed harder and harder as he quickly moved his hand.

Angling his face to the ceiling, his eyes scrunched shut and his right arm dropped lazily to the side.

His butt cheeks clenched over and over as his bed springs creaked, his thrusts enough to make his headboard bang into the wall as he frantically pumped his body upwards into his hand.

“You-ff-fu-ah-cking lov-vvve my cock-fuck-you’re amazing,” he grunted and writhed, his sweat covered legs burning under the wool of his rumpled pants that were trapped around his ankles as he bent his knees up and his heels dug into the bed.

Already putting on an impressive one-man show of insanity, wanting more of your mouth’s wet heaven, Five let go of his dick, spitting in his hand. Returning to the length of flesh waiting for him, he thrusted up into his fist with louder and louder noises of slicked ecstasy.

Panting and moaning your name, sweat dripped down the curves of Five’s back. Through sharp propulsions of his hips, he cursed. Throwing his other hand back, he clutched and pulled at his own hair.

He held his breath as his mind screamed and his come poured over his fingers.

Lost in what he was pretending was the feel of your mouth accepting him, yet still wanting to spare his sheets, Five aimed his dick inwards, letting his seed pour out over the fine trail of hair leading up his abdomen, the white beads flinging across his otherwise unmarked skin.

Pulses of pleasure took him as he watched the eroticism of defiling himself.

His broken gasps got quieter and quieter. “FFFUUCC-ffff fff-mmmff."

His balls tightening as hips jerked more and more erratically, Five felt the betraying warmth of his tears pooling in the corners of his eyes as he rode out wave upon wave of the orgasm he’d longed more than anything for you to be part of, the defeated voice of his own creation ruminating in his head so loud he couldn’t ignore it anymore.

She doesn’t even know you.

“I know,” he whimpered back with the hand not on his cock, coming up, covering his red face.

G-Grief

Most of Five’s life was filled with intense mourning. He’d witnessed the death of everyone he’d ever loved, more than once. His anguish over having to bury his family left him in a state of ruin, not unlike the burning world he’d found himself in at the ripe age of thirteen.

Hours after he’d drunkenly cleaned up the mess that he’d made of himself, sucking in, mind adrift, Five suddenly couldn’t breathe.

There was too much ash.

So thirsty he could barely swallow, he ran his tongue over his cracked lips, only getting more of the bitter taste of powered cinders and the tang of his own blood.

The smell of burning flesh made him gag into the suffocating white of his pillowcase.

His stomach turned even as it growled with hunger.

Five was asleep, but the horrors he couldn’t outrun were creeping in like the maggots on the thousands of corpses he could see laying all around him, the sickness of it all wiggling into his periphery as he kicked out his legs and tangled himself in his blankets.

I'm going to die here!

It’s too hot!

I can’t get out.

He was being crushed.

Fingers clenching, hands shaking as his chest became tighter and tighter, it was as if he was the one that was dying even though it was the lifeless faces of his siblings flashing in front of his terror filled eyes that were darting around his dark bedroom, seeing nothing but the endless nightmare of his past.

H-Happiness

In another timeline, while not having a nightmare of the panic attack inducing kind, along a sunny roadside, Five had a very revealing conversation with the woman that had plucked him out of hell, only to throw him into a new one.

Ice cream truck stuck motionless, a bullet seconds away from rearranging Luther’s brain, Five stood there in his schoolboy shorts, his pistol pointed at The Handler as he said, “I'm not looking for happy.”

Like so many times, he watched her perfectly painted lips curl with a certain brand of mischievous cruelty that was all her own. “We're all looking for happy, Five,” she coolly corrected.

Looking away, Five tried in vain to hide his panic.

He did want happiness! That was the problem, only he’d given up on it for himself long ago and the Handler knew that pointing out his lie was the perfect way to break him all over again.

Not about to let her win, Five ground his teeth together and defiantly looked back up at her, not bothering to show is venomous disdain as she towered over him in her shiny red heels.

The world never cared what he wanted, but he’d be damned if he’d give up fighting to save it, but now, as he rushed from his bed to his bathroom sink, helplessly sobbing as he filled his hands with scoop after scoop of cold water, trying in vain to bring himself back to reality, who was going to save him?

I-Ignored

It was the day of his niece’s birthday.

Leaving work, after another day of reporting back to his superiors about The Keepers’s activity and them not giving a shit how far he’d gotten infiltrating their cult like secret society, Five looked down at the colorful invitation in his hand, then the package he’d wrapped the best he could in the other.

The shiny paper was lopsided, revealing an electronic toy puppy’s face peeking out from inside.

The last time Five ran into Diego and his family while out at the same store, his goddaughter had told him how much she wanted a very specific chunk of robotic plastic that was over in the nearby toy section.

“I know its the next Tickle Me Elmo or some shit, but we don’t have the money for that. You know that, Grace! Why do you always have to push and push this stuff,” Diego said, scowling at her.

Lila rolled her eyes at that, then unfazed by her look of disapproval, Diego kept moving, throwing more important items in their cart.

The twins, covered in groceries, fussed and cried in their car seats as their parents moved on, not saying anything else to Five other than a flippant, ‘see you later.’

Like always, they weren’t happy to see him and the little girl looking up at him shared his same look of disappointment.

Hating how let down she looked, Five smiled. “What do you think his name is?” Five asked, pointing to the barking box just down the aisle that said, ‘Makes chocolate poopies you can eat!’ in bold letters.

“I don’t know, Uncle Five,” Grace said, shyly looking down at her shoes. “What do you think he wants to be called?”

Turning back, looking even more irritated as she put back a box of sugar filled kids cereal that Diego was trying to sneak into the cart, Lila yelled, “Grace! Come on!”

The little girl ran off, but Five answered her question after purchasing the toy puppy, programming it to wag its tail as his voice came out through its recorder, saying, “I’m Mr. Pennycrumb and you are my best friend. You should listen to me even though I am a toy dog. Your parents are idiots, but I am still smarter than them.”

A few hours later, after his daughter excitedly tore open her favorite gift of the day, and he heard Five’s special message and Grace’s squeals of delight over it, as he envisioned karate kicking Mr. Pennycrumb into the rafters, Diego’s eyes damn near bugged out of his head as he yelled, “Really, Five!”

“What,” he said, shrugging.

Clearly Diego and Lila weren't happy with him, but it wasn't like it mattered. They were never happy with him.

Even while in the presence of his family, as Five leaned back against the rainbow ball pit’s netting, it felt like he might as well still be rotting away in the apocalypses still. While at the birthday party with Luther bashing the shit out of the pinata, their bickering and problems with each other never seemed to end. He tried his best, talking to Ben and the others, but once the small talk was done, it was as if he wasn’t even there unless he said something shitty.

Five was just a figure on the sideline, someone who his own family didn’t want to know.

All he wanted his entire life was to get back to them, but when he did, they had moved on. They didn’t understand him, and he couldn’t blame them for that, he didn’t even like who he was, but at least he was owning that. Jerks act like jerks.

If not for the sound of Gracie calling out to him as he was about to leave, Five would have ended up at a bar again, alone and miserable.

“Thank you so much for coming. I love you, Uncle Five,” she said after she ran over to him.

“I love you too,” he quietly replied, trying not to let her hear the crack in his voice as she put her arms up, silently asking him to come down to her level so she could hug him.

That little hug was all it took, and not much after that, Five found himself out in the parking lot with the rest of them, meeting a very strange man named Sy Grossman.

J-Judgement

Most of Five’s life was defined by punishment. He often mused that all the bad things had been inflicted on him as retribution for his many wrongdoings. As for which of his crimes he was paying for now, after finding Viktor, then having a night out at dinner with his family that went all sorts of wrong, the world was set to end again in twenty-four hours, so it didn’t really matter.

No matter how remorseful Five was, or how much he’d already suffered, or how he tried to make things right and move on without hurting anyone else but himself, it seemed that the sentence of this endless destruction would always be his penance.

K-Keepers

Five should have seen it. Both that Ben had tricked them with his sake toast, and long before that obvious con.

Sitting there dressed like an idiot, his fake mustache thicker than it had ever been when he’d been 19 years old the first time around, he had chatted it up in the therapeutic round circle of crazy people, going on and on about how he was walking around in a body not his own.

He was a 65-year-old man for Christ’s sake! This shouldn’t be where he was!

He told those weirdos that he’d lived through things people couldn’t even begin to imagine!

He lived off all kinds of nasty creepy crawlies, his teeth breaking through the crusts of their exoskeletons, the ooze of their insides almost impossible to swallow, but he did it anyway.

He’d brought on so much suffering to others as he traveled through time, briefcase in hand, murdering anyone he was ordered to eliminate.

Some days Five would look in the mirror and get so confused that he’d forget where or who he was. He didn’t know what was real or not anymore.

He didn’t have to pretend that he was nuts, that was why The Keepers let him get closer. That was why he had run into Lila out skipping book club, trying to feel the danger and excitement she’d once lived for before becoming a tired mother who felt like she was drowning in the monotony of her marriage.

Looking away as Diego fumed about catching his wife with her creepy little Greek boyfriend, Five angled his face towards the window.

His mind reeled. Diego was asking for his help! Him of all people!

Everything was falling apart.

After a van ride covered in puke, listening to Baby Shark on repeat, they were all being shot at.

Heart racing, he blinked, just as a shotgun shell was going to split his skull in two.

Only just then realizing he had his powers back, Five landed in a subway station that had not been under the street he was standing on when they got there.

L-Love

Narrowly fleeing from the set-up in psycho Christmas Town, The Hargreeves had escaped unscathed once more, only they didn’t. The marigold in their bodies proved they weren’t who they were before, and the mangled bodies lying all around at the farm they’d come to while looking for Ben verified that once again, they were way in over their heads.

Reginald couldn’t or wouldn’t help them anymore than he already did, and they couldn’t help themselves. Ben was going to die all over again and his love for Jennifer was a curse not meant to be broken.

Watching his brother doing his best cop impersonation, all Five could think about was they were never going to win; they weren’t meant to, even if that was what they were brought up to believe.

The Keepers and their purpose proved Five’s life new life was a shame. He failed to see that his direct report was one of them. He failed to listen to the things inside him that were telling him none of this was real.

No matter how much Five loved his family, it was never going to be enough to fix this.

Later, as Diego tore open filing cabinets in the abandoned office of Dr. Jean and Gene Thibedeau, Lila pursed her lips at Five for about the hundredth time that day, signaling again that she wasn’t happy with him. Hitting his arm, she quietly said, “I say we go off on our own and try to figure out what is going on with this new power of yours. Pull your big girl panties up and stop being a baby.”

Ignoring her, Five watched as Diego entered the next room, then feeling as if he was having an outer body experience he looked down at his hands. They tingled with energy.

He slowly walked to the window, looking down at the street below.

It felt like his heart stopped and he’d been sucked into a vacuum.

Everything went quiet.

There you were, walking down the street, the sun lighting up your face like a spotlight just for him. Stopping to tie your shoe, you stepped aside, excusing yourself to the person behind you.

You smiled apologetically.

Something inside Five broke.

It was the same smile you’d given him.

It meant nothing.

The feeling of something special happening when he’d touched you was as fake as the rest of this!

Of all the people he would see in a time like this, it was you! The one person he’d been dying to see since he’d first laid eyes on you.

It was like some cruel fate, same as the one always chasing him, nipping at his heels with imminent death. Everything was just another reminder that no matter how much he wanted things to be different, he had nothing, and he never would.

He wanted to know what it was like to be loved by anyone even a little, but good things weren’t meant for him.

“Five!” Lila loudly whispered, getting even more upset. “We need to try something other than digging around in garbage cans, like that idiot in there! Give me your damn hand and let’s do this already!”

She began to come his way, hand outstretched.

Lila’s voice cracked with emotion when he looked down at it. “Five, I need you…your family needs you.”

Knowing full well that they had no idea what they were going to do about the impending Cleanse, Five’s brows pulled together, and he shook his head, no.

In a daze, still looking at Lila’s hand, the sight of it filled him with memories from the night before, all of them laced with the same sickness and regret he couldn’t escape.

After a chance run in at the secret Keepers meeting, when a woman wearing a name tag saying Nancy, ran those same reaching fingers across a man named Jerome’s upper lip, tenderly wiping off the powdered sugar from his pastry, Five had thought of you and the one small chance he’d let go to have even a few hours of happiness by your side, just getting to know you.

Eyes moving to his brother, pain in his chest, in a flash of violet hued light, Five was gone, seconds before Lila could reach him.

M-Martyr

Five’s entire life was an example of sacrifice. So many times, he could have given up, or put himself first, but he didn’t.

Thinking of his family and their kids, stuck feeling like he had no other option, he stumbled out of his portal, his eyes scanning the musty subway platform and the train waiting for him.

N-Naïve

Five missed out on so many things that anyone should have the chance to experience during a life as long as his, and because of that, he struggled when navigating the nuances of anything normal.

There was no doubt that Five was full of wisdom, and he didn’t hesitate to pass that on or place judgment on others he saw as beneath him, but there was also an unmistakable childlike innocence behind his eyes, and an explosive immaturity in his outbursts and in his thinking that he could do this alone.

"How long do I have to suffer!" he screamed, his voice echoing down the subway tunnel, then out into the sky above as the light from the day and another apocalyptic world shone down on the filth covered subway steps in front of him.

Rubbing his grimy hands down the front of his tattered waist coat, he pulled out his journal.

It had been seven years, and he had been traveling the labyrinth of tracks, shooting from one timeline to another, each time trying to jump back to before Ben had been killed the first time.

He’d thought if he could just prevent that, it would finally fix everything.

Five knew his power didn’t work the same as before, but he thought it wouldn’t matter.

It did. It mattered big time, and he’d fucked up big time.

Most of the time, he couldn’t even jump backwards. Most of the time he’d climb the stairs, pull his hands together, trying to draw in the strength to do it, and he’d end up right back at the bottom of the steps, staring up at a world that was no more.

Some days, he’d prove he wasn’t a completely impotent imbecile. He’d reach out at the hands of time, yanking them backwards and he’d be thrown into the unimaginable ether that had always been his domain.

He’d find himself standing in a world with living breathing people again!

Racing to the academy, grabbing anything he could steal and stuff in his pockets or his mouth along the way, he’d feel a flicker of hope.

That never lasted long.

Never finding their real timeline, Five had been attacked, over and over once inside what had been his home, but clearly wasn’t anymore. Sometimes he wouldn’t even get that far, having found himself in a place that was at first glance not where he had meant to be based on floating cars or other bizarre things dotting the skyline.

Out of his mind with hunger and more mentally ruined than he’d ever been, he noted the marks on the floor, a long skid mark from something dragging and that there were three light bulbs out overhead. Fairly certain he hadn’t been there before, looking like a scraggly haired bum that was wearing some guy’s trashed business suit, Five jammed the notebook back in his pocket. Reaching in the other, he pulled out his pistol. Started talking to himself again, his feet stomped up the tiled stairs to the street.

“If I see that little fucker again, and he shoots at me, I swear this time I am going to go over there and choke the shit out of him,” he growled, referring to the fun of being shot at by another version of himself so many times before this that he couldn’t even remember how many times it had happened to him anymore.

His voice was cracked and hoarse, only adding to the pained sound in it as he cursed himself out. He was beginning to feel lightheaded again from lack of food and from how much his lungs were struggling to match up to the blood that rushed around his body from the mere effort of carrying himself out of the darkness.

When the first piercing sound of the other him’s rifle reverberated across the barren landscape, Five flinched, the full metal jacket projectile missing him by only a fraction of an inch as it blasted apart an already crumbling piece of concrete next to him instead.

Stepping forward, arm shaking as he held up his gun, Five screamed, "Just kill me, for fuck's sake, you asshole! I don't want to live like this anymore!"

Eye narrowed on his scope, the other Five, trying to survive, just like he had done when it was him, with no one but Dolores by his side to keep him sane, pulled the trigger like all the other Fives he'd come across did, for some reason, not even thinking twice about killing the first living person he’d seen in twelve years.

O-Oh, Shit!

“OH, Shit!” Five’s voice shrilly rang out as the solid copper tipped point of the projectile ripped through his left arm, tearing the muscle in his bicep clean through as it flew out behind him, zipping down the stairwell.

Refreshed clarity of the life and death kind hitting him hard and fast as the warmth of his blood drenched the inside of his sleeve, Five got down as far as he could, spinning towards the safety of the subway entrance.

“At least I fucking hesitated when I saw the Handler!” he breathed, just as another bullet ripped through him, this time nicking bone in his right thigh.

He dropped to his knees.

“Fuck you, you crazy fucker!” he screamed.

He’d asked for it.

It was dumb, but he did.

He knew that he was also a crazy fucker in this situation but that did nothing to make him want to kill the other him any less.

Bleeding out in two different places, Five’s fingers clawed at the ground, and he growled in anger, forcing his body to get back up.

Half falling, half running down the steps, the soft tissue in his upper left shoulder suddenly felt like he’d been stabbed with a zillion fiery needles as the spinning force of the next bullet went straight through his back and out his chest.

Lunging for the doors of the train, Five fell into the closest seat, his eyes wide as he looked down at the crimson bloom spreading across his dress shirt.

P-Pain

As a murky curtain of darkness moved into Five’s narrowing field of vision, he clung to the metal support rail attached to his seat. He knew that feeling the rocking motion of the train as it raced to the next station was a good thing because it meant his powers hadn’t failed him yet, but it wasn’t much to hold onto. Each tiny shift in the track felt like it might kill him.

It hurt to breathe.

Even if he made it to the next stop, there was no way he’d be able to jump back to a time when there may have been a hospital and someone living and breathing to get him there.

This was it, the end.

~~~

As you were disappointingly tossing another aluminum can with a broken seal, this one that had at one time held the syrupy sweetness of what you determined might have been peaches, the pile of rubble you were sorting through started to shift, the smaller chunks of debris skittering down the slope of junk.

“What the-”

Even more odd, you started to feel the ground vibrating under your feet, followed by the sound of a train screeching down the subway tunnel located in the subterranean level of your search area.

Your bag slipped off your arm, scattering your finds on the ground as you turned toward the subway entrance a few yards away.

This made no sense, so naturally you tried to rationalize what you were feeling and hearing.

There was no train.

There was no electricity.

There was no anyone, or anything anymore.

All around you, there was nothing but the remains of long ago destroyed buildings and the sun-bleached bones of the dead.

You lived in a world with no voices but your own, no horns honking, no smells of food carts wafting past.

“Impossible…” you breathed.

By the time you made it down the subway station’s cobweb infested stairs, the doors on the train that shouldn’t be there were opening. Hesitantly coming closer to what you were sure was evidence that you’d lost your mind, the humming of the train’s powerful engine slowed.

There was a feeling of static that shouldn’t be there in the dank air.

The hair on your arms prickled in warning.

Still, you came forward, your boots kicking up thick layers of dust. The fluorescent lights hanging above illuminated the tiny particles slowly swirling in front of you, making everything seem even more surreal than it already was.

The lights inside the train flickered as you came towards it.

You could see a pool of red liquid on the long fiberglass bench just inside the threshold. Even more ominous, there was an array of bloody handprints leading to the motionless blood covered body on the floor.

Creeping around to get a better look at the young man lying there, you kept your guard up, but other than him, the train looked empty.

Looking down at him again, your breath hitched.

He whispered your name just as his eyes fluttered closed.

You gasped his name back, then the lights went out.

Q-Quiet

“Oh, my God! Five!” you repeated, not believing your eyes as you dropped to the floor next to him.

He was conscious, but you could hardly see his eyes under his slitted lids, and his words came out so weak you almost didn’t hear them as he said, “You’re not supposed to know me.”

“What are you talking about!” you frantically cried.

His reply to that came as the quietest whimper.

“Five?”

He said nothing.

You lowered your ear to his slightly parted lips.

Thankfully, you heard the softest breaths coming out of him even though he was breathing so shallowly his chest didn’t appear to be moving at all.

Terrified, you did what you could to tighten the necktie that was already pinching the blood flow to his arm, and then you checked the belt he’d already tried to secure to his leg to stem the worst of that bleeding. Rolling him so you could lift the back side of his jacket, you saw the blood-soaked exit wound in his upper left shoulder blade. Having nothing but the scarf you had on to use as a bandage, you pressed it over the hole, wrapping it around him tight, then tucking the ends under his shirt and vest to add pressure.

Five remained unconscious as you readied him, and he stayed that way as you began hauling him up the stairs, then outside where you loaded him on your cart.

With his legs dangling and his feet nearly touching the ground, it wasn’t the ideal form of transport, but he wasn’t going to make it if you stayed there, or if you left him and then came back with something bigger.

“Stay with me,” you begged, checking one more time to see if he was still with you, then you shoved forward, pulling him along as you thought about what he just said.

Of course, you knew Five. It all started after the war that ended it all.

Dressed in his Umbrella Academy uniform, Five had been wandering for the third day straight, looking for anything he could use to help him survive the apocalyptic hell he’d found himself in. Exhausted, he was about to give up and go back to his blanketed shelter, but then he spotted what he thought was another person sitting over in the toppled mess that was left of one of the city’s shopping centers.

The person was waving at him with the only arm they had left, but as Five came closer, disappointment filling him as he looked down at the lifeless face of a female mannequin, he heard something.

Tap! Tap! Tap! Tapppppp-Tappppp-Tappppp. Tap! Tap! Tap!

The air around him swirled, ruffling his hair as it covered his young face in cinders.

He stopped and listened, but as everything became still again the eerie quiet of mass death was all he heard.

He started to walk away.

Tap, tap, tap. Tapppppp-Tappppp-Tappppp. Tap, tap, tap.

“Shit,” he breathed, stopping short as his mind processed the pattern. That wasn’t the sound of some random piece of metal flapping in the smoky wind.

Racing towards where he’d thought he heard the repetition of morse code, trapped in the darkness, under layers and layers of broken concrete, you started your distress call again, rhythmically moving a chuck of rock against one of the building's mangled trusses.

You were sure that you were going to die down there, just like everyone else that survived the initial blast only to find themselves buried, but then you hear something break through the quiet.

Someone was calling down to you through the cracks left in the massive pile of building material. You cried back, but it felt way too muffled for it to matter, but it did.

He kept calling out, telling you to look for anywhere you might see light, asking you all sorts of questions that at the time made no sense, like if there was room behind you or in front of you and how much, if you were pinned down, or if you could determine which way was up.

Then, one second you were alone in the darkness, dehydrated to the point of dangerously low blood pressure, your legs hardly having more than a few feet to move, and the next, you were blinded by a burst of light, something solid and warm was behind you and then you were weightless.

When your feet hit the ground back on level ground, your legs felt like jelly and your stomach flipped.

Dizzily trying to adjust as you looked at the boy holding onto you upright, your eyes slowly moved from his, to the famous Umbrella Academy crest embroidered on his blazer.

It couldn’t be…

The superpowered boy the world had known as Number Five Hargreeves had been missing your entire life, but there he was, looking about the same age as you even though that was way younger than he should have been.

R-Rain

Looking back at this older Five, his limp body rocking with each rotation of your cart’s wheels, your eyes blurred as tears streaked down your cold cheeks.

As if you didn’t know you had to hurry, the clouds in the west were moving in fast, meaning another storm was coming.

With the strap at your waist digging in hard enough that you could feel your skin rubbing raw, you forced your body to move faster. “Come on!” you roared, gritting your teeth with the effort of moving the weighted down cart over another deep washout in the road.

Years ago, Five had taken you down that same road.

You could still see it that morning, Five running back to your campsite, his straight white teeth flashing in the sun as he smiled with boyish excitement that made your cheeks feel warm.

Talking about a mile a minute, he told you that he’d found a structure that wasn’t completely ruined, and by some miracle, attached to it, there was even a greenhouse that still had most of the glass hanging in its windows. Even better, inside it there were all kinds of bags filled with unspoiled seed.

After years of fighting the elements and starvation together, you had found your first break from the burdens of the apocalyptic world you were stranded in.

If you could just get him back there now, it would be okay.

It had to be.

Your breaths were becoming more and more labored as you went, only becoming worse as you thought about the last day you were with Five.

That was over five years ago.

It was midsummer. You had been with him at the home with the greenhouse attached to it for several years at that point.

That night, like he always did, Five was sitting at the kitchen table, running over his numbers. He was getting close; he was sure of it. You were both going back very soon, and he was going to stop this all from ever happening.

Scratching his face as he concentrated, Five unknowingly smeared a smudge of black ink from his fingers down the narrow bridge of his nose.

“Fucking, fuck, mother fucker,” he mumbled as he angrily scratched out nearly half a page of his equations.

Even though you knew he was mad, you couldn’t help it, your breath started coming out of you in little puffs of amusement.

With the heel of his palm dug into his forehead, Five looked up at you through the fringe of dark hair hanging in his eyes.

“A genius with your captivating use of the word fuck, along with you being the savior of the world is sure to drop some panties when we get back,” you’d teased. “I hope you don’t forget me when you have all those other people to glare at.”

Not waiting for him to verbally retaliate, you turned and raised up on your tippy toes to put your dinner dishes up where the mice wouldn't walk all over them.

Within seconds, you felt the comforting currents of energy building in the air around you as Five blinked. The warmth of his mouth pressed against the back of your neck.

Brushing your hair aside with his face, his arms wrapped around your midsection, possessively locking you in his high voltage embrace.

“Forget you? Not a chance,” he said, letting his lips tickle the shell of your ear.

You wriggled and laughed as his fingers started crawling under your shirt. Hot palms claiming your breasts, he began a soothing circular motion, threading his fingers over your nipples until they were hard, and of course it all felt so good being taken over by him that soon he had you moaning his name.

“That’s right. I am all yours,” Five smugly hummed as he continued to pluck and pinch.

Your head dropped back against this shoulder as he kissed along your neck. Moving his awakening manhood against your butt, his fingers slid around your hip, going right between your legs.

“When it comes to panty dropping, your delicious cunt is the only one I’ll ever be interested in devouring, sweetheart,” he promised as his fingers moved faster. “I just need to get us back and then I am going to really destroy you with this thing.”

To punctuate which thing he was referring to, Five he rammed his cock into your ass.

Mind going bananas over the dirty things Five was saying and doing, your body clenched around his fingers and your legs starting to tremble.

So much had changed over the years.

You were no longer just two people walking the Earth, fighting to survive.

In that place together, you became each other’s everything.

The sun’s setting rays coming in from the window above the sink reflected Five’s beautiful face next to yours as he burrowed his face into your neck.

“As long as you’ll have me, I’ll never let you go,” he lovingly whispered.

And he didn’t let you go, not until hours later, when a rush of cool air coming in from the window replaced where he’d had his body warmly snuggled up behind you.

Rolling over, in the dim light of the bedroom, you could see Five bouncing around as he tugged on his discarded underwear.

Hard droplets of rain started pelting the floor next to the bed, but before you could move to do something about it, Five blinked over, shutting the window. Just then, something outside loudly crashed into the side of the house.

When he quickly started to head out the room, your eyes widened with worry. “Where are you going?” you asked.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be right back,” he chuckled. “I need to crank the windows closed in the greenhouse before it gets too windy. I just fixed the levers on the upper awnings, and I don’t want to have to go back to watering everything by hand out there when normally the lighter rains do such a nice job of it for me.”

You could hardly argue with that, or with what Five said next.

“Since you finally decided to let me hump the sweet fuck out of you, I have way better things to do with my free time then lugging around tiny watering cans,” he added, while shamelessly taking in the sight of you laying there naked, except for the thin blanket you’d started to modestly to tug in front of you.

Already getting to you by being ridiculously sexy, standing there with his hair sticking up everywhere, Five gave you a cocky grin that would make the devil blush.

“Don’t go anywhere,” he taunted.

Still wiping the sleep from your eyes, you dreamily replied, “I won’t.”

Looking as wild and handsome as ever, hardly dressed, Five disappeared through the bedroom door, heading out through the townhouse’s back kitchen.

Suddenly, lightning flashed, and the entire room shook so hard you were sure the roof over the less habitable parts of the house might collapse.

You sprung out of bed to the sound of glass smashing.

Running after him, at first, all you could see were darkened plants carpeting the raised garden beds.

Coming around the small table in the center of the greenhouse, fragments from the broken window above embedded in the soles of your feet, but you didn’t even feel it because Five was lying there on the cement floor, the rain drops dancing in the puddles of red all around him.

The long shard of glass that had sliced his neck clean open was still laying in the palm of his hand as his empty eyes looked up, staring off at nothing.

Nearly falling down as your foot got stuck in a rut in the road, you knew you needed to keep your mind in the present, but you couldn’t.

There was blood everywhere!

That was just like this Five! With him dying as he lay there on the floor of that train!

A cry that was part anger, part anguish crawled out of your throat as you turned, looking back at him on your cart.

“Please say something,” you begged, not sure if he was dead or not because he hadn’t moved or made a noise. “Five!” you screamed, when he didn’t respond.

The first icy drops of rain began to hit your face.

Then, just as you were going to run back there, Five quietly moaned your name as he slowly lifted his arm, pointing a finger at the sky. “You and the moon in the same timeline, makes sense…both always just out of reach for guys like me,” he said, choking on what sounded like a laugh.

On the verge of full hysterics, trying not to think about the horrors of what happened before, or what that moon and timeline stuff was all about, you dug the toes of your boots in, pushing off the broken blacktop as the deep purples of twilight disappeared in the blanket of angry clouds.

It was raining hard by the time you got back. By then you were both soaked, and Five’s complexion was cast in a deathly gray that made your stomach sink with bottomless dread.

S-Stitches

Other than that odd comment, Five remained mostly out of it as the cart bumped and bounced along on the debris-filled road, but as you lugged him inside almost an hour later, he woke up, full alert.

“FFFFUUCK!” he growled as you pulled him upright with his right shoulder under yours, lifting him.

Dragging his bad leg, you both staggered the few feet it took to get to the front door.

“I am sorry,” you breathed as you lugged him inside, kicking the door behind you to a continuous chorus of his breathy ‘fucks.’

A few seconds later, moving across what at one time had been the home's parlor but now served as the bedroom as well, collapsing on the bed, Five’s wet hair fanned out on the pillows.

Rushing over to place a fresh pile of wood on top of the dying embers in the hearth, Five’s face rolled to the side, watching you as he listlessly took in his shadowy surroundings.

Turning towards the adjacent kitchen area to get the medical supplies you needed, his eyes followed you again.

“Dolores?” he croaked.

Not done washing your hands yet, you turned. As you figured, he was looking at the mannequin sitting at the kitchen table, but for some reason Five looked oddly confused by the sight of her.

“I am sorry, Dolores,” he said, his voice quivering. “I tried. I really did, but it had been so long, and before that, it was- You know I was try- I was so fucked up. And I- I just couldn’t move on and I- They needed me and I-"

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay,” you said, trying to calm him as you rushed back, setting your supplies on the bedside table.

Not stopping, your hands quickly moved over him, undoing the necktie on his left bicep so you could work his jacket off and remove his soiled dress shirt and vest.

Replacing his makeshift tourniquet, you lifted his right hand, placing a wad of gauze in it before pushing it down over the bullet hole just below his left clavicle. “Try to keep pressure on that if you can. You lucked out. That one missed your lung, but I need to pull these down to see what’s going on with your leg,” you said, having already unzipped his fly, your hands on his hips waiting for his consent.

Five nodded, so you undid the belt cinched around his upper thigh.

Carefully pulling down his blood-soaked pants, not far down you gasped, and not because he wasn’t wearing any underwear.

“Who did this to you?!” you asked, slipping the leather strap back around his leg to pinch off the blood flow again.

“An even more fucked up version of me did it back in the wrong timeline I landed in before this one.”

Something in your already tense expression must have changed to something much worse because Five’s dazed looking eyes moved away, looking at Dolores again.

“I’m my own worst enemy,” he said, deliriously trying to laugh about it before he continued to ramble things that made no sense. “That day you fell into me on the train, you were being so nice. I felt… I was- I don’t know… I wish I had at least had the courage to accept your offer to buy me a coffee. I wanted to, but I didn’t think I should. All I ever wanted was to have something like that in my life. Someone to talk to, someone to be even just my friend.”

His eyes misted over.

“I blew it, but it didn’t matter anyway. Everything went to shit. My powers don’t work right! I have been trying to get back for seven fucking years and I can’t, and that timeline is ending in a few hours anyway. Everyone was counting on me, and I failed them again.”

Before he said all that, you knew in any normal circumstance it would have been impossible for the Five laying on your bed to be the same one that was buried out in the yard, but your heart wanted to believe differently so badly.

He looked exactly like him.

He’d known your name.

He knew the mannequin neither of you were willing to leave behind, because if not for her, he’d have spent a life alone and you would have died.

But he wasn’t your Five.

Looking even more upset than you were getting about all this, he kept on trying to explain things, telling you about this other world he had been in, and something called ‘The Cleanse.’

Wiping the mess of blood off his cold skin, you smeared antiseptic around the jagged edge of the hole in his thigh. Not knowing what else to do to prepare him, you soothingly shushed him. “It’s okay, everything is going to be okay, Five. We will figure it out.”

You wanted to believe that, but you didn’t even know if he’d make it through the night.

Popping some long-ago expired pain pills in his mouth, then lifting a glass to his lips, Five swallowed your offering with no question, half the water going in, and the other half running down his chin.

As you pulled on a pair of sterile gloves, his fingers brushed against the side of your leg. "How do you know me?” he quietly asked. “I never told you my name and you aren’t supposed to be here.”

“Bite down,” you ordered, ignoring that question as you placed a rolled towel in front of his mouth.

Again, he listened, biting down.

“You are lucky the bullets that hit your arm and chest went right through you and didn’t hit anything important, but the one in your leg is still in there. I need to get it out before I stitch this one closed, and if you think it hurt when that other you filled you with lead, get ready, because something tells me this is going to be much, much worse.”

Lifting your sanitized surgical tweezer, you lowered the long-pointed ends to the seeping wound in his leg.

Not even close to the casing you needed to reach, Five was forcing air through his nose at a panicked pace and his legs were starting to shake.

Pressing down on his knees, you held him as still as possible as you dug deeper.

As the tweezers sunk into his flayed skin, kicking out, Five howled through the cloth in his mouth, “Ffff-rrrrrrrr-ffffuuuuCCCCCKKK!”

“Almost there,” you breathed as you felt the end of your tweezers tapping against something hard.

A few painful seconds later, after pulling the lump of metal back through Five’s torn muscle tissue, you dropped the bloody chunk of metal in the bowl on the table, then went for the needle and thread you’d already prepped.

“This is the worst one. The others won’t be as bad,” you assured, moving along gently as possible, with the point of your needle pulling through the mangled edge of his broken skin.

After the third stitch, as you began to pull Five’s skin together, his entire body started to quake so hard you had to move over, sitting yourself on top of his knees to keep his legs down.

“Just a few more,” you said, determinedly biting down on your lower lip as he brought both arms up, grasping the rungs on the headboard with a white knuckled grip.

Two more stitches, and one more pull, and Five’s sweat covered chest was heaving. The faintest sound, like the squeak of a small animal crept out from between his clenched teeth. One more pull and his eyes rolled back in his head, and he went completely limp.

T-Touch

Fevered nights turned into long worry filled days and you never left Five’s side unless you had to. Cleaning his wounds, and then his entire body, no modesty allowed in the state he was in.

Five was entirely at your mercy just like once, long ago, you were at his.

As he lay there with no shirt, and no pants on, covered in a mound of heavy blankets that smelled cleaner than anything he’d slept on in seven years, unable to avoid it any longer, you explained why you knew him.

You didn’t even come close to telling him all of it, but still, you could see that what you did say didn’t settle well.

Brining another spoon of thin soup to his lips, stopping you short, Five shook his head. “I don’t deserve this,” he quietly whispered as the shutters rattled against the windowpanes in the cold wind that blew outside.

Moving closer, you set the bowl down. Gently as possible, you pressed a cool cloth to Five’s sweat covered brow. He leaned his face into your hand, whimpering.

Five may not have been starving from hunger like he was the last time he’d found himself stuck in the apocalypse, but the things he’d told you happened to him proved that for his entire life, he’d been starved of almost any kind of touch from someone other than people who wanted to hurt him.

After he’d laid it all out there, you realized helping him wasn’t going to be as easy as closing his wounds. His life started the same as the Five’s you had known, only his took many different turns, all of them bad, leaving him a broken man in the body of a boy again. Then, him saying that he'd lived nearly a lifetime alone with no one there for him but Dolores wasn’t even the worst of it.

That wasn’t what killed his spirit.

In his own words, even before that, he had all but given up, and he regretted that part of his life more than anything. He’d mistakenly pushed his family away. He said that there wasn’t a day as he rode his time travel train to nowhere that he didn’t think of them, and you, all the while wishing so badly he was able to go back and do everything differently.

Laying down next to him, curling your body around his as much as you could without hurting him more, Five’s body trembled, trying to heat itself as the infection gnawing at him raged.

“None of this was your fault, Five,” you whispered as you watched his face twist with pain.

The fire crackled, the only sound filling the room as you felt for his hand, your fingers slowly running across his torso until you found it at his side.

You threaded your fingers around his. “Just keep fighting, okay?”

Shivering, he squeezed your hand back.

U-Unexpected

It was the start of summer, and the sun was shining in from above as Five sat at one of the chairs pulled up to the table in the greenhouse. Breathing in, his lungs filled with the sweet smell of hundreds of ripening strawberries.

It had been months since those first pain-filled nights, and as the days passed it was becoming harder and harder for him not to lose himself to the growing contentment he was feeling.

It was entirely unexpected, but then again, so were you.

Like the twist of fate that made you stumble into him that day on the train, like something out of a dream, there he was listening to you obnoxiously singing along to the CD boombox sitting in the next room.

‘Y o, I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want-’

The selection laying around was slim when it came to CDs that weren’t too warped to play, but watching you shake your booty as you danced around the kitchen made Five totally forget that he didn’t like pop songs.

‘If only I could keep finding batteries that fit the radio… ’ he silently mused while fighting the urge to start belting out the girl empowered lyrics with you.

Five had an endless supply of scenarios running around in his head of how this morning could go, only one of them was him coming in there, sweeping you off your feet while he sang the blaring lines about making it last forever as he also slammed his body down and wound it all around on yours.

‘You gotta, you gotta, you gotta, you gotta!’ you sang, waving at him as you reached for another handful of green beans to snap.

Thinking about how just a smile from you made him feel hot, and how much he wanted to be your lover, and how he sounded nothing like you or the Spice Girls when he sang, Five stretched his bad leg under the drape of the tablecloth. His muscles still complained but the dull ache was nowhere near what it had been, and even better, he could walk without needing you to help him, or without needing a cane.

Looking over at Dolores who was sitting across from him, Five’s smile soured. “I hated that cane,” he quietly grumbled. “All I needed was a monocle to go with it and I’d have looked like some younger alternate universe jackass version of that monster.”

‘Reginald was many things, an alien included, but in the end, he did try to help you, and you in no way looked anything like him with your cane,’ Dolores reminded him.

Averting his eyes from hers, Five decided it was not worth arguing with her. If he kept it up, you were for sure going to hear it and he didn’t need that happening again. You’d been very understanding when he’d feverishly admitted way too many things about his relationship with Dolores, but…

Yeah.

Sipping the herbal concoction you’d so sweetly brewed him that morning, Five looked down at the old notebook sitting there. It was filled with equations that were very close to getting the math right for getting back, only he was not the one that had done them.

No. He was not that Five, and at the age of 20, like that Five had been when he almost figured it out, he himself at that same age was nowhere near it. At that age, he almost died of dysentery.

Five looked down at his own journal filled with scribbled notes about stains on floors, broken vending machines and burnt-out light bulbs.

Spreading his fingers, palms warming in the sun, just the thought of blinking filled him with that familiar buzz of energy he used to live for. But no matter how many times he tried to blink himself even a short distance across the room, he’d still find that it didn’t work that way anymore, and then he’d be flung out of his purple-colored portal into the subway tunnel where you’d found him.

Five pulled his hands back in his lap and slipped the strap back around the leather journal, closing it as he tucked it away.

He couldn’t get back on that train.

“The only thing I can promise you if we get on there, is that we will be lost,” he’d told you when trying to explain it. He could do that to himself again, but he couldn’t do that to you.

He felt horrible about it, but you never pushed him on it. You never blamed him. You always said it was okay.

He didn’t get it.

Then, after coming back to the house a week ago from another failed jump, something happened. Hearing him kicking stones along the road as he cursed like a maniac, you dropped your garden trowel, ran over, and hugged him.

Smiling up at him, you said, “Five, you need to stop this. You are breaking my heart all over again by looking so pouty all the time.”

Five knew you cared about him. He knew you cared about the other him, but past your caring about either of them in a way that was more than survival based and simply supportive and platonic in nature, that he couldn't figure out.

You’d told him so many things about the years you were with the other him, but when it came to the details, he could tell you were holding back.

Not sure what to do about it, but knowing exactly how he felt about you, that afternoon in the yard, not more than a few feet away from his own grave, Five had hesitantly let his hand move up your back, hugging you back. He’d never done that before.

He figured, even if you didn’t feel the same way, it wasn’t like you weren’t already intimately familiar.

You’d held him before…

You’d seen him at his worst, fully exposed, laying there in a bloody mess of tears.

He’d told himself that desperately clinging to the person that meant everything to him, even if he’d fallen hopelessly in love with them was normal. Right?

Fuck, he knew it wasn’t… and neither was having to roll himself out of bed almost every night, taking off like a creeper in the night under the pretense that he needed to take a piss, when really he needed to take care of other personal business involving him grasping his dick.

Worried about him, you’d come outside to check on him more than once, and you’d come very close to busting him beating his meat, but Five wasn’t about to stop sleeping by you if you were willing to keep letting him, even if that meant he was constantly waking up hard with his hands on parts of your body that they shouldn’t be touching.

Trying not to think about that, and if you noticed him accidentally doing that or not, instead, as the sunny sky shown down on you holding him like he was a big man baby, Five tried to focus on the feel of your head resting on his chest and how you were soothingly playing with the hair dangling at the nape of his neck.

Of course that wasn’t really helping, and because of that, he totally missed that you were up to something more than indulging him like you usually did.

Seemingly totally unaware of what you were doing to him, other than that you were turning him into a worthless puddle of goo, sneakily reaching up, you aggressively started ruffling his hair into a chocolatey nest of fuzzy tangles and unruly waves.

Shocked by the unprovoked attack, as you pivoted away from him, looking about as tickled as you could be over how easy it was to get him, Five’s mouth opened, but nothing came out, and that got you really laughing.

“Oh my God, Five, I love you!” you breathlessly teased.

“Whhh-ahh…?”

Taken by either his inarticulate reply, or at how ridiculous he looked, Five wasn’t sure, you came back to him, looking up at him sympathetically. “Five, beating yourself up over this isn’t going to change anything.” You gently brushed a piece of hair out of his eyes. “Maybe let it go for a while and just try to live a little. You deserve that.”

With that, you leaned in, your lips feather soft as they pressed against his cheek, then you walked away, leaving him dying to kiss you back.

V-Voracious, a wanting, devouring, feeling emotions to an intense degree

After that day, and the many others that came after your spicy Spice Girls kitchen bean snapping show of cuteness, Five did let himself live a little more, and you teased him even more, oftentimes tickling him into submission, and to him, it seemed like you might be doing it for nothing other than the joy of watching him squirm. But maybe not.

As you smiled at him from the other room, Five felt what had become his normal feeling of butterflies in his stomach and that pitiful aching in his chest. Doing the daily domestic things, like watching you change the bedding as he busied himself in the greenhouse, he could almost forget about all the bad things that had happened.

His family were out there, yet not. They were frozen in time as far as the space time continuum and his fucked subway time travel loop were concerned. It had been almost eight years since he’d left them, only hours from facing their demise, but to them, if he could get back, they wouldn't even know that he wasn't there to begin with.

In many ways, they were gone, not him, and it had been that way for so long.

If Five could have gotten back, it would start all over. He’d have hours to figure all this out, but he had nothing figured out in the way of helping them. That should have tormented him incessantly like it had before, but now, feeling like he had no other choice but to accept this fate, the last thing on his mind when he looked at you was the Cleanse, or other timelines that were about to be destroyed.

Even more crazy, he didn’t hate himself the way he used to and that was because you didn’t hate him for any of it.

Also, crazy, if he didn’t think you might knee him in the nards, he had half a mind to come over there and toss you on that mattress and show you that you weren’t the only one who knew how to play dirty.

He may not have been able to do anything to help his family or the rest of the world, but fuck did he want to show you he still had some fight left in him by putting those old bed springs to the test, rocking his hips into you to the beat pumping out of the tiny speakers sitting on the table behind him.

Watching you bend over to pick up your growing pile of linens, Five’s smile grew. When you disappeared from view, he called out your name. “Hey, why don’t we leave this work for later? Come out here and join me. I’ll let you beat me at a game of chess, and you can even use the unicorn charm as your queen this time.”

Coming around the corner, you dropped the laundry on the floor and shook your head at him. “I’m the one that lets you win, and we both know you are the magical unicorn around here,” you said, pelting him in the chest with a large berry you just picked from one of the bushier plants near the door.

“Sure,” he mockingly drawled, as he began to water the plants again. “You know I love magically fooling around with this cute little watering can all day because I aim to please the lady of the house.”

Five grinned.

“You know…with me being pretty much worthless otherwise," he added, not even looking as he pegged you in the boob with a berry.

The song playing ended and another 80’s song about rains in Africa started. Using the music to cover your footsteps, from the corner of his eye, Five still saw you coming. Just as you were about to come up behind him to rumble up his hair until he looked like an asshole, he turned, tipping the watering can over your head.

The dribbles he let escape ran down the length of your hair, a few of them raining down on your perfectly stunned face.

“Oops,” he said, grinning even wider.

“Was that necessarily?” you asked, trying to scowl at him, but clearly having trouble doing it.

“Yes,” he smugly replied as he casually set the watering can down.

“Why?” you challenged, your eyes following his every move.

“Because,” He reached out, slowly running a finger across your wet cheek as he leaned in, whispering in your ear. “Maybe I just wanted to see if I could get you wet.”

You no longer looked like you were about to burst out laughing.

Five knew he was playing with fire, but he couldn’t take it anymore. He had to know.

He glanced up at the boarded-up window above, then his eyes met yours again as he quietly said, “I’ll never stop being sorry that I am not him, but-”

“Five-” you started to argue, no doubt planning to tell him it wasn’t his fault that he died and that now he couldn’t get you out of there.

“Shhhh,” he uninterrupted, pressing a finger to your lips to silence you. “I’m not done.” His smirk softened. “I know he loved you, and that’s because I love you. The question is, do you love me too? Like this?” he clarified, lowering his chin, the tip of his nose brushing against yours.

“Five,” your voice cracked with emotion.

Your lips pressed against his.

The softest sound crawled out of his throat, moving up through his nose as Five kissed you back, innocent, and beautiful in his not knowing exactly how to do it but doing it anyway. His hand moved behind your head as he parted his lips, letting his mouth move against yours, his tongue just starting to play along your teeth, pushing for more.

From there, with your hands reactively moving up into his hair, pulling him to you even more, his kiss grew deeper and more desperate.

Coming up for air several minutes later, you breathlessly whimpered, “I love you so much, Five. I always will. I just didn’t know if you wanted this with me. You kept saying things that made me think maybe, but then you-”

Hearing that, he frantically started pressing kisses down your neck, then down to your shoulder. “Fuck yeah, I wanted this,” he said as he took your breath away. His trembling hands played at the hem of your shirt before he suddenly stopped and broke away, peering at you.

“Is this okay?” he asked, his hands tentatively sliding up over the cotton covering your back as his excited smile exposed more of his charmingly boyish dimple.

Your reply came with you suddenly lifting the material in his way all the way up over your head.

Speechless, Five’s intense gaze fell over your naked upper body.

“Holy shit, I was not expecting that,” he breathed. Recapturing your lips a few seconds later, he kissed you two more times, then, still trying to kiss you, he mumbled, "I have imagined doing this for so long, just ask the flowers by the front door that have been watching me jerking off every night. They know just how badly I wanted to see these perky tits.”

You started to giggle over that new piece of information, but that quickly turned into you moaning into Five’s mouth from the feeling of him sliding his fingers over your nipples. Encouraged by that, he continued with his ministrations, slowly and softly caressing you until you moaned even more.

When he released your lips, you let out a small whine at the loss, but you were quickly placated as Five moved his kisses along your jawline, stopping for just a moment to nibble on your ear.

“Gah- ahhh,” you gasped, it felt so good, and to that, Five bit down on your lobe, his teeth stinging your flesh as he pinched your nipples at the same time.

You squeaked, your legs clenching together even tighter.

Five let out a breathy laugh as his lips moved over your ear, seductively whispering, "Was that good?"

“You really are still the same cocky little shit you always were, aren’t you?” you shot back.

Nodding his head yes, Five leveled his lopsided grin at you. “Probably worse,” he admitted

“Take your shirt off, “ you demanded, hardly able to believe how silly and hot he was being.

Happily obeying, Five tore off his emerald green sweater that matched his eyes, tossing it over with your shirt on the floor.

“Better?” he questioned.

“Much,” you replied as your fingers began to graze his skin, exploring the hard expanse of his toned chest, down his stomach, delighting in the lean ‘V’ of muscle leading towards his hips.

As your fingers played along the dark, almost jet black trail of hair leading into his pants, dipping below his waistband, then coming back up so you could rub your hand over his crotch, Five shuddered under your touch, so you increased the pressure.

“So sensitive,” you teased.

Ignoring that taunt, his left hand quickly found your breast again and his other clamped onto your ass, giving it a hard smack before he suddenly yanked your skirt up.

“You have really been enjoying fucking with me,” he laughed, then said, “and what the fuck is this song talking about!”

With his hand under your skirt, his fingers moved slowly, massaging his burning handprint, and he didn’t stop punishing you there. Five’s fingers stopped just shy of the heat between your legs. There, he rubbed the elastic panty line lying along your groin as he smiled like a fucking jerk.

“This song is talking about a man and his love for a girl, but he’s torn between her and the continent he loves, and please, Five! Please don’t stop!” you begged.

“There we go!” he laughed. “Just what I needed to hear. Keep it coming, honey.”

With that, memories of another Five being ridiculously obsessed with you getting you to cry out his name, blended with this one and his equally interesting quirks and many miss understandings about things that to you seemed obvious.

Before you could come up with an appropriate comeback, your brain gave out on you because Five’s fingers slid under the thin panty barrier he’d been toying with, moving between your folds, determinedly pressing into your clit.

“Fuck, you are wet. I guess watering you worked,” Five mockingly groaned as he gently kissed the side of your neck, letting the smallest scrap of his light facial hair tickle you.

Giggling and squirming even more, he gave your neck a little nip.

“Hold still, damn it, I am trying to finger fuck you to this stupid song,” he laughed.

Hand still jammed in your underwear, Five drew you back with him, the backs of his legs bumping one of the chairs next to the small garden table.

Taking your hand off the hard bulge in his pants, you moved it with your other, shoving him down in the chair with enough momentum to make the legs cry out in complaint as they slid across the concrete. Not stopping, you crawled over him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

“I missed you acting all adorable like this,” you said as cheekily as possible, while laughing at his lustful expression of bewilderment.

Not about to be out done, guiding you up against him even tighter, Five wrapped your lips in a warm kiss that quickly escalated into a heady, deep kiss. It didn’t take long just doing that, and you were both breathing much harder than normal again.

Seductively pulling at your lower lip with his upper teeth, Five looked up at you with his mossy eyes softer than you’d ever seen them.

“From that first day I was with you on the train, you were all I wanted. I didn’t even know what I’d missed until then. I thought I did, but not really,” he said. “I don’t know why or how this is happening to us over and over, but I know one thing for sure and that’s I am never letting you go again.”

That was almost exactly what Five said to you the night he died.

Jolting you from the moment, a near paralyzing fear hit you like another slap in the ass, but then, just like so many times when Five touched you, the next time he brought his lips to yours, your entire body tingled with a whole different kind of all-encompassing feeling.

The air felt alive.

As you eased your body back into his hand that was tracing lines up and down your spine, Five’s lips closed around one of your taut nipples and his hand lowered between your legs, moving again.

“Yesssss,” you moaned, rocking your hips against his, driving your bottom down against his erection.

Pinned under your weight, Five whimpered and his cock throbbed with so much need he felt like he might come in his pants. Not wanting that, his fingers moved faster, slipping up and down in the cramped space of your panties, and that got you to let up on him, which was both a good and bad thing.

You arched your back as he flicked one of your tits with his tongue. Scraping his teeth along your peeked flesh, he sucked it back inside the heat of his mouth and you ground down on him harder than before.

Unable to take it, Five’s mouth popped off. “Fuck. Keep. Doing. That!” he groaned as he started with your neck and earlobes again, trailing sloppy kisses down to your collarbone.

Flipping your skirt completely out of the way with a whip of his wrists, Five slid your panties to the side with a quick tug, then the tip of his index finger gently started pushing into your hole.

“Mmmm fff, Five,” you whined, as he moved deeper inside you.

“So…fah-king tight,” he breathed, equally taken by the feel of your body fighting him. He looked up at you with adoring eyes, his worry coming out in his soft words. “You okay?”

“Yes,” you said, your body opening for him more and more each second a part of him was becoming a part of you.

Once he was past knuckle deep, you started to work your body over the hard length of his trapped cock again, totally destroying his pants as his finger started to fuck into you, in and out, hooking and pulling, doing anything and everything he could to get you moving faster.

“Oh, ffff,” you cried as Five, with no warning, added a second finger and then started to dip in and out at the same punishing rate as his thumb circling around your clit.

You pushed yourself against his hand, biting your lip as your body quickly coiled and tightened around him. “Fff-vvvv!” you cried.

When your orgasm hit a moment or two later, your wet gasps filling the greenhouse, he couldn’t believe it.

Your forehead fell against his. You slowly unclenched your fingers, your fingernails leaving half-moon marks all over his shoulders.

“Did I do it?” Five excitedly asked.

Still hardly able to open your eyes, you nodded, panting, “Fuck yes you did. Fuck, Five…”

With his cock about to rip through his pants, Five pulled his fingers from your quivering cunt, bringing them to his mouth. Smiling as he tasted you, slowly licking a few more times for effect, he said, “I can confidently say that I have never done anything as amazing as that, and you taste so delicious I might never eat anything else ever again.”

Laughing at the absurdity of that considering you knew just how much Five liked to eat actual food, and he could in fact do the unimaginable by traveling through time, even if he couldn't do it the way he wanted to anymore, on doe like legs, you climbed off of him, letting your panties slip to the floor.

“Your turn,” you said, straddling your magical unicorn, your hands already starting to unzip his pants to the sight of his approving gaze of god-like sexiness staring back at you.

Carefully pulling him from the confines of his pants, you’d only given Five’s cock a few gentle tugs and his smug expression was gone.

“Thank you for this, fuck, thank you,” he quietly repeated, his eyes about rolling back in his head as you lazily pumped him, making him leak even more glistening fluid from the tip of his cock.

Lost in what you were doing to him, Five fingers dug into the seat on the wooden chair.

“That feels so fucking good,” he groaned as you twirled your finger over him, spreading his precum to make your hand move faster as it dropped down over the long veins feeding his impressive length.

When you moved forward, guiding the thick head of his cock through the swollen valley between your legs, Five couldn’t take it anymore. Frantically pushing his heels into the floor, he reactively tried to thrust upwards, but it did him little good because he wasn’t inside of you like his mind was telling him he was.

“Ah-ah-ah,” you warned. “Slow down, old man. I’ll get you there, I promise. I want your first time to be special,” you lovingly cooed.

“This is pretty fucking special. I have waited over 70 years for this,” he growled, trying to hump up into you again but clearly only doing it that time to watch your tits bounce.

Shaking your head at the craziness of it all because Five looked nothing like his real age despite him being that old, with one hand on the back of his neck, your feet fell flat on the floor, allowing you the leverage you needed to ride him. With his drizzling tip pushing all the way up to the height of your belly button, you lined him up, then started frotting, pressing the hot length of his cock against your swollen clit in a sinful game of slip and slide.

“That’s right, baby. Let me fuck you,” you praised, already feeling that lustfully addicting pleasure rising in you again. Yanking his hair to further the fun, Five moaned, but he didn’t fight it, and that only turned you on even more, because you knew how badly he wanted to.

Five Looked like a broken angel fallen from heaven. His beautiful eyes were cutely drowsy as he watched you fucking him, the sweet feel of your sex, your body rocking in his lap, all of it felt like nothing he had ever felt before.

The fall sun was shining down.

The heat building.

The strangest choice for a fuck song was playing on the CD player, the band Todo singing their topical ballad as your bodies worked together to the inspiring rhythm of the drums.

♫ I bless the rains down in Affff-ri-cAAA!

Five shut his eyes.

The pure love and acceptance he was feeling made the shadow of doubt hanging over him from his own death and from his horrible past feel like it couldn’t touch him.

“Five, look at me,” you ordered.

He did.

One look at you as you rode, unable to fight it, he let out a guttural groan of unrestrained pleasure. Unclasping his fingers from the chair, he ran his hands down, under your ass, lifting and pulling with you, making you move your hips and hand pinning his cock down even faster as you fucked him against you.

He was trapped and so were you, but Five felt anything but trapped as your thighs quivered and the tension built more and more with each pass of his cock thrusting up through your pussy lips.

“Kiss me. Please. I need you to kiss me,” you begged, your words breathless as you worked hard to give him the ride of his life while he sat there like the king of the world, watching you buck and pant.

The second Five’s lips touched yours, you locked your fingers on him tighter, pulling him as close as possible.

Your nails scratched along his scalp making him fuck up into you harder.

The chair groaned in protest.

You brokenly whimpered into his kiss, and again, Five felt that strangely familiar burst of energy in the air.

Your head flung back. You’d reached the edge and tumbled over it again; this time he knew it and he’d never felt closer to you.

He cursed a breathy gasp, his lips parted against your chest as he pushed his pelvis up and down at the same faltering pace as yours. Pulses of his release, a creamy white heat of pent-up pain and love started to spread against the silky expanse of your body as Five moved his cheek next to yours.

Mouth against your moistened skin, he groaned and hissed. “Ahhhffuuuuucccccckkkkk-ffffff-”

A sticky mess between you as his balls twitched under him, still out of breath, Five peered up at, grinning like a fool.

Just when he thought he couldn’t possibly deserve more, you brought your hands to his face, running your fingers over his flushed cheeks as you tilted his chin up. “I love you, Five. It will always be you.”

You placed the softest kiss along his jaw, then down his sweaty neck. Five’s entire body trembled, as much from the gentle sensation of you showing how much you loved him with the touch of your lips, as in what it meant to him hearing you say that.

You said it again. “I love you, Five.”

Tiny shivers danced up his spine as a low moan resonated deep in his throat. Your mouth continued to move over him.

“I love you too.” He exhaled your name slowly as you moved your way back up to his lips, your fingers soothingly playing with his hair.

Right then, no matter how many times you let him have this with you, Five knew he’d never get enough of it.

As he told you, you were all he wanted.

Now, nothing else mattered.

W-Why

Autumn days of sunlit leaves floating down from above passed by, and with them, Five’s mind and heart were at peace for the first time in his life.

Nights with you in bed, hot breaths against each other’s skin as you explored new ways to love each other were everything to him.

Laying on a blanket, under the stars as the white plumes of your breath made clouds of heat above you, Five was in heaven even if he was in a world of crumbling foundations.

He even had the moon this time.

It was perfect.

You had the greenhouse and a roof over your heads, but you still needed to scout for other food options. Just like the last time he was in the apocalypse, Five spent hours on end each day, searching for anything he could use to help get through the harder times. But now, as he wandered down the stairway into the old subway station he hadn’t been to in months, the pressure of getting back felt almost non-existent.

Maybe he could trap something alive down there, he’d thought. Rats were awful but you weren’t picky, and neither was he, and rabbits had been hard to come by lately with the colder turn in the weather.

Just thinking about bringing a rodent in the house and acting like he slayed a dragon for you made him smile.

You loved when he acted stupid, and he loved doing it for you.

Feet quietly moving across the debris filled landing, just then, when it felt like nothing was more important than finding new ways to make you smile, of course that was when fate decided to prove he was wrong.

Noticing a strange mark on the floor at the edge of the subway platform, one he’d never noticed before because the light down there was so bad, Five pointed his flashlight down.

There was something scratched into the tile, and it was done so poorly he could hardly see it, but it was there, and it was no accident.

Bending down, he slowly traced the intricate circles and paralleling lines done in an interlocking pattern that suggested a mathematical projection of infinite sums, or better put, infinite outcomes.

His heart sank as his finger cleared the grim from the interdimensional map, or that was what he’d suspected it was the first time he’d seen it tattooed on the chest of the ancient version of him that was dying in the paradox proof chamber back in the Sparrow’s timeline.

Looking around, he saw nothing else. Jumping down to the tracks, Five ducked his head below the small lip where the electrical lines were hung. There was a box that some of the larger lines fed into, and it was directly underneath where the sigil was placed.

Reaching his hand up, blinding feeling around in the cobwebs and dead bugs, he felt something.

“No,” he breathed, looking down at the leather-bound journal, his eyes rapidly moving over the pages.

All of them were filled in, unlike the one he had back at the house. And even more shocking, this one showed the way to get back.

“Five?” you called out, coming down the stairs.

“Yeah, down here,” he replied, quickly shoving the book inside his shoulder bag.

~~~

Stretching his toes under the sheets as his body came down from the feel of having his dick pushing down your throat, Five dreamily looked down at you nestled between his legs

“I love your hair, honey, but I like it best when it’s like that,” he teased as you looked back at him, stretching your jaw, your hair a total ball of fuzz ball from you romping around under the blankets.

You smiled. “Fuck you, Five.”

“Fuck me, you say… Sure. I am game to do that again, only it has to be roles reversed until I can get it up again.”

You rolled out of bed, escaping before he could pounce on you and throw his face between your legs.

“Aww, come on. It won’t take long,” he whined, watching you trot away.

“I know,” you called back, blanket dragging as you tiptoed the cold floor out to the kitchen to get a glass of water from the cooled boiling pot on the wood stove.

Coming back, you passed by the fireplace, tossing a few logs Five had brought in the night before. Moving on, you stopped at the bookshelf, eyeing up the selection that had grown substantially since Five had gotten there.

Still lazily lying in bed, he smiled, knowing you were going to pick something and ask him to read it to you while you snuggled on him in bed until mid-day. He loved the bitter temperatures that had settled in because it meant time outside was limited and there was more time for this.

While crossing his arms over his head, looking around the little home that he shared with you, Five started to smile again. The shelves in the kitchen were covered with canning jars filled with the evidence of how hard you had both worked to prepare for the winter. While he was thinking about how the massive amount of work involved in living this way did nothing to diminish how happy he was, something over by you hit the floor with a thump.

Five hadn’t noticed you stepping up on a chair to reach the highest shelf, but you had. Now you were getting down, looking at what had fallen.

His heart was suddenly beating so hard it felt like it might rip out of his chest. Too late, he threw himself out of bed, snatching his pajama pants off the floor as he rushed over, one leg in, and one out of the cold flannel.

“What is this?” you questioned, rapidly turning the pages in your hands. “Five?” you said again, waving the notes you’d just found wedged behind the other books.

“It’s my journal,” Five said, still pulling up his pants as the worried line between his brows grew deeper.

“I know it is, but it’s not that one,” you said, pointing to the other on the table beside the bed. “This one is…It looks like you figured it out…. The key to the subway map is all filled in.”

You quickly turned to the pages that Five already knew were there, the colorful triangles and circles and squares and numbers that had made no sense were all noted with his handwriting, explaining what they meant and how to navigate them. Trying to make help sense of it, you’d looked at it so many times, but like him, you’d gotten nowhere.

Five reached for the book, and as if you’d lost all your strength, the journal fell into his hands. Your voice tremored. “Where did this come from?”

“I found it under the edge of the subway platform, next to the tracks.”

“When?”

“Months ago,” Five flatly replied, his voice coming out steady, even if he wasn’t.

Your eyes glossed over. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

As he looked into your hurt filled eyes, he felt like he was dying as he said, “You know why.”

“Five,” we can’t stay here pretending there isn’t something we can do,” you said, saying exactly what he knew you’d say.

“What can I do!” Five all but screamed, making you jump back, and that only made him look even more upset.

Ashamed that he’d just done that, his entire body shaking, Five’s hands came up, covering his face, the journal falling to the floor as he started to ramble, “I can’t lose you! I can't help them! I-”

He breathed your name, much quieter before starting again.

“If we go, there’s no telling what we’ll find back there. My family and I didn’t know what to do before I left, and I don’t know what to do now. Having you with me is the last thing I want if I go back to that place. Don’t you get it!” he cried, losing it again. “That timeline is just another like this one that will be destroyed, only this time, nobody is going to survive!”

“So this is it?” you quietly asked.

Five looked up and only then did he see the tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Isn’t this enough?” he asked, his voice cracking.

You came closer. “Five, you will always be enough for me, but-”

When you didn’t finish the ‘but’ and instead chose to wrap your arms around him, Five sucked in a panicked breath, his entire body shuttering.

Feeling worse, but slowly getting a handle on himself and what this meant, eventually Five forced himself away from the safety of your embrace. His voice lacked any signs of weakness from his melt down when he looked at you and said, “We are going back.”

X- X-factor, as in an exceptional quality or talent that sets someone or something apart. Not so much what the gang is displaying here.

Escorting you along the snow-covered sidewalk leading up to Diego and Lila’s house, trying to be optimistic, Five said, “Maybe they figured it out after all. Everything looks normal.”

Opening the door, Diego’s eyes widened as they moved from you to his brother. “What do you know? Five finally decided to join us and he’s not alone!” he called out just as Klaus came to join him in the entryway, shoving a handful of trail mix in his mouth.

“And who’s this,” he questioned, wiggling an eyebrow at you.

Five was still trying to introduce you when Lila came over interrupting. “Awwww,” she said, scowling at Five. “It looks like hell really did freeze over because you brought a real live, non-plastic date. You’ve clearly been busy, though not surprisingly busy doing nothing to help us figure this stuff out with Ben.”

“We don’t know where Viktor is, or Benny and his Jenny,” Klaus chimed in, “but that doesn’t mean this Cleanse stuff is happening. Dad lies all the time.” Looking puzzled, he looked down at the floor. “Actually, I don’t know what’s going on. Allison and Claire Bear just dug me up from a pet cemetery. I’m still feeling a little shaky about all that and for other reasons too, so I haven’t really been much help either.”

He glanced at Claire, and she smiled. “It’s okay Uncle Klaus. One step at a time We’ve got your back.”

Coming your way, dressed in a track suit that way too small for him, Luther said, “Hi, I am Luther. Not sure if Five told you about me.”

“Five, told me all about you. It’s so nice to finally meet all of you,” you said, smiling at Luther, then Five, who was already looking like his head might explode.

Luther turned his goofy grin at Five, giving him a not at all discrete thumbs up as he whispered, but not quite enough that everyone else didn’t hear it. “Nice job!” Suddenly looking confused, he added, “Are you together, like together-together? Not that it matters, it’s just Lila is right. You don’t date, and we’ve never seen you with anyone other than Dolor-”

“Woopsie,” Allison said, walking past, smacking Luther on the back of the head.

Letting out the breath he’d been holding, Five angrily spat, “She already knows about me and Dolores! And not that any of you give a shit about my life, but yes, we are together! I am madly in love with her and for some reason, she loves me back!”

“Ohhhh. I love this… When did all this happen?” Klaus excitedly asked, totally engrossed in the drama unfolding as he sat down on the couch with his bowl of trail mix on his lap.

“Recently.” Five heatedly replied. “And that wasn’t all I was doing, Lila!”

Five raised his voice as he glared at his sister-in-law but that only made her challenging smile even brighter.

“I have been gone for almost eight years,” Five raged at her. “I tried to use my powers to go back in time to save Ben but instead got myself trapped in the apocalypse again where I topped off that series of epic mistakes by getting shot by another me. I would have died if not for her being trapped in one of the apocalypses I ended up in, and believe it or not, that one was on me too! So go ahead, start lying into me about how this is all my fault! Sloane! Your discontent in marriages and your fucked up lives! The Cleanse! Everything! Let me have it. I have heard it all before!”

“I told you that you needed my help,” Lila irritatedly huffed, as she pulled a sticky chunk of red licorice off the front of her shirt.

As Five moved his bitter gaze to Luther, the big guy frowned. “I never meant to blame Sloane on you,” he said very sheepishly. He looked at the others for help but wasn’t getting any. “I am sorry… I was so… And I didn’t mean to-”

“Wait. Hold up…” Claire interjected from the sidelines where she’d been quietly watching the showdown. “You tried to save us, all by yourself?” She looked from her angry Uncle to her mom, clearly confused.

Allison smiled at her daughter. “Believe it or not, you Uncle Five is the most selfless jerk you’ll ever meet, and he’s right. We have been pretty awful about things since he’s been back, and that’s because like him, we are jerks whose lives are a mess, but that is not his fault.” Turning to Five, she said, “We love you, Five, and I couldn’t be happier that you finally found someone, even if it was in a place you never should have been to begin with. Funny how that shit works. I can tell you all about it and Ray would too if he were still around, but…he’s NOT.”

She raised her drink, pounding all of it as she flopped down on the couch next to Luther.

“I am sorry, buddy. I didn’t even know you were gone. We love you; you know that right?” Klaus said, coming in for a hug.

Just then, totally taken off guard because he was looking at you grinning at him with that, I told you so look he knew was because you’d told him time and time again that his family love him, Five was ambushed by his ghost whispering brother’s smothering affections, double cheek kisses and all.

“I am so glad your apocalyptic badass woman saved you, little guy,” Klaus gushed as you started to giggle over what Klaus had just called you, and at Five trying to get away from Klaus’s impressively strong clutches.

Ducking out of his grip, just then, Grace came running in. “Uncle Five! You have to see what Mr. Pennycrumb can do! He can blink just like you.”

“Hey, kid,” Five breathed, coming down to her level to watch as she excitedly flew her electronic dog around extra fast, hiding him behind the Christmas tree before popping him back out again.

As soon as his daughter was done showing off, looking serious, Diego pulled Five to the side. Just as fast, you were surrounded by the rest of his siblings, having gotten pulled down between Luther and Allsion on the couch, with Klaus on the floor at your feet, all of them firing questions at you about your time with their brother.

Scrunching his lips in a way that made his dad mustache look extra dorky, Diego said, “That sounded bad, minus the badass chick saving you part. You okay?”

“Perfect,” Five shot back, trying to smooth the rumbles out of his suit. Giving up, he muttered a few curses, then hearing something about if you were married or not, he looked over at you, tensely flattening his lips as the muscles in his jaw tensed.

He was about to angrily spout off on all of them again, but looking flushed by amused, you shook your head, warning him not to do it.

About to lose his mind and not sure what to say about the marriage thing anyway, Five’s mouth snapped shut.

“Oh, my God!” Lila cackled. “I think I love her already,” she laughed, nudging Five in the shoulder before coming over to you, asking, “Do you have superpowers too, because the way you shut down that little ankle biter without saying a word was bloody brilliant. You have to teach me that trick!”

“Ahhh. No powers here,” you laughed. “I think Five and I just have a good understanding of each other.” You looked at Five, widening your eyes comically at him because you could totally see why he maintained that his family were a hard pill to swallow.

“So... I did the CIA thing,” Diego said, moving right along.

“And how did that go?” Five breathed, overwhelmed, but trying to dial it back for the kid’s sake and yours.

“It didn’t. Turns out, it’s not for me. Lila and I had a talk, and we are doing better. My life with them means everything, I just needed a reminder. Thanks for giving it to me,” he said, looking down at his oldest, who was sitting on the floor in front of the TV. Slapping Five on the back a second later, he asked, “So, are you still the oldest virgin alive, or did you guys S-K-R-E-W?”

“That is not how you spell screw, dad,” Grace corrected as Diego pulled a condom package out of his wallet, then pulled open Five’s back pant pocket, stuffing it in.

“Just in case you need it, man,” he clarified as if Five didn’t get it. “Kids are great, but not sure you're ready for all that complicated stuff yet with you being a scrawny teenager still.”

“I am not a teenager!” Five raged, “I’m 26 for the 2nd fucking time, so that makes me 71! I shouldn’t be surprised by any of this, or you not getting that, but I am! And that means for a room full of people given powers not typically seen in any other humans, all any of us can claim is that we’ve excelled at being extraordinarily stupid! There is nothing exceptional about any of us! The world could still be ending in a few hours and Luther is over there shoving whole popcorn balls in his mouth!”

“Thaaairr-rrealleeegoo,” he mumbly defended

Unfazed by her dad being stupid or her favorite Uncle flipping out on everyone, Grace pointed at the TV screen, asking, “Is that Uncle Viktor hanging out with all those weirdos surrounding the mall?”

~~~

Hours later, blinking out of the way of the gigantic blob monster Ben-Jen thing, portal violently crackling, Five reappeared in the subway station, his back slamming back down on the cement as you landed on top of him, knocking the air out of him.

Heart racing as he choked on the air fighting to get back inside his lungs, with his useless gun still in his free hand, Five rolled over, pulling you up.

“I’m sorry,” you needlessly apologized, hardly able to walk as you clung to him.

Your head was spinning from the jump, and from getting thrown out over the second-floor mezzanine by Luther just before an arm like appendage of the Ben-Jen Cleanse blob latched on to Five, who had just wrapped his arm around you to blink you out of there.

Not stopping, Five helped you inside the waiting train, the doors closing as he sat you down, and then he joined you, staring at the ground as he gently ran his hand up and down your back.

“I am not abandoning them,” he said, almost a whole minute later, finally looking up.

“I know.” Feeling less green, you moved closer, lowering your head to his shoulder.

“I can’t save them in any other way but by leaving. I need to buy us some time,” he explained even though he didn’t need to, you were there. You saw it all.

Viktor tried to pull the marigold from Ben, but it was too late. They all had fought back, but they were losing badly. Like Five had told you in the first days he was with you, they were never meant to win.

His head dropped back against the side of the train as it swayed, aimlessly moving through the tunnels.

Five couldn’t even begin to pay attention to the stops as they came and went, another gloomy station of nothingness, and then another, and then another.

With no clue what to do, he sat in silence with your hand in his.

At some point, your mental exhaustion got the best of you. Slumping against him, you drifted off to the feel of his shallow breaths against your temple.

Y-You

“Five, what is this place?” you asked as your sleep filled eyes followed his towards the glowing sign that said, “Max’s Delicatessen.”

“I have no idea,” he breathed, cautiously stepping out of the train.

At the unexpected sound of someone saying your name, Five pivoted, protectively throwing you behind him.

The dark-haired young man you hadn’t noticed was sitting on one of the benches near the tracks laughed, then he said, “Don’t worry. I mean neither of you harm, and to answer your question since he can’t. This is the place all of us end up at some point when our time is up. That’s if we make it this far. Most don’t.”

Getting up, the suit-wearing stranger who was a mirror image of Five, folded his newspaper under his arm and strode your way, extending his hand.

“Hello again.” He gave you a charming grin, his eyes mischievously sparkling. “It’s been a long time, but I see that your pretty smile hasn’t changed.”

You hadn’t been smiling, but now you were, and that only made the Five at your side look even more hostile.

Unbothered by that, the other Five turned on the heel of his shiny dress shoe, casually waving you along as he said, “Come inside. We need to have a chat.”

A second later the steel bell hanging above the door rang and at least a dozen more Fives inside the deli looked your way, all of them eyeing you with open interest.

The Five you were following sat down in one of the open booths in the middle, gesturing for you to join him. Still shocked into a silence that was making you all the more nervous, Five moved into the opposite seat, pulling you in next to him on the inside of the booth.

The Five that had greeted you flagged over a waiter version of himself as he rushed by, and he swiftly leaned in, filling the cups in front of everyone.

No sooner was it poured, than next to you, Five picked up his white porcelain cup, tipping the entire contents back in one long slug.

“It’s been a long time since you’ve had coffee this marvelously shitty, I take it?” The Five across from you chuckled as the still hovering waiter came back around. As he refilled your Five’s cup, his fingers brushed past yours on the handle of your mug.

“Need some sugar or some cream in that, sweetheart?” he asked, as the dimple in his cheek deepened.

Your Five turned his glare at the Waiter Five. “She can get her own cream, so fuck off, and yes…” he hissed at the Greeter, “It’s been a while since I had coffee.”

Five was looking at the Waiter like he might kill him, so you squeezed his leg from under the table. After that, he took a much more civilized sip of his drink, but the warning in his eyes remained as they darted around the diner, meeting the curious eyes of all the other Fives.

“I am betting the lack of caffeine wasn’t nearly as awful this time around when you had such a lovely companion there with you in the apocalypse. She was with you, I presume…? That’s if your story parallels that of some of these other lost boys in here.”

To that, your exceedingly twitchy Five glanced at a very young looking Five wearing his Umbrella Academy uniform. He was sitting next to the door with Dolores. Staring back at the kid version of him’s baby face, Five’s own features pinched with confusion.

Seeing that they weren’t going to get any juicy details on his relationship with you, the Greeter said, “Okay, cutting to the chase then…?”

“Please,” Five cooly replied.

Obliging, the Greeter said, “Every one of us here tried to fix this mess and couldn’t. Now we are here doing anything we can to help the other Fives who still have skin in the game. Which are the lucky bastards like you. So, how can we help?”

Flipping his hair out of his eyes, Five asked, “Will going back to our first timeline and then jumping back to prevent Ben’s death change any of this?”

“No,” the Greeter Five replied.

“Would stopping the original Reginald from releasing the marigold in the first place be enough to fix this?”

“It would be, but we can’t do that. He didn't release the marigold on Earth. He did it on his home planet and then it got here many years later. We don’t have the ability to jump from one plant to another, and Reginald’s ticket here was one way. Doing that also means we will never be born. So again. No.”

With his foot agitatedly tapping under the table, Five shook his head. “What else is there that we can work with?”

The Greeter laughed. “Us. We are the problem.”

“Explain,” Five shot back.

Tiling his head to the side, the Greeter grinned at you then looked back at your Five and sighed. “The marigold that caused our births was the catalyst, and we were the by-product that never should have been. We set it all in motion by existing. Our births are what caused a ripple effect that split the timelines. They never should have happened, and because of that, we get an endless cycle of nature trying to correct itself.”

Five’s hand tightened around yours. “The apocalypse and the Cleanse.”

The Greeter nodded. “Exactly. Every one of them, and on and on it goes. We are at one million five hundred thousand, eighty-two tries to stop it at this point and we haven’t, but we are still going strong.”

He laughed at that, his eyes moving to the Five in the corner booth who was tipping back a bottle of whiskey with about half of it running down his chin.

“Well, most of us are still trying. Drunk Five, not so much,” the Greeter cynically added.

Not happy about that, the Drunk Five, sloshing his bottle all over his table started in. “You are missing shit as usual! There are things bigger in this world than new elements that can spontaneously create superpowered assholes and then later devour them for no good fucking reason other than an arrogant alien asshole named Reginald had zero foresight!” he shouted.

“It was Abigail who created it,” one of the Fives playing cards flatly corrected, while dealing another hand to the Five across from him.

“Whatever! Still an asshole!” Drunk Five insisted, getting even more worked up. “Real power has nothing to do with what they gave us! It’s in here, only all you self absorbed morons have no idea what it means to feel it!” he declared while trying to point a finger at his heart, but when he almost dropped his bottle, he ended up dumping booze on his crotch instead.

Looking like he was about to cry, the very drunk Five looked over at you. “I- I’m,”

He said your name, proving the Greeter Five wasn’t the only one who knew your name.

“I tried to save you. I tried to save all of them, but I didn’t see the right way to do it until it was too late,” he sobbed. He set his bottle down, ringing his hand through his hair as he looked down at the table. “I would have done it. I would have sacri-”

A Five wearing an apron stepped out of the kitchen, slapping a hand over his drunk doppelganger’s mouth as he said, “Zip it before you fuck this up royal, nob shine.”

Looking at you with a gleam in his eye, the kitchen Five bent down, whispering something in his captive’s ear, then having quieted the Drunk Five, that Five came over, placing his elbows on the back of your seat, joining the party, and again you were greeted with a smile and excited green eyes.

Reaching over to playfully twirl a piece of your hair around one of his fingers, the Five from kitchen looked to the Greeter Five then to your Five, saying, “Perhaps while you boys continue this conversation, it would be best if I take the lady in back to show her how I tenderize my meat?”

“Not a fucking chance,” your Five snapped back as you let out a small but very hysterical sounding laugh.

“Actually, that might not be a bad idea,” the Greeter agreed.

“She isn’t going anywhere with any of you!” Five fumed, standing up to get in the face of the kitchen Five that was invading the booth.

Someone in the kitchen who sounded like Five laughed, yelling something about soup and sore his meatballs, and just then, the bell above the door chimed.

A much older, white-haired gentleman with a mustache came in, throwing his hat on the coat rack as he took in the scene. “Jesus fucking Christ, why does it always have to be a freak show in here,” he grumbled.

The very young Five at the booth with Dolores tipped his margarita at him in agreement as your Five opened his mouth, starting to flip out again, but right then, the Waiter Five appeared from the kitchen, plate in hand, swinging by your table to drop a thick sandwich stacked with pastrami in front of the Greeter. “Here you go, extra sauerkraut, as you requested.”

The Waiter looked over at you, his wicked grin grew.

“Why do you always have to fuck shit up, Briket Five?” the Greeter snapped at the Five still playing with your hair. “Nobody wants to eat this shit covered in fermented slop but you!”

“Shut up and just eat it,” he replied while giving you a naughty looking wink.

“Brisket Five?” you asked.

The Five in question nodded. “Yes, but you can call me whatever you want, love.”

He got up and walked towards the kitchen, after your Five swatted his hand away, but getting him off of you made Five look no less pissed by the exchange. “We need to get you out of here,” he said as he started to slip out of the booth, but coming past your table, the old mustached Five nearly plowed down the Waiter, who then rammed into your Five blocking his path.

As he looked at the commotion going on at your table and all the Five’s sizing each other up, the older Five gruffly said, “Not sure what these morons have been telling you, but I am so sick of their shit that I am about ready to shove that mop up someone’s ass. Nobody is going to enjoy that other than Janitor Five, so I’ll give you some straightforward advice that might help us all out of this mess instead. Don’t try to save the world this time.”

The Five with the mop laughed. “True on both accounts! I’m down with an anal mop fucking as long as you go gentle on me, and when it comes to fucked up shit I haven’t tried, not saving our asses is the only thing I haven’t done, so I say yes to that too,” he shouted, then went back to moping the mess under Drunk Five’s table.

Mentally on overload, next to you, in his head, ignoring what the weird mop fucking stuff was all about with the Janitor Five, your Five repeated the words that had been haunting him since the first time he’d heard them coming from another much older permutation of himself who was dying in a paradox proof bunker.

Don’t try to save the world…

As if that wasn’t enough to shake him, still reeling with deja vu, the Drunk Five called over, “We need to destroy the marigold!”

“Please shut him up before he really scares her even more than h already has!” Greeter Five shouted.

With all the other Five’s too busy glaring at each other, the Drunk Five went on even louder, this time declaring his love for you, and because of it, you looked even more rattled by the chaos of all the versions of Five scattered around you, mostly all of them losing their shit or making lovey dovey eyes at you.

Coming out of the kitchen with a frying pan in hand, Brisket Five said, “Holy shit, someone should have thrown him outside hours ago.” A second later, he pulled back to swing, and a second after that, DONG! Drunk Five was lying face down, drooling on his placemat.

“To that, we agree,” the Greeter said, looking at you worriedly.

As if Brisket Five hadn’t just potentially concussed or killed the inebriated version of himself, the Waiter Five shimmied back into the mob around your table, refilling all the coffee cups, acting like all this was all totally normal.

Next to you, Five looked like he was about to blow a gasket. Unable to get out of the booth, he was about to vault the back of your seat and start stabbing out the eyeballs of the other Fives with his sugar spoon.

Coming over, Brisket Five said, “As you’ve noticed some of these lesser evolved douche bags in here aren’t that well-mannered, and Old Five is not much of a socialite, but he’s not wrong, and neither is Drunk Five over there. They are onto something, but our gracious Greeter here, and some of the others like to think there still has to be another way that doesn’t involve our way of thinking.”

“It makes sense that statistically, there is!” the Greeter Five growled, to the dickish brush off wave of the frying pan that Brisket Five just gave him.

After threatening the Greeter, Brisket Five, looking at you in a way that made you feel all sorts of warm, he said, “Did you know that there is a quantum entanglement thing going on between us?”

“There is nothing going on between you two,” your Five snarled.

“Sure, there is,” he reaffirmed, giving the Greeter a pointed look that made your Five and the Greeter suddenly look much less sure of themselves.

Coming too, looking even more upset now that he just got his head bashed in, looking at you, Drunk Five started rambling. “We have something that binds people through time in ways that no one will ever understand. It’s why we ran into each other in the first place, and it was why you were there to save me, and I was there to save you! It’s an inevitability… It’s as simple as that! We just need to believe in that this time and maybe-”

“It’s wishful thinking and we need more than that,” the Greeter interrupted.

Looking very annoyed, Brisket Five said, “There are some of us that like to pretend it’s horse shit based on fairy tales and lovesick delusional nonsense, but the concept of a love-based entanglement is very real.” He looked at you again. “No matter how far or how we get pulled apart in the mess of time, we will always remain connected. It’s like that with a love as strong as ours.”

“You don’t know her and you don’t love her! I do!!” your Five snapped

Brisket Five looked at the Greeter, both of them smiling knowingly, no longer looking like they might kill each other.

“Five, what is he talking about?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” he shot back, clearly so upset that he didn’t know what to say anymore.

“Sure, you do,” Brisket Five confidently replied. "Let me ask you this…have you ever felt things you can’t explain?”

Five nodded, yes.

Brisket Five reached across the table, placing his hand over yours as he smugly smiled at your Five while asking, “Have you felt it with her?”

Heat flooded your face.

Your Five said nothing, but he didn’t need to, the other him’s smile turned into a full-on smirk. “Has she told you that she feels it too?”

Five glanced at you, and the other Five’s all trying their best to charm you with their bullshit smiles that made him want to punch himself.

“Ahhhh-haaa,” Brisket Five laughed. “I suppose she might not have told you she has felt that invisible tether that pulls at her heart when you're there and even when you’re not, but Drunk Five’s stories can’t all be bullshit, and I can attest to it because I feel it right now. Something tells me that she’s the special one here, not us, and it has nothing to do with marigold.”

Pulling his lips to the side, looking upset, Greeter Five said your name, pulling your attention his way again. “Hey, why don’t we let them talk about all this crap alone? I am sick of the fighting, and I bet you are hungry for something that is actually edible.”

Getting up, he offered you a hand. When you got nothing from your Five other than silence, the warmth of the Greeter’s fingers curled around yours, sliding you out of the booth to join him.

Directing you towards the display case filled with pies, Greeter Five said, “It really is a lucky day. There’s one more piece of strawberry fluff with your name on it.”

Behind you, Brisket Five leaned into your Five’s ear, talking extra quietly. “Look, you’re the first to ever come in together, and I think that means it’s time to end this the only way we can. Our family doesn’t have to make it to the end to get what you want, just the people we love do. We are linked to them, and them to us by something none of us can explain but it is real. Maybe that matters, and maybe it won’t, but at least they will live, and this will stop,” he said, eyeing you as the other Five’s intentionally dominated your attention so you didn’t hear that part.

Your Five’s eyes widened as he realized what the other him meant.

“All your numbers and asshole logic aren’t getting you anywhere but here again, buddy. You need to let go,” Brisket Five added, trying to smile again but the sadness in his eyes and the pain he felt about it was impossible to hide.

Getting up, he left your Five alone at the booth.

“Just do as that old dipshit said to do this time,” the Five with Dolores yelled out, loudly slurping his margarita to the bottom of the glass.

“Why don’t you give me Dolores and you got stick your dick the pickle jar again and fuck it,” a particularly grumbly looking Five interjected before going back to scowling at his crossword puzzle.

“Five, what do they mean, don’t try to save the world this time?” you said, breaking away from Greeter Five as you came rushing back.

Just then, Drunk Five started in again, this time getting up from his booth, heading your way, cutting you off. “Don’t worry. We can help. We will come with you this time. Then-”

He almost fell, his hand swinging out to catch him on the divider between booths.

Dizzily looking at all the others, then you again, he said, “We will keep the Cleanse busy, distracting it, and we will get Ben and Jennifer out of it.” He looked at your Five, a silent understanding happening between him as he lied. “You get everyone back to the academy. Viktor will have time to pull this shit out of you, dump it, and then you get the hell out of there. If you win, we all do.”

Reaching down, instead of vomiting, which he looked like he might do, Drunk Five pulled up two heavy double barrel shotguns that you had no idea were sitting next to the mostly quiet CrossWord Five who was now also suddenly getting up, pulling two guns from his shoulder straps.

“I’m in,” the Waiter Five said, dropping his coffee carafe in favor of the potato peeler he just pulled out of the bin full of dirty dishes sitting on the next table.

Greeter Five walked over to the fire box, smashing open the case, pulling out the ax. “Fine, Let’s fuck that blob up,” he said while giving you an extra cute grin that left you even more speechless over how quickly they’d all came together.

Almost all the Fives were suddenly packing, Brisket Five included, grinning at you from over by the check-in desk as he twirled a large butcher knife around, pointing it at his head, trying to get you to laugh over how crazy they all were.

Drunk Five swooped in, wobblily kneeling at your feet, his puppy dog eyes imploring you to believe him. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.” Feeling drawn to him, as you shakily wiped a tear from his cheek, he said, “I won’t let you down this time.” Letting your fingers gently run across his temple, Drunk Five’s eyes fluttered closed, his long lashes fanning his cheeks. “I still feel it,” he whispered as that spark of something lit up inside you, his eyes opening to meet yours, his focus entirely on you, unwavering as he was in his heart. “We’ve got this, sweetheart, we always did. Just hold on to me, okay? In here. Don’t forget how much I love you and we will always be together.”

He reached up, placing his hand over yours so he could pull it over his heart.

As your Five slowly, almost hypnotically moved in, looking down at the other him with a heartsick look in his eyes, Drunk Five handed the much older, very resolute looking Five who’d also came over his other shotgun.

“Enough fucking around! Time to end this, boys!” the white-haired patriarch said.

~~~

“See you on the other side,” Brisket Five said, while giving you both a look that was nothing like his haughty expressions he’d been maintaining for most of the conversation inside the deli. To you, his small smile seemed to be saying something by saying nothing at all, then he ducked into the other train car that the other Five’s had chosen to ride in.

Stepping in the doors you had come out of when you got there, you watched them a car over from yours, all the different versions of the man you loved as they found their places to either sit or stand, none of them saying a word.

They looked like they meant business, like the violent ax swinging, hell bent on retribution kind of business, and it was a stark contrast to how out of control they’d been acting inside the deli.

“I promise, we can do this,” Five said, his eyes not leaving yours even though he was aware he had an audience in the next train over.

His heart was beating so hard. He felt like he could jump out of his skin but there was no way he was going to tell you that.

He knew all of the Fives felt it. It was in the air all around them, permeating every fiber of their being. It was the accumulation of all of it. The weight of their endless devotion to the people they loved, the pain of enduring so much for so long, and it was the bitter taste of so much loss and the loss that had yet to come.

You let your fingers trail down the gully between Five’s ab muscles until they touched his waist. “Five, I am so scared.”

He wasn’t anymore.

He looked over at the other car, then back at you, shaking his head. “We have about five minutes, give or take. What should we do with it?”

You said nothing, and tears started to run down your cheeks.

Five kissed you.

His eyes met yours right as you grabbed at his leather belt, pulling his hips against you.

“I need you,” he said, his voice breaking.

The smallest noise escaped his mouth as you snaked your body against his. The warmth of your body flooded his senses, tingling from his toes all the way back to his groin.

The rapid rise and fall of your chest matched his as you kissed him with equal desperation, shaking him to the core.

With a suppressed moan, Five took you by the shoulders, pushing you down on the seat. Coming down to his knees in front of you, making is where some of the others couldn’t see you, he settled his body between your legs.

He pushed your knees apart even more, then locked his mouth on yours again, his tongue thrusting inside urgently.

Clutching his shirt, you slid closer to him, until your hips met his.

Reaching for his pocket, Five closed his eyes and swallowed.

He pulled out the condom Diego gave him. Realizing what he was about to do, you snatched it and chucked it over his head, then immediately started unlatching his belt, sliding his zipper down to gather him in your palm.

“There is nothing that can ever come between us,” you said, nearly repeating what all the other Five’s had been saying but saying it meaning so much more than that.

Five’s body involuntarily fell forward as you stroked him.

“I love you,” he breathed. It came out unsteady, a streak of hot liquid slipping from his eye no matter how much he willed it not to.

You fisted the back of his pants, drawing him closer, the deed earning you a low mewl emanating from deep within his throat.

You kissed him and brought your legs up around his waist.

His pants, already undone, slipped down his thighs, catching in a bunch of material above his knees as his cock bobbed between your bodies, fully erect.

Five moved his forehead against yours. He lifted the bottom of your dress up as you swept a finger over his leaking slit, spreading the liquid gathering down his shaft.

He hissed with pleasure.

Unable to stop himself even though he saw Brisket Five peeking over his shoulder for a second, Five took his cock in hand, and getting ready, your hands moved down behind you on the seat to keep you from slipping backwards. You arched your back, letting out a broken whimper the first time Five’s cock slid up against you.

“Holy shit,” Five breathed in on shaky air as he rubbed his tip across your clit a few times, then he positioned his cock lower, his slicked thickness gently pushing and prodding as he worked it over your hole like he’d never allowed himself to do before.

“Fuck,” he cursed, because that was exactly what it felt like as he tried to sink into your warmth but the tightness starting to surround him instantly fought back.

Gripping his length with more determination, his hand trembling, Five pushed harder. Sweat breaking out all over his body, he felt the pressure surrounding the sensitive bulb of his swollen flesh as your body started to let him inside. He felt your body clenching repeatedly around him as it adjusted and even that was almost enough to do him in.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you,” he anxiously breathed.

Biting your lip as you tried to relax, looking up at him staring back through the dark strands of hair dangling over his eyes, you nodded, encouraging him along with one of your hands winding around his neck and your other sliding around his hip, gently but firmly pushing him to take more.

Five’s lower lip quivered as he did, his hand gripping his base moved out of the way as he opened you, moving so cautiously, as he forced your body to take him.

You sucked in a breath as his hips jerked forward just a little, then back again.

“Oh, fuck, that felt- Fuck,” he groaned.

He drove in, kissing you for just a moment before breathlessly breaking away again.

“We stay together until the end,” you frantically said, “You and me. If you go, I go.”

Five knew why you were saying this. He knew your heart was breaking, just like his. They were all trying to hide the truth, but you saw right through him.

You always did.

There was only a fraction of space between your faces. With your breathy words on his lips, Five whispered back, “You and me, always, love.”

He slipped out and then back in, bottoming out in one swift motion.

You gasped and he pulled back, then completely stilled until you quickly moved your hands down his back, pulling at his waistcoat so he was forced to dig himself inside you again.

“Don’t stop,” you begged.

One more small thrust in and out and again he buried himself full deep, jolting your body as his fingers dug into your ass, locking you to him as much as he could.

Like he needed air to breathe, Five needed to be a part of you in every way he could in the minutes he had left. Audience of horny Fives be damned. Your heart and your soul was his.

He had to bury his face in your neck to stem the flow of his breathy curses over what his body was feeling as it took yours, claiming it completely.

“You feel amazing,” he puffed against your skin. It took him a few seconds to regain himself, but when he did, you brought your hand up to his hair, slowly carding it through your fingers as you drew his lip to yours. Your kiss was soft and soothing. After a moment, his body reactively started moving again, and your kiss deepened, letting him know he should keep going.

Five pulled his hips back, withdrawing halfway before pushing back into your perfect warmth as slowly as he could manage. But as you started to lift your hips to meet his, his pace got faster, and more confident, and again it felt so fucking good that he had to pull back from your lips to breathe. He went for the skin at your neck instead, tasting it, licking you as he nipped and sucked and wildly drove himself into you with his hips rocking and his thighs thrusting forward, the tips of his dress shoes digging into the floor as he wildly plowed you.

Fighting the urge to let himself come, Five growled, “Fuck this world, and fuck all of them, you are mine!”

The cheers of the other Five’s hearing that, all of them unable not to notice the show he was putting on, only made your Five get louder, increasing the madness of it all.

“You are mine!” he said again, getting angrier, but also not, because his diabolically cute grin said something else entirely.

“Five!” you cried out as he fucked into you harder and harder, shaking your brains loose.

Out of his mind, but somehow still in control enough to bite back the pressure building, Five suddenly started to move in slow, deep thrusts that were sweet and intense, and at first, very calculated. That abrupt change got you moaning like he was slowly killing you, your fingers clawing at his ass as he undulated his cock in and out, deliberately dragging his tip back and forth where it made you cry out his name the loudest.

Despite Five’s valiant efforts to control himself and prolong the thing you’d both been denied for so long, he could no longer hold back when your heels dug into his back.

When he dipped forward, laying over you as much as he could while fucking you on edge of the bench, you kissed the hollow of his throat, your hot tongue slick against his skin.

Just like he finally knew what he needed to do, Five knew that no matter what, he would always have this, even if you didn’t remember it.

A weight lifting that he’d been crushed by for so long, wrapping his arms around your waist, Five lifted you forward with animal-like passion, bucking into you.

Like free falling, the heat of your release caressed his length as he continued to swiftly move in and out. You were lost, eyes closed, your mouth wide against his shoulder, silently crying out as your walls trembled around him, the feeling of ecstasy not letting up because he wasn’t.

Not until his rhythm began to break and Five could no longer hold back the rising tide did he tell you to look at him.

He locked eyes with you, his hips shunting forward in a stutter of broken motion he could no longer control. “You are the best part of me,” he panted as he started spilling deep inside you.

The whisper of his name on your lips served to move his hips once more, then as you cried his name, another spasm came to close his eyes as his body weakened and his face dropped to the side of your neck.

For almost a minute, Five stayed in that spot, waiting for his heart to slow. But all too quickly he had to withdraw.

As you were both righting your clothes, one of the Fives banged on the glass between the cars. “Button it up! Time to go!”

The train was slowing.

Placing your hand on his cheek as you fought back the start of more tears, you gave Five that beautiful smile that would forever touch his soul.

~~~

Before setting out of the train, Brisket Five put a hand on Drunk Five’s back as he said, “It’s been an honor watching you slowly trying to drown yourself.”

Pulling his eyes from the floor, Drunk Five looked at the other him who was holding the butcher knife and smiled. “It’s been awful eating that shit you call food.”

Swinging his ax to his shoulder, Greeter Five kicked the Five with Dolores on his lap in the ankle. “You watched the whole thing, didn’t you? Just look at your pants,” he said pointing to his crotch and the boner that he was trying to use their beloved mannequin to hide.

“What,” he questioned innocently while turning Dolores towards him, looking for support. “Can’t blame a guy for being curious… If you fuckers wouldn’t have gotten jealous and started beating off like a bunch of pervs over it, Dolores was game to join in the fun. Weren’t you, honey?”

Smirking as he pushed his back off the side of the train, one of the Card playing Fives let out a little laugh. “He’s got a point.”

“I am not going to miss you fuckers,” Old Five said, smirking at he rolled his eyes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Big Damnit here guys...

Okay so readers, I am so sorry, but Tumblr cut me off here and won't let me post more, and all we have left is Z!!!! It's so frustrating because it almost all fit on here. The end is worth it I promise, so please read it, it's not that long. I am not doing a separate post on here to end it because those get lost in the ether. So, please forgive me and head over to A03 to this link (Chapter 26, Z-Zion) to go directly to the final part of this story.

Long live the Umbrella Academy and its awesome fans. ❤️

Share your thoughts if you like but just know one way or another, thank you for reading this. It means so much to me.

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pedroscowgirl · 1 day

Text

Breaking the silence

Aaron hotchner x fem bau!reader

part one is here

Warnings: smut minors DNI

p in v (wrap it up), creampie, oral!f receiving, riding him, a bit angsty? (conflicted between spence and hotch), power dynamics (he's your boss)

lmk if i forgot something (i prob did)

summary: After much contemplation, you’ve finally made a decision about who you truly want to be with. Although traces of guilt still linger in your mind regarding your choice, Aaron has a unique ability to ease those feelings. wc: 7.4k

A/n: I'm so down bad for this man yall... also I didn't proofread this yet

The briefing room felt colder than usual, the soft murmur of voices blending into the background. The case details flashed on the screen, a series of abductions that led us to a small town in the Midwest. Normally, you’d be fully focused on the profile, mentally piecing together the unsub’s next move, but today, your mind was elsewhere.

Hotch was standing at the head of the table, his posture as controlled and rigid as ever. His deep voice filled the room as he outlined our next steps, but your gaze lingered on him longer than it should have. The way his jaw tensed when he was deep in thought, how his eyes would flicker toward me for just a second before shifting back to the case… It was impossible to ignore what had happened between us.

That night in the office—when the line between boss and agent blurred—kept replaying in your mind. The feel of his hands on you, the raw intensity in his touch, the way his control finally cracked. And now? Now it was like we were strangers again.

“Everyone clear on the plan?” Hotch’s voice cut through the haze in your head.

You blinked, realizing the rest of the team was already standing up, ready to move. “Yes, sir,” you mumbled, quickly gathering your files and standing.

As we filed out of the room, you could feel Hotch’s gaze linger on you, even if only for a split second. The air between you was thick with unspoken words, but neither of you had dared to acknowledge what had happened. Not at work. Not anywhere.

The case had you working late into the night. Morgan and Rossi were canvassing witnesses, while Reid was piecing together the behavioral patterns of the unsub. You were stationed with Hotch, going over surveillance footage from the surrounding areas, but being alone with him felt like a trap.

You hadn’t talked since that night. There hadn’t been time, or maybe you’d both been avoiding it. But the tension was there, unrelenting.

“We’re missing something,” you muttered, more to yourself than to him as you stared at the grainy footage on the screen.

Hotch remained silent beside you, but you could feel the weight of his presence. His stoic demeanor had always been a source of strength for the team, but now, it felt suffocating.

“You should get some rest,” he finally said, his voice low, though it carried that same authoritative edge.

you shook your head. “I’m fine.”

His gaze flickered to you, something unreadable in his dark eyes. “You’ve been distracted,” he said softly, his tone not accusing, but concerned.

you swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. He wasn’t wrong. You had been distracted, but not by the case. “I’m good, Hotch,” you replied, trying to sound more confident than you actually felt.

But then, his hand was on yours, a brief, barely-there touch that sent a jolt through your entire body. You glanced up at him, and for the first time since that night, his composed mask cracked just slightly.

“I didn’t mean for things to… get complicated,” he said quietly, his voice filled with a tension that mirrored your own.

you took a breath, steadying yourself. “Neither did I.”

For a long moment, we just stood there, the soft hum of the surveillance equipment the only sound in the room. His fingers curled slightly, brushing against your hand again, and suddenly, you couldn’t breathe.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” he said, but the words lacked conviction. His eyes were locked on yours, dark and intense. “But I can’t stop thinking about it.”

you felt your heart race, the memory of his lips on yours, the feel of his body pressed against you, rushing back with overwhelming clarity. “Neither can I,” you whispered, the admission slipping out before you could stop it.

His jaw tensed, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into his professional shell. But instead, he took a step closer, closing the small distance between you. His hand slid from yours, moving to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“I can’t afford to be distracted,” he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. “Not here. Not now.”

You nodded, though your body betrayed you, leaning into his touch despite the warning. “I know.”

But even as you said it, you couldn’t stop the pull between you two. There was something about Hotch, something about the way he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and yet still found moments like this, moments where he could let someone in. And now that you’d seen that side of him, you weren’t sure you could let it go.

Before you could think better of it, you reached up, your fingers gently brushing against his hand. “We’ll figure this out,” you said softly, echoing the words he’d said to you that night.

For a second, his eyes softened, and you could see the vulnerability there, the part of him that so few people ever got to see. But then, just as quickly, his expression hardened again, the walls slamming back into place.

“We have to,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

He dropped his hand from your face, stepping back and putting the distance between you again. The moment was gone, the heat dissipating as quickly as it had ignited. But you knew, just as he did, that nothing between us would ever be the same.

The team gathered for a debriefing the next day, the tension from the case still hanging in the air. But beneath that, there was something else, a tension that existed only between Hotch and you. You avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand, but you could feel him watching you, just as you watched him.

Spencer noticed your silence, giving me a concerned look, but you brushed him off, unwilling to explain the mess you found yourself in. After all, how could you? How could you explain that you were torn between two worlds, the professional and the personal, and that the man at the center of it all was someone you weren’t supposed to feel this way about?

But as the day wore on, and the weight of the case dragged you deeper into its complexities, you realized something: no matter how hard I tried to bury your feelings, they weren’t going anywhere.

And neither, it seemed, was Aaron Hotchner.

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

The flight back from the case felt longer than usual. The team was asleep, no surprise, given the weight of the case we had just wrapped. Except for Spencer. Normally, you would have struck up a conversation with him by now, engaging him in one of his countless facts or theories. But today, the silence between you was heavy.

He sat next to you on the jet, his fingers fidgeting with a deck of cards, absentmindedly shuffling them. You could feel him glancing at you, his hazel eyes filled with questions. You hadn’t talked about your feelings. Not properly. And now, with the growing complexity between Hotch and you, you felt even more tangled up inside.

"You’ve been quiet," Spencer said softly, his voice pulling you out of your thoughts.

you shifted in your seat, trying to force a smile. "Just tired," you replied, though it was a poor excuse. The truth was that you didn’t know how to explain the emotional storm raging inside of you.

Spencer wasn’t fooled. He’s a profiler after all. "Is it because of Hotch?"

His question caught you off guard. you blinked, turning to look at him, your heart skipping a beat. How much did he know? How much had he noticed?

"What do you mean?" you asked, keeping your tone neutral.

Spencer’s gaze was steady, though there was a softness to it. "I saw how he looked at you. During the debriefing, before we left for the case… There’s something between you two, isn’t there?"

The air between you thickened with the weight of his words. I couldn’t deny it. Not anymore. You had spent days trying to push it aside, trying to compartmentalize the emotions you felt for Hotch, but Spencer was right. There was something between Hotch and you. Something you hadn’t fully understood until that moment.

But how could you explain that to Spencer—the man who had been nothing but kind, gentle, and patient with you? The man whose kiss had felt like safety, like home, even as your mind was spinning with confusion about Hotch.

"Spence, I…" you hesitated, searching for the right words. His eyes were so sincere, so trusting, and you hated the thought of hurting him. "It’s complicated."

He gave you a small, sad smile, his fingers still fidgeting with the cards. "I figured. I mean, it’s Hotch. He’s… well, he’s him."

you let out a breath, grateful for Spencer’s understanding but also pained by it. He was making it so easy for you to talk to him, and that only made things harder.

"Our kiss…" you began, your voice quieter now. "It meant something to me. You mean something to me."

Spencer looked at you, his expression softening. "You mean something to me too."

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. "But I don’t know what to do about Hotch. I didn’t plan for this to happen. I didn’t expect to feel… anything for him. But now, I can’t stop thinking about him either."

The truth spilled out before you could stop it. The tangled mess of emotions that had been building up inside you was now laid bare between you. And the look on Spencer’s face—God, it broke your heart. He didn’t deserve this. He deserved someone who wasn’t so conflicted, someone who wasn’t caught between two people.

"I don’t want to hurt you, Spencer," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

He nodded slowly, his gaze dropping to the cards in his hands. "I know."

For a moment, the silence between you was unbearable. You could feel the weight of your indecision pressing down on both of you, suffocating the easy connection you had once shared. And you hated it. You hated that you had brought this confusion into our relationship. But most of all, you hated that I didn’t have an answer.

Finally, Spencer spoke again, his voice quiet but steady. "Do you love him?"

His question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. It wasn’t accusatory—it was simply Spencer trying to understand. But the weight of it made your heart clench.

Did you love Hotch?

you didn’t know. What you felt for him was intense, powerful, something you hadn’t been able to shake since that night in his office. But love? Was it love, or was it something else—something darker, more complicated?

"I don’t know," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I care about him. A lot."

Spencer nodded, his expression unreadable. He didn’t say anything for a long time, just sat there with his cards, his mind clearly processing everything you had just told him. When he finally looked back at you, there was a sadness in his eyes, but also a quiet acceptance.

"I’ve always known you and Hotch had… something," he said softly. "I just didn’t want to admit it."

The guilt twisted inside you like a knife. "I never meant for it to happen, Spence."

"I know." He smiled gently, though it didn’t reach his eyes. "It’s okay. I just… I want you to be happy. Even if that’s with him."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. How could he be so selfless, so willing to put your happiness above his own? you didn’t deserve that kind of kindness. Not when you were the one causing this mess.

"Spencer, I—"

Before you could finish, he reached out, pulling a strand of hair behind your face. "I care about you," he said softly. "And I’m not going anywhere. But you need to figure this out. For yourself. For both of us." He gave you a kiss on your cheek and you nodded, your heart heavy with the weight of his words. He was right, of course. you needed to sort through your feelings, to understand what it was that you truly wanted.

---------

The restaurant buzzed with the warm sounds of laughter and clinking glasses. You sat at the edge of the booth, tucked between JJ and Reid, who were deep in conversation about something scientific you couldn’t quite follow. Normally, you would have been engrossed, eager to hear Spencer’s detailed explanation of whatever fact he was spouting tonight, but your attention was elsewhere.

Across the table, Hotch was nursing a glass of scotch, his dark eyes occasionally flicking in your direction. Each time they did, your heart skipped a beat, your stomach tightening with the unspoken tension that had been simmering between the two of you since that night in the office.

You tried to stay focused on the conversation around you, tried to pretend like the heat you felt was just the warmth from the restaurant and not the lingering burn from Hotch’s gaze, but it was impossible. The way he watched you, with that quiet intensity, made it hard to breathe. It felt like he was silently pulling you toward him, and no matter how much you tried to stay anchored to the moment, you couldn’t escape it.

"Are you okay?" Spencer’s voice pulled you back into the present, his brow furrowed in concern as he looked at you.

You blinked, forcing a smile. "Yeah, I’m fine Spence, don’t worry."

Spencer nodded, his gaze soft and understanding. He knew you too well, better than you sometimes liked to admit. But tonight, there was no space for that softness. Not with the way Hotch kept looking at you like he was undressing you with his eyes, peeling back layers of professionalism you’d tried so hard to maintain.

You took a sip of your drink, the cool liquid doing little to calm the heat rising in your chest. You needed to step away—needed a moment to collect yourself before you did something reckless. Without saying much, you slid out from the booth, excusing yourself from the table and heading toward the patio outside.

The cool air hit your skin like a welcome reprieve. You took a deep breath, leaning against the railing and looking out at the dark street below, trying to calm the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. The evening had been so casual, so light, but underneath it all, there was this tension, this pull that kept drawing you back to one person.

"Couldn’t handle all the noise in there either?"

Hotch’s voice broke through the quiet, sending a jolt through your body. You hadn’t realized he’d followed you outside, but now, standing just a few feet away, he seemed impossibly close.

You turned to face him, your pulse quickening at the sight of him in the dim light. The way his broad shoulders filled out his jacket, the sharp angles of his jaw catching the glow from the streetlamp, it was all too much. "Needed some air," you managed to say, your voice softer than you’d intended.

Hotch stepped closer, his presence commanding, as always. "It’s been a long week," he said, his voice low and steady. "You did good work."

His compliment should have made you feel proud, but instead, it only added to the tension. The way he said it, the way his eyes lingered on you, it wasn’t just about the case. There was more behind his words.

"Thanks," you replied, your breath catching slightly as he moved even closer, his body now just inches from yours.

The night air suddenly felt too warm, your skin prickling with the awareness of how close he was, how easily you could reach out and touch him. You shouldn’t. You knew that. But the temptation was overwhelming.

His gaze dropped briefly to your lips, and when he looked back up, there was a heat in his eyes that made your knees weak. "We shouldn’t be out here alone," he murmured, though there was no real conviction in his voice.

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the pull between you both growing stronger, the line between what was right and what you wanted blurring more with each passing second. "Maybe we shouldn’t," you whispered, your voice barely audible, but you didn’t move.

Neither did he.

The space between you felt charged, electric. Your body hummed with anticipation, every inch of you hyperaware of how close he was, how much you wanted to close the gap. His hand brushed against yours, and the simple contact sent a shockwave through you, your breath hitching in your throat.

"Hotch…" you started, but the words caught in your throat as his fingers curled around your wrist, pulling you gently toward him. The touch was subtle, controlled, but it was enough to break whatever restraint you’d been holding onto.

You found yourself pressed against the railing, Hotch standing over you, his gaze dark and intense. His hand slid up your arm, leaving a trail of heat in its wake as he moved closer, his body almost flush against yours. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the sheer presence of him overwhelming your senses.

"We can’t keep doing this," he whispered, but the way his breath ghosted over your skin told you he didn’t really mean it.

You swallowed hard, your heart racing as his face inched closer to yours. You could feel his breath, warm and steady, brushing against your lips. "Then why are you here?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with tension, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, might retreat back behind the walls of professionalism he always kept up. But instead, he leaned in, his lips just barely grazing yours.

"Because I can’t stay away from you," he admitted, his voice raw and low.

The confession sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could think better of it, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips against his.

The kiss was slow at first, tentative, like you were both testing the waters, but the moment his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer, everything else faded away. The world around you disappeared, and all that was left was the feel of his mouth on yours, the heat of his body pressing against you.

Your hands found their way to his chest, fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as the kiss deepened, all the tension that had been building between you finally breaking. His lips moved with a fierce intensity, like he had been holding back for far too long, and now there was no stopping it.

His hands roamed over your body, exploring with a confidence that made your heart race even faster. Every touch, every press of his fingers against your skin, set you on fire, the overwhelming need for him consuming you.

You gasped softly as his mouth moved to your neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along your skin, sending a wave of heat through your body. Your head fell back, giving him better access as his hands tightened on your waist, pulling you even closer.

"Hotch…" you breathed, barely able to form the words as he continued to kiss you, his hands sliding under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers across your skin.

"We shouldn’t do this here" he muttered again against your skin, but the way his body pressed against yours, the way his breath came faster, told you neither of you were stopping.

The sound of laughter broke through the fog in your mind, pulling you back to reality for a moment. You suddenly remembered where you were. the team just inside the restaurant, Spencer probably wondering where you had gone.

You pulled back slightly, your breath shaky as you looked up at Hotch. His eyes were dark, filled with a hunger that made your pulse quicken all over again, but there was a flicker of hesitation there too.

"Spencer’s going to wonder…" you trailed off, not finishing the thought, the guilt creeping in.

Hotch’s jaw tensed, his hands still resting on your hips. "I know," he said quietly, but his gaze remained fixed on yours, filled with a conflict that mirrored your own.

You wanted him. You wanted him more than you had ever wanted anyone. But as you stood there, Hotch’s hands still on your body, the heat between you still burning, you realized that no matter what choice you made, things would never be the same again.

The cool night air still clung to your skin as you stepped back into the restaurant, your pulse racing from the kiss you had just shared with Hotch. Every inch of you still felt electrified, your body buzzing from the intensity of the moment. You were trying to play it cool, act as if nothing had happened, but it was hard when your heart was pounding in your chest, and the heat of Hotch’s touch still lingered on your skin.

You glanced sideways at Hotch as he walked next to you, his face composed but his jaw tight. Neither of you spoke a word as you rejoined the team, but the silence between you was filled with unspoken tension. It was as if everyone in the room could sense that something had shifted.

Morgan was the first to notice. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms with a playful grin. "Well, well, look who finally decided to come back," he teased, his eyes darting between you and Hotch. "What were you two doing out there? Planning world domination?"

You forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as shaky as you felt. "Just needed some air," you replied, sliding into your seat next to Spencer, who was watching you with quiet curiosity.

Hotch didn’t respond. He simply took his place back at the head of the table, picking up his glass of scotch as if nothing had happened. But you could feel his presence, strong, commanding, and impossibly close, even though there was now a table between you.

Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying your casual response. "Air, huh? Looked a little more intense than that." His teasing tone carried an edge of curiosity that made your stomach twist.

You shot him a quick glare, trying to will the heat creeping up your neck to disappear. "Just some air, Morgan. You’re reading too much into it."

Before Morgan could press further, Garcia piped up, her bright voice cutting through the tension. "Come on, Derek, leave them alone. Not everyone needs to be in on your gossip." She shot you a wink, though there was a hint of curiosity in her eyes too.

Spencer smiled at you, but his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer, as if searching for the truth beneath your words. His kindness, his understanding, made your heart ache. But the guilt that twisted inside you wasn’t enough to erase the pull you felt toward Aaron. The two men couldn’t have been more different, and yet, you found yourself caught between them, unable to make sense of your own feelings.

Morgan, sensing the shift in the atmosphere, leaned forward, his playful smirk returning. "Well, whatever you were doing out there, just know we all have bets going about who’s sneaking off with who tonight."

JJ shot him a look of exasperation. "Derek."

"What? I’m just saying. We all see how you two keep sneaking off," he said with a grin, his eyes darting between you and Hotch.

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. "It’s nothing like that, Morgan."

But your words felt hollow, especially when Hotch’s gaze flickered briefly in your direction. The weight of what had happened outside was too fresh, too raw, and you could feel the shift in energy between you both, even if no one else knew the truth.

Morgan was still watching you with a knowing smirk, clearly not convinced by your attempts to brush him off. He leaned in closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "Come on, something’s up. You’ve been acting weird all night."

You glanced at him, trying to think of something, anything, to say that would get him off your back. But before you could respond, Hotch’s deep voice cut through the noise.

"Morgan, leave it."

The command was calm, but firm. It wasn’t a request. Morgan straightened up in his seat, raising his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright, I’ll drop it." He shot you a quick glance, his curiosity still simmering just beneath the surface, but he let it go—for now.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, grateful for Hotch’s intervention but also hyper-aware of how close you had come to unraveling under Morgan’s scrutiny.

Spencer’s hand brushed against yours under the table, a small, innocent touch that made your heart clench. You turned to him, his soft gaze meeting yours. He didn’t say anything, but his presence was steady, grounding you in a way that made you feel both comforted and guilty at the same time.

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

You were barely out of your clothes and into your pajamas when the knock echoed through the quiet of your hotel room. For a moment, you considered ignoring it. You were too exhausted to deal with any more emotional turmoil, but something—someone—pulled you toward the door.

When you opened it, Hotch stood there, his expression neutral as always, but there was something about the way he looked at you tonight. His jaw was tight, his eyes searching yours in a way that made your heart skip a beat.

"Hotch?" you asked, confused by his sudden appearance. "What’s going on?"

He hesitated for a moment, his hand gripping the doorframe as if steadying himself. "Can I come in?" he asked, his voice low and controlled, but there was an edge to it, something unspoken beneath the surface.

You stepped aside, letting him in. The door clicked shut behind him, the soft hum of the hotel room suddenly feeling deafening. You could feel the tension radiating off of him, but you had no idea what had brought him here tonight.

He stood in the middle of the room, his hands at his sides, his posture rigid. "I saw what happened on the plane," he said finally, his voice calm, but you could hear the weight in his words. "With Spencer."

Your breath caught in your throat. Spencer had kissed your cheek after your conversation, a simple gesture of affection, but it had felt like so much more in the moment. You hadn’t realized Hotch had seen it.

"Hotch, I—"

He cut you off, his voice still infuriatingly neutral. "I think you should be with Spencer."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. His tone was so matter-of-fact, so calm, but the look in his eyes told you he wasn’t unaffected by this. For a man who always kept his emotions tightly locked away, there was a flicker of something vulnerable in his gaze now, something you hadn’t seen before.

You stared at him, your heart racing. "What?" you whispered, stepping closer to him. "Hotch, no…"

He clenched his jaw, his eyes flickering away from yours for the briefest moment before returning to your face. "He cares about you. I saw the way he looks at you, and I saw how you two talked on the plane. He kissed you." His voice was steady, but there was something underneath it—something raw. "Spencer can give you what you need. What I can't."

His words twisted inside of you, confusion and frustration bubbling to the surface. How could he think that? After everything that had happened between you, after all the tension and moments you had shared, how could he believe you’d choose someone else?

"Hotch, you don’t understand," you said, your voice trembling slightly. You took another step closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm, desperate to make him see what he was missing. "I want you. That’s what I told Spencer."

The silence between you felt thick, charged with emotions you could no longer ignore. His eyes softened just slightly, the stoic façade he always wore cracking at the edges.

"I told him," you continued, your voice gaining strength. "I told him that I care about him, but it’s you. It’s always been you."

For a moment, he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He just stood there, staring at you like he wasn’t sure if he should believe you. But then, his hands slid up to your waist, and the tension between you snapped like a rubber band stretched too far.

Without another word, you leaned in, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss that was filled with all the frustration, the longing, the desire you had been holding back for so long. It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was desperate, like you hadn’t kissed him in ages, like you were trying to prove everything you couldn’t put into words.

Hotch responded immediately, his grip on your waist tightening as he pulled you closer, his lips moving against yours with a hunger that made your knees weak. His hands roamed over your body, exploring with a need that mirrored your own, his touch igniting a fire inside you that you hadn’t been able to extinguish since the first time you kissed.

His body pressed against yours, pinning you gently against the door as his mouth devoured yours, the tension that had been simmering between you finally finding release. You moaned softly into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his hair as his hands slid under your shirt, his touch hot against your skin.

"Hotch," you gasped, pulling back just enough to catch your breath, but he didn’t give you time to recover. His lips were on your neck, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat, making your pulse race.

"I shouldn’t want this," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough and filled with restraint. "But I do. God, I do."

His confession sent a shiver down your spine, and you arched into him, your body pressing against his in a way that left no space between you. "Then don’t stop," you whispered, your voice breathless as your hands roamed over his chest, feeling the heat of him through his shirt.

Hotch groaned softly, his hands sliding up your waist and over your hips, pulling you even closer. His fingers dug into your skin, his touch possessive, as if he couldn’t get enough of you.

You kissed him again, hard and hungry, your lips moving against his with a desperation that mirrored his. The tension between you had finally reached its breaking point, and now, there was no turning back. His hands were everywhere—on your waist, your hips, your back—exploring every inch of you with a need that made your head spin.

Your shirt was pushed up, his hands sliding under the fabric to touch your bare skin, the warmth of his touch sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You gasped softly as his fingers brushed against the curve of your waist, your entire body responding to him in ways you couldn’t control.

"Hotch…" you whispered, your voice trembling with desire.

“What is it, sweetheart?” he answered in that deep, sexy voice that made your whole body heat up.

"I need you so badly."

His eyes darkened at your words, and without hesitation, he scooped you up effortlessly and laid you down on the bed. The way he moved—so strong, so sure—made your heart race even faster. He hovered over you for a moment, his eyes trailing over your body, before his hands moved to the hem of your shirt, tugging it up and over your head.

You felt exposed under his gaze, but it only added to the excitement coursing through you. His lips found the soft skin of your neck, kissing, nipping, and trailing lower with each breath. When his mouth reached the swell of your breasts, he paused, looking up at you with a smirk that sent a wave of heat through your core.

“God, your tits are so hot,” he murmured, his voice rougher than usual, and it took you by surprise. You were so used to his professional, composed demeanor that this raw, vulgar side of him was both shocking and incredibly arousing.

The dirty words made your body respond instantly, a fresh wave of wetness pooling between your thighs.

His mouth latched onto your nipple, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud before pulling it between his lips. A gasp escaped your throat, and your hand flew to his hair, tangling your fingers in the soft strands as he groaned against your skin. The vibration of his voice against your breast sent shivers down your spine.

He alternated between your breasts, his hands kneading your flesh while his mouth worked you over, sucking and kissing every inch of you until your entire body was humming with desire. His hands were warm and firm, and every touch sent sparks of pleasure through you, heightening the need that had been building between you all night.

When he finally moved lower, kissing down your stomach with a trail of soft, open-mouthed kisses, your heart pounded in anticipation. He paused when he reached the waistband of your shorts, looking up at you with that devilish smirk again.

“Can I?” he asked, his voice soft, but filled with desire.

“Yes, please,” you breathed, unable to hide the desperation in your voice.

He hooked his fingers into your shorts, pulling them down slowly, torturously, and when he revealed your white lace underwear, his eyes lit up with amusement.

“You knew I was coming here tonight?” he teased, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill through you.

You smiled up at him, biting your lip as you watched him. “Maybe,” you whispered, the teasing tone in your voice barely masking the fact that your body was already aching for him.

He groaned softly, his hands brushing over your hips before he slowly dragged your underwear down your legs, tossing them aside. His eyes lingered on you for a moment, dark and intense as they took in every inch of your naked body. The way he looked at you made you feel like you were the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice so low it sent shivers down your spine.

And then, without another word, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh, his lips soft against your skin. Your breath hitched, anticipation building as he moved closer to your center, teasing you, making you wait. His hands slid up your legs, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and when his mouth finally met your core, you gasped, your hips jerking toward him instinctively.

Hotch groaned against you, his tongue working slowly, deliberately, as if he was savoring every moment. The heat of his mouth was overwhelming, and the way his tongue circled your clit had your entire body trembling.

“Oh God, Hotch,” you moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair again as your back arched off the bed. The pleasure was intense, almost too much, but you couldn’t get enough. Every stroke of his tongue sent you higher, building the tension inside you until you thought you might explode.

He gripped your thighs, pulling you closer as he buried his face deeper between your legs, his tongue working you over with expert precision. You were already so close, your body teetering on the edge of release, and when he slid two fingers inside you, curling them just right, you were done for.

The pressure inside you built to a breaking point, and with a cry of his name, you came hard, your entire body shaking with the force of your orgasm. Hotch didn’t stop, his tongue and fingers working you through your release, prolonging the pleasure until you were completely spent.

Your breath came in ragged gasps as you collapsed back against the bed, your body still trembling from the aftershocks. Hotch slowly pulled away, his mouth and fingers leaving your body as he kissed his way back up your stomach, over your breasts, and finally to your lips.

You kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. The fire between you hadn’t dimmed, it had only just begun.

“I need you,” you whispered against his lips, your voice still trembling from the intensity of your orgasm.

Hotch groaned softly, his hands sliding up your body as he positioned himself over you. “You have me,” he replied, his voice thick with desire.

And with a fluid motion, Hotch gripped your waist and pulled you on top of him, flipping your positions in one swift move. You straddled him, your thighs resting on either side of his hips as you looked down at him. The sight of him lying beneath you, his chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, his eyes dark and full of lust, made your pulse quicken. He seemed so in control and yet, completely undone by the sight of you.

You reached for his tie, slowly loosening the knot. Your fingers trembled as you slid it free, tossing it aside before your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt. You took your time, savoring the moment as you unbuttoned each one, revealing more of his chest with every flick of your fingers. When his shirt was fully undone, you pushed it open, running your hands over the firm muscles of his chest, your palms lingering over the warmth of his skin.

A low growl rumbled in his chest as you leaned down, pressing your lips to his skin, kissing and sucking at the exposed flesh. You trailed your mouth from his collarbone down to his chest, leaving small, dark marks in your wake. His breath hitched, and you felt his hands slide up your thighs, gripping them tightly as he groaned.

"Fuck, naughty girl," he muttered, his voice dripping with desire. His grip tightened in your hair, tugging your head back just slightly so he could look into your eyes. "You wanna mark me up, huh?"

The man who was always so stern, so composed, had completely unraveled beneath you, and you reveled in the control you had over him.

Your lips curved into a sly smile. "Maybe I do," you teased, your breath hot against his skin.

His eyes darkened even more, filled with a raw hunger that sent your heart racing. Without another word, he pulled you down, crashing his lips against yours in a kiss that was all heat and desperation. His tongue found yours, demanding and unrelenting, and you moaned softly into his mouth as your body melted into his.

His hands slid from your hair to your waist, gripping you firmly as he kissed you deeper. You could feel the hardness of him beneath you, and the anticipation of what was to come made your entire body throb with need.

"Ride me," he commanded, his voice low and full of desire. The authority in his tone sent a thrill through you, making your stomach flip with excitement.

Without breaking eye contact, you reached down, your fingers working to unbutton and unzip his pants. You tugged them down just enough to free him, and your breath caught in your throat when you saw him, thick, hard, and more than ready for you. The sheer size of him made your body clench with anticipation.

You couldn’t wait any longer. You positioned yourself above him. And as you lowered yourself onto him, the stretch was immediate and intense. He was so big, filling you up completely, and you gasped as the sensation took over, your nails digging into his chest as you tried to catch your breath.

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips as he watched you intently. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with restraint. "You feel so good."

You paused for a moment, needing to adjust to the fullness of him. The pressure of having him so deep inside you made your head spin, and you bit your lip, trying to steady yourself. The pleasure was overwhelming, but you needed a second before you could move.

But Hotch wasn’t in the mood to wait.

His hands gripped your hips more tightly, and with a low growl, he began to move you, guiding your body up and down his length. The sudden movement made you cry out in pleasure, your hands bracing against his chest as your body rocked with his.

"Aaron…" you whimpered, your voice barely more than a gasp as the sensation of him inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body. The stretch, the fullness, the way he hit every perfect spot inside you, it was too much and not enough all at once.

He groaned, his grip on your hips tightening as he set the pace, thrusting up into you as he moved you on top of him. "God, you’re so tight," he growled, his voice rough and filled with a raw intensity that made your entire body tremble. "Look at you, taking me so well…"

You couldn’t respond, your mind was too clouded with pleasure, your body completely lost in the sensation of him filling you over and over again. Every time he thrust into you, it sent a bolt of electricity through your core, making your thighs quiver and your breath come in ragged gasps.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from pain but from the overwhelming pleasure that was building inside you, threatening to consume you whole. "Hotch," you gasped, your head falling back as your body rocked against his. The tension inside you was coiling tighter and tighter, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge.

His hands slid up your waist, guiding you with steady, relentless movements as he watched you with hooded eyes. "Come on, sweetheart," he murmured, his voice low and rough. "You gonna come for me?"

The words sent you spiraling. The intensity of his gaze, the heat of his hands on your body, the sheer pleasure of having him so deep inside you, it was too much. Your body tensed, your thighs trembling as the wave of your orgasm crashed over you.

"Aaron!" you cried out, your body convulsing as you came hard, the pleasure so intense that it left you shaking. Your hips bucked against his, your nails digging into his chest as your vision blurred, and all you could feel was him.

He groaned, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he thrust up into you harder, faster, chasing his own release. His muscles tensed beneath you, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps as he reached his peak. "Fuck…" he growled, his hands digging into your hips as he came, his release filling you completely.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, both of you too caught up in the aftermath of your pleasure to speak. Your body was still trembling, your breath coming in shallow gasps as you collapsed onto his chest, your head resting against him as you tried to steady yourself.

Hotch’s arms wrapped around you, holding you close as his chest rose and fell beneath you. His hands slid up and down your back in slow, soothing strokes, his breath still heavy in your ear. "You’re incredible," he whispered, his voice soft, almost tender.

You smiled against his skin, your body still buzzing with the aftershocks of your orgasm. "So are you," you replied, your fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest as you caught your breath.

Hotch’s hand came up to cup your face, tilting your chin so you could look into his eyes. There was a softness there, a vulnerability that made your heart ache. "You mean so much to me," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "More than you know."

You felt your chest tighten, the weight of his words settling over you. "I feel the same way," you admitted, your voice barely more than a whisper.

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