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kaybreezy3000 · 3 days ago

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The Reason ~A Five Hargreeves/Female Reader Insert request (Complete)

Rated Mature for Explicit Sexual Content (20k word one-shot with 10 fast paced chapters)

Anonymous asked:

Please just give me the smuttiest enemies to friends to lovers, with some breeding kink PLEASEEE 🧍‍♀️🙏🏻

KayBreezy's reply: Okay. 😂 Done. See Below to read this wild adventure.

~Tags and Warnings: feral Five, soft Five angst, family fluff, flirting, humor, rough sex, story with plenty of smutty smut but it needs to build to get there so be patient and it will pay off, Five being wonderful and awful, smart female reader insert, Diego is a bomb ass bro, canon compliant plus extra addressing of shit they didn't bother to and I wish they would have, breeding kink, enemies-to friends-to lovers, some tags left off to keep you on your toes, season 5 TUA

~Very Important Note: DUE TO SPOILERS, DO NOT READ IF YOU HAVEN'T WATCHED S4 This story starts where season 4 ends and reads like a season 5 start. It is canon compliant, letting you take what we were left with on the show, DISREGARDING the controversial sexual relationship that happened, or not. That's the big thing with this one. This is written so the reader can interpret that stuff as they want to. There are only two mentions in this that even come remotely close into that territory and those parts can also be looked at as Five simply feeling awful and not because that even happened. He has plenty of other reason for his sadness, why they felt the need to give him more and end them all, I will never know. 😭 I personally have always seen a special bond with Five and Lila, only not at all the way it played out in the show, and we will see some of my version of their admiration of each other in this one, and I did it to honor both these characters I love. It is also important to say, this is in no way written in a way that is triggering for those who hated what happened on the show. This is written to give them all something better. That was my point, and to try to do this request some justice. ❤️I hope you enjoy. Sending peace and love to all the beautiful TUA/FIVE fans.

THE REASON

Chapter one: The Beginning of the End

Slipping away, there was no reason to fight anymore.

Sensations Five couldn’t put into words overwhelming him, the glowing pulsation of The Cleanse began to cover them, first trapping their feet, then building up around their legs with terrifying speed.

As the pressure pushed at his layers of clothing, naturally, panic set in.

His mind screamed, DO SOMETHING!!!

He would have laughed at the irony along with his family if it wasn’t all so awful. Here they were cracking jokes when they were about to die, and there he was, the massive lump of guilt in his throat trying to kill him quicker than the looming mass of elemental alien goo.

Five’s entire life, he’d thought he was the strong one, that he could save them, but boy had he been wrong.

Even before this shit storm splattered the fan, he knew he should have been starting over, but he’d done very little in the way of living, or being there for any of them.

He pretended he was fine, but he wasn’t.

He was alone, like he always was, but he was too stubborn to admit how empty his life was.

Instead, he blocked all that out by playing CIA agent, foolishly not noticing that the people who’d hired him were in on all this.

Then, when it all went from bad to worse, Five ran from it. Once with Lila as they traveled the train to insanity together, and then again after that, when they’d finally made it back and he realized they couldn’t beat the horrible death blob Ben and Jennifer had become.

It took a lifetime to learn it, but there was no running from this, or the unforgivable things he’d done only to end up with nothing.

Heart sinking to unfathomable depths of despair, unable to look at their faces, or the thing consuming them, Five looked to the ceiling instead. Through the highest windows of what in another time had been their childhood home, the world outside was righting itself, the fire of rebirth was hard at work, correcting things the right way this time.

There was no reason for his suffering.

No reason for any of this.

His breath catching in his throat, the mass of destruction that was swallowing them crept up Five’s neck, seeping under his sweat drenched collar.

Shutting his eyes to block out the horror of what was happening, he forced himself to think about why this was the only way out.

“What shattered the timeline?” he’d asked the Five that greeted him at the interdimensional deli filled with different versions of him.

“Not what. Who,” his cocky doppelgänger replied while pushing a stray piece of hair out of his face.

They were 145,142 times trying to stop the apocalypse, doomed to save or destroy the world, over and over… ad infinitum.

This would go on forever. Those crazy bastards weren’t willing to rise above their own wants and needs, but he was.

Eliminate the Marigold by ending all of them, and you get no more cycle of apocalyptic destruction. Simple as that.

Despite Five’s steadfast acceptance of this fact, a rush of air crawled out of his gaped mouth, the sound of it gut-wrenchingly pathetic even to his own ears. His lower lip trembled as The Cleanse reached his chin. He jerked his head higher to get away from it, but it was no good.

He felt Lila squeeze his hand. He squeezed back, a tear slipping down his cheek, immediately eaten away by the sludgy mass burying them.

I’m sorry.

He was, for everything, but he couldn’t say it, not anymore. He couldn’t even breathe.

The taste of death covered his lips, filling his nostrils. A familiar crackle of static energy zipped up and down his spine even though he hadn’t summoned it, like his powers had life of their own, begging him to stop this.

Five opened his eyes one last time, a spike of adrenaline needlessly alerting him to the fact that he was about to suffocate from the disgusting booger-like substance pushing into his mouth.

Silently crying out, The Cleanse choked off his airway.

His body, insistent on his need to breathe, helplessly drew in the otherworldly gunk.

He was drowning.

He began to thrash.

Above, ash began to fall from the ceiling. Five felt the same desperation he had a lifetime ago while standing outside the burning gates of his home.

Like then, all he could think about was finding a way back to save them.

Just before the wave of glimmering slime slipped over Five’s head, a shadowed figure moved into his view on the second-floor balcony. The person propped their elbows on the railing. Extending their left hand, they began dangling a pocket watch, slowly swinging it back and forth on its silver chain.

As if dying wasn’t already shaking Five to the core, the ornately engraved disk they had looked exactly like a pocket watch he kept in a basket of broken timepieces back in his boyhood bedroom at the original Umbrella Academy.

He collected those discarded pieces of junk, trying to make their fragile parts work again because he saw something of himself in their busted balance springs and wheels, beaten and used, pushed aside, never able to prove to a dad that didn’t love him that he was good enough.

Reginald was right, he wasn’t.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself,” the young stranger said, as if reading Five’s thoughts. He angled his face into the light, the pouted line of his lips pulling to the side, mimicking one of Five's smiles almost perfectly. “For all this to work out, you had to get here.”

A faint swirl of blue energy lit up the boy’s hands as the floor rumbled under their feet. Chunks of the roof fell, but their pale green eyes wrinkled at the corners even more, not a hint of fear in them.

“I’d do this one for you, but I can’t,” he furthered. “As you always told me, when it comes to time travel, you don’t mess with the loops, and this is one hell of a temporal causality loop you set up.”

The dimple in the boy’s cheek deepened.

“No, you. No, me,” he calmly explained. “And that would mean this conversation wouldn’t be happening, resulting in you letting this end and game over for us.”

Pulling the old pocket watch back up, the boy popped it open, checking the time before he looked back down at Five through the mess of sun-kissed hair falling over his eyes.

“You know what to do. It’s time, Dad.”

He dropped the watch, the glint of metal sailing down into the abyss.

Lack of oxygen about to make him lose consciousness, The Cleanse covered Five’s shock filled eyes.

Getting crushed, he no longer felt the hands that had been holding his.

They were all gone.

As true terror set in, the last of the boy’s words echoed in his mind.

It’s time, Dad…

Chapter Two: Walk in the Park

Not even aware he was doing it at first, Five pulled at that undefinable feeling inside him that let him open doors no one else could. Within a second, the strings of time gave in to his demand, illuminating the darkness.

An explosion of violent light burst outwards, the force of it ripping his skin inside out, or it felt that way. At that point, Five wasn’t sure if he was still intact, or not. All he knew was, he’d given everything he had left, opening one final portal, not even accounting for the destination.

Flung into a tornado of time and space knitting itself back together into the one true timeline, Five landed in the only place he could.

Coming down fast, blindly flailing, he slammed down on top of a picnic table, sending the food airborne that Lila’s parents had just laid out for lunch.

Face smashed into what he was pretty sure had been a cake, Five let out a whimpered groan.

Fresh air ruffled his frosting coated hair, the white sugar standing out in stark contrast to his chocolate-colored strands.

Untwisting his legs, his dress shoe accidentally knocked into Claire’s can of orange soda, tipping it over. The fizzy mess started pouring out all over Lila’s feet as she glared at him.

Five rapidly blinked his eyes, still not sure if what he was seeing was real.

Everything was so bright, a canopy of green and blue.

Orange and yellow marigolds filled the landscaped gardens.

Upbeat music played somewhere in the distance.

“What do you know, the flying fart squirrel decided to join us after all,” Lila dryly noted as she wiped a piece of potato salad off her forehead, flicking it at Diego.

Unfazed by Five’s fumbled landing, Diego picked the mayo covered slop off his shirt, sticking it in his mouth as he rolled his eyes at her. “Come, on babe. Fivvv nev-lets us dow. I nn-ew-he-be-here,” he mumbled while reaching out to lend him a helping hand.

Once on his feet, Five swayed, but Diego held on, keeping him steady as he took in the full extent of his shell-shocked appearance. “Rough day, old man?” he asked, a look of worry bending his silly dad-stash into a frown.

“You could say that,” Five croaked.

He reached up, his trembling fingers brushing the ghost of stubble darkening his jaw.

“Thank God I’m not twelve years old again,” he breathed.

Diego and Lila looked at each other, eyes wide.

“Five…?” Diego questioned. “Since you still can’t calculate your decades long jumps worth a shit, why don’t you just use one of your briefcases to commute.”

“Uncle Five is here!” Grace shouted, abandoning the game of frisbee she was playing with Luther and Sloane. Bolting over, her arms flung around Five’s waist. “Did you bring me anything?” she asked, beaming up at him.

Five was speechless.

Her twin siblings screeched as they rolled around on a fuzzy blanket filled with toys. Behind them, camped out on the grass, or horsing around not far away, Five saw his entire family, and all the people from their past that they had loved and lost.

A few yards away, Dave was sitting with his back against a tree, Klaus lying next to him with his head in his lap.

Eudora, Sissy, little Harlan, Elliot, Ray, Ben and Jennifer…

Five kept counting.

To his left, Agnes and Hazel walked by, bird watcher guide in hand.

Even the Sparrows' faces dotted the crowded scene, the one Five didn’t recognize with blue hair oddly reminiscent of a non-cube version of Christopher.

“Holy shit,” he gasped.

With the buzz of the older kids laughing at their funny Uncle Five and his ruined suit, and the rest of his family looking at him like he needed to be locked up, the fear that everyone close to him was about to be wiped off the face of the Earth hadn’t even come close to wearing off. And that feeling only got worse when he spotted The Handler sitting on a nearby park bench.

Starting to walk towards her, he reached into his inside jacket pocket to pull out his CIA issued handgun, but it wasn’t there.

Getting nothing but a handful of Jello, Five ran right into Herb. In a domino effect, the smaller statured man started teetering backwards.

“Youch!” you cried as his heel dug into your opened toed dress shoe.

Everything you were holding slipped out of your hands as they flung out to break your fall.

Before hitting the dirt, your skirt flew up, giving everyone a show.

Looking about as thrown as you, Five looked down at the Temps Commission insignia on the journal you dropped, then the pocket watch that had fallen next to it.

He cursed.

Clenching his hands so hard it looked like he might hurt himself, he started shaking his head side to side. “Where is he?” he growled.

“Who?” you fired back at him, trying to get up.

“That kid!”

“What kid?”

Before Herb could say anything to add to your confused reply or find his handy-dandy Commission issued time stopper, Five took off again.

Scrambling to your feet, you reached out to catch his arm. He swung around with a snarl and shoved you to the ground again, then he blinked away, reappearing right behind The Handler, ready to choke her with his bare hands, the only thing stopping him being the lady coming past, pushing a baby stroller.

Seeing the real Grace’s smiling face, so much like that of his robot mother, Five looked even more manic.

“Stop!” Herb frantically cried out, realizing that something was off more than Five lacking any spatial awareness.

Five didn’t stop, and neither did you, clumsily coming after him, your dress shoes slipping on the grass, you yelled, “If you do this, you’re going to regret it!”

To your relief. Five lowered his hands.

You came to a stop in front of the Handler, your hands coming to your knees as you tried to catch your breath. She looked from you, to the crazed young man behind her.

She lowered her cell phone. “Can I help you?”

“No. Sorry,” you huffed, quickly storming around the park bench to take Five by the back of his food covered suit jacket.

“She doesn’t know who you are!” you whisper yelled at him as you towed him away from her. “What in the world are you thinking?”

Five angrily narrowed his eyes at you.

“This was your plan!” you barked, to which he equally angrily jerked his shoulder away from your hand.

Apparently, he wasn’t going to let you corral him back towards Herb, but he wasn’t opposed to stomping over there himself, which was fine by you, so long as he did, and started to calm his cake-covered ass down.

“Glad to have you back,” Herb nervously chuckled once Five was in earshot. “Sorry about that.” He glanced at The Handler who was happily chatting away on her cell phone again. “I’m sure some of this is still hard for you, but everyone affected by this needed to be in close proximity to perform all the alternations you wanted. This picnic took some time for us to set up, but we got it done. As far as they know, you all have been back here for weeks and we had nothing to do with this party.”

Five’s cold gaze didn’t falter.

After picking up the items he made you drop, you handed him his journal, the one that said to give it to him as soon as he arrived.

“I don’t want that,” he spat, refusing to take it from you.

“Maybe it would be better if we took this conversation back to The Commission,” Herb offered.

“Like hell it would,” Five snapped, “There is no way I am going back to that shitshow of manipulative sadists.”

“You are the leader of our shitshow of manipulative sadists,” you retorted.

Ignoring that and your offended expression, he came at you, a flash of light blinding you as he snatched the watch out of your hand. Reappearing a few yards away, he hissed, “Who are you and who gave you this!”

Now you were the one narrowing your eyes.

Introducing yourself, minus the usual extended hand in case he tried to bite it off, you said, “I serve as your Co-Chair, and the watch was left with your files that were given to me when I was hired. And… it is not broken anymore because I fixed it for you. You’re welcome.”

“Why would I hire you?”

“Because you clearly needed my help,” you replied, your tone as acidic as his.

“Yeah, right,” he barked, his wild eyes suddenly fixating on you in a very ungentlemanly way.

Realizing that when he’d flung you the second time, your shirt had come undone by a few more buttons than you’d normally allow, you crossed your arms over your chest, using his journal like a shield to protect your boobs from his glare. “Look,” you sniped back. “I get that for you, some of this might be a little confusing because you’ve only been back for more than a few minutes real time, but for Herb and I, our day at the park had been much longer than that, stopping time over and over to correctly wipe and reset each of your family members you brought back. So… can we just get this thing moving?”

“You better not touch my family,” Five warned.

“With Optogenetics, cation-selective channel rhodopsin are used to excite neurons and inhibit neuronal activity, so touching isn’t exactly how we’d say memory alteration works, but you already know that. You are the one that left the notes that led to me inventing the pain free process to do it. Why are you being so difficult?” you questioned.

“Because…” he childishly seethed.

“Because?”

“That’s right,” he continued, his face contorting as his jaw muscles repeatedly tensed. “You throwing out big words means nothing. I’ve been fed a lot of lines of bullshit over the years, and I have no reason to trust a bimbo who’s wearing tiny pink underwear that would make a stripper blush! Or Herb! Or anyone that works at the place that ruined my life and millions of others!”

You smiled, and it wasn't the nice kind of smile. “Name calling? Really?”

“This has set up written all over it!” he yelled.

A lump of frosting fell off his head, landing on one of his expensive dress shoes. Fingers twitching at his sides, he was about to go ballistic.

In his notes spelling it out how this was going to go down, the Five of the future that hired you had written nothing about the possibility that the him now would have no clue what was going on, but it was clear he didn’t. Fortunately, there were protocols to handle situations like this-his protocols.

“We didn’t ruin anyone’s lives. That is the opposite of what we are about, but if you aren’t willing to come back and talk about that, I guess we are done here,” you said, raising an unimpressed brow.

“Sweetheart, I was done so long ago, you have no fucking idea.”

After condescendingly insulting you again, Five turned to check on his family.

None of them were concerned, and you knew they wouldn’t be. The moment he walked away, their attention was back on entertaining the kids.

“Do you want to do it, or me,” you quietly asked Herb, who looked over at you, looking about as tired as you’d ever seen him.

“I’ll lug this thing,” he sheepishly offered, picking up the huge Commission briefcase you used to get there.

You reached in your pocket, calling out to Diego. “Hey, guys! Something came up. Five is needed back at the office.”

Five started to turn back, readying for a fight.

Sticking him in the neck with a fast-acting sedative before he could fully swing, his legs buckled at the knees.

“You didn’t jus-st-ffffah-kkkk," he slurred, his eyes rolling back in his head.

Chapter Three: The Founder

A line of drool running out of his mouth, Five flopped over the side of the settee he was passed out on. Groggily looking around from his new position on the hard marble floor, he saw the lights were dimmed and there was only the slightest bit of daylight on the horizon outside the heavily draped windows.

He had no idea how long he’d been out, but he knew where he was.

This was 1955 and these were the crown molded walls of AJ Carmichael’s office, then The Handler’s, but evidently this office wasn’t either of theirs anymore because the polished plaque sitting on top of the old mahogany desk read otherwise.

“Five Hargreeves, Director… Well, I’ll be damned,” he breathed.

Getting to his feet, head spinning, he swallowed, his throat thick.

On the small side table next to him, he noticed the pocket watch he’d stolen back from you and a glass of water next to it with a pink post-it note stuck to it that read, Drink Me.

“Yeah, right. I’ll probably shrink like Alice in Wonderland,” he grumbled, remembering how you stuck him in the neck with a syringe, at this point equating you to an evil version of the white rabbit, forcefully leading him back into a nightmare.

Running a hand through his hair, seeing no one there to ambush him, Five spotted his neatly polished shoes placed under the edge of the couch. There was also a fresh suit, with the addition of a pair socks and black briefs laying on one of the adjacent chairs.

Five looked down at the slumped blanket around his ankles, then his hands.

He still had on his undershirt and underwear, a pair exactly like the ones on the chair, but that was it. He’d been cleaned up, no more frosting anywhere.

Kicking free of the slumped blanket at his feet, he stomped over to his desk, eyes on the journal laying there and the slightly smashed piece of cake that had another post-it note next to it that said, ‘Once you’ve had your nap time, and snack time is over, put your big-boy pants back on and read this over for me, please.’

Looking at the door, his expression soured even more.

Picking up the leather-bound book, he recalled that you said it was his, but he didn’t remember it. Then again, this wasn’t the first time he’d left something for himself to find later.

Shoving memories of the subway station out of his mind, Five opened it, his finger running along the date and time noted at the top of the first page. There was no denying he’d written it.

Slowly sitting down, his eyes moved along, reading the detailed directions explaining all the things you were supposed to do before he got there. Things like making sure certain people from his past only remembered what they needed to remember, and that meant for some, like his ex-supervisor, some remembered nothing.

For his family, their memories were more complicated because they were a part of things that needed to be remembered, but in clipping bits of time from their minds, he stated it would allow them the easiest transition.

Further diving into this new reality, Five read that many of the superpowered Hargreeves, including some of the Sparrows, worked for him and were involved in a new initiative of non-kill orders for all time corrective actions.

They’d been wiped. Just like you said. The device used to do it, one he told you to make, and it sounded a lot like the one Reginald used to erase the memories of how the original Ben died.

That happened. It all did. Five remembered it and his notes said the others would too- for the most part.

The past still happened because it had to, but that didn’t mean everyone needed to be burdened with the heavier traumas of it. That idea was a core value stated in The Temps Commission’s original doctrine, also written by him, conveniently there on the desk for him to go over.

All of it confirmed what you said. He was the Founder of The Commission; the same place that let him waste away in the apocalypse for forty years and then go through the rest of this crap. Apparently, that cruel joke didn’t just come to fruition in the Sparrow timeline spin off.

It was madness.

Somehow, his family survived, powers intact. He got them out of there at the last second, with none of them aware that anything odd was happening when you’d come up to them at the park, waving your specially calibrated brain wave eraser in front of their smiling faces.

You were an invited guest to their event and so was Herb. They knew you and trusted you, just like he supposedly did, only he didn’t.

Hearing a soft knock at the door, Five tensed.

“Come in.”

Herb timidly stepped inside, leaving the door ajar to the empty hallway. He lowered his chin and shook his head as if he already knew that what he was going to say was something Five wouldn’t want to hear. “That was a bumpy start,” he began. “We didn’t see that coming and we are so sorry about that. If we-”

“How long have you known about this,” Five sharply cut in.

“As you’ve read, that’s complicated,” he carefully replied.

“Herb,” Five sighed, his hand rubbing the worry line between his eyes. “All I have ever wanted was for this to end, but I don’t-"

Herb held up his hand stopping him. “I know you don’t want this. We all know what you’ve given to this place already, but we need you. With what you are capable of, your unique skill set makes you a perfect choice to run this organization.”

Herb paused, hoping Five understood that but he looked as unconvinced as before.

“This doesn’t have to be forever,” he tried. “The board just wants reassurance, and with you at the helm, it’s clear that people here will feel more comfortable about this transition. We no longer focus on preventing complications from the other timelines breaking off because there is only one timeline now. You took care of that by allowing The Cleanse to happen. Now we are here to ensure someone is present in case anything like this threatens us again. This is a big change for everyone,” he clarified, as if Five didn’t already grasp how big this was.

“And Reginald?” he quietly questioned, his troubled eyes pulling downward.

“Gone with the Cleanse,” you answered, coming into his office, “but as far as anyone else knows, he died years ago. You were there to spread his ashes. Many things are the same as before, but with the addition of the things that changed during the last five years you were gone, only you do not work for the CIA, even if that’s the cover we are using.”

You strolled over, sitting down next to Herb.

“The element your father’s wife inadvertently created as a byproduct of producing the thing they called ‘marigold’ is also gone. The marigold is still in all of you,” you furthered.

“That alien was not my dad,” Five tartly retorted, “and your presence here is not needed.”

When you didn’t move, he pointed to the door.

You crossed your legs, eyeing Five wearily. Putting a hand on your friend’s shoulder, you said, “You can head home, Herb. You haven’t slept in days.”

He smiled. “Neither have you.” He looked to Five, tiredly getting up. “Please listen. She’s smart. That is why you hired her.”

Five’s brows furrowed as he took in the weight of what Herb said. He looked down at his lap, but the second the older looking man left the room, he looked back up, eyeing you with the same contempt. “No syringe?” he coldly dangled.

“No pants?” you countered.

He cocked his chin. “Why bother? You already violated me while I was unconscious. I figured this way if you came at me again; there’d be less in the way if you really wanted to go hard stomping on my dick.”

“You are the only one here being combative, but if you want me to stomp on your dick, keep it up, I will, but I’d much rather finish this debriefing, filling you in on anything else you might not recall, which sounds like everything you did to get here from this point on.”

“Time loops are a bitch, and you are…” He didn’t finish, instead he picked up his fork, putting his focus on stabbing his piece of cake into even more of a disaster.

“You don’t like me. Got it loud and clear,” you said, “but after meeting you, I must admit, I don’t like you either. Before this, I admired you, but you are nothing like the person I thought you were based on all the great things I read in your files.”

“Well… Most things look better on paper,” he sneered.

“Look… How about I just do what I am here to do, and you do the same?” you offered. “Cut the lines of bullshit you hate so much? Because that’s what this pissing match is. Waste of time bullshit.”

“Fine.”

“As I was about to say,” you started again, laying out your sheets of chemical equations for him to follow as you explained. “For Reginald’s dearly departed wife, in making the one element that also gave a fast track to your births, and then the other not so nice one Jennifer got stuck with, she essentially shot a machine gun at a needle in a haystack, but the bullet and needle didn’t fuse together completely, and you just witnessed the ricochetted result of that when they did finally fuse with Ben and Jennifer getting together, the bad part of that synthetic reaction vanishing forever in a timeline that is no more. Story done.”

“So, you are saying we weren’t the cause of all this?” he asked, still not believing it.

“No,” you said. “Abigail’s bad science was and that really wasn’t that hard to figure out. It only took me a few days once I was given the top-secret files you left behind for Herb to find in your Paradox Proof bunker.”

“That’s impossible. I’m the only one that can get in there,” Five argued.

“Not exactly,” you calmly disagreed. “After Dallas, when Herb was holding the temporary position of Chairmen of the Board, he gained access to many interesting things you hide around here, including a glass eye you had made that was a replica of yours.”

“The retinal scan,” Five murmured under his breath.

“Yes. You were very busy at some point in the future, and lucky us, everything you did paid off.”

Saying nothing, Five didn’t look like he felt lucky, but when he didn’t question you more about the bunker, you moved on.

“Another thing you probably don’t remember figuring out, is that when it comes to thinking you were all only born because of the release of the Marigold on our planet, that isn’t true. You all would have been born regardless. All your mothers were already pregnant, only days along and none knew it yet. You all had fathers and mothers, just like the rest of us, only with you, the second that alien dusting of orange entered our atmosphere, it needed to find a host and you were it, the perfect jump off point for a miracle.”

“The Umbrella Academy?” he asked, dismissing your explanation about his parents, like it didn’t matter that he wasn’t just alive because of aliens playing God.

“It happened. You were all acquired by Reginald, same as before,” you continued. “The world knows about most of you like they always did, and they are aware you’re back, the details of your disappearance understood to be a complication due to your ability to spatially jump. The running story is you were frozen between jumps, not that you’d jumped to the future. We don’t want the entire world knowing about time travel and your ability to do it, or ours.”

“So, there you have it,” Five scoffed.

“Dumbed down, yes, but I thought since you’ve had a hard day, you’d appreciate that.”

“Are you one of us?” he asked as he studied you, for the first time his eyes not darting away from yours when you determinedly refused to look away.

“No,” you half laughed, half scoffed. “As you can see,” you waved a hand in front of yourself, “I am not the same age as your siblings, but I suppose when it comes to you, that means little, so fair question. Unlike you, I am the age I appear to be, which I’m guessing is not much off from you physically at this point. I was plucked out of college to come here, and since then, I devoted my life to being here to help you in any way I can, and I assure I am qualified to do it otherwise—”

“Otherwise, I wouldn’t have hired you,” he finished for you. Hand at his mouth, anxiously edging his teeth across his thumbnail, Five’s eyes grew distant again.

Silence filled the room.

“We have a meeting with the board in the morning. I will drop off the agenda early enough for you to go over it beforehand,” you said, pushing your chair out to get up.

You waited a moment for him to look up, but he didn’t, so you headed to the door, turning just before you left.

“This is over,” you said, the anger in your voice completely gone. “At least you can take solace in that.”

You shut the door behind you.

Still seeing the delicate features of your face overlapping those of the mysterious boy on the balcony who’d looked like him, only not, Five mentally kicked himself.

“This isn’t over,” he breathed.

Chapter Four: I’m the Daddy Here

By the next day, when Five’s brothers dropped into his office, he had shadows under his eyes and his young bones were aching like his body really was 70 years old.

Sitting in front of him, next to Klaus, Diego stretched his arms up over his head, as he said, “Dude, you still have your shitty apartment from your CIA days to crash at, so why does it look like you’ve been pacing your secret lair all night?”

“Oh gee, I don’t know Diego,” Five threw back. “Maybe I forgot I had a place to call my own and I did pace in here all night? Unlike you, I have bigger things on my mind than which Hawaiian shirt I’m going to wear to work.”

“You look so Miami Vice,” Klaus said, giving Diego a high five, before he moved his attention to Five. “What are you whining about, man? We are riding on a gravy train with biscuit wheels.” He threw his arms around like they should look around him. “We won!”

Five lips pursed tighter.

Klaus’s jaw dropped as he looked over at Diego. “What… We didn’t win? We’re all in the void?”

Diego laughed. “For a someone with the powers of divine entity you sure are—"

“We won,” Five interrupted, bringing them back to the point. “Or I should say, we will, but not unless I finish this.”

“You did finish this. We are here and life is good,” Diego pointed out, moving on to what he felt the real problem was. “Are you happy, Five? And what does that even mean to you outside of making sure we all keep breathing? Maybe the answer to that is why you’re still struggling. Apocalypse addiction is a-“

“Fuck you, Diego. I don’t need one of your psych ward therapy sessions you and Lila get off on. I need to have a kid! If I don’t, we will all cease to exist and there will be no do over this time and that is very bad!”

“How do you know that?” he questioned, his amused smile still proving that he thought they were just having one of their usual lectures with Five about him needing to get out more.

“Shit. Is it hot in here?” Five complained, yanking at his collar.

“Earth to Five,” Diego rammed him, “I asked you a question.”

Having loosened his tie enough to feel like the walls weren’t closing in on him, Five testily said, “I know this, Diego, because a kid that looked a lot like me was there just before The Cleanse finished its job, and he called me dad. If he hadn’t been there and said what he did, verbally slapping me into doing something, we wouldn’t be here.”

“What?!” Klaus bellowed. “No way! You’re a dad!”

“No,” Five sighed. “I will be a dad in the future-maybe.”

“Maybe!? Why didn’t you tell us this!” Diego yelled, nearly falling out of his chair.

“I am telling you,” Five replied.

“Yeah, sure,” Diego huffed. “Now you are. And why does your kid have powers and mine and Allison’s don’t?”

“Wow. It’s just like Marty McFly in Back to the Future.” Klaus lifted his hand, checking to see if it was disappearing yet.

Five tiredly smiled at him. “It’s not at all like that. Time loops don’t work that way. If we evaporate, it will be instantaneous, and at this point, I have no idea how long I have to prevent it. There will be no warning.”

“Time loops shhh-mime loops,” Diego said, running his fingers over his mustache. “You know we don’t understand any of that shit. But hey, this doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Your nuts are full of superpowered swimmers. You should be excited.”

Five rolled his eyes. “Excitement is not exactly what I’d call what I am feeling. If I don’t produce a magical progeny, none of the things I have done will matter. We all die anyway. Case in point, this is a bad thing.”

“Shoot,” Klaus whistled. “If you’d known this years ago you could have spent way less time privately polishing your palm and instead been out trying to impregnate the world with your superpowered sperm.”

Five groaned. “That wouldn’t have worked, because it needs to happen now. After The Cleanse and the time situation was fixed.”

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Klaus insisted. “You’re a stud. Get out there and have some fun.”

“And if it’s having kids you are worried about, they are both the best and worst thing that can happen to you,” Diego added. “I would know. Having three of them putting their sticky little fingers on all our shit all the time isn’t awesome, but creating them was fun.” He nudged Klaus. “This one time when Lila and I were in the back of Wanda we—"

“Not another word!” Five yelled.

“Whatever, man,” Diego chuckled. “You just need to see the bright side. Your kid was trying to help you and did.” He cleared his throat. “When it comes to Dolores, you can beat the meat with her all day but you’ll never beat the real th-“

“Please stop,” Five groaned again, burying his head in his hands.

Nodding his head in agreement, Klaus grinned hopefully. “I think what Diego is trying to say is having a breathing lady has its benef—"

“We’re done!” Five snapped, as he sprung forward. “If you don’t zip it, I’m going to blink you downstairs to the incinerator and lock you in there.” Slamming his index finger down on his desk, pointing at his gigantic desk pad calendar, he grinned maniacally. “And what do you know, it’s garbage day! You won’t be swimming in last week’s rotting tuna salad for long.”

“You’d never do that to us.”

“Really, Diego? You want to test that?”

Five’s brothers glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, like testing that wasn’t such a bad way to spend their afternoon.

“Five—"

“No, Klaus! Like I told Luther. I’M THE DADDY HERE! I am done entertaining you idiots. Get out!”

“Settled down,” Diego laughed. “We’re just trying to help you see that this isn’t so bad. And with the kid thing, I love mine and you do too. Speaking of which, it would be nice if their favorite uncle babysat them more often. Lila and I haven’t had a night out in a while.”

“I babysit,” Five defended.

“Not enough,” Diego shot back, pointing Five’s ballpoint pen at him.

Reaching forward, Five swiped it away. “Deigo, if I came over more often so you dipshits could go out and do disgusting things in your van, then you’d be dealing with more than three sticky-fingered monsters.”

Diego glanced at Klaus, then back at Five, smirking. “Say what you will, but I know you love being an uncle. The mountain of stuffed animals each of the girls has is proof of that.”

Tipping his weight back in his chair, Five folded his hands over his lap, wearily eyeing his brother. “I am not wrong,” he said, ignoring the point about his nieces and how much he enjoyed spoiling them. “You still have no idea how this baby making thing works and it’s only a matter of time before you’ll be complaining about baby number four on the way and how you already have no room in your house for all the people living there.”

Diego scowled. “Hey… I understand how it works just fine. I already told you guys the last two weren’t my fault. Lila told me she couldn’t get pregnant while breastfeeding.”

“And you should believe everything your wacko wife says?”

“Yes.” No longer able to contain it, Diego burst out laughing. “Five. This about you, not me, and as much as you want to act like you know it all. When it comes to enjoying the good parts of life, you are still about as fresh out the gate as you can get. Just flirt with a girl. Get to fucking her on the regular, and ta-da, circle of destiny complete. No more death knocking on our doors.”

Five let out heavy sigh. “It isn’t as easy as that.”

Raising his hands in an open palm gesture, Klaus said, “Maybe it is.”

Five narrowed his eyes. “You have no idea what you are talking about, or what I have been through. Or the complications I am dealing with.”

“We get your hangups, we really do but,” Diego chimed in.

“No, you don’t!”

“Then tell us.”

“It’s her!” Five angrily pointed to the door. “The woman I hired who loathes me for reasons I can’t really blame her for, not when I’ve been such a colossal asshole to her. She’s the one! It has to be the right person for this kid to be the exact same kid I saw, and it’s her. She's the mom!”

“How do you know?”

“I just do, Diego!”

When neither Klaus nor Diego stopped staring at him, Five started counting on his hands.

“I know because…

One: The boy had my pocket watch that she also had on her when I got here. He threw it and she dropped it, all within seconds of our timelines merging.

Two: She has his eyes! They were my color green but the shape of hers!”

Five shook his head, his hands shaking he was so upset.

“The way they both look when they smile…” he breathed, “the curve of her lips is the same as his. Him being there with that watch wasn’t a coincidence. For him to be there at all, that means he jumped between timelines. I sure as hell couldn't do that, but if I could have, I know that everything you take with you on that kind of impossible journey would make it that much harder. He brought that watch with him because he was trying to point me in the right direction with her and I didn’t see it until it was too late, and now the only deal I’ll be sealing with his mother if I try to hit on her is going to be a kick in my magical nuts.”

Like a deflating balloon, Five sunk his face into his arms where he had them folded on top of his desk.

“It’s not too late. You guys seem to get along,” Klaus soothed.

Five shook his head no, not bothering to look up.

“Just be nice to her,” Diego unhelpfully added.

“I think it’s a little past that,” Five mumbled.

Chapter Five: Entente

“Say nothing,” Five warned. “I don’t need everyone up my ass. You two knowing is bad enough.”

Tapping your knuckles on the door, Klaus called out extra high pitched, telling you to come in.

“Who’s daddy here?” you said, your smile getting bigger as you asked about the outburst you just overheard from your office next door.

“Five is,” Klaus happily exclaimed.

“Incinerator!” Five barked, wildly motioning at him like he was going to slice his head off with his index finger.

“Blah, blah, blah,” Diego said, his hand mimicking the action of a mouth as he squawked it at Five. “We need to get this show on the road. I’m gonna tell—”

“Diego, so help me,” he hissed, cutting him off.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” you said, your eyebrows drawing together, “but some of us have a meeting in two minutes.”

Five quickly picked up his notes and pushed out of his chair. “Shall we?” he said, directing you to lead the way with an assertive wave of his hand.

You walked in silence to the boardroom, but reaching the door, Five unexpectedly placed his hand on your upper arm, holding you back.

Coming past, Diego smacked his ass. “Don’t look so spooked, kid.”

“I will kill you,” Five replied, his voice as sugary sweet as his fake smile.

Still laughing, Diego joined the others

“What’s so funny?” Lila asked, before shoving him down in his chair, opposite yours, next to the head of the table.

“Five,” he answered.

“When isn’t he? I mean look at him,” she said, eyeing you both up with a curious look before looking back at her husband, giving him an even more devilish smirk than she’d given you. “Why don’t you spank me like that?”

“Oh, I’ll give you a spanking, babe, especially if you keep looking at me like you want to go for a ride on my sweet mustache.”

“LA-LA-LA-LA!” Ben bellowed. “We do not need to hear this, you ASSHOLES!”

“I’m sorry,” Five quietly breathed, directing your attention away from the Hargreeves family daily bickering forum. “What you have done here for me, and for them, I don’t have the words to express how thankful I am.”

He paused, the sincerity in his eyes startling you.

Without hesitation, you reached out, your fingers slowly sliding up the length of black silk leading to his neck. “There,” you said, fixing his knot. “You didn’t seem to be aware you were all twisted.”

Looking humorously befuddled, Five’s Adam’s apple bobbed up then down. “I am not aware of a lot of things going on,” he quietly replied.

“No? You?” you teased.

“Thank you,” he said again.

“You’re welcome. Now, shall we?” you asked, as you gave him the same heavy-handed gesture he’d given you in his office.

~~~

For the next hour and half, Five sat at the head of the table in a board room full of people all appointed by him. Even Elliot was sitting in as the new director of analytics since Diego and Herb and Lila were now acting as supervisors over all operations that either he or you weren’t.

He’d read your notes, telling him what to expect, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t lost. Still, each time a question was directed at him that he couldn’t readily answer, you seamlessly stepped in, replying for him. No one was the wiser that he was floundering, but by the end of the day, your smooth handling of him was only adding to how uncomfortable he felt.

Shutting the door to his office, briefcase in hand, Five was about to open a portal to travel forward in time, back to his musty old apartment, but then he heard something.

Turning, he saw your office door was open. He came that way, moving into the light streaming into the hall.

“What is all this?” he questioned, watching you trying to ram a stack of boxes in the corner, your sock covered feet repeatedly slipping across the slick flooring because the tower of cardboard cubes weighed more than you.

“These are all my worldly possessions,” you replied, glancing his way before giving your things one final shove. Bending straight, you placed a hand to your sore lower back, massaging it. “Since the sale of all employee housing and other unused buildings started, and then prepping for you all coming back, I have been a tad bit busy. I haven’t had time to find a new place. So this is it for me right now.”

Taking in your short cotton sleep shorts and well worn t-shirt, when you busted him staring at how your shirt had fallen off your shoulder, Five diverted his gaze to your small meeting table covered with disassembled briefcase parts. “You’ve been sleeping in here? Where?” he asked, sounding very concerned.

“Most of the time, I sleep with my head on my desk, waking up with a tattoo of whatever I was working on the night prior inked on the side of my face,” you said, laughing a little. “This morning, that was the user manual for the new watches that will replace those huge briefcases. The roll out should be ready next week. I just need to get the mockup version down to research and development and they can take it from there.”

Five frowned even more, which made you smile even more. “You figured out how to recalibrate the energy field alternators so they’d fit in something that small?”

“I did, but it was you who invented the briefcases to begin with. I just used your original notes and changed a few things. We have a pretty bracelet version too if you’d rather that over the watch?”

“Huh…” Five looked impressed, and at a loss of words.

When he didn’t move from the threshold of your door, you took pity on him. “Would you like to have a look?” You gestured to the scattering of tubes and sapphire-colored vials of glowing liquid energy that he at some point down the road created to mimic what he naturally produced when he time traveled.

Coming in, Five set his briefcase down and started to look over your work.

“I think the watch version will be just fine,” he said. “Thank you for fixing this one for me. Seems you are very good at fixing things I can’t figure out.” As you looked down at the silver chain hooked to his vest, he smirked.

“Watch it is,” you said, getting more and more flushed as he rocked back on his heels, his hands fiddling in his pants pockets as if daring you to look just a little lower.

“Can we talk?” he asked, breaking the awkward tension, but also worrying you with the way his cocky smile instantly evaporated.

“Ah… Sure.” Heading to your desk, you removed the garment bags hanging over one of the two chairs co-workers usually sat in. Sitting down in the chair across from him as he lowered himself in the spot you cleared, you said, “What’s on your mind?”

“What would you say if I told you, that when it comes to me needing your help, the complexity of things I asked you to do so far only touched the tip of the iceberg when compared to what I’m about to ask next?”

“I’d say we need a drink,” you laughed.

“I’d say yes to that,” he said, the tiniest pull at his lips again making his eyes gleam and your cheeks feel warm.

Thankful for a reason to look away, you opened your desk drawer, pulling out a bottle of Scotch and two glasses.

“That’s a good one,” he noted.

You cracked the seal, pouring a few fingers worth for each of you. “I’m sure it is,” you replied. “I heard the boss enjoyed this brand and I was going to give it to him as a welcoming back gift, but he turned out to be a dick, so I kept it.”

You pushed his glass across your desk.

“To bad bosses and putting them in their place,” he suggested, raising his glass.

You fluttered your eyelashes at him overly cutely, clinking his glass with yours. “To telling you off.”

Taking a sip, Five nodded his approval, his grin deepening.

“Speaking of workplace relationships,” he said. “That brings me back to what I need to talk to you about.”

“Go on.” You took another drink.

“I would rather gargle a pinecone than have to say this, but I have no choice. This isn’t just about me and if I live to see another day or not. It’s about my family too.”

You set your glass down, your eyes glued to his. “What do you mean if you get to see another day or not?”

“What I mean is, the only reason my family and I, or any like us, are here is because of something my future kid said to me right before I dropped out of the sky landing in a cake. If he hadn’t paid me a visit, telling me to move my ass and not let The Cleanse eat us, we’d be dead and never been born at all as far as you’d be concerned. Now, if I don’t succeed in producing him, this entire causality loop will disintegrate, my family along with it.”

“The kid you asked about?” you breathed, remembering Five yelling at you in the park about a kid, right before he knocked you on your ass a second time.

“Yeah. That kid. Our kid,” he said.

You started rubbing your temples. “Our kid, you say?”

He nodded.

“And you know I’m a part of this how?”

“There were clues,” he said, rolling his eyes, but not at you. “I stupidly didn’t put any of them together until after I repeatedly insulted your intelligence and unleashed my wounded ego on you.”

“What kind of clues?”

“Big ones, like every part of him I saw was half you, down to the way you are looking at me right now with those pouty lips.”

“I am not pouting.”

“Neither was he.” Five titled his head down, looking at his drink he hadn’t touched since the first taste.

“What are you asking?”

He looked up and laughed weakly. “I think you know.”

“You want me to have a kid with you, so this future person can exist to complete a loophole in time or all of you will be gone-just poof?”

“Yes. But it’s more of a causality loop than a loophole,” he corrected, the hint of his smirk playing up the corner of his mouth.

“That’s it?”

Five leaned forward, setting his glass down a few inches from yours. Sitting back in his chair, he steepled his hands at his chin, his face becoming even more forlorn. “We can do this no-strings attached,” he offered. “I will raise our son alone if that’s your wish, or we can do it together, but you owe me nothing. I will support you either way. It’s all strictly business with this deal.”

“This is not at all what I thought we were going to be talking about,” you said, staring at him, still looking for sign he was fucking with you.

“This is a matter of life and death, and I would never put this on you if it was just me I was worried about,” he said, his guilt evident in the tortured look filling his eyes. “It’s my family and their kids—”

“No, I get it. You mentioned the family thing,” you quickly cut in, holding your hand up as you shut your eyes. The lines in your forehead deepened when you looked back again. “How long do we have… I mean, can I think on it?”

“I don’t know how long. I could have days or even years to get you pregnant.What I do know is, if I don’t do it fast enough and suddenly I’m gone, there will be no going back with a briefcase for a do over. That said… of course you can think on it.”

You said nothing, your eyes darting around your messy desktop.

Five started to get up. “I’m sorry.” The sound of his voice was about as self-deprecating as it could get. “I am not the type to say those two dirty words very often, but with you,” He smiled sadly again, then picked up his briefcase, “it’s something I might as well start every sentence with.”

When you said nothing, Five finally turned his gaze downward, swallowing hard before he opened his mouth again.

“I’m sure I’m the last person you want to procreate with, and there are other less touchy ways of getting this done, but with time of the essence, and with how high the stakes are, I’d prefer if you agree to do this, we do it the old-fashioned way. The odds of it working are higher that way and there is no need to involve anyone else.”

“Makes sense,” you quietly replied, your cheeks flushing as much as his suddenly were.

“You are welcome to sleep on the couch in my office,” he offered, looking around your office again. “The blanket you left me is still in there, and it’s not my place to say it, but I did put you in this situation and I’d feel much better knowing you were in there, not in here, waking up with lines from a boring user manual printed to your pretty face.”

He cocked his head to the side and smiled.

You silently nodded, then Five activated his briefcase, leaving you alone, shaken beyond words.

Chapter Six: Only Fools Rush In

Knocking over your unfinished third glass of Scotch when you accidently threw your hand into it while readjusting your face on the stack of books you’d taken out to reference, you gave in, going to Five’s office to sleep on his couch.

He’d only laid on it once, but when you were doing the same thing, you felt his presence as if he were right there. Everything in your life revolved around Five Hargreeves, and now even your blanket smelled like him, and so did the end pillow you had your head on.

It wasn’t a bad smell. Even passed out and covered in cake, Five smelled good, like a minty warm scent mixed with something earthy and wild. When you cleaned him up, you couldn’t help but notice his prominent jaw that could cut glass, or his shiny dark hair that was as soft as it looked.

Despite a decent place to sleep, all you could do was think about what he wanted you to do with him.

Way before he came in for the day, you were up and out of there. Showering down in the now mostly unused field agent locker rooms, you dressed in your usual modern day pencil skirt and blouse paired with heels, taking a little more time than normal at the mirror.

“Calm down,” you lectured your reflection.

Coming past Five’s open office door a while later, seeing him working alongside Herb at a chalkboard one of them had wheeled in, just breathing normally became a task you’d rather not add to your many others.

Five looked immaculate. He was wearing a new suit-three piece, like his others, but this one was tailored in a way that accentuated everything about him you were trying not to think about.

The figure he cut was full of promise and unimaginable power if he only thought of wielding it. Yet, he was noticeably relaxed in all his movements, everything he did deliberate, down to the way he looked your way for just a second, politely smiling, then went right back to scratching his numbers on the green slate as if you weren't still there staring.

At any second he could disappear, his family, and the young boy he told you about too, and thinking about that devastated you in ways you didn’t even have words or emotions to convey.

Sitting down in The Commission cafeteria hours later, you anxiously watched as Five moved through the line, loading his tray while in conversation with Viktor and Luther.

Nervously tapping your index finger against your milk carton, you waited. The moment he noticed you looking, he came your way.

“Can I join you?” he asked, approaching your empty table.

“Let’s do it,” you blurted.

Five slowly dropped down on the bench across from you. “Yeah?”

“It’s the only option,” you less embarrassingly replied. “I may not have my head wrapped around all of this, but I don’t know what I’d do if all of you suddenly weren’t here anymore. Explaining that to the kids and just… No. It can’t happen. I won’t let it.”

He nodded, letting go of his tray as he sat back.

“When?” he asked, his soft smile and twinkly green eyes filled with relief.

“Now. If you are ready? The sooner we do it, the sooner we know you are all safe, right?”

“Right,” he said, his increasing eagerness showing in the hyperfocus of his cunning eyes as they quickly moved from yours, to the door of the lunch hall, then back again. “Come on.” Getting up, leaving his untouched food where it sat, Five took off.

He dashed down the busy hall past the lobby area, heading for the stairs.

“Where?” he called out.

“I don’t know?” you breathed back, still trying to catch up.

Heading down the hall towards your offices, seeing the busy flow of people working down at that end of the building, Five stopped in his tracks.

He glanced over at the bathroom door a few doors back in the direction you just came.

Restless looking as before, taking you by the hand, he spun you around like he was leading you in a dance, pulling your back against his chest.

You had no time to recognize that the heat you were feeling wasn’t just from his body suddenly pressed to yours. Static energy sizzled, the light from it so bright your eyes automatically flew shut as he blinked you away with him.

Appearing with your feet back on solid floor, your breath whooshing out of your pounding chest, the harsh smell of cleaners filled your nose.

You opened your eyes to the sight of a toilet and a wall in front of you.

Once sure you weren’t going to topple over, Five stepped back, the sound of the bathroom stall door behind him bumping into his back before it creaked closed.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice so low behind your ear that only you could hear it over the sound of the person washing their hands at the sinks.

“Yes,” you whispered.

There was a soft turning of the metal as Five latched the door.

Hinges squealed and two seconds later, the heavy wooden door to the hallway banged close.

~~~

Approaching you from behind, Five’s cock twitched. Just looking at you like this was enough to make it happen. He palmed himself through the fabric of his pants, an unexpected thrust of his hips threatening to topple him forward.

His entire body was so alert it was vibrating, the desire in his loins building to a fever pitch.

His trembling hand brushed against your hair, brushing it aside so he could see the side of your face, the other working to get his zipper down.

You let out a surprised gasp when he suddenly forced one leg between your thighs, parting them easily.

Having freed himself from his pants, feeling your whole-body tense as he pressed up against you, his head swimming with lust, he launched at your throat. Biting at your soft skin hard enough to sting, you reactively cried out.

“Quiet,” he growled, then thrust himself against you again, his fingers dragging the fabric of your skirt up your legs.

Sliding his palm down your stomach, Five pushed your panties down with the motion of his fingers clumsily running between your folds, a quick smile spreading across the back of your neck when he felt how wet you were.

His hand at your back, pushing you forward until your feet fell out of your slingback heels, you were forced up on your tippy toes with your hands falling into the wall behind the toilet. In one forward thrust, he buried himself, his body crushing against your back.

Feeling himself throbbing inside you, Five began to move, his fingers pulling away from your clit so he could put them on your hip, opposite his other hand. Rapidly thwapping his pelvis against the erotic feeling of your squishy butt cheeks, he bit at your shoulder again.

Fingers digging in, he yanked you towards him with each thrust. Then, going harder, his heels coming off the floor, he bottomed out.

You cried out, his hand just as fast flying off your hip, covering your mouth.

Pulling your head back to his shoulder, Five’s thrusts became rougher, more insistent. Groaning into your ear, his ragged gasps signaled his rapidly approaching climax.

In one fluid thrust he withdrew almost all the way out, then sunk back in as he came, finishing with a few shuttering jerks of his hips.

His hands slowly slipped from your mouth to rest at your throat as he fought to catch his breath.

You didn't move until he backed away, letting your skirt drop back into place.

Hot come started trailing hot down your inner thigh.

Sounds from the hall filled the tiled room with voices, then the door closed again. Footsteps moved across the bathroom, the metal partition surrounding you rattling as one of The Commission’s staff enclosed themselves in the stall one away from yours.

Burning from the force of Five’s entry, your entire body shaking, you started to turn around. Refusing to meet your eye, or even acknowledge you were there, as soon as Five had his pants fastened, he blinked away.

~~~

When you reached Five’s office a few minutes later, he was standing inside, looking over his mail.

Marching over, you said, “When I said let’s do this, I didn’t mean I wanted it like this!”

“What did you mean like this?” he hotly shot back, throwing down his letter opener.

“I have feelings! I am not a fuck doll!” you fired back at him. “Why did you just leave me like that?” Five bristled, his nostrils flaring. “I fucked you. That’s what we agreed we are doing, remember? I can’t help that you wanted it right then and there. Your pussy was clenching on my dick so hard, there’s no way you didn’t get off. What more do you want from me? I did my part.”

You slapped him.

Holding his cheek, Five let out a shallow breath, a clear sense of confusion in his stunned eyes.

“You don’t just fuck someone like that and disappear!”

“What’d you expect me to do?” he yelled back just as Elliot walked in, quickly pivoting back out the door the second he heard the still very intimidating man he once thought was a scary little alien boy going off on you.

“I don’t know what I expected, but I… I just thought…” Feeling your eyes prickle, you looked away. “It doesn’t matter. You don’t care.” “Do you want me to care?” “You are such a prick,” you muttered.

By the time Five’s thoughts had merged together to form a defense, you were gone, slamming the door behind you.

Chapter 7: Public Displays

“I didn't ask for this!” Five growled, about to come after you as he swung his door open to find his brother standing outside, his hand raised to knock.

“What,” Diego asked, “having a nice conversation with a real woman?”

“No!” he barked, stomping past, heading to your office, but right away, he saw Dot at your desk, not you. Coming back out, he raked a hand through his hair, cursing under his breath.

“Did you tell her?” Diego pushed.

“Yes, I told her.”

“Did she say yes to jumping your little bones?”

Five breathed in, his teeth clenching as his shoulders bounced.

Diego grinned. “You banged her already, didn't you?” “Why don't you irritate Lila and leave me alone.”

“Oh! You did!” Diego started pumping his fist. “Yes! That’s what I’m talking about… I knew you wouldn’t let us down, and with the rest, I’m just messing with you, man. Lighten up. That’s part of your problem.”

Five clapped his hands together brandishing a fake smile. “Nobody said I had a problem but you, and whatever this is, is over. I am in no mood to fight with you.”

“This was not a fight. And if it was, I’d win.” Diego threw his arm around Five’s shoulder, pulling him back inside his office. Letting him go once inside, he said, “And sure, nobody said you had a problem, but that girl’s teary face did when she just passed me.”

“She was crying?”

“She was doing that thing women do when they are trying not to.”

“Shit.”

“Five,” Diego said, in a very big brotherly tone, “for so long you’ve had to evaluate everything under the brutal terms of survival, all things either being irrelevant or not, but with this one, maybe that’s not the way to go. Kill the emotionally stunted old man shit. I know you have the hots for her. She’s perfect for you, which I’m betting is why you hired her, that, and she’s way smarter than you, which again goes back to why I know you are being a dick.”

“You have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I don’t? So, you didn’t just do something stupid?”

“It’s so much more than that,” Five said, his eyes turning even more tormented looking as he looked away, then back again, doing his best to keep it together.

Diego smiled. “You are a good person, man. You can fix this.”

Sad and angry, Five said nothing, and he continued to say nothing to Diego about it, or you for the rest of the day, and then the next, and then the next. You kept doing your job, of course, communicating with him when necessary, but that was it, and it was killing him.

Diego was right. He had to do something. It was his fault-again.

~~~

Day four, Five couldn’t take it anymore.

Lightly tapping on your door frame, you looked up from your desk. He raised one of the two coffee cups he was holding. Offering a smile. “Two sugars, one cream?”

Your pen slowed to a stop. “Why would you know that?”

He came in. “I know that because, over the last few days I’ve been asking the girls around here all sorts of things about you, and because of my persistent inquiries with them and pretty much everyone else around here, I’m fairly certain the entire building knows their boss is falling hard for you.”

Taking the coffee from his outstretched hand, your mouth opened but nothing came out.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he whispered. “That is the last thing I wanted to do.”

Slowly standing, you asked, “Can we go for a walk?”

“I would love that,” Five quietly replied.

Once outside, strolling across the open green area between The Commission's main buildings, taking sips of his coffee to fill the silence between you, Five waited, watching you for signs of what to do.

“I suppose we can’t go far,” you finally said. “If we ventured too off campus we’d probably start a flurry of chatter with the good citizens of this quaint little town.”

Five smiled, “True. But if you wanted to change into your poodle skirt, and I could dig up some of my frumpy old man trousers somewhere, then maybe we could snag a milkshake down at the drugstore. I’d even give you some nickels for the jukebox since you’re my favorite girl.”

“I like you in your old man trousers, and I’m not your favorite girl. But nice try,” you laughed.

“I get to decide who my favorite girl is, not you and I’d like you in anything,” he retorted. “And hey…” He frowned. “When did you see me looking like the crazy old bastard I really am?”

“In your files and footage on the Infinite Switch board. I did my research. I take my job very seriously, as you know.” You gave him an even more teasing looking grin, then added, “I can’t wait to see you with that cute mustache again.”

“You can’t?”

Taking Five’s hand in yours, you pulled him over to a shady bench under the fluttering leaves of a towering oak tree.

Once you had him sitting, you let go, watching his fingers fidgeting with unease as they came around his cup with the others, gripping it way too tight.

“Five…”

He looked up, meeting your gaze.

“I was hurt about what happened in the bathroom because you are right,” you started. “What you did, the way you did it… Everything about you and that was hot. With just that moment of amazing sex, you left me ruined and it really scared me.”

“It scared me too,” he admitted, his soft eyes searching yours. “That’s why I left.”

“All I wanted was for you to hold me,” you said. “Anything but leave.”

“The last thing I wanted was to leave but I thought you’d only agreed to do this because you felt like there was no other choice. I asked you to have a child with me, but that didn’t mean you had to be with me more than that..”

“Five…” you said, setting down your cup so you could take his hand in yours again. “The moment I was hired, everything I learned about you further proved what an amazing person I already thought you were. I was fighting an embarrassing schoolgirl level crush on you even before you got here, and since, it's only gotten worse despite you being a jerk most of the time. That’s how much you mean to me.”

“It’s not just me feeling this way?”

“No. It’s not just you,” you said, as he lovingly caressed the underside of your wrist with the tips of his fingers.

“Can we start over?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his emerald eyes about as worried looking as you’d ever seen them.

“We already are,” you said, his nervousness distracting you from your nerves.

Moving your entwined hands into Five’s lap, his breath hitched, his air intake stopping entirely when your warm palm slowly moved over his crotch.

With only a peck at first, your lips meeting his, Five whimpered against your mouth, his cock growing heavy and warm under your hand.

After only allowing yourself to feel the desperation of his kiss for just a moment longer, you pulled back, smiling at him. “You are ready to go just like that, aren’t you?”

“It’s my secret superpower,” he said, already trying to kiss you again, his tongue dipping inside your mouth, exploring.

“Just the smell of your body is enough to get me hard,” he groaned, having to break away to breathe, as you massaged your hand harder over the bulge in his pants.

Loving this, you leaned into Five more, placing extra soft brushes of your lips just below his ear.

“We need to either stop or we need to go somewhere, now!” he warned, the pitch of his strained voice so funny, you laughed, the heat of your breath against his throat enough to make him whimper like a puppy all over again.

“Get us out of here, and I won’t stop,” you said, in between kisses along his jawline.

Your discarded coffees spilling from the force of air filling the vacuum of space you’d just been sitting in, in less than a second, you were clumsily standing between buildings, only partially hidden from any onlookers by a bush full of spring flowers.

Falling into Five as he leaned his back against the brick wall behind him, you raised your eyebrows in question.

“When the blood flow to my brain is in short supply, like it is right now, it’s best I don’t try to blink somewhere I can’t already see,” he frantically explained before smashing his lips against yours again.

Working his pants down as fast as you could, you reached inside his pants, gripping his naked cock in your hand.

“Fuck,” he gasped, his hips helplessly thrusting.

His eyes becoming even more heavy-lidded, you started to move the outer skin of his shaft over the harder core.

Your other hand lowering, you cupped Five’s balls through the bunched material draping off his tensed thighs. His heartbeat already pounding in his ears, when you gave him a little squeeze, his scrotum pulsed to the same rhythm, his mind becoming even more clouded.

“Yes, do that,” he groaned.

“At night, do you think about us doing things like this?” you questioned as you smirked. “Because I do, writhing on your couch with my fingers between my legs?”

“Ffffuck yes, I think about this!” he croaked as you slid your hand up his cock, swirling your finger round and round over the glistening pleasure seeping out of him.

“How exactly do you think about me, Five?” you pushed.

He shook his head, back and forth, overwhelmed with your touch as he was by the things you were saying.

“Please tell me,” you encouraged, feeling more empowered by the second.

“I think about you underneath me,” he gasped. “I see your hands gripping my sheets, and I hear you moaning my name as my cock fills your sweet little pussy full of load after load of my come.”

“Tell me more…” you said, your smile broadening.

“I fuck my hand, pretending I’m inside of you, every fucking single morning and night. The way you smile at me, I want to bite your lips so fucking bad, and the way your body looks in your tight skirts! I want to devour you!”

Five’s breaths were coming as quick gasps and there was no point in asking him if what you were doing was right. His face pressed against your shoulder as your hand moved faster, his soft shuddering not letting up the whole time.

The sound of voices passed by, but there was no indication that whoever else was out enjoying the sunny afternoon looked your way.

Your hand slicked, moving easily over Five with the silkiness of his bountiful pre-cum, even more hot wetness began to coat your hand. At your neck Five desperately kissed you as he sucked in gulps of air.

His whole-body trembling, you ran your fingernails through the back of his hair as you slowly stroked him through the final tremors of his release.

“Holy fuck I loved everything about that, but it was not at all conducive to us achieving our goal,” he finally said, smiling as he sheepishly peered at you from under the dark curtain of hair falling over his sleepy eyes.

“No, it was not, but that was the point. This is not just about that. This was about us starting over, which I think we just did. I want you and you want me and together we are going to do our best to make a superpowered little family,” you said.

Five laughed. “You really are smarter than me, and along with this being more proof of that, I think most of my remaining dignity just went down the drain with that crazy shit I just said to you, and the rest was just obliterated after that when I jizzed all over your skirt. A gentleman might have fought you off harder, and not done that,” he said as you burrowed into his warmth, with your head resting on his shoulder.

“He might,” you agreed, “but I think we both know that you are no gentleman.”

The softness of Five’s expression as you peeked up at him only made you want to see the kind of pleasure you just drew out of him all over again. All the harshness you knew he was capable of had washed away, leaving his eyelids heavy and his wetted lips parted in silence as he held you like he never wanted to let go.

Knowing you couldn’t stay there forever, a few minutes later, watching you clean you hand off, seeing that not only when he blew his load, some of it got on your shirt too, a little of the worry had found its way back into Five’s contented expression, but you were quick to address it, wiping the milky white off with your finger before sticking it in your mouth.

“There,” you said, pulling your cleaned finger out for him to see. “All better. Now be a good boy the rest of the day and pay my next dry-cleaning bill, and I might let you take me to dinner tonight.”

Chapter 8: Taking Care of Business

Finishing your workday, you changed into a new sundress, one that you never had the chance to wear until now. On pins and needles, springing around your office, you tried to pick up your hopeless mess, every minute Five took to get there making your heart race faster.

As you promised, if he was good the rest of the day, which he was, shortly after you saw several of his family members come out of his office, Five strolled in, a single flower in his hand, only it wasn’t a rose or anything traditional like that. It was a bloom that looked just like the ones on the bush he’d blinked behind so you could man-handle him.

Coming your way, he extended the fluffy white blossom. Taking it from him, holding it to your nose, the summery perfume enchanted your senses as much as his sweet smile.

“Ready?” he asked.

You nodded, yes.

Giving you a look that made your panties instantly wet, after a few buttons pushed on his new watch, you were off.

~~~

Like any first date, yours was filled with nervous jokes to hide insecurities, but it was exactly what you both needed to circle back to where you should have started to begin with.

As you already knew, Five was complicated. He had been through unimaginable things, some you knew about, some you didn’t. No matter where the conversation took you, when it came to his past, he was forthright, and everything new you learned only made you respect him and hurt for him more.

Five took his time asking you questions, listening patiently as you told him about your life, from the start to now. In those parts of the night, his smile never seemed to fade.

“Have you considered a day off might be in order if you are ever going to move out of your office?” he teased when you got to the part about the last few weeks.

“Yes,” you said, after swallowing another delicious drink of the Bordeaux he ordered to go with the herb-crusted roasted lamb on your plates. “But my boss would be lost without me for even a minute, so it looks like I’ll be stuck sleeping on the couch in his office indefinitely.”

“I’d rather you slept in my bed,” he silkily replied, his smile reddened even more seductively by the rich sip of wine he just licked off his lips.

You rubbed your foot along his lower pant leg, tickling your toes up and down like you’d been doing most of your dinner.

Eyes darkening, Five reached across the table, pulling your hand into his. Like every time he blinked with you so far, you had almost no warning it was coming.

Bouncing down on his mattress, propelling himself on top of you, Five’s fingers dug into your ribs, tickling with no mercy.

“Five! Stop!” you cried, laughing so hard you couldn’t breathe.

“No! You’ve been fucking with me all night!”

“I have not!”

“What do you call that move you did with your foot nudging my dick while I was ordering?” he growled, kissing your neck in-between his breathy love bites.

“My shoes! Our bill!” you complained, realizing your heels were still laying under the table at the restaurant.

“I’ll get you new ones and I already paid the bill. Now hold still so I can dominate you,” Five gleefully demanded, as you squirmed.

When he finally let up, so you could catch your breath, you got a better look around his bedroom. It was small. There was the queen bed you were on, a side table next to it with a lamp on top, and piles of books on the floor everywhere. Other than a bathroom door to your right and what appeared to be an equally small living room, just outside the door, with a kitchen area attached, that was Five’s home.

You loved all of it, from his boyishly blue plaid comforter, to the worn but cozy look of his single sad recliner.

You put your hand in the middle of his chest, lifting yourself on your elbow to gaze at him. Turning his fingers around yours, Five drew you closer with his arm, sitting you up with him.

In a much quieter game, he let his fingers play up your spine, each little bump like a run on a ladder he was climbing up your back.

Enchanted by the way he is looking as you were by his featherlight touch; your breath quickened all over again.

With a smile, licking his lips, Five slipped his hand down the back of your dress, loosening your bra until it fell out of his way. His dark hair brushing your chin, his mouth came down, gently covering your nipple through your thin cotton bodice. Hot and wet, he kissed you there, soiling the fabric as he sucked, then kissed again.

After a moment, he turned his attention to your other breast, the innocence of his expression as he enjoyed you that way so sweet you could cry.

On your knees already, raising your arms at his insistence, Five took your dress up over your hips, then over your head, tossing it aside.

Kissing you full on the mouth, your bare body trembled under his hands as he tugged at the thin straps at your hips, pulling your underwear down until he couldn’t.

Breaking away to kick out of them, he said, “I love these tiny pink panites. I hope the stripper you stole them from doesn’t ask for them back.”

Laughing and fully exposed, there was little shame left in you, but there was still shyness. You lowered your gaze, and Five took care of that by giving you hundreds of kisses until you became completely unaware of anything but how you felt about him.

You held the back of his neck as you kissed, the longer ends of his hair tickling the back of your hand. In turn, Five brought one hand back to your breasts. He held the weight of them in his palm as he squeezed and rubbed you and made small, short sounds of enjoyment into your mouth as he did so.

His smile was on the darker side of playful as he caught you by the shoulders and brought you down on his bed. There was no demand in how he positioned himself next to you. His hair a chaos of brown from you messing with it, he reached out, the tips of his fingers brushing your cheek. “I'll be sorry for treating you the way I have been until the day I die.”

“You are forgiven,” you whispered as you pressed your face into his left palm. You pulled at his sleeves, pulling the warmth of his body over your chilled skin.

Five hissed between his teeth when you took your adoring kisses sideways, to his jaw, then his throat. When the tip of your tongue came out, tasting him, his hands tightened on your arms, and a soft sound of surprise crept out of his throat.

His fiery gaze looked almost apologetic when he pulled back. You gently touched his face and Five closed his eyes as though he couldn't bear to look at you while you explored his lips with your thumb. “Your affection is more than I would have ever asked for,” he breathed, before kissing the tip of your finger.

Opening his eyes, there was that reflection of sadness, something that ran so deeply and painfully in him that it only made you more determined to change that.

As your hands moved down the sides of his vest, his drifted to your thighs, rubbing slowly.

“I’m wearing way too many clothes,” he cutely laughed when you tried to get your hands under his shirt but were hardly able to move them once you did due to the tight fit of his vest.

“Yes, you are,” you giggled. “We need to do something about that.”

In a burst of light, Five vanished and reappeared just as fast, his naked body flawlessly pale as he pushed his groin against yours, his hard cock glistening as it bobbed against your lower belly.

“How’d you do that!” you gasped.

He smirked. “If I explain it, then I have zero surprises left.”

Reaching down, taking himself in hand, this time when Five slipped inside you, the feel of him slowly filling you was enough to make your eyes water.

Grabbing for his shoulders, you hooked your ankles around his waist, your body simultaneously clenching around him as it tried to resist his entry.

Five stopped, his face full of worry.

“Keep going,” you urged, digging your feet into his lower back.

Pulling himself out, undulating his swollen tip at your entrance a few times, Five slipped his cock back in just as slowly, both of your eyes crushing closed the sensation of it felt so good. Doing it again, he accidentally slipped out all the way. Fumbling between you, grasping at his swaying cock, he lowered himself over you even more, letting out a guttural curse of pleasure as he entered you again.

Pushing his hands under your butt, he hoisted you up, rocking his hips against yours in earnest as he tried to kiss you, his lips grazing yours with each downward thrust.

Head getting pushed back further and further into his pillows, you began to match his urgent movements. Working together, his sharp thrusts ignited something inside both of you. Your fingernails digging into his shoulders, you started to see stars, everything inside you suddenly exploding when you felt the heat of his release.

Crying out this name, every exhalation streaming from your lips matched the throbbing of your orgasm that was not letting up as Five kept thrusting, the sound of him fucking you as sinful as it was wet.

When Five did pull out, your back arched on the bed, the emptiness of losing him and the sight of his rigid cock still ready to go shocking you as much as the darkness in his eyes.

Without a word, he flipped you on your stomach.

As Five came down over you from behind, his spent cock easily slid back in, and just as fast, he started to rut, rough and needful, punishing your quivering walls all over again.

You squirmed, the feeling of it too much, but Five pressed his hand against your upper back, pressing you against his bed, forcing you to arch into him as he kept at it, fucking you at an unrelenting pace.

A minute in, he wasn’t slowing, his thrusts sliding into you so deeply the force of it kept causing his headboard to bang into the wall

“Five!” you cried as you pulled at his bedding.

“I’m not stopping until I fill this fluttering cunt!” he growled.

Not even close to being over your first shivered round of aftershocks, he did just that, emptying himself in erratic spurts and uncoordinated thrusts.

Prying his hands from your hips, Five rolled you on your back. Blanketing you with his body, he started placing delicate touches of his lips on your cheeks, his long eyelashes brushing along your skin with the softness of an angel, while his fingers worked between your legs, gathering his leaking come so he could carefully and repeatedly push it back inside you until you surrendered to him all over again.

Helplessly quivering, you buried your fingers in his sweat-dampened hair as he took his kisses to your neck, then added a few final nibbles to your ear. Five seemed incapable of moving further than that, the tenderness of how he was nuzzling you, echoed in the throbbing fullness you felt.

When he finally sat back, it was only to reposition himself alongside you. He rested his cheek against the top of your head, squeezing his arms around you tightly.

Feeling his warmth mingle with yours as you snuggled into him, you heard him yawn.

“Tired of me already? Was that a sign you want me to go?” you teased.

“This business we just did is hardly what I would call tiresome, and you aren’t going anywhere. I am not done with you yet,” he joked, but his hold not letting up meant he wasn’t actually kidding.

As you touched his hair, searching through it with your fingers. His limbs relaxed the longer you kept at it, his hand placed over your belly circling slower and slower. Your feet wrapped around his shins locking him to you even more surely, and with it, his breathing slowed along with his hand coming to a stop.

“Are you falling asleep, Five?” you softly asked.

His chest moved up and down against your side along with his quiet laugh. “Sleep is for the blameless, and I am not that. If you can wait a few minutes, I’m happy to give you round two with a fresh lesson on what you're dealing with since it seems you forgot already?”

“I think you already made your point that you are the cutest fiend to ever walk the Earth,” you laughed. “It sounds fun, but I doubt either of us has enough steam for that lesson right now no matter what you claim.”

“Honey, I am like a jackrabbit,” Five chuckled. “For all you know, I can bring you to unmanageable heights of ecstasy with this next one.”

You gave a playful tug of his hair.

Five nudged the top of your head with his face. It wasn't a kiss. But it didn't need to be. The way he was holding you, you knew that everything had changed.

“We can go back to taking care of business in the morning,” you assured.

“There's always the morning,” he agreed, slurring slightly.

Soon, listening to this heartbeat step into a cadence of sleep, feeling the warmth of Five’s body next to yours, you drifted off in peace along with him, and you did the same thing together every night after that.

Chapter 9: Tiresome Work

“Are you free to chat for a few minutes?” you asked, gently clicking the large door closed behind you as you entered Five’s office.

“I’m always free for you,” he said, looking up from his desk.

Coming around next to him, you propped your bottom up on his mess of papers.

“How’s your day?” you asked, your eyes traveling from his soft pink lips, down to his neck, then to the relaxed motion of him spreading his legs as he leaned back in his chair.

“It’s getting better now that you’re here,” he replied, followed by a mischievous grin.

Doing your best to remember why you’d come in, the reason for it in your hand, you extended him your notebook. “Would you be willing to look this over? I think the numbers look good, but I’d appreciate a second brain on this one just in case I missed something.”

“I’ll look at it, but I doubt you missed anything. You never do,” he replied, his eyes smoldering. He patted his knee. “Why don’t you sit here and let me entertain you. You need a break.”

Your cheeks instantly flushed, and the more Five gave you that predatory look the worse it got.

You didn’t move so he raised a brow.

“Come here,” he hotly demanded.

Hopping up, Five quickly snatched your waist, pulling you to him faster than you were already coming.

“We are supposed to be working,” you scolded, as he trapped you between his legs with his hand tickling up your back.

“We covered this already. This is us working,” he said, following your every movement with wolfish fixation.

Trying to rattle him as much as he was flustering you, you broke away, half-heartedly attempting to organize the millions of items on his desk.

“That sign you are playing with says I’m the boss! Now get over here!” he angrily insisted, but not without laughing.

Giving you the sexiest smile you’d seen on him yet, one that was all dimple and shiny white teeth, Five patted his knee again.

Feeling silly, you perched your bottom on his knee.

With hardly anything between you and his finely woven pants, the bones of Five's knee purposefully pressed into you.

“Now then, isn’t that better?” he taunted as he leaned forward, his lips grazing the side of your neck.

“Five Hargreeves, you are a bad man.”

“And you like it,” he coolly replied with his hand coming up to fondle your breasts.

The room felt like it was on fire already, but everything got warmer when his fingers parted, slicing across the peaks in your blouse, softly catching on your nipples before his warm palms slid over them again.

Feeling like a drunken sailor, you swayed in his lap. Trying to steady yourself, you extended the tip of your shoe to the floor, but Five nudged his knee into you with a little lift of his foot, his hands locking you in your seat to prevent your escape.

Plucking at you until your nipples were visible through the delicate fabric covering them, your small whines and the wetness spreading between your legs were met with his cocky grunt of approval.

“Five, there are dozens of people outside that door,” you said, shutting your eyes tight when he gave you a pinch.

“So,” he deadpanned.

The second you tried to get up again, he let out a growl, simultaneously biting into the crest of your shoulder, the feel of it all making your head roll back on your shoulders as your next broken moan filled his entire office.

“Never mind. Please don’t stop,” you breathed, as his magical lips pressed against the edge of your jaw.

“I wasn’t going to,” he shushed. “This is the most important thing I have left to do here, I say fuck these numbers you brought me. You’re the one who should’ve always been checking my math. My sole purpose now that I have you to do the brain work is fucking you.”

“Five,” you moaned as you shifted your weight on his thigh, desperate to relieve the pressure.

“Mmmm?” he replied.

“You are driving me crazy.”

“I know, but I need to get this baby inside you and seal this deal,” he insisted, kissing you with even more vigor, his mouth sucking at your skin as he moved his hand down between your legs, massaging your swollen folds through your underwear.

“Yes. I understand that but…but we maybe already did seal that deal,” you stuttered. “And if that really is what you are trying to do right now again anyway, it can’t be in here.”

With another quick nip at your throat, Five said, “This is my office, and I intend to use it in any way I please. I earned it, damn it!”

“You did earn it,” you said with a breathy laugh, shifting your weight again, trying to turn towards him and put your feet on the floor. “But we should at least lock the door.”

“Stay put!” he barked, but it had no bite to it because he was trying to paint a silky line with his tongue along the shell of your ear.

Biting your lower lip next to distract you, flipping his hand out from under your skirt, Five pinched your firm nubs of flesh again, not with pain, but with shocking effect. You gasped as a burning jolt of electricity detonated between your thighs.

“Please hurry,” you weakly begged him, the pressure of his knee under you both good and bad at that point.

His fingers gripped under your jaw, moving your face towards his. “There’s no hurry, honey. Daddy is the boss here and everyone knows about us anyway,” he whispered, velvety soft.

You opened your mouth to what, at this point, and with that daddy comment, you didn’t even know anymore, but Five was quick to cover your mouth, his index finger pushing your lips open.

“Suck it like you want to suck me,” he directed as his other hand moved up, slowly opening the buttons on your shirt, stopping when he had enough of them undone to get his hand inside.

“Just like that,” he softly hummed as he watched you caressing the length of his finger with your lips and tongue. Breathing in, his nose brushed along your hairline. “Such a good girl.”

Pulling his finger from your mouth, he reached under your skirt, his wet finger trailing up your thigh, nudging under your panties.

“God, I needed this,” Five adorable whimpered, his thumb pressing down on your pubic bone as his finger slipped inside you, slowly pumping in and out.

“Oh, oh-fuu-ah-kkkkk! Faster!” you helplessly yelped as you ground down your weight against his leg, your hips frantically jutting into his hand.

His finger pumped faster. “Come on, baby. Come for me,” he encouraged,

Your ability to formulate thoughts going all to hell, nothing but gibberish spilled from your mouth. “Mmmm-ahhh-fff, yyyy-e-sssss.”

Adjusting himself, spreading his legs wider to accommodate the tent his erection was making in his pants, he said, “More?”

“Yes,” you moaned.

The rhythm of his hand changed, and a second finger added to his thrusting while his thumb kept fondling your clit with enough pressure to make your head spin.

Gripping the front of Five’s vest in a lame attempt to ground yourself, he began placing a path of kisses along the side of your neck. “My heart beats for you,” he said, his voice deep with longing that matched the look in his worshipful eyes.

Your legs spread embarrassingly wide, the backs of your heels knocking against his shin, you rocked on his knee, your building climax pulsing to a roaring scream. Five kept going at it, not letting up the pace or intensity of his finger repeatedly hooking inside you, drawing out moan after moan.

Your eyes droopy, he grinned at you like this was the best thing he’d ever done while at work, which was ridiculous considering his desk was littered with all the plans he was putting in place to fend off any future apocalyptic events that could threaten the existence of humanity.

Blowing your mind and making you come so hard you couldn’t see straight was hardly important compared to all that, but he didn't seem to think so. He was so beautiful, you could have sat there all day, dreamy admiring the shape of his eyes and their soft lines of happiness, but when he withdrew his fingers, it shot you back into reality.

At the sound of Diego walking by, talking loudly, and Lila smart talking back at him, you instantly started to get up.

Smirking, Five got up too while sucking his newly freed digits in his mouth, licking them clean.

Weak with orgasmic afterglow, you pressed your face against his collar, contentedly breathing in his warmth. “Let’s go somewhere where I can take care of you,” you said, nuzzling him.

“I need you to take care of me right here, love. I have a good feeling about this spot,” he whispered.

You were crushed speechless all over again by the way Five called you love, but it wouldn’t have mattered anyway if you found a way to argue because his mouth molded to yours, opening it with the force of his kiss, so he could use his tongue to tangle and tease you into submission.

When Five did relinquish ownership of your mouth, it was only to spin you around, so your backside was facing him again. From there, he released you and started fumbling with his clothing, the sound of his zipper coming down just before the metal of his belt clanked to the floor.

You reached for the desk in anticipation, thinking he was going to lay you out, chest down over his mess of papers so he could fuck you from behind, but instead, his hand latched onto your waist as he pulled you back with him, towards his desk chair.

“Show me you love me the way I love you,” Five breathed, the back of his legs bumping his seat as his cock prodded between the legs.

You hesitated, not sure what you were supposed to do, so Five plopped himself down in his chair, clarifying when he said, “Sit down.”

The pointed toe of his dress shoe rubbed against the inside of your ankle, further making his intent known. His hands brushed along your thighs, lifting your skirt, then he pushed your panties down.

Reaching back, you put your hands on his armrests. Lowering your body, he stopped you short, hovering over him.

The heat of his length ran along, gathering the wetness he’d already drawn from you. His swollen tip moving back and forth had you holding your breath and the tightening coil of desire inside you clenching with renewed need.

After several more passes, Five lined himself up. “This time, I’m going to fuck you so deep, there’s no way my boys won’t be able to stick their landing.”

“Oh, my God, Five,” you laughed.

“Please, honey, sit down!” he frantically laughed back.

Smiling like a fool, you began to lower yourself over him again, but almost right away as he entered you, it felt like you were being impaled by the girth of his rock-hard shaft, and you had to stop. “Fi-fff -vvvv- ” you sputtered. “It’s too much like this I—”

“I know, just go slow, I’ve got you,” he said, sure to keep his hands under your bottom to support some of your weight.

Giving you all the time you needed, Five shifted back, his chair creaking from his weight. His hiss of satisfaction when your body took in more of his cock was met by your teeth stabbing into your bottom lip.

“Fuuuuuck…” Five groaned, echoing your silent sentiment exactly.

Forcing yourself to take it, adjusting your body down on him until you were sitting all the way down in his lap like he requested, you were shaking like a leaf.

His lips pressed under your ear. “I am hopelessly in love with you,” he whispered.

“Oh, Five,” your voice trembled as he buried his face against your neck.

“Fuck me,” he ordered in a maddingly cocky tone.

Knowing full well he was smiling, you started rocking your hips. Almost right away, to your delight, Five placed his hands over yours on his arm rests, his knuckles going white.

His breaths started to rush out of his mouth, moist against your throat. When you started bringing your body up and down, sliding his cock in and out, deep then shallow, he fell back, breathing a quiet chorus of profanities.

“You like that?” you cheekily asked, bouncing on his cock in a way that felt so good for you, you never wanted the feeling to end.

“Fuck yes I like it!” he groaned. “Why the fuck did I wait until today to make you sit on my dick like this. We should have been doing it this way, every day, three times a day!”

Working your bottom up and down, taking him in and out, faster and faster, his head flopped back against his leather chair.

Smiling, just thinking about the fucked-out face Five was probably making, you said, “Five, I loved you even before I met you. There’s no one else in this world I love as much as you.”

“I can think of someone,” he groaned, “but I’m okay with that since that little charmer is going to be the son I am going to give you right now.” Kissing your shoulder, he grabbed you by the curve of your waist, pressing his fingers to your stomach, increasing the pressure inside you.

Jolted with each thrust of his hips meeting your ass, his hand at your waist lifted you up and down, allowing his cock to slide into you as deep as it would go.

“You’re mine now!” he growled.

His teeth sank into the crest of your shoulder blade.

“Oh, fuuuuuckkkk,” you cried, as he hummed his reverberated delight, his teeth marking you as if you weren’t already his.

Before the pain of his love bite became too much Five let go, his breaths coming fast as his sharp grunts. “Are you getting close? Because I can go at any time,” he huffed, ruthlessly railing you, his heels digging down on the floor as he thrust his hips up and down.

“Uh-huh,” you replied, unable to say more as you struggled to stay over him and not melt into a puddle of mushy bones in his lap.

Your body shuddered, your breaths not enough. Your body reactively clamped down on his cock, repeatedly spasming. The second Five felt it, he filled you, his own body jerking and twitching as he erratically slowed to a stop and sank back in his seat.

His grip loosened as he let you down in his lap. His cock throbbing inside you, the final pulses of his release and the burning of your thighs overwhelming both your senses.

You were on fire, and the sweat on his brow proved that he’d just pushed himself to the point of glorious ruin too.

“I wasn’t expecting that when I came in here,” you quietly laughed, laying against him, your chest heaving with his as you reached back to run your fingers through his hair.

Just then, the door burst open. You jolted upright, but Five’s arm instantly flexed, refusing to let you off his lap.

“Hey, Five?” Luther said, stepping in the door, still looking behind him as he took the package one of the mail room staffers handed him as they whisked by. “Oh! Hey, guys,” he corrected, looking up, seeing you and nothing but the upper half of your bodies.

Coming closer, thinking Five was just showering you with affection like he almost always was, Luther said, “Sloane wanted me to invite you to—"

He stopped mid-sentence, his eyes locked on the sight of his brother’s lap as it came into full view.

Your skirt was hiding the worst of it, but with Five’s pants tangled around his ankles, there was no way Luther couldn’t tell that he was imposing himself on you from behind.

“What is going on!?” he yelled, covering his face with the cardboard box that had Five’s name on it. “Guys! We are at work! I mean… Wow this is not appropriate!”

“What is going on is, I’m working,” Five calmly informed him. “It’s a well-known fact that when doors are shut, it’s for a reason, so this one is on you. And sure. We would love to join you and Sloane for dinner. Thank you.”

Five’s chin came to rest on your shoulder as he cooly stared at his brother.

When Luther just stood there, too shocked to move, Five gave him a much clearer dismissal.

“Get the fuck out, jackass,” he said as sternly as he could make it sound, which wasn’t even remotely threatening because he was laughing as he said it.

Luther huffed a few more words of confusion, then, fumbling around blindly, he eventually made his way back to the door.

When you were alone again, Five grinned. “Would you like to go for another ride, my love?”

Chapter 10: Ad Infinitum

Less than a month later, Five moved in, taking center stage from Herb.

“It’s been said several times tonight by others,” he began as the lights shone down on him, all people who worked for him anxiously waiting to hear what he had to say, “but I am going to say it again because you deserve it from me.”

Five glanced your way, looking so handsome.

Sitting in the row behind him filled with other board members, your ankles were crossed, and your heads were neatly placed in your lap. You were doing your best impression of a dignified businesswoman who hadn’t just spent her afternoon with your back on his desk and your heels resting on his shoulders, but the second his eyes met yours, your flush gave you away.

Having lit you on fire with nothing but a happy quirk of his lip, Five turned back to the crowd. “I personally want to thank all of you for your hard work prior to me coming on as your Director and especially after. Without all of you, this place never would have happened,” he explained, drawing a small applause of agreement from the crowd. “The last few months have been hard, but I know that what we have accomplished is worth it and it will make a world of difference.”

Five laughed softly, almost too quiet to hear, but it was very him, and with it, it was impossible not to fall for his charms.

“I mean that quite literally,” he chuckled. “The changes we have made will end up saving the world, probably many times over.”

It was no secret what you all did at The Commission and averting the end of days was sort of your thing, so that got quite a few laughs from his audience and Five nodded knowingly before moving on.

“Whether you wanted to or not,” he continued, “by now, everyone here knows me in some way or another, and I’ll be the first to admit, I don’t make knowing me easy. I am an asshole and always have been, so sorry about that.”

Five made the motion of physically shrugging that off and that got more laughter filling the large auditorium.

His warm smile grew a little more.

“I’m an asshole, and I am working on it, just ask the very patient woman I hired to keep me in-line. I’m a work in progress, and probably always will be,” he joked.

He pressed the palms of both his hands on the slanted surface of the podium, a prominent line forming between his dark eyebrows.

“Long ago, I made a horrible mistake, and I continued to make many more mistakes after that, and I paid for it, and my family paid too, over and over. The last thing I wanted to happen were the things that did.”

Five paused, his pained gaze directing downward as a loose lock of his hair fell, concealing the sadness in his eyes.

“But,” he said, forcing his voice to sound brighter again as he looked up, “It’s time to move on and look to our future.”

His lips pulled to the side.

“As we all know, I’m wrong a lot.” He sniggered at himself. “I couldn’t fix all of this on my own and I never should have tried.”

He turned and winked at you and your face instantly lit up and your heart skipped a beat.

“Everyone here is a family,” he said, still looking at you. “We are a team, and we will never stop fighting as one, but The Temps Aeternalis was never meant to be an organization that only preserved life,” he insisted, looking back towards the lights. “We are here to live it to its fullest with the people we love. That’s what makes us human. That’s the real reason we are here. To support that idea.”

Five looked over to his right at the rest of the board members, his eyes landing on Lila and Diego.

Seeing that Five was ready for them, Lila pushed herself up, giving him one of her overdone eye rolls and a hand at her mouth, intentionally drawing attention to her big, bored yawn as she approached. Behind them, Diego stood up too and began nervously shuffling his papers with his back turned to the audience.

At Five’s side, Lila smiled. “That was one hell of a speech. Sure took long enough, you old sap,” she complained, but Five merely smiled back at her equally affectionately, not taking the bait to verbally spar with her.

Knowing that it would drive her nuts, he swept in, pulling Lila in for a big hug, smooshing her to his chest. Lila’s arm quickly found its way around his back, holding him just as tight.

“I still think that you are a little piss-pot, you know that, right?” she whispered, while trying to hide that she was getting choked up by rubbing her runny nose all over on the arm of his suit jacket.

“I know how much you love me, and stop wiping your boogers on me,” Five said, scowling at her but it was so fake even the people in the back row knew it.

He pulled away, but not before giving her his pocket square. Then he leaned into the mic moving along to an epic finish.

“I am truly honored that you all entrusted me to make this organization into something in the end that we can all be proud to be a part of, and going forward I look forward to working with you all in a much less hands-on capacity.”

As murmurs from those who didn’t see this coming filled the room, his brother stepped up behind him and Five dropped a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.

Diego looked nervous but Five knew he was ready for this. Like so many things they were taught to think by Reginald that were wrong, Diego was never a second to anyone.

He was a leader and always had been, and his well-timed words of advice when it came to seeing things clearly with you would always mean the world Five.

When the votes came in, he was not at all surprised to see that Diego came in at the top to replace him. Diego was a perfect choice to shake things up around there and Five looked forward to stepping back in from time to time to watch his brother in action.

Hearing Diego take a long breath while he enthusiastically shook himself like he was about to spring into a scuffle, fists swinging like a boxer in the ring, Five’s proud, and somewhat exasperated smile got even bigger.

He looked back out over the podium.

“I am officially stepping down, and so is our Co-chair. Thanks to her, I’m going to be a daddy, and I can’t live another day with taking a little time away to enjoy that miracle with her,” he declared, giving everyone the good news.

The entire crowd stood and started giving their departing Director and you a standing ovation filled with excited whistles.

“It’s about time for that vacation,” Klaus yelled through his cupped hands with Viktor next to him, much less boisterous but equally thrilled in his enthusiastic clapping.

Motioning for the room to quiet but getting little back other than more clapping and shouts of encouragement, Five proudly said, “It is my honor to give you, Diego Hargreeves, our new Director, and his second in command, or first, however you want to look at it, your Co-Chair, Lila Hargreeves.”

Stepping aside, with a wave of his hand, motioning for Diego to take the mic, the echo of clapping didn’t stop and neither did the calls of well wishes for both the amazing man walking away, and the one trying and failing to get them to calm down.

Coming back to his empty seat next to yours, Five took your waiting hand into his, holding it tight as he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mouthed back, smiling so hard it hurt.

As you stood together, cheering for Diego, it finally sunk in for Five.

This was it. The reason for it all.

Finally, he could start living life as he wished, and he couldn’t wait to do it with you by his side and his new baby boy in his arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~❤️

Thanks for reading.

For all my super fans that read this and my entire first Five Centric series over on A03, if you noticed a similarity in the end of this one and that one, you are not crazy. I love my boy and I am a sucker for giving him endings he deserved. 😂😘 Long live TUA and FIVE!!

Link to see all my Tumblr story and art posts

Link to my Master list

Link to visit me on A03

Thank you to all who interacted on my teaser post from 15 days ago, who either commented they wanted to be tagged or showed interest by hitting like. If I missed anyone, I am sorry. I appreciate your patience in getting this one done. 😘 @noodleprinter35 @starlitflora @clownstillwritesfanfic @ifellinto-fantasy @groovydazephantom @redros3y @em1989ts @fckyeahlames @sweetxserenity @honeybunchesoftoenails @9katherinestar @jedaweda @blazingcroutons @sinpforfictionalcharacters @in-love-daily @danlynnie @kalerah02 @ilydiego @3xclus1vel0v3r @yoko-haitani @lianaqui @clappincheeksmeatyflaps @bvbblejayyyy @lanabelle @sweetbabythrills @strawberieee @mimy2004 @fireheart13x @sublimeangelcollection @otralouie11 @idolkerry @tenshiseto @nooneenoticed @moniquem31 @nataliemonicaferlewich @appleypi @little-forest-goblin @i-love-gvf @ursovaine @hargreeves05 @jana0509 @marydbl @temptedtreasuretrove @noodleisodd @mugtrees003 @moonkitty59 @fivehargreevesnumber1fan @badkitty3000 @tuanputri-magui

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ohithankyou · 2 days ago

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speaking about buck and tommy scenes that make me feel like i’m intruding in on a moment that should be reserved for the two of them and the two of them only — this scene is kind of fucking insane when it comes to that.

it’s not even a full scene but a brief moment (less than a minute) within a larger scene and yet. and YET. it’s SO captivating and memorable.

they’re not alone but as the viewer, it really feels like they’re the only two people in the room (probably how they felt as well let’s be real) with how they talk, look, and flirt with each other and in the way they exist in each other’s space (buck basically pinning tommy on one side, no space between them….AH. god i LOVE when their physical space becomes one).

and buck always has a little cheeky flare in his flirting but here it’s even more special and present because he teases tommy a little with his, “oh, i’m sorry, did you want the red one?” which, to me, really translates to a teasing cheeky, “oh, are you looking at me? huh? are you obsessed,” and tommy replies (with his dorky old-school romantic compliment because yeah. of course he does. his evan deserves the best), “has anyone ever told you, you’re a vision in a cone,” which is essentially, “yeah. i am looking at you. you’re beautiful. a vision.” and of course that leaves buck smitten as fuck, because why wouldn’t it? insane compliment to get and for tommy, giving that compliment was as natural and second nature as breathing. his boyfriend is a vision and tommy’s just happy he gets to look at him in the way he does—admire his beauty, etc.

AND not to forget, as tommy’s complimenting buck, he’s also eye-fucking him with the most intense gaze. it doesn’t last very long before tommy (and then buck) break(s) out into a smile and laugh (i think tommy remembered they were, indeed, not alone and needed to diffuse the intensity, make it more wholesome again otherwise….you know). but those brief few seconds where tommy’s piercing eye contact is burning through buck and buck is heavy breathing harder than he almost ever has were so incredibly charged and passionate that i felt like i shouldn’t have been there watching them. which, really, the whole moment felt like i shouldn’t have been there — during the wholesome and sweet portion (which the whole thing was wholesome and sweet, really) and during the more brief, intense moment between them.

it’s just such a great moment, even (or especially) for as brief as it is in the grand scheme of their story. but it shows us how their dynamic grew from season seven and it has a little bit of everything to offer: it’s playful, sweet, heated, charged, fun, wholesome, romantic—so so romantic imo. we get to see them so close together physically and we get to see a different dynamic to their flirting from their previous moments. it’s also a scene where we get to see more of tommy and his flirting (he initiates the flirting here unlike in moments when it’s buck who does)—and i love that.

just a really beautiful scene in my opinion and even though i feel like i’m intruding when i watch it, i will keep rewatching it.

#bucktommy

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minkiroo · 2 days ago

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notes of jasmine

p.sh x reader

pure domestic fluff, inspired by this moment in his recent live hehe

warnings: none! just hwa being silly, not canon compliant (he is not an idol), thats it

_______

the weekend fell upon you two, a week’s worth of work and toil finally pushed behind you as you finally can rest. seonghwa rests his head on your lap, as you sit back on the couch, crocheting the blanket you’d finally set your heart on making absentmindedly. he, meanwhile, scrolled through his phone, humming along to the shared playlist you had playing on the speaker. it was bright and sunny: the rays filtered through the curtains and naturally brightened the shared living room.

you pat his arm lightly, signalling for him to get up. he hums, caught off guard, but lifted his head nonetheless. you place a pillow under his head in lieu of your leg and stretch briefly before leaning over.

“im going to go shower and get ready for dinner, ok?” you whisper, a small smile on your lips.

he hums in response. “mm, ok. don’t take long.”

“oh please.”

you laugh lightly before pressing a quick kiss to his lips and moving to the bathroom, where you quickly washed up your body before going to the bedroom to get dressed.

“seonghwa?” you called out.

“yes, baby?”

“what’s the occasion for dinner?”

“uh, like dress code? i don’t know, whatever you want love.”

“no, like, where are we going? somewhere fancy, casual? you didn’t tell me.”

he lights up in realization, “oh - upscale!”

“perfect. you need to get ready too.”

“coming.”

as he made his way to the bedroom, you sprayed a new perfume you grabbed after seeing reviews online. though you didn’t spoil yourself often with perfume, this one you couldn’t pass up. surely this date night would make a good occasion to try it.

he pauses at the door, sniffing. “what’s that smell?” his voice was low and curious.

you look at him, and then shake the bottle you set back down on the dresser. “new perfume. you like it?” you hold out your wrist, letting him smell.

he grabs your wrist, sniffing and humming as he basked in the scent.

he moves abruptly behind you, burying his nose in the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. he murmurs softly, “you smell so nice.”

“thanks.” you giggle. he continues to move his head to different spots around your neck and chest, deeply inhaling, almost exaggeratingly so. you laugh, both because of his silly antics and also because his long hair was tickling you with every slight movement he made against you.

“you’re so silly today, ah, seonghwa stop that!” you jump as he nips at your neck, pressing loving kisses and continuing to bask in the scent of your new perfume.

“i’m sorry that i cant help how good you smell and how good you look and how perfect you are.” his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you against him as he continues his loving ministrations.

you pout, turning to face him directly, smoothing down his hair against his head. you study his face, a small smile adorning your face as he lightly pants from breathing in far too much perfume. “i’m glad you like it. i’ll wear it all the time now if this is how you’ll be.”

he hums before leaning in, capturing your lips in a warm kiss. though you indulge him briefly, you pull away sputtering, making a face.

“eughhh. you kissed off all my perfume and now you taste like it.”

“deal with it. you love it.” he teases.

“i do not love it though i do love you.” and with that, you kiss him, disregarding the faint taste of perfume.

your lips moved against each other’s in a slow but passionate dance, imbuing all the love you had for each other in a simple kiss. you couldn’t help but laugh, breaking the kiss and pulling him into a hug.

as the night went on - the dinner date, the walk in the cool evening air, and the love you made when you returned home - the sweet scent of your perfume remained lingering in the air—a reminder of the little things that made your love so special.

#seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #seonghwa fluff #seonghwa oneshot #seonghwa imagine #ateez fluff #ateez imagine #ateez x reader #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines

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cod-indulgences · 3 days ago

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König x female!reader, rimming (male and female), ass play, oral, handjobs, anal, light squirting, they're still sweet to each other

(this was supposed to be a quick blurb about konig getting rimmed what happened- under the cut for length)

König is already asleep when you get home. He's a big lump in the bed, dimly outlined by the little nightlight plugged in next to the door. He sleeps like the dead when he's with you- heavy slow breaths, a faint buzzing snore. A mountain of muscles sculpted by training and fighting, sleep-soft under your quilts. It's a sight that makes your heart thump, bleeding warmth through you, seeing your big, scary, special ops berserker so at peace among your clutter and coziness.

You're quiet getting into bed- shoes slipped off, clothes stripped away until your bare skin prickles in the cool air- slowly raising the blankets and settling in against König's broad back. He sighs a little when you kiss him right between his shoulder blades, just a little peck. Precious.

You kiss him again, again, and a little lower. He's so warm, blood-hot from being wrapped under the bedding, and you cuddle up closer. Another kiss. A little lower. Slowly, you work your way down his spine, kisses growing warmer and wetter. Your nose rubs against the line of a scar cutting over his side while you lick gently at his skin, tracing the shape of muscles with your tongue until you're at the full round curve of his ass.

You fucking love his ass. He's so sharp everywhere else, so oversized and angular, but here he's soft and cushiony. Full globes of muscles overlaid with squeezable fat, flexing as he walks, bends, shifts his weight. You set up a mirror on the wall opposite the bed just to be able to see him fucking into you, his thighs twitching as he comes, his ass bouncing with the force of his thrusts. The way he shivers and groans when you get your hands on him, spread his cheeks enough to rub down around his hole, his dick achingly hard in your pussy as you get a finger inside him, rub his prostate to force another load of come into you.

Tonight you're gentle though, trailing your tongue down the crack of his ass and sucking softly when you reach his hole. He's showered before bed, you can taste the soap, and when you lick a fat stripe up and over his hole he finally stirs.

"schatz...?" He mumbles, sleepy and confused, waking to your tongue and hands already on him. You push up on one thigh and move him a little, opening him up, and wriggle just the tip of your tongue in- oh, he's loose, he's been playing with himself.

Your heart and pussy throb together. Oh, you love this man.

You get a hand over his thigh and cup his cock, so soft and heavy, gently thumbing under the head as you spread saliva over his hole- and when you shove your tongue fully inside in the same moment you give him a nice firm stroke, he comes awake entirely, leg kicking out and his hips thrusting back against your face. He's too big for you to hold down at all, so instead you go for a ride: he rocks back and forth between your hand and tongue, shifting you both over the sheets. He's panting and you can feel the muscles of his ass and legs flexing as he is launched into a waking wet dream: a slurping wet mouth eating his hole like dessert, a soft hand pumping his cock, everything still draped in the shadows, half-real. He's moaning helplessly, and you can feel the rippling of his back muscles as he tries to spread his thighs open farther without dislodging your squeezing hand. His cockhead is fat in your palm, smooth and soft like a plum, leaking precome to wet your strokes. Your thumb rubbing under the head, teasing right where his foreskin pulls away, makes him whine and clench down hard enough your tongue is pushed out- that's fine, you're right back in again, using your other hand to pull his cheek open and give you more room to work him over with. A slap to it makes him bounce against the mattress and you do it again, dizzy with lust. Such a gorgeous ass, gorgeous man, rippling under your hand and mouth.

You're wet as sin but leave your hands on his body- what you want right now is this war machine to fall apart around you. You get it, too, König moaning into his pillow as his cock finally throbs and spills over your fingers, playing around the head until he whines from overstimulation. He's so easy when you do this, and the power of it is better than the simple physical pleasure. Your mouth pulls away from his hole with a wet pop, and you hear your own panting loud in the room.

König sprawls limply over the bed, grunting when you climb up his back, only rolling over when you push his shoulder. You're straddling his face like this, and he grins lust-drunk up at you when you tap your fingers to his lips. He opens them obediently, sucking his come off them, before you bring those same fingers up to your clit and rub, spreading the slick around your pussy back and forth, fanning the flames.

König grips your knee and opens your thighs wider, forcing your body to drop nearer his head, and you moan as his tongue curls up your thigh, following the streak of slick stuck to your skin. "Let me return the favor, Schatz," he says, and settles in, licking broad strokes up your pussy, around your fingers still rubbing your clit, and you grip his hair in your other hand. He's good, knows when to push his tongue inside and give you something to fuck down on, when to hold still, and it takes only a few minutes to bring yourself off on his face, grinding down and letting your weight settle on his face, briefly smothering him in your pussy as you come.

He's grinning still when you push up and off him, dropping onto the pillows with a blissful sigh. You're surprised when he follows you, kneeling up to spread your thighs open, knees lifted and bent over his elbows so that your pussy is propped up to the ceiling.

"That's not the favor I meant," he says, and bends his head to lick up a mouthful of your come- and then spits it out again onto your asshole, a creamy mess dripping down your ass as he dives in, tongue laving over you, working into your hole as you moan under him, thrown suddenly into new pleasure as he holds you still, keeping your ass up. He's more enthusiastic than you were, almost wild with it, and when he gets his whole tongue into you and curls it like he did in your pussy you nearly vibrate off the bed.

You're so wet it's obscene, dripping down to where König's tongue fucks in and out of your little hole, and your clit aches and pulses in a little orgasm when you clench down, even with nothing in your cunt. He's never done this before, and you hadn't pushed him on it even while you worked his ass open your yourself, knowing he'd either want to try or have his reasons not to. Fuck, you haven't even showered since morning- and it feels so filthy, so taboo to have his tongue in your ass and his lips sucking on your hole, even just after you were inside him, both of you wet and messy between your thighs now. He's eating you like you're delicious, some rare fruit he hadn't plucked yet, and your thighs start to tremble. You're going to come on his face again.

"König- fuck, baby, I need more, I'm so close," you gasp, and whine when instead he pulls away, as if he's done.

He pushes your knees all the way up to your chest, holding them there, and you realize what he's after as König fits the head of his cock to your worked-open asshole and presses inside, huge, hard again and so big, too big for such a small hole, somehow still fitting inside and filling you up. You're too breathless to moan, but your whole body thrums with pleasure, with the feeling of being taken in a place that shouldn't be taken at all, can't possibly fit the cock that's stretching your hole so much. You're going to be gaping when he's done and the thought makes your clit throb.

He pulls out, nearly all the way, just his cockhead nestled in your ass, and you can feel the way your hole squeezes down around it. You both moan together, before he's suddenly fucking in hard, steady thrusts that set you bouncing against him, ass slapping his hips with wet smacks- you're still dripping and slick, and making so much mess around your thighs, against König where he's fucking all the way into you. He's swearing in German as he pulls out, your ass clinging to his cock, before ramming broken moans out of your throat. You can't breathe around him, air jolted out of your lungs at each thrust in, ass molding to the shape of his cock. Your pussy flutters with the trembling in your thighs, seeking stimulation it doesn't need as your ass is fucked like a cocksleeve.

You're coming before you realize it, nothing touching your clit or pussy, just a sudden tilt over the edge, begging König not to stop, as your pussy clamps down on nothing and your ass onto the cock pounding your insides, the conflicting sensations flaring white-hot. You think you squirted a little- it's so wet, obscenely loud as König fucks his own come into you, moaning your name as he releases your legs to fall limp around him.

He pulls back out more carefully, and you whine at the stimulation, the feeling of his come squeezing out of your hole. You're both sweaty and panting, and you open your arms to him with grabby hands, the big Austrian settling over you like a blanket.

His arms come around you in a hug, and you plaster his face with kisses- you avoid his mouth, unsure if he'd mind with both your tongues so recently delving, but he sucks your bottom lip between his and draws you in, letting your bodies settle.

"made a mess, Schatz," he mumbles into your cheek. You wince- the wet spot is, hmm, less sexy than what made it.

Easily fixed- you have clean sheets and towels to soak it up. For the moment though it can wait. König is warm and soft and almost drifting back to sleep, worn out with two orgasms. One of your hands creeps down to cup his ass, squeezing a cheek fondly. He's so good to you, so eager to explore and play.

You quickly dip a finger into your pussy and settle it just against his hole, rubbing a little slick against it, feeling it wink at you, like it's saying goodnight. Let the wet spot wait- come morning you'll be adding to it anyway.

#konig #könig x reader #konig x reader #cod #call of duty #könig #konig smut #an indulgence #theres so much ass in this #the ass is the main character

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wineonmytshirt · 16 hours ago

Text

Swiftie Sleepover Saturday™️ : A Weekly, Saturday Event for Swifties to Enjoy

Hello all! My name is Jen, and I've been a Swiftie since 2008. I wanted to organize a fun, weekly sleepover event where we can have fun discussions, analyze lyrics, post beautiful edits, take polls, and connect with each other in so many other ways through our love of Taylor and her works of art! Each week will have a new theme or discussion prompt, please post all contributions with:

#Swiftie Sleepover Saturday

If you have any fun suggestions for a theme for one week, feel free to submit them to me via my ask box! Also, if you're a poll or edit blog and want to connect for a special event don't be afraid to send a dm or ask! Some things that will be covered during Swiftie Sleepover Saturday:

Polls

Lyrical Analyses

General Discussion

Current Events

Gif/Edit Post Events

Poetry/Writing/Fanfic Events

Other Special Events

Everyone is welcome, kindness only, please have fun with this! First day will be Saturday, February 8th!

Swiftie Sleepover Saturday Specifics!

Each week the day before Saturday I will post a topic, question, or any other discussion along with some polls and edits that you can feel free to add to and interact with! This is a fun, Swiftie-friendly event that welcomes all and I am thrilled to hear your thoughts on the many topics we're going to cover! These will range from songs to themes to award shows and much more, and I can't wait to to see how you all get into it! You can get involved by posting polls, edits and graphics, text posts, poetry/writing, and anything you want! Some weeks will ask for some of those specific things so stay tuned! Please tag

#Swiftie Sleepover Saturday

Every weekend, the topic can be posted about/discussed for the remainder of the week following, but remember to check in for something new each Saturday!

Please be kind and gentle to those around you. Anyone displaying aggressive, rude, bullying, cruel, or inappropriate behavior will be blocked immediately. THIS IS A SAFE SPACE for all swifties!!!!!!

Some example topics include:

The use of rain in Taylor's lyrics The song Chloe Et Al Grammys Fashion in 2013

If you have any questions or concerns my ask box and dms are always open to you! This is an event meant to create fun. togetherness, and joy. Enjoy!

TAYLOR SWIFT DEBUT VINYL GIVEAWAY

TAYLOR STICKERS

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mommyslittlebird · 3 days ago

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Broken

Another cut segment of Her Special Girl Part 2! (Hopefully coming soon)

CW: Stepmom/stepdaughter, mention of strap on usage, sexual experimenting, shame, no explicit smut but still very much 18+

“Mama?” You asked, laid back against the headboard with Wanda’s head resting on your chest. The strap she’d just fucked you with was still nestled between your legs, resting sticky against your thigh. Neither of you had the energy to get up just yet, and you were more than happy to stay just like this until your stamina returned.

The night had been wonderful. You’d never felt more complete and satisfied in your life. Having Wanda inside you made you feel like the most important girl in the universe. She loved you. She took care of you. Everything was perfect.

Except your stomach tightened with a certain unshakable shame and embarrassment.

You hadn’t cum.

She had to have noticed, but she hadn’t mentioned it. Your mind swam with possibilities. She had to be disappointed, right? I mean she’d fucked you for over an hour, putting in so much hard work to make sure you felt good… all for nothing.

You weren’t sure why it hadn’t happened. You’d felt so wonderful the entire time. She had made you feel so good. But your orgasm simply never came.

“Yes, my little love?” She mumbled into your chest. She was practically collapsed against you from exhaustion. It had been a good long while since she’d fucked anyone like that.

“I did a good job, right? I was good?” You tried to keep your composure, but your voice came out far shakier than you were hoping. Your hand nervously played with her hair, braiding small bits of it at random.

She turned to the side, propping herself up on her elbow so she could see your face. “Of course you were, angel. You did wonderful. Mama’s so proud of you.” She wiped your hair from your face, cupping your cheek to force your avoidant eyes to meet hers.

“Even though I didn’t…”

She lifted her eyebrows, waiting for you to finish your question. She knew what you were trying to ask, of course. When you didn’t continue, she reached up and squeezed your hand. “Did you still enjoy yourself?”

“Yes! Yes I-“ You felt the need to reassure her she hadn’t done anything wrong. Whatever the problem was, it was with you. You’d felt fantastic. You weren’t sure why you hadn’t cum. Your nervous ramblings were cut off when you felt her hand gently squeeze yours again.

“Then that’s all that matters, honey,” Wanda reassured, resting her head back on your chest. “I enjoyed myself, too.”

You looked back down at her, confused. “But I know you worked really hard and I… I don’t wanna make you feel bad.”

She rubbed her hands up and down your hips in a calming motion. “I don’t feel bad, love. You were doing so good for me, telling me how much you loved me and how much you were enjoying yourself. I wasn’t doing this to make you cum, honey. I was doing this to make you feel good.”

You took a deep breath, still anxiously fiddling. You trusted her, that she wasn’t upset, but you couldn’t shake the feeling there was something wrong with you.

As if she could read your thoughts she knelt over you, straddling you on either side. You could feel the toy pressing against your stomach as she reached for your cheek again.

“You aren’t broken, detka,” she stated simply. Tears unexpectedly pricked your eyes at her words. She wiped them away with her thumb. “You don’t have to cum every time, sweetie. It’s okay.”

“But this time was special, and I really wanted to show you I was enjoying myself and… and I just don’t understand!” You cried.

“Sometimes our bodies react in ways we don’t expect,” she explained. “And each and every body is different. Some things that work for other people might not work for you. But that’s okay. I’m here to learn all about your body, and what it needs for you to feel the best it possibly can. It’s not a failure for either of us that you didn’t cum, sweetheart. It wasn’t a failure at all because we learned about a new way to make your body feel good.”

You nodded in understanding, so relieved she didn’t think you were broken or that there was something wrong with you. “So we can do it again?”

She laughed and kissed your forehead. “Of course honey. And next time we can use the vibrator if you want. I bet that will make you feel even better.”

You smiled. You were so glad you had her with you, on this journey to discovering your own pleasure. You wanted more than anything to learn what made her feel good, and it made your heart swell to think she wanted to do the same.

She collapsed against your chest again, peppering kisses across your bare skin. “And for the record,” she teased seductively, “I think I came enough for the both of us.”

#wanda x y/n #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x reader #mommy wanda #mama Wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff

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somewillwin · 2 days ago

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Hey, how are you doing? I’m wondering what do you have in mind for Vi during the period of the divorce era and their attempt at only friendship afterwards, can you share with us a bit more about that? I wonder what might be going on with her and if Cait can feel anything about Vi that gives her pause or confuses her about all this besides the tattoos. And will the tattoos be the same since she got all of them in stillwater in the main universe? I’m really curious about it bc rn it feels like she is "forced" (for lack of a better word) to feel uncomfortable sensations that make her miserable/heartbroken/sad/angry 80% of her time lmao I was just reading another ask you received and I think it’s fair for Cait to feel disheartened that Vi can't see her true intentions and beliefs when it comes to her decision to become an enforcer, esp since this is on 2x07 au universe and to her Vi has contact with ppl like Grayson in the AU and we know what Grayson, an enforcer and sheriff, means to Cait as a mentor but it’s also completely fair for Vi to feel strongly averse to this given the way she had to deal with loss and violence from a very young age because of enforcers and how this affected and traumatized her and also her family, especially her sister, and we know how Vi works when it comes to that Imo it’s pretty justifiable that Vi would have a hard time understanding why her soulmate would want to be part of this group when she know what happened to her and how much that still affects her even if Vander/Cassandra/Grayson are making progress regarding that and in the au things are not nearly as dire as it is in the main canon at this point (also hextech and shimmer doesn't exist and that changes a lot of things too) I feel it’s much more complicated them just x made more sacrifices than y so they deserve more or they deserve less because of it. Plus these two are teenagers or young adults in love who still don't really know how to navigate their emotions properly in a divided world. And it's a world where Vi has more to lose in a broader aspect. I think Cait motivations to become an enforcer are, among others, exactly to bridge this gap in an everlasting manner. Imo she sees it as a way to change things permanently. "What (who) are you shooting for, young Kiramman?". If we agree or not, or if we'd do the same or not, it's up to us individually but from what I understand what we're talking about here is not that but what Cait and Vi think given their circumstances at this point of the story Also I'm really curious to see the parents but most of all the siblings (of both sides) reaction to the mess these two are creating with their miscommunication even tho they are soulmates lol but I bet their bond will be even stronger by the end when they are more mature and have a better understand of themselves and of each other. Apologies for the really long text!! 🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️🙇‍♀️

Well vi is gonna be mostly fighting with herself here, and lashing out and getting her tattoos. I don’t plan for her to start drinking cause she’s baby still and I want her to be happy. She’s just conflicted and needs to figure out what does she wants.

Maybe I’ll get her to date Gert during the friendship era after the divorce… she just wants to know how it feels with other people, if maybe she can be happy or love someone else like that. (Both of them have Grayson and Cassandra as example that you can be soulmates and not being together, but also remain on each others lives, not like Vander and Silco)

It obvs doesn’t work cause they are in love so they can’t force themselves to love someone else, specially when they are still meetin regularly during their friendship era….

Oh also… shimmer does exists in this AU. The barons and shimmer are still a big point of conflict in this AU. The barons like to give Vander problems and try to mess up this “peace” that Vander and Cassandra have been able to build fighting the council, and anything could tip the council into a direction that would put everything at risk like it was before.

(Vander is not on the council btw, he is just considered as the leader of Zaun by them)

The thing about cait as a character and that I didn’t want to change in this AU. Is her sense of justice… how important it is to her. She wants to protect people and she feels like the enforcers are the best answer for that, BUT she has seen vi and her family and also has felt some of the abuse they are capable of, she is not ignorant to it. She know that joining them climbing in rank AND also because she is a kiramman…. She can change the enforcers, she does have the power to change them and what they stand for. To actually protect people from both Zaun and piltover, not just to protect the interests of the council.

She believes she can do that and she’s gonna work til she does it. She wanted vi to understand that’s why she was joining them and not because she thinks like them… but ofc vi trauma about the enforcers it’s A LOT… so she’s not able to understand that at this moment.

About the parents??? Lmaooo they are going through it.

Yes, both Vander and Cassandra advised them to take things slow after they met at the hospital. Warned them about the soulmate thing not always working out. THEY DIDNT EXPECT THEM TO TAKE IT AT A GLACIAL PACE THO.

Cassandra didn’t like AT ALL that cait joined the enforcers, she was even more pissed when cait came home with Maddie and introduced her as her girlfriend. Cassandra loves vi, she has seen how happy she makes caitlyn and like EVERYONE ELSE can see how much they love eachother. She can see how miserable cait is without vi and how she is forcing smiles and just… forcing feeling for Maddie.

Vander can see how miserable vi is and she can see going into an auto destructive state and that she is also hurting her soulmate with it. So she’s constantly giving her talks about the consequences of hurting your soulmate and yourself and that she could end up just breaking them beyond repair if she continues down that path. Vander has worked with Grayson for yeaaars so he has seen the good and the bad of the enforcers and keeps helping vi with this but is letting her keep her own path and trusting her to pick with her heart instead of her head. She has a good heart after all.

Th kids are just talking about their divorce and just… they are so done with both these idiots.

#soulmates AU #damn this is so long #I don’t even know if I answered your ask #shhshshshs #or if this makes sense

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pukefactory · 2 days ago

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HELLO!! May I please request some Bobbette x reader headcannons?

Of course! I hope you enjoy these headcanons.

˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖✮ CHERRY LEMONADE ✮˖⁺‧₊˚ ˚₊‧⁺˖

❆ Summary: A compilation of headcanons featuring Bobette as your girlfriend

❆ Character(s): Bobette (Dandy’s World), Coal (Dandy’s World)

❆ Genre: Headcanons, Fluff, SFW

❆ Warning(s): None - Completely Safe!

❅ Bobette is already a cheerful and friendly toon, but with you, she’s the sweetest companion imaginable. Caring, inventive, and always by your side, she wants nothing more than to spend time with you and spread holiday cheer. Lively and upbeat, she makes it nearly impossible to stay upset when she’s around.

❅ One of Bobette’s favorite traditions is enjoying cookies with a warm cup of hot cocoa, and naturally, she wants to share that with you! With Tegan’s help, she prepares a big plate of cookies and two oversized mugs of hot cocoa, topped with cream and marshmallows—the full works. The two of you cuddle up, savoring your treats and each other’s company. It’s not unusual for you both to drift off during this, with Bobette’s arm around your shoulder as you rest your head against her chest, peacefully napping together.

❅ As a toymaker, Bobette is extremely busy around Christmas, crafting toys to fulfill children’s wishes. But even though she’s the best at what she does, she still appreciates an extra pair of hands. When you offered to help, she was over the moon! She loves having you by her side, even if it means things get a bit messier than usual, with paint scattered everywhere. Over time, you become more skilled, and together, you both produce toys far more quickly than Bobette could on her own. With your help, her work feels even more special.

❅ Speaking of presents, Bobette often gives you gifts she made herself. Whether it’s a toy you specifically requested or something as simple as a new blanket, she always manages to create or find exactly what you wanted—and you couldn’t be more grateful. Bobette makes sure you never go without, and seeing your face light up with happiness and surprise makes it all worthwhile for her. Just be prepared—sometimes, she might give you a few too many gifts!

❅ Being Bobette’s partner means you are partially responsible for looking after Coal, especially when she isn’t around. Coal tolerates you as much as she does everyone else—except for her owner—but she is a bit warmer toward you than she is with others. When Bobette is too busy, it’s up to you to take Coal on small walks and help her move large crates of toys. Of course, she probably likes you more than most because you regularly give her favorite treats, making you very popular in her eyes. Your girlfriend truly appreciates your help with Coal, and you always get plenty of kisses from her after she sees how well her pet rock has been cared for.

❅ It’s probably no surprise that Bobette’s wardrobe consists entirely of Christmas-themed sweaters. However, nearly all of them are at least slightly itchy—if not unbearably so. Neither of you knows why, but they always seem to irritate her skin. As a surprise, you got her a stack of new, non-itchy Christmas sweaters made from the softest, most comfortable material you could find. Needless to say, Bobette was elated and gave you a bone-crushing hug. From that moment on, she only wears the ones you gave her.

❅ Another one of Bobette’s favorite festive activities is making gingerbread houses, and what better way to make it even more fun than doing it with you? She carefully lays out all the supplies before you begin, and it isn’t long before you’re both covered in brightly colored icing, your hands and aprons a complete mess. No matter how much effort you put into decorating, the house always seems to collapse under the weight of gumdrops, peppermint swirls, and mountains of powdered sugar. After a moment of staring at the sugary disaster, you both burst into laughter and give up, helping each other clean the icing off your skin. Her kisses tasted especially sweet that day. You both agree to ask Ginger for help next time.

❅ After finishing her toy making, Bobette loves nothing more than to snuggle up with you and Coal under a warm, cozy blanket. You’re well aware—probably even more than she is—that her constant work leaves her completely exhausted and maybe even a little stressed. You can see it in her eyes; something always seems different once she’s done. Of course, you’d never stop her from doing what she loves, but you make up for it by ensuring your shared bedroom is as comfortable as possible. Soft Christmas lights, freshly baked treats, warm cocoa, plush blankets, and an especially cozy Coal all make her heart swell with happiness. So, you always make sure everything is just right before she returns. She rests easily, comforted by the love and care you put into making her feel at home.

❅ Bobette loves telling you about her adventures with Coal—how they delivered presents in blizzards, how she got frostbite, and how she came so close to meeting Santa himself. Oddly enough, she only seems to share these stories when you’re settling in for bed, which can be a little frustrating since her voice is so soothing that you always fall asleep before hearing how they end. Fortunately, you still remember every detail of each tale, no matter how many times she retells them. Especially the one about Coal dragging Bobette through the snow in a sleigh—you’d love to recreate that someday, even if there’s no snow.

❅ Bobette often attaches a sprig of mistletoe to the end of her hook to steal as many kisses from you as possible—and you fall for it every time. Not that you mind the extra affection, but she loves pulling you into an impossibly tight hug and covering your face with kisses until you’re too breathless to protest. When she finally lets go and you gasp for air, she giggles, apologizes, and insists that you’re simply too cute not to smother with kisses. Honestly, you can’t argue with that. You do love her kisses, after all.

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anniebeckcalla · 3 days ago

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※。.:*: temporary cessation [mark x reader]

style: coffee shop au, non-idol au wc:861 cw: fluff

calla's note: sorry if there are any inaccuracies, i haven't written a coffee shop au before.

Mark's eyes darted between the clock and the door of the coffee shop as he sprayed the worktop with disinfectant. It was eleven o'clock, almost time for his first break of the day, but that's not what he was excited for. No, eleven was when you, y/n would come into the shop for your daily refreshment. The feelings that arose when he thought about you were somewhat bittersweet. You were extremely pretty, you dressed well, and you were very polite, leading to Mark catching feelings (though he was too embarrassed to admit it to himself); however, your order was a constant reminder to Mark that he was out of your league- a hot chocolate with a crema topper and syrup in the shape of a heart.

Every day, you had the same order. It would have been cute if it was for you, but yesterday, Mark had been bold enough to make a remark on it. He shuddered as he recalled the memory.

“It's not for me,” you had smiled, looking down at the counter. “It's for someone special.” “Who might that special person be?” Mark had said in reply. You had avoided the question, tapping your card on the reader to pay and leaving the shop immediately. Mark felt humiliated with himself for being overfamliar with you, but he still wondered who the mystery individual was.

If the syrup was in the shape of a heart, he thought, wiping down the worktops, then it was for a boyfriend. Or a girlfriend. Definitely a romantic relationship, either way. Some men were douchebags, and would keep on pestering even if there was romance on the scene. It was possible that you'd assumed that he was one of those types of people. He wrung out the cloth in the sink. Did he really give off the air of an obsessed alpha wannabe?

Mark looked up at the clock again. It was five past eleven. You were always in at eleven on the dot. Maybe you had decided to go to another coffee shop, intimidated by yesterday's question. Mark shook his head as he threw the cloth in the laundry box. He wished that he hadn't been so keen on you. Now he'd managed to chase you away.

The door to the coffee shop opened and two people shuffled in- an elderly lady with a long coat and scarf holding tight onto the arm of a younger lady with nice clothes…

Y/n.

“Hi, Mark,” you giggled nervously, cheeks pink as you and the elder approached the counter. “Sorry it took us so long to come in today. My grandmother really wanted to see you.” The elderly lady peered at Mark, and a grin brightened her lined face. “So this is the one who's been making my daily hot chocolates! What a handsome young man!” You nodded in agreement. “I suppose that this was the perfect time to introduce you guys to each other. Mark, this is my grandmother. She's…she's been ill for a long time, so I buy her a hot chocolate from here every morning to make her day. Gran, this is Mark. He's the nice man who makes your hot chocolate for you.”

Your grandmother winked at you. “The one you talk about every time you get the chance? How he smiles at you, how he takes extra time making the drink, how you think you might be in-”

“GRAN! Please don't!” You put your finger to your lips to silence her, but she wasn't fazed. “Our y/n is obsessed with you, Mark,” she said. “Thank you for making a positive change for both of us. I love your hot chocolate, and y/n loves talking to you.”

Mark breathed a sigh of relief. So it was just a misunderstanding, on his part, simple as. And there was the added joy of you feeling the same way as he did towards you. “Obsessed” was the word that your grandmother had used. “The drinks are on me today,” he smiled. “We only came in for my grandmother's drink,” you piped up. Your grandmother budged you hard in the ribs. “Y/n! Take a hint!”

Once the drinks were done, Mark slid them towards you. “Don't tell anyone about this,” he whispered, looking over his back quickly at the other staff and then whipping out his own card to pay for the beverages. To his delight, you and your grandmother stayed inside to drink that day. Mark continued to work, but every time he looked at you, he was delighted to find you staring right back at him, eyes sparkling with reverence.

At last, it was quarter past eleven- time for his break. Mark paused, but then grabbed the business card from the holder on the counter. His cheeks reddened as he scribbled his phone number on the back of it, and he wasn't able to look you in the eyes as he passed it to you, mumbling, “just in case you forget the name of the coffee shop.” As he left the shop, he saw you and your grandmother gushing over the business card excitedly.

Some risks were worth taking.

masterlist

taglist: @pl4netx1a @jeonghansshitester @jenoleeaesthetic @cigsaftersuh @mejaemin @pl4netx1a @t-102 @mmjhh1998

click

#mark x reader #mark x y/n #mark x you #mark fluff #mark imagines #mark lee ff #anniebeckcalla #fanfic #fluff #nct ff #writing #kpop ff #kpop fanfic #nct dream

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misedejem · 16 hours ago

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I did this on bsky earlier and remembered I had it saved in my drafts on here too!

More detail below 👀

She didn’t know Loghrif well, but Gaia was Kass’ senior at the Akadaemia, so they knew each other in passing for centuries. She was friendly with Hythlodaeus, so she was friendly with Azem by association.

Mitron was much the same as Loghrif, someone she was cordially acquainted with from school who she didn’t really see much outside of a formal setting. Azem did, however, secretly side with Mitron in the great ‘when is the fish no longer a fish and actually just taking the piss’ debate.

Azem, Emet-Selch, and Hythlodaeus were married, soulmates, absolutely inseparable. For Azem, it was platonic, for the others, romantic. They were friends from the day they met as children, and even after the Sundering, they cannot part until they return to the Star together.

Azem clashed with Pashtarot a lot, as a notorious rule-breaker, but there was no genuine ill-will. They just found each other frustrating to work with.

Fandaniel was her friend for years, from their time working in Elpis together before either of them joined the Convocation. Azem started to distance herself a bit after she quit her job to travel, and even more her father returned to the Star, but they remained friends until the very end. Hermes was never really certain exactly how he felt towards her.

I don’t think Azem and Altima ever interacted. Even in meetings.

She and Halmarut didn’t talk much, but they did have a close mutual friend in Azem’s sister-in-law, so sometimes they would end up in a social situation together. Having nothing in common, any conversation never made it past the small-talk stage.

Nabriales was her friendly rival, they just liked to fight and compete constantly. The arena from P11 is the Convocation Chamber in its reconfigured state that Azem designed for their matches.

Azem wasn’t certain on where she stood with Igeyohrm. She was Lahabrea’s family, but also Elidibus’ close friend, so she was never sure which direction Igeyohrm veered towards with her.

Deudalaphon was another old friend from before she joined the Convocation, and her old boss - Azem’s original role being part of the Words of Deudalaphon. Her concept specialities fell under their expertise, so they worked together even after Azem took up the mantle of the traveller.

Azem owed Emmerololth her life a hundred times over (due to her tendency to injure herself on duty) so she tried her best to maintain a friendly bond between them out of respect and gratitude.

Lahabrea and Azem vehemently detested each other. They did not agree with how the other operated at all, and neither felt the other should have a seat on the Convocation. In part, it stemmed from the unfortunate relationship that Lahabrea had with Azem’s father, Apollo, when he had been younger. When Azem heard what had happened with Erichthonios, Elidibus had to keep them from trying to kill each other.

Elidibus was like her little brother, she cared for him dearly and had since he was toddling. He looked up to her the way she looked up to Venat - to the point where she was concerned it would interfere with his duties if he took on the role of Emissary.

Venat was a personal hero from the day they met, and over time became her mentor and confidant. Even though Azem felt as though her predecessor could be difficult at times, and she didn’t understand many of her actions especially towards the end, she still loved her all the same.

a convocation relationships chart for all your azem needs ☀️

#ffxiv #misede’s xiv ocs #endwalker spoilers

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earthlybeam · 2 days ago

Note

Can you please write about elves with a huntress/hunter reader who lives deep in the forest, doesn't have many manners or anything fancy like the elves, and is not used to eating healthily or consuming less meat. The reader hunts for themselves, bringing hunted animals to the elves as trophies, thinking the elves will appreciate them. Include Thranduil, Elrond, Legolas, and Celeborn. Have a good day/night. Thanks for your beautiful writing. I very rarely see person who writes so thoughtfully and poetically and even more rarely I see writer who writes for Lotr elves.☕

Aww, thank you so much for your kind words! That really means a lot to me. I’m so glad you enjoy the writing, and it’s so wonderful to hear that you’re excited for a LotR story with the elves. I’d love to write something like this! It’d be so fun to explore the contrast between the elves’ elegant, peaceful way of life and her wild, free-spirited ways!

Thranduil, Elrond, Legolas, Celeborn version below.

🍷𝓣𝓱𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓾𝓲𝓵

The ancient trees loomed overhead, casting long shadows over the forest floor. The sound of footsteps was muffled by the thick carpet of leaves and moss, as you, a solitary hunter, moved through the woods with practiced ease. Your home was far from the opulent halls of the Elves, nestled deep within the heart of the forest in a humble, weathered hut. A place where the air was filled with the scent of earth, damp leaves, and the unmistakable musk of the animals you hunted.

You lived by the bow, your hands used to the rough texture of your weapon and the weight of your quiver. You were accustomed to taking life, a necessity in your world. Every day, you hunted to survive, bringing back the fruits of your labor: deer, boar, and the occasional stag. The larger the prey, the more satisfying the hunt. And every time you brought down one of Mirkwood’s majestic creatures, you carried it proudly to the elves, thinking they would appreciate your skills.

But your ways were far removed from theirs. The elves, particularly their King, Thranduil, with their ethereal grace and reverence for the land, were hunters too—but not in the same way. For them, nature was a delicate balance, something to be revered and preserved. The fruits of the forest—herbs, berries, and nuts—were their preferred sustenance. Meat, especially the meat of an animal as noble as the stag, was a rarity, an occasional indulgence, and only consumed on special occasions.

As you approached the palace, the soft hum of voices reached your ears, growing louder with each step. The grand, gleaming structures of the elf kingdom were unlike anything you’d ever seen. Towers crafted from living wood, leaves and branches intertwining in delicate patterns. Their halls sparkled with a natural light, the air fragrant with the scent of flowers and herbs. It was a stark contrast to your rough, simple existence.

You approached Thranduil’s court, carrying the large stag draped over your shoulders. Its massive antlers gleamed in the pale sunlight, a prize you had taken down after hours of tracking. It was an impressive kill, something that would have earned you admiration from any other hunter in the land—but here, in the realm of the elves, you felt a momentary twinge of uncertainty. You knew little about their customs, only that they were not like you. Still, you hoped your offering would be appreciated, even if it was an act foreign to their way of life.

Thranduil stood at the center of the hall, his long, platinum blonde hair flowing around his shoulders like a cascade of moonlight. His piercing eyes caught sight of you as you entered, and he raised an eyebrow, his gaze flickering to the stag you had placed before him. His lips pressed into a thin line. The room seemed to grow quiet as the tension between the two of you thickened. Thranduil’s expression was unreadable at first, but beneath the calm exterior, there was a flicker of something darker. A flash of disapproval. “You bring this to my halls?” Thranduil’s voice was low, cool, and dangerous. It was not a question, but an accusation.

You stood tall, your back straight, meeting his gaze with a defiant stare. “Yes, my king,” you replied, your voice unwavering. “It is the prize of my hunt. I thought you would find it worthy.” The elves around you exchanged uneasy glances, their faces pale, as though the sight of the stag made them uneasy, or worse, repulsed. They were not accustomed to such offerings, not when the creatures of the forest could be more than just food—they were sacred, revered, and treated with reverence.

Thranduil stepped forward, his long fingers brushing the surface of the stag’s fur. His face was unreadable, but his eyes betrayed a sharp edge of anger. “This creature is sacred to the forest,” he said softly, though his words carried the weight of authority. “You kill it as though it is nothing more than a trophy, a mere object to boast about.”

You flinched slightly at the accusation, though you didn’t let your face betray the hurt. To you, hunting was survival. You had learned the ways of the forest long ago. The act of taking down a majestic creature was an honor, a way to prove your skill, your connection to the wild. But here, before the elves, it felt like you were standing before a different world—a world where your ways were misunderstood, seen as crude, primitive. “I did not bring it to boast, Thranduil,” you said, your voice steady. “I brought it as a gift, as a show of respect. I thought you would appreciate it.”

Thranduil’s gaze hardened. “You do not understand,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Meat is a luxury, not a necessity. We do not kill for sport or to collect trophies.” The weight of his words hit you like a cold wind. You had never considered that. In your world, meat was survival. It was the blood and flesh of the forest, the very lifeblood of your existence. But to him, it was something entirely different—something sacred, something meant to be treated with reverence.

“You are wrong,” Thranduil continued, his voice colder now. “You think you understand the forest, but you only take from it without understanding its true essence. It is not for you to decide when to take its life.” A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the distant rustling of leaves outside. You stood your ground, but inside, there was a twinge of guilt, a sense of wrongness in the air. “You would do well to remember the balance,” Thranduil said finally, his voice softening just slightly. “We take only what we need. And even then, we offer thanks.”

You nodded stiffly, the weight of your misunderstanding sinking in. You had acted with pride, but now, in the face of Thranduil’s quiet but unyielding authority, you realized how little you knew of their ways. “Will you still accept it?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. Thranduil’s gaze softened for a moment, and with a small sigh, he nodded. “We will take it, but not for the reasons you think. It will be given back to the forest in due time, as a gift, a reminder of the sacrifice that was made.”

You bowed your head, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and understanding. This was not your world, not your way. You had hoped to show your strength, but instead, you had revealed your ignorance. The stag was not your trophy to keep. It was a gift, a gesture of respect to a land that gave life in its own way. A lesson, you thought, as Thranduil turned away to oversee the ceremony. A lesson that the true hunt, the real strength, came not from what you could take, but from what you could give back to the land that had nurtured you.

📜 𝓔𝓵𝓻𝓸𝓷𝓭

In the heart of the forest, where the trees whispered ancient secrets and the earth was as familiar to you as your own skin, you lived a life of solitude. Your hut, constructed from fallen branches and thick moss, nestled between towering oaks and pines. The scent of the woods—the rich, earthy aroma of damp soil and fresh leaves—was all you knew. It was a simple existence, far removed from the grand halls of the elves, their elegant cities, and their refined customs.

You were a hunter, and the forest was your home. Each day, you ventured deep into the wilds, tracking animals, listening for the quiet stirrings of life in the underbrush. The hunt was a ritual of survival, not sport. You didn’t adorn your weapons with ornaments, nor did you care for any formalities. The kill was necessary. The meat was sustenance, and that was all that mattered. There was no delicacy, no finesse—just you, the trees, and the game.

The offering you had prepared for Rivendell was one of your best. A wild boar, thick and heavy, its tusks sharp and gleaming in the fading sunlight, accompanied by a deer and several rabbits. You’d taken them down swiftly and cleanly, knowing the importance of not wasting a single part. The weight of the kills pressed on your shoulders as you trudged toward the gates of Rivendell, your heart steady in the way of those who walk alone in the wild.

You had done this before, bringing your trophies to the elves, convinced they would appreciate your skill and the quality of the game. You knew they were a proud people, wise in their ways, and surely they would recognize your strength and hunting prowess. They might even accept your offering in the same way you had seen in the few exchanges you’d had with their kind—silent nods, polite words—but no real connection. They lived differently, you knew that, but what did it matter? The hunt was sacred to you, and you were proud to share it with them.

As you neared the gates, Elrond stood waiting, his long, graceful form silhouetted against the shimmering light of Rivendell’s halls. His piercing gaze studied you, the hunter—you, with your rough-hewn clothes and the scent of blood and the wilds clinging to your skin. To him, you were both a mystery and a reminder of a world far removed from the delicacy and reverence of elvish life.

You didn’t acknowledge the way his eyes lingered on you, nor the subtle tension in the air that always followed your arrivals. You didn’t care for the elves’ highborn ways, the long meals full of laughter and elegant conversation that felt foreign and strange to you. You dropped the boar and the deer at his feet without ceremony, your shoulders straight and proud. “I’ve brought you game,” you said simply, your voice rough, shaped by years of isolation.

Elrond, ever the picture of grace, gave a slight bow of his head but did not immediately reach for the animals. He let the silence stretch between you, studying the offerings with a quiet, thoughtful gaze. His eyes flicked from the boar to the deer and then to you. There was no anger, no judgment, but a certain sadness that lingered behind his usually calm demeanor.

“Your skill is evident, hunter,” Elrond spoke at last, his voice rich with centuries of knowledge. “But I must admit, I wonder if you understand what you offer.” You blinked, a twinge of confusion tugging at your brow. “I offer what I know best. The hunt. The land provides—does it not?” Elrond sighed, a sound full of ancient weariness. He could see the pride in your eyes, the simple belief that this was the way of things. “The land provides, yes. But the elves of Rivendell… we do not take what we do not need. Our ways are not like yours.”

You frowned, your confusion deepening. “I bring this because I thought you would appreciate it,” you said, your voice hardening a little. “I thought this was what you wanted. It’s a strong kill, a good offering.” Elrond’s gaze softened, though his face remained solemn. “You misunderstand. What we take from the land, we take with reverence. We do not live in the same way as you, hunter. Our bond with the land is one of balance, not conquest. We forage the fruits of the earth, gather herbs, and celebrate the cycles of life. Meat, to us, is rare—only taken when necessary, and even then, it is with the utmost respect for the creature that gave its life.”

His words sank into your chest like a stone, the weight of them pressing down on your hardened heart. You didn’t know how to respond. The idea of restraint, of living without the constant hunt for survival, felt alien to you. You had always lived by the rhythm of the forest, where the strong survived and the weak fell. The concept of eating without bloodshed felt like a betrayal of the land itself. How could you understand this way of life?

“But…” you started, your voice catching, “I live by the hunt. The game provides. Without it, I cannot survive.” Elrond nodded slowly, his eyes not filled with judgment, but with understanding. “I do not question your way of life, hunter. You are a product of your surroundings. But here, we live differently, and we ask for understanding of that. You do not need to offer these gifts of blood to prove your strength. You are more than that.”

You stood silently, unsure of what to say. The weight of the meat at your feet seemed heavier now, the sight of it almost shameful in the quiet, peaceful world of Rivendell. You had never known anything else, and yet here, in this foreign place, you realized how little you understood about the delicate dance between life and death that the elves lived by.

“I did not mean to offend,” you said at last, your voice quieter now, a crack in your usual boldness. “I thought you would appreciate it. I thought it was the right thing to do.” Elrond’s gaze softened even more. “You did what you thought was right. There is no shame in that. But you must understand, hunter, there is more than one way to live, and in time, perhaps you will see the beauty in the balance that sustains us all.”

You didn’t know if you would ever truly understand, but something about the way Elrond spoke—the calm authority in his voice—made you feel like you had taken the first step toward something new. It wasn’t the hunter’s path you had always known, but it was something worth considering.

🍃𝓛𝓮𝓰𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓼

You live deep in the heart of the forest, away from the shining halls of the elves and their highborn customs. Your home is a humble hut, tucked away in a glade surrounded by ancient trees, their gnarled roots and thick canopies offering both shelter and solitude. The world outside is one of dirt and sweat, where each day is spent tracking, hunting, and surviving. It’s not an easy life, but it’s one you know well. Your skills with the bow are honed through necessity, not ceremony. When you hunt, it’s for sustenance, and the meat you bring back feeds you through the long nights and hard winters.

To you, the forests and creatures are just another part of the world, as much a part of your survival as the air you breathe. Each animal you hunt is treated with a hunter’s respect, and the trophies you bring back — antlers, pelts, and sometimes the rawness of the kill itself — are meant to be admired for their strength and beauty. You don’t see any reason to hide the rough edges of your life. After all, it is life. It’s survival.

But the elves… they live by different rules, different standards. Legolas is a prince, raised among the elegance of Mirkwood’s halls. His world is one of grace, where nature is admired with reverence and balance is key. The elves are skilled hunters, but their methods are soft — they don’t take more than they need, and they rarely, if ever, hunt for meat unless necessary. Instead, they gather the gifts of the forest: fruits, nuts, and herbs that sustain them without bloodshed.

You bring the carcass of a deer to them, its sleek body slung over your shoulders, the weight of your kill familiar, even if the task of bringing it to the elves feels a little out of place. You’ve been told that your offerings might be appreciated — that it’s a gesture of respect to bring something back to their realm. But there’s something in the way they look at you, something… off, as if they aren’t sure how to respond to the offering of something so primal, so rough.

Legolas stands with the other elves, watching as you approach with the dead animal. His face, ever serene, betrays little of his thoughts, but there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes when he sees what you’ve brought. He’s seen hunters before, of course, but this is different. This is the raw, unpolished reality of hunting that belongs to someone who lives outside the order of elvish civilization.

You set the deer down before him with a grunt, brushing your hands on your rough trousers. You expect the usual admiration, the quiet nods of respect for a good kill — you’re skilled after all. You’ve been doing this longer than you care to admit. But Legolas does not step forward immediately, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as he takes in the sight of the animal. “This is…” His voice trails off, as if unsure how to proceed. He shifts his weight, the movement fluid and graceful, an unspoken tension in his posture. “A fine creature, but… why did you bring it here?”

You glance at him, not quite understanding the question. “To share,” you answer bluntly. “A hunter’s tribute to the elves. The forest provides for me, I return the favor.” The elves do not hunt for meat as you do. You know that now, but it doesn’t seem like something they would admit openly. Legolas watches the deer, his eyes studying the carcass with an unreadable expression. He steps closer, crouching down to inspect it with the care of someone who might handle something fragile, something precious. But there’s no admiration in the gesture, only a quiet unease.

“This… this is not how we honor the forest,” he says gently, though there’s an edge of confusion in his voice. “We take only what is needed and offer thanks, not trophies. We do not kill for sport. The animals give themselves to us, but we do not take their lives lightly.” You raise an eyebrow. It’s not the first time you’ve heard the elves speak of balance, of offering thanks to the earth. You’ve never understood it. To you, hunting is survival — there’s no need for excessive reverence when it’s the only way to feed yourself. But you can’t exactly fault them for their beliefs.

“I didn’t think…” you trail off, unsure of what to say. You know their way is different, but it’s hard to understand. “I thought it might be appreciated. To show I respect your lands, your way.” Legolas looks up at you then, his eyes soft but serious. “We do appreciate your efforts,” he says, his voice almost like a whisper, as if trying to ease the tension between your worlds. “But you must understand that we do not take life lightly. There are other ways to offer respect — ways that don’t bring harm. The forest gifts us with so much more than just its creatures.”

You nod slowly, your gaze shifting down to the deer. It’s strange, the way he speaks of life and nature, as though everything must be done with such care. But maybe you’re missing something. Maybe there’s more to their way of life than just survival. “I see,” you say, your voice softening as you try to understand. “I don’t know that I can offer much else, but I’ll… I’ll keep that in mind next time.” You’re not sure what else to say, and the silence between you stretches awkwardly.

Legolas offers a slight smile, though it’s more of a gentle curve to his lips than anything overtly joyful. “It is appreciated. Perhaps next time, you will bring the fruits of the forest. There is much to be found here, and it is a gift that will nourish you in ways you cannot yet understand.” You glance at the other elves, who are still observing you with quiet curiosity, their eyes lingering on the deer with something akin to quiet concern. You wonder how they’ll handle the offering, if they’ll just bury it or leave it to rot in the woods.

“I’ll consider it,” you say after a long pause, nodding your agreement to something you’re not entirely sure you’ll follow through on. You’re a hunter, it’s who you are, but… maybe there’s something to their way. Legolas steps back, his hand brushing against the tree beside him, almost as though he’s speaking to it without words. “You honor us in your own way. But let us find balance together. We can teach you how to see the forest differently, and perhaps you can teach us to appreciate the raw beauty of the hunt.” He looks at you with a twinkle of something both mischief and sincerity. “In time.”

You grin despite yourself. There’s something about him, about his calm, that makes you feel less like a misfit in their world. Maybe, just maybe, you could learn to see things through his eyes. For now, the silence lingers, but it doesn’t feel as heavy as it once did. You’ve made your offering, and Legolas has made his. There’s a bridge, however small, between your worlds now. Maybe you’ll never quite understand each other’s ways completely, but for once, it feels like that’s okay.

🩵𝓒𝓮𝓵𝓮𝓫𝓸𝓻𝓷

You move through the dense forest, the familiar crunch of fallen leaves beneath your boots. The sun barely pierces through the canopy, casting faint light that dances on the undergrowth. Your home is hidden deep in this wilderness—far from the glimmering, structured lives of the elves, who seem to live on a plane so distant it could almost be a different world. Here, you’ve carved out your own existence, simple and necessary. You hunt, you survive. There is nothing grand or complicated about your life.

As a hunter, you are accustomed to the solitude, the quiet of the woods, broken only by the sound of your bowstring, the call of a deer, or the snap of twigs underfoot. Meat, fresh from the forest, is your sustenance. It’s not delicate, not adorned with herbs and spices like the elves would prepare it, but it keeps you alive, and that’s enough. The idea of eating like the elves—light, airy meals of fruits, nuts, and berries—is foreign to you. It would not fill your stomach; it would not satisfy the hunger that gnaws at you from the inside.

Yet, something in you compels you to bring the fruits of your labor to them, to the elves of Lothlórien, those strange, ethereal beings who live in the glimmering light of their sacred woods. Maybe you hope they’ll appreciate the skill it took to bring down the stag or the wild boar. Maybe you long for some recognition for the life you’ve carved in this untamed wilderness.

You walk for hours, your game draped over your shoulders, the weight a reminder of your efforts. The faint whisper of leaves in the wind is the only sound in the forest now. When you reach the borders of Lothlórien, the sight of the silver trees fills you with a strange sense of awe. You’re so far removed from their world, and yet, you are bringing them something.

Celeborn watches you from a distance as you approach the heart of Lothlórien. His eyes are calm, measuring, assessing. He has seen many things in his long life, but a solitary hunter—drenched in the sweat of his labor, the scent of the wild still clinging to him—is a curiosity. His people are not like you. Their lives are defined by a different kind of grace, one that values balance, subtlety, and harmony with the land. His people forage and cultivate, nurturing the land that they hold dear. The act of hunting for sport or necessity, especially in the raw, primal way you do it, is not something they find familiar or comforting.

As you draw closer, Celeborn steps forward, his presence a quiet command, and yet there is a softness in his gaze. “What brings you here, hunter of the woods?” His voice is calm, soothing, like the rustle of the leaves above. “You carry the spoils of your hunt, I see.” You lower your prize, the weight of the boar now on the ground between you. “I thought you would appreciate these,” you say, a touch of uncertainty in your voice. “A fine boar, taken down with skill.” You step back, letting the smell of the wild waft into the air.

Celeborn observes the carcass silently for a moment. His expression is unreadable, the serene calm of someone who has seen many things in his long life. To him, this offering is strange. His people do not hunt for necessity like you. Their connection to the land is different—a partnership, not a conquest. And yet, he is not one to judge, not without understanding.

“We are not strangers to the hunt,” Celeborn says gently, his eyes meeting yours with a quiet respect. “But in our realm, hunting is a rare occurrence, reserved for times when the balance of the forest is disrupted, or when we gather in celebration. What you bring… it is not without its merit. But our ways, they differ.”

You feel a sense of discomfort stir inside you, an unfamiliar feeling. You had hoped for more of an acknowledgment, a greater appreciation for what you’ve done. You’ve lived for so long in the solitude of your hunt that the notion of how others might view it is almost alien to you. “I understand,” you reply, your voice rough from the journey. “It’s not what you are used to. But it’s the way of the wild, of the forest. The cycle of life. I thought… perhaps, it would help.”

Celeborn’s gaze softens, a glimmer of understanding in his eyes. He steps closer, the elegance of his movements matching the grace of the ancient woods around him. “We do not shy away from the realities of life. The forest is not only filled with beauty, but with struggles as well. But we, the Elves of Lothlórien, seek to live in harmony with nature, rather than to take from it in excess.” He pauses, contemplating his words. “The forest, like the heart of a wise ruler, must remain in balance. Your hunt, your offering, is… not without merit. It shows skill, certainly. And it is a part of your world. But here, the balance is what we value above all.”

You are silent for a moment, the weight of his words sinking in. You had always thought of hunting as a simple necessity, but to Celeborn and his people, it seems to be so much more than that. They do not take from nature, they live with it, drawing only what is needed, never more. “I didn’t mean to overstep,” you say after a pause, feeling something like shame wash over you. “I thought you might need it.”

Celeborn regards you with a quiet sympathy, his eyes softening. “You need not apologize, hunter. Your offering, while not aligned with our ways, is a gesture that shows you understand the forest’s gifts. And for that, we are grateful. Perhaps… you would allow me to show you the ways of our people? There is more to living with nature than taking from it. There is peace to be found in understanding its rhythms.”

The weight of your hunt still lingers on your shoulders, but his words stir something in you—a curiosity, a desire to understand what it means to live in harmony with the world rather than simply taking from it. Celeborn’s offer is gentle, not one of judgment, but of invitation. An invitation to learn, to see the forest in a different way.

You nod, slowly, uncertain but willing. “I would like that,” you say. Celeborn gives a small, approving nod. “Then come. There is much to show you.” And as you follow him deeper into the heart of Lothlórien, you feel a strange sense of peace settle within you, as if the forest itself is welcoming you, not as a hunter, but as a part of its cycle.

#thranduil #thranduil x you #thranduil x reader #thranduil of mirkwood #Elrond #elrond x you #Elrond x reader #elrond of rivendell #Legolas #legolas x you #Legolas x reader #Legolas of Mirkwood #celeborn #celeborn x you #celeborn x reader #celeborn of lothlórien #lord of the rings #the hobbit #lotr elves

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the-daydreaming-show · 3 days ago

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(3.) Dreams Made Heavy.

SUMMARY: It's the celebration of Nyx's first birthday.

Your time in illusion is running out and the past is ending, unable to bear its own weight any longer.

NOTE: I love this chapter because Feyre is so excited to bring the reader into her life and introduce her to her son, it's adorable. Let me know what you think of this chapter and how things are going, I'm always happy to hear your thoughts. As always, English is not my first language so sorry for spelling mistakes and mistakes of the type, any comment on it is welcome if it is respectful. I am always trying to get comfortable and improve my writing in this language. I hope you like it. XOXO Ella

Memories/Thoughts in italics

Dragon Language in bold italics

Previus Part: (2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

AO3 / Story Masterlist

“What lived and died between us—haunts me still.” – «The Chronology of Water: A Memoir» by Lidia Yuknavitch.

Lying on your back in bed, you held the hand-painted parchment invitation above your head, looking up at it with the expression of someone who knew they had flown too close to the sun.

Feyre had painted the invitations herself—each one was different—and, in her words, they were meant as a sort of souvenir, something for each recipient to keep as a memento of the very special occasion that was Nyx’s first birthday. You didn’t know what the others looked like, but you guessed that not all of them had the shadows of three little dragons flying in the corner of the invitation. The boy’s name and what looked like a tiny fingerprint also decorated the small square of parchment, proving that he had helped create it as well. You ran your thumb over the shape of the boy’s print, which seemed to reach out to the three dragons in the corner.

“I told you that you should have brought more of a variety of outfits,” Mayhem reminded you flatly from her spot on the balcony, sitting cross-legged with her dress bunched around her as she settled in for her prayer.

With that, you snapped back to harsh reality, dropping your arms carefully so as not to ruin the invitation, and rolled over onto your stomach, wanting to drown yourself in the mattress as you let out a tearful cry.

As if that was the main problem in the whole situation, you thought, too hopeless to put it into words just yet. Of course, you wouldn't tell your court how deeply you had gotten yourself into the mud of this situation—not when they had clearly warned you it would happen, and not when you had known, deep down, that it would.

But I think it’s what I need, you had told Armin when he warned you about the consequences. And maybe you really did need it. You needed to see the beauty of the life Feyre had now, to let her go, even if it would break your heart. But you didn’t want to. You realized you weren’t sure how you would survive that. Still, there was no way out now—you were up to your neck in the consequences of your own decisions, of what you had asked for. You had wanted to see Feyre one last time, to know she was okay. And now you have gotten your wish.

“I don’t think a kid’s first birthday has much of a dress code, especially if it’s just a family gathering,” Luka added from his spot in the desk chair, practicing his penmanship on different birthday gift card options while experimenting with different ways to hold the pen with his missing finger. “Let's just be grateful if the gift has a decent bow.”

“It’s the birthday of the heir to the court. For all we know, it could be a gala, even if it’s just a family affair. It wouldn’t be unusual for people with the kind of money that the High Lord and High Lady have,” May said without changing her tone as she placed her hands in position to begin her prayer.

“It wouldn’t be the first time she’s shown up in riding gear to an event like that, either,” Luka whispered, focusing on his movements on the paper.

“What’s wrong with my outfits?” you finally asked, wanting to divert the conversation, lifting your head from the pillow. “They’re all very nice and comfortable.”

“And they all smell like ash and burnt leather,” Mayhem stated before beginning to whisper her affirmations.

You gulped. You needed something to do, and figuring out party etiquette suddenly sounded like a great activity. You didn’t say anything, and no one paid you any mind as you got out of bed and walked out of the room, into the hallways of the house, on a mission to find Nesta and question her about what she might be planning for her nephew’s birthday party. Would she give him a birthday card or just the bow? Who was going? And any other information she was willing to share so that your anxiety could drown in the comfort of knowing a little more about what to expect.

When you had offered to give Feyre Nyx’s gift so she could take it to him, she had ended up handing you that beautiful invitation with the child’s name, time, and place for the party. But she had told you that the birthday hadn’t happened yet, and giving gifts or celebrating early was a no-no in mortal culture, as it was considered bad luck. So, she couldn’t accept the gift, and instead, she had invited you to the party, pulling the invitation out of her pocket and handing it to you.

You told yourself that you wanted to see if Feyre was happy, to see if everything was as it seemed. This is the perfect opportunity to do so. Don’t complain. You repeat to yourself as you walk.

As you turned into a hallway, you came across Morrigan walking toward you.

“You look like a woman on a mission,” Morrigan declared as she approached. “May I help you with it?”

“Indeed, you can,” you replied with a knowing smile. Morrigan simply followed suit.

Morrigan took you out of the house the next morning with Mayhem in tow. Your bodyguard had refused to let you go alone, following you in deathly silence despite your insistence that you could manage on your own.

It was interesting to see your friend, Mayhem—thin, pale as a ghost, with long, straight dark hair falling past her waist and piercing eyes like stone—contrast with Morrigan, who was tall, blonde, and radiant, her smile dressed in reds and golds as she walked elegantly through the city. Morrigan talked a lot, while May watched her out of the corner of her eye, expressionless, merely analyzing. She took you both shopping, exchanging gold for the currency used at court.

“Personally, this outing suits me well. I don’t know what I’ll wear yet, and if Feyre paints a picture of the occasion, I want my nephew to see that his favorite aunt was the best-dressed since before he could even remember,” the blonde commented, linking her arm with yours as she walked.

“At this point, the only standard I have is that it not be riding clothes, as has been widely pointed out,” you replied, casting an accusatory look at Mayhem, who simply shrugged, knowing she wouldn’t regret her insistence.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with that—you need more variety in your wardrobe.” Morrigan shot May a knowing look, which she didn’t return. Instead, your friend put on a pitying expression and looked away. Morrigan, however, didn’t seem offended or put off by her reaction. “Uh, let’s start with this store. It’s one of my favorites.”

Morrigan pulled your arm into a sudden U-turn that nearly made you trip, while Mayhem hurried to catch up, trying to return to your side as quickly as possible. You managed to straighten up before entering the store, where a kind woman immediately greeted Morrigan by name, and the scent of lavender filled your nostrils.

Your escort broke away from you to chat about the occasion she needed an outfit for, expressing her excitement about the birthday, while you and Mayhem wandered slowly through the store together.

You quickly let Mayhem take the lead, walking ahead of you and browsing options on your behalf, given your clear lack of enthusiasm and ideas after the first two rows of hangers. You rejected skirts of any length—not because you didn’t like them, but because riding a dragon in them often led to painful scrapes on your legs. And since you never knew when you’d be flying Balerion, you avoided them whenever possible.

Instead, you picked out a loose-fitting pair of pants. While they wouldn’t be ideal for riding due to the excess fabric, they would suffice in an emergency. You left Mayhem to decide on the color and wandered toward the shirts, where Morrigan was supposed to be—though you couldn’t see her among the hanging clothes.

Taking advantage of the illusion of privacy, you asked a question.

“Morrigan, will you give the birthday boy a card along with your gift?” You spoke into the air, waiting patiently for an answer as you admired the shirts, t-shirts, and tops around you. But when no immediate response came, you suddenly felt the need to justify your question. “I know he can’t read—it’s only his first birthday. But Fey enjoys keeping memories.”

“First of all, I’m giving him too many presents to include a card with each one.” You jumped in place when her voice sounded much closer than expected. “Second, call me Mor. And third—” Morrigan rounded the corner of the same row of hangers you were hiding behind, looking at you in amusement. “Fey?”

You felt like a deer caught in headlights. Or rather, like Balerion when you caught him stealing cattle.

Mor, carrying several red and purple dresses in her arms, walked toward you with a friendly smile. Mayhem, as silent as your anxiety, appeared at your side, making you glance over as she placed three pairs of pants in your arms, giving you a knowing look.

Are you okay? her eyes asked as she carefully arranged the clothes in your arms, hangers included. You nodded quickly while she adjusted the garments on your elbow.

“Yes, it’s—” You swallowed, realizing your mouth was dry, then turned to Mor. “It’s what I called her when we were kids. Pronouncing ‘Feyre’ was too much for me back then—my country accent kept me from being understood.”

Mayhem settled next to you, browsing through the pants among the shirts. You mimicked her, and Morrigan wasted no time joining in, glancing at the pants in your arms before helping with the search.

“You had an accent?” Mor asked casually. “Sometimes I swear I hear something in Feyre’s tone, but not enough to place it. Is that it? Did she have one?” She then lifted the sleeve of a nearby shirt, holding it against the fabric of one of the pants to check the match, only to let it go with a frown.

“No, actually, in all the years I knew her, she never quite managed to shake off her posh, aristocratic accent. She sounds pretty normal now—I guess time has won in that regard,” you explained, recalling little Feyre elegantly asking how to set up a rabbit trap in the woods. Even now, the memory was amusing. Morrigan must have agreed because she let out a genuine laugh.

“And your accent? What happened to it?” Mor asked, looking up from the shirts to meet your gaze. This time, you didn’t avoid her eyes or her question. Instead, you met her gaze and answered.

“Courtesans with accents aren’t well regarded unless they sound ‘exotic,’ and I didn’t fall into that category by any standard. So, I was trained until I lost it,” you explained simply, turning toward another rack of more casual tops. Mayhem mirrored you without thinking, even though none of the clothes in front of her now matched the outfit she had been planning with the pants.

As you browsed side by side, Mayhem silently took your hand, squeezing your fingers. You looked at her. She smiled sadly—a quiet comfort, an “I understand you”. Because even though Mayhem had never been trained as a courtesan, when she was raised to be a hired assassin for a slave master in the bay, they had done the same thing to her as they had to you. They trained her to forget who she was and become what was expected of her.

“What was she like?” Morrigan asked. You had almost forgotten she was standing next to you, but you turned to her, murmuring in confusion.

“Feyre, when you were children. What was she like?”

You thought for a moment. You could have said more if you had started, though at the end of the day, it wouldn’t have changed the fact that you genuinely believed the answer you ended up giving her.

“Not much different from now,” you pointed out softly, to which Morrigan raised an eyebrow. “But smaller, of course, and with an insatiable need to learn.”

“And with an elegant accent?” Morrigan smiled mischievously.

“Yes, my lady.” The phrase, mimicking the elegant, exaggerated tone Feyre used to have as a child, made Morrigan burst into laughter.

“She sounded like that?!?” she asked between giggles.

“Don’t tell her I told you—she always said it was my imagination. But I swear to anyone that she sounded exactly like that,” you told her, while May, noticing that you were calmer, returned to searching for shirts to match the pants.

“I’ll take it to the grave,” Morrigan assured, her eyes glinting with honesty and amusement, a look that went unnoticed by you. “Come on, you need some good boots for those pants.”

With that, Morrigan led you toward the stairs of the store, May hurrying behind both of you, shirts in hand, as you headed up to the second floor where the shoes were.

To Mayhem's bewilderment, Morrigan made sure to give—and impose—her opinions on the outfit the black-haired girl was putting together for you, quickly realizing that you had little drive or interest in making choices yourself, trusting their judgment without much thought. As the day went on, you got the impression that the blonde had started to genuinely enjoy debating Mayhem’s choices, gradually drawing her into longer discussions, getting her to argue more and more as the hours passed.

You picked out the pants from the first store, but May wasn’t convinced by anything else there, so the three of you scoured nearly every shop in Velaris to piece together your outfit. Jewelry became the biggest battleground between Morrigan’s yin and Mayhem’s yang, reaching its peak when May delivered a twelve-word speech to Morrigan about why silver jewelry suited you better than gold. Morrigan’s defeat did nothing to deter her—if anything, she seemed to enjoy it. When you finally walked out with the silver jewelry May had carefully selected, your two shopping companions each latched onto one of your arms, and off you went.

“I’ll pick you up at the House. And don’t even think about putting those pants on that beast’s saddle.” That was the last thing she said before leaving you in the living room of the House of Wind—then she disappeared without another word.

You wished you had put on a riding suit. Leather would have made you feel safer than the soft, airy fabric of the fancy pants you had bought. You regretted the logic that had led you to avoid Mayhem accompanying you—and the fact that it had worked.

“If I’m going to be killed at the birthday party, there’s nothing you can do. It’s a gathering of the most powerful beings on this continent—and all the continents—so it probably won’t make any difference whether you’re here or not.”

You were right. Mayhem knew that. But once you arrived, you realized that her silent support would have been invaluable. Mor had dragged you into the house happily, as if there was nothing wrong with your presence. Yet you could feel the guests’ wary gazes, and soon after, she left you alone—standing at the entrance to the living room with your gift in hand—while she excitedly went to greet the other guests. There was no way to feel balanced, but at least now you knew that it wasn’t just your side that was the problem.

Someone called your name, and before you knew it, Elain Archeron was in front of you, wrapping you in a hug.

“Hi,” you greeted her tentatively, trying to hug her back without dropping the gift in your hands. The gift was a small, handmade wooden chest carved with stars and the moon, barely bigger than your hand, wrapped with a perfect bow—one that Luka had managed to tie despite having one less finger than usual. He had been very proud of it.

“Hello,” Elain replied, pulling away and looking at you with emotion in her eyes. “How are you?”

A glimpse of the human life she once had—that’s what this was, you thought. It was no secret in your court how unhappy the middle Archeron was about her life as a High Fae, and how she openly longed to be human again. Elain was not comfortable in her own skin. You could understand that, and you smiled back at her because of it.

“Well, it was refreshing to have a change of scenery after so much time in the desert,” you commented softly, watching as she looked at you intently before hooking her arm around yours and gently pulling you toward an armchair in the empty living room.

“I’ve seen the dragons in the sky since you arrived,” she explained, smiling as they sat down peacefully. “They seem to enjoy the mountains, and the blue one always seems to stay near the flowers.”

“Yeah, they’re not used to seeing so many colors,” you explained, carefully placing the gift on your lap and making sure the bow didn’t shift from its perfect position.

“Balerion is the oldest, right? He’s quite large compared to the others,” she commented softly, her curiosity genuine.

“Of those who accompanied me here, yes, he’s the oldest. He was born in the volcanoes, but he’s the second-born of all the dragons—they have an older sister and a younger one,” you explained calmly. Elain listened attentively, and you didn’t mind. You loved talking about your dragons. “The other two that came with me are Caraxes and Dreamfyre. They hatched in the desert.”

“You need to stop pestering the poor woman with questions,” Nesta’s voice cut in as she sat sideways at the head of the chair. “She’s been obsessed ever since you flew over the city when you arrived, and she won’t stop asking me questions,” she added, taking a sip of her fruit juice.

“And you have no answers, Nesta,” Elain complained, turning her gaze back to you. “The blue one of the two—the middle one. What is its name? I always see it flying over the flower meadows outside the city.”

“Her name is Dreamfyre. The flowers in the desert—the few that grow—don’t have much of a scent, so the flowers here fascinate her. That’s why she’s always camping out in the meadows,” you explained. Elain seemed ecstatic, her eyes lighting up at the information, but before she could say anything else, another voice interrupted the conversation.

“Elain, I told you not to pester her with questions as soon as she got here,” Feyre scolded, sounding somewhat embarrassed as she approached you at a quick pace. She was wearing a dress. “Sorry, she’s been obsessed with them ever since you arrived.”

“That’s what Nesta told me. But don’t worry, it’s nice to talk about them out of curiosity,” you commented, smiling softly at Elain.

It’s nice to talk about them as if they were nothing more than weapons to be used in war, you wanted to say, but that would be saying too much.

Elain, seeing that her questions didn’t bother you, prepared to ask another, but Feyre’s hand suddenly appeared in both of your fields of vision, drawing your attention away from your curiosity. Standing in front of you, dressed in the style of her court, her hair half-up and decorated with pearl stars in a style very similar to Nesta’s—though with more hair cascading down her back—Feyre offered you her hand, a gleam in her eyes.

“Come,” she said, gently taking your hand and pulling you toward her. “I want to introduce you to someone.”

Feyre lifted you off the couch and led you down a hallway that stretched deeper into the house. The sounds of the party faded as the steady tug of her hand guided you through the house, and you nervously held your gift to your chest the entire way.

The silence of the house was suffocating as you moved forward, and you became hyper aware of the way she wouldn’t let go of your hand. In a sudden turn that took you by surprise, Feyre took the opportunity to intertwine your fingers more firmly, and you didn’t know what disturbed you more—the touch of another human being, something you had grown sensitive to since leaving the volcano, or the fact that it was her hand holding yours. The one who hid so many secrets from you that simply being in her presence made you feel tainted. You felt disrespectful.

You two climbed the stairs and then turned the final corner of the path, at which point you saw Cassian and Azriel, both casually standing on either side of a particular door. Guarding. That’s when you realized, with the same feeling as someone who had just received a punch to the stomach, who you were about to be introduced to. You quickly adjusted the gift in your hand, praying that the bow hadn’t shifted from its place when you pressed it against your chest, and Cassian waved at you as you walked past him, entering the room.

There was a huge stained glass window that offered a beautiful view of the mountains and the meadow of flowers Elain had mentioned earlier. From there, you could see your three dragons in the distance. Standing in front of the stained glass and looking at them was Rhysand, with little Nyx sitting on his hip, pointing and babbling. You stood in your spot, watching the child interact with his father, squeezing Feyre’s hand, torn between your own decision.

You looked at her, as if ready to lend a helping hand if she was sure of what she was going to do. After almost a decade of not seeing each other, you wouldn’t blame her if she didn’t feel comfortable introducing her son. But she was looking at you with an excited smile, genuinely happy that you were there about to do what you were going to do, and guilt closed your throat as you let her happily lead you over to where Rhysand was holding the child by the window. He turned to greet you as soon as he heard your footsteps, though you had no doubt he had known you were there long before. He smiled softly every time your gaze met as you approached. He didn’t look uncomfortable either; in fact, he seemed the calmest of the three because Feyre was vibrating with excitement and you were almost frozen with fear. If he felt uneasy about the situation, he didn’t show it for a second. When he greeted you by name as you reached his side, you managed to sense that the arrangement held back a little too strongly.

The bow, you scolded yourself as you breathed, looking at him and checking the state of the bow.

Nyx noticed his mom standing next to him and reached out to her as he babbled, and Feyre closed the distance between them, happily receiving him and resting him on her hip. She whispered your name excitedly as she looked at the chubby boy in her arms, then raised her head to smile.

“This is Nyx,” she proudly introduced, then pointed at you softly, drawing the boy’s attention in your direction. “Nyx, this is y/n.”

The pride in her voice and the smile on her face as she approached you with the child in her arms were undeniable, and it was also the most beautiful thing you had ever seen. At that moment, you panicked; you didn’t show it, but you looked at Rhysand, trying to convey: This is the moment where you get protective of your child or something and end this encounter. But the idiot was staring at his wife and child, mesmerized.

“Say hello, Nyx,” Feyre asked sweetly, moving closer to you and leaving you no choice but to accept the situation. Ever since you had met Rhysand, you had tried not to think too much around him because of the information you had received about his abilities, but now you could only think about wanting to know what he was thinking. It had been planned that something very different would happen, and you had even been advised not to bring the gift for Nyx because it could be taken the wrong way. Yet Rhysand didn’t seem to be reacting to the situation, which made you more anxious than anything. Meanwhile, little Nyx, with his chubby hand, made a greeting motion towards you along with a little sound that you assumed was the closest he could get to saying hello.

“Hello,” you greeted back, shifting uncomfortably, not knowing what to do. “Umm, I brought you a gift; it’s some toys.”

“I’m sure you can’t get enough of those. Right, my love?” Feyre ran her hand through the boy’s curly black hair, giving you a moment to admire him more closely.

You noticed two things. The boy’s wings weren’t in sight, which meant they were either hidden or he had already developed the ability to hide them. He was the spitting image of his mother. Yes, he had his father’s hair, skin, and reportedly wings, but it was Feyre’s eyes, color, and shape, as well as his nose and the shape of his lips.

“He looks just like you,” you pointed out, reaching up to run a finger over the freckles on the boy’s nose, just as you used to do with Feyre. The little boy looked at you, his eyes wide with surprise and curiosity.

“Really?” Feyre asked, her eyes alight with excitement.

“Yes. It’s a mini you, Fey.” You assured her without looking at her. Feyre didn’t say anything else, but you could feel her beaming with happiness; her enthusiasm was almost contagious, to the point that you smiled softly at the child who was watching you intently. Nyx reached out his hand towards you, pointing and looking at his mother, asking a silent question, to which Feyre repeated your name. The baby babbled and looked at you, as if waiting for you to answer.

Rhysand decided to make a move at that moment. He stood next to Feyre and met your gaze before the questions began.

“May I?” he said, pointing to the wooden trunk you still held in your hand. You handed it to him without much thought, your hands feeling the loss of something to hold onto. You missed your gloves and regretted not putting on any rings.

Rhysand pulled at one of the strips of the undone bow, all under your watchful eye. Feyre peeked out a little to see as he removed the small latch from the trunk and lifted the lid, revealing your gift. Inside the trunk, resting on a padded base, were three toy dragons, carved in intricate detail from wood and with polished black stone eyes.

“They’re very popular in the bay. I chose these because I thought that since Nyx would probably be able to see them through the window, bringing him the same ones he would see would be more appealing than a regular dragon. Maybe he would enjoy them more. The kids in the bay even collect them, so...” you explained hurriedly as you watched Rhysand pull out the one that was Balerion and stare at it.

“They’re beautiful,” Feyre whispered breathlessly, pulling mini Caraxes out of the box and looking at the carved wood intently.

Rhysand and Feyre seemed fine with the gifts; they hadn’t moved the boy’s toys away, so you assumed they considered them safe. But the opinion that mattered to you was Nyx’s. So you found yourself staring at little Nyx expectantly, hoping he would like your gift.

You weren't lying when you said they were popular in the bay. Of your adult dragons, who constantly flew over the bay and its cities, all of them had been immortalized as wooden toys in countless numbers by this point, for children to play with and enjoy. It was rare to see a child on the street who wasn't walking with a wooden dragon in hand or one within quick reach, either in the hand of one of their companions or hidden in a pocket or bag.

Sure, there were more expensive gold or silver versions sold to high-born children, but those were the ones you saw on the streets all the time, and they were the ones you enjoyed the most. You thought wood was the most worthy material to immortalize your dragons in; there was something about it that felt more alive than any metal. You had your own collection, as apprentice carpenters who learned to make them would give you the ones that failed to meet their standards so you could see if a dragon that looked like that would ever be born.

You had bought those three from an old carpenter who refused to die and continued to work on his craft with passion. He had been recommended to you on the streets, and he had ordered all three personally. The man hadn't made toys in years, according to his words, but he had made them for free despite your complaints and had exceeded the expectations you had for his work.

Nyx set her gaze on the dragon in Feyre's hand, looking at it for a second before glancing at the one Rhysand held. She reached out her hand towards the mini Balerion with eagerness, almost breaking out of her mother's arms to reach it.

“Looks like there’s already a favorite,” Rhysand laughed, letting Nyx reach for the toy in his hand. When she did, Nyx held the dragon in both hands, looking at it as she babbled excitedly. She shifted in place to face you and held out her hand with the dragon, babbling something in a questioning tone.

“Balerion,” you said, and it was immediately met with a determined babble.

“Bababa,” the boy said, looking closely at the toy, then immediately glancing at the dragon that Feyre still held in her other hand. He let go of Balerion without thinking and grabbed the other dragon. Rhysand managed to catch the toy before it fell. Again, he offered the toy to you with a mumbled question, grabbing it by the neck roughly, which you found funny. The long neck of Caraxes’ lizard was very different from the rest of your dragons; you called it Wyrm because of that.

“Caraxes,” you said, playing with your fingers and waiting patiently.

“Carrare,” Nyx repeated, stretching out the "r" so that it spit a little onto Feyre’s sweater. Rhysand offered him the third toy before he could ask for anything, pulling mini Caraxes from her hand to break his fall. The process repeated itself: Nyx offered the dragon to you, and you stammered in question.

“Dreamfyre,” and this time Nyx couldn’t even stammer a syllable; her attempt at pronunciation only got her tongue tied, ending with her tongue sticking out. “Two out of three is very good,” you assured him when he looked at you for approval, smiling sweetly at him. He mimicked the smile before turning around and searching for the missing toys in his hands.

Nyx babbled over to her mother, showing her the toys, and Feyre's attention shifted to the boy, her eyes shining as she looked at the toys and accepted the explanation of their names. It was lovely to see her interact with her son like this, but you soon realized that it left you and Rhysand in an awkward silence, or at least an awkward one for you.

When you glanced at him, checking to see if he was distracted by the sight of his wife as he had been a while ago, you found him staring at you with an expression you couldn't understand. You felt the heat of embarrassment build up in your neck.

“I’m glad he likes them,” you managed to say, looking at him with the softest smile possible. “Even if he stops playing with them, he can use them for decoration; I use them for that.”

“Do you have any of these?” Rhysand asked, his tone amused. Embarrassment crept up your neck and onto your face.

“Yes, I get them as gifts from time to time, and I put them on my mantelpiece,” you answered quickly, turning your full attention back to Feyre.

“I hear he has a taste for carved wood,” Rhysand subtly noted, directing the question at you but feigning indifference to your reaction.

You pressed your lips together in a tight smile and nodded softly, unable to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off if you spoke. The table—that was what he was referring to when he mentioned your taste for carved wood. When he had ordered the piece of furniture, you hadn’t thought that its acquisition would mean much, but once it was installed in the War Room of your mansion on the bay, word had spread that the new queen of Slaver’s Bay had acquired a table carved from wood and inlaid with stone, outlining in detail the shape of the great continent, with the lands and kingdoms of mortals carved into it, and the borders detailed. A huge wooden map, the map of a conqueror.

Everyone knew what that table was for; the cards declaring you queen had been an action long overdue on the continent, and that beautiful piece of art carved in wood was the reason.

“They are beautiful,” Feyre spoke to you, easing the tension out of your shoulders with just those words. “Thank you.”

You nodded with a softer smile this time.

The party officially started when they walked in with the birthday boy. Little Nyx happily passed from arm to arm for the first few minutes after his arrival, receiving hugs and kisses from practically everyone. You became a silent presence during this process, accompanied by a drink and the occasional snack that would allow you to eat because you were hungry, but you wouldn't be able to devour the food as your body demanded because there were so many people.

When people began to clear out around you, you felt like a child, sensing the gaze on your back—how you knew when one of the younger dragons thought to try and attack to see what would happen, or when you were within sight of the wolves in the woods in your youth. The eyes followed you as you walked to the drinks table and helped yourself again to the fruit juice you had been drinking.

The eyes fixed on your back followed you to the open doors in the courtyard, where you leaned on the railing that limited the unevenness of the floor, entering the building and the garden that you suspected was Elain's area. You felt her gaze as if she were looking at a bright red target on your back as she approached you with a calm step, as if she weren't stalking you or didn't care to be obvious in her pursuit.

When Amren stood beside you, the most primal part of you—the one that was more beast than person and as connected to Balerion as if they were one—wanted to growl in threat, and you were sure Balerion was doing it in the mountains, leaving room for you as the threatening sound bounced off his chest and tongue.

“Enjoying the food?” she asked with little kindness or dissimulation of her skepticism towards your presence. “I imagine you have a particular appetite since you brought your beasts to life.”

We are not talking about food. Of course not.

“My appetite is particular, but I only eat what I need,” you assured her absentmindedly.

“And if you are not satisfied, kovesh*? Where will you look to satisfy your appetite?” The question was cruel, accusatory towards you. And you smiled calmly at her because you knew what she was implying with the question.

Once you conquer mortal lands, how do you know you would not want more and look to us, conqueror?

Amren was not out of place. That was why her words did not affect you as much as they should have; you had expected these questions at one time or another. Dragons, as beloved as they were to you, were in the eyes of many like a strong brute, one that few defenses could stop or harm. You had conquered the bay in less than a year with them; you had already proven that you were capable of carrying out the actions necessary to take lands with only dragon fire as a weapon. And when you commissioned the carved table, you made it clear that the conquest of the bay and the liberation of the slaves had not been enough for you. It has not sated your appetite. You had already made the first move to conquer the rest of the continent owned by mortals. You offered peace before unleashing war again, but the statement was firm: you would not back down if the queen did not bend the knee. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, only your appetite for conquest and power moved you to seek to conquer those lands. You knew the truth; you knew what you had seen in the lava and what you wanted to avoid, but you didn't need anyone else to do it.

You sat up straighter and took a step closer to her, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Amren stood up straighter, as if ready to fight, but you just stared at the way her hair fell perfectly, framing her sharp jaw and slanted eyes; it was wonderful. Her eyes looked up at you, irritated by your boldness, no doubt. You weren’t sure if you were more irritated because, at this close distance, the height difference between you and her was apparent, even without her heels, or because you reached up and moved a strand of hair from her cheek delicately, leaning carelessly on one elbow on the railing beside you, daring not to fear the infamous second of the Night Court.

“On that side of the sea, dear and stunning Amren, it is not my appetite that is a problem.” You watched her as she blurted out the statement, her tone sweet, finding it adorable how beings like her could not see past their necks and did not understand the truth of life.

It was not you or your dragons. It was their kind, sworn to the gods with the lives of mortals even when the wall had been up for years and were now free to do as they pleased. It was them, not you, who planned to invade and sent their beasts to test the waters on the other side of the unprotected border the wall had left behind.

A name called out to you from inside the house. You turned your head to find Elain walking hurriedly toward you, followed by a man with stubby skin, hair that was more white than blonde, and a face that looked less than happy. Elain quickly hugged your elbow when she reached you, repeating your name with somewhat forced excitement.

“This is Varian,” she pointed to the grumpy male who came to Amren’s side and hugged her around the waist, looking you up and down skeptically. “You’ve been introduced to him; he’s Amren’s boyfriend.”

Elain stared at you, wanting to say something, but you weren’t sure what it was. You looked at Varian and Amren, searching for a clue as to what it was, but Amren had leaned against Varian, looking at you as you supposed she was looking at the people, and Varian was still frowning. You knew who he was and his relationship with her, but you didn’t think it was a state secret, so it wasn’t that big of a surprise or something that serious.

“Nice to meet you,” you said, not sure what else to say, moving your glass of juice in his direction. You're still confused as Elain pulled you into the house.

“Have you seen Feyre’s paintings? Let me show them!” the girl said hurriedly as you let her lead you.

Elain led you down the hallway of the house, away from the central area. It was long and ended in double glass doors that led to the patio, making it perfectly lit for the paintings hanging on both sides. There were no doors or hallways that branched off from this hallway, only walls displaying Feyre's paintings.

At the beginning was the most recent one. A painting of Rhysand, Fey, and little Nyx when he must have been a newborn was the first one that caught your attention. It was proof of how the talent that had painted wooden drawers, tables, and small wooden figures had evolved wonderfully until it became that divinely illuminated image, with colors brightened by the rays of sunlight that flooded the hallway.

“Wow.”

“I know, right? It gets better every day. Soon we’ll be trying to walk inside its paintings in search of experiencing their beauty,” Elain spoke softly, as if she had lost her breath. You watched her smile at the painting with pride before she pulled you toward the next one.

There was one of the three sisters, along with Rhysand, Cassian, and Azriel, and one of Nyx alone. You were surprised by the one of Mr. Archeron, but you didn’t wince. There were also remnants of all of them individually, and one that depicted them as a whole. A family. At the end of the hallway was a painting leaning against the wall, as if waiting to meet its fate; the nail it should have hung on highlighted the empty spot where it had been or should be hanging.

“Oh, I should get back—”

“Elain, do you mind changing Nyx’s diaper for me?” Feyre’s voice rang out in the hallway. You looked at Elain, confused, not understanding why she wanted to go back, but she just gave you a sad smile before meeting up with Feyre in the hallway and taking the child from her arms.

Nyx didn’t need a diaper change; you could smell it quickly—it was an excuse for Elain to leave. Looking back at you from the hallway, at the place where the painting leaned silently against the wall, that was when Elain realized she wanted to get you out of there.

Feyre slowly approached you as you walked carefully down the hall, moving toward the painting leaning against the wall as if it were an explosive of some sort. Feyre didn't stop you, which you assumed was a sign that she didn’t want to keep it from you but rather wanted to be there when you saw it.

As you stood in front of the painting, you noticed that a corner of the cloth covering it was falling away, revealing the right edge of the canvas. Your breath caught. You recognized the snowy forest you and Feyre had walked through so many times, and the dark, curly hair, just like your mother's, peeking out from beneath the cloth. Feyre reached under your arm and hugged you, holding your hand and interlacing your fingers.

“I made it a few months ago, before you sent the letters,” which was before she knew you were alive. Feyre had painted it thinking you were dead. “When I found out, I repainted it. I wanted to give it to her, but when we sent Mor to the bay with the letter, I thought it would be too much for you. I don’t know the exact circumstances, so I didn’t know how you would take it on top of everything.”

Feyre spoke to you in a whisper, so only you could hear her, but you weren’t able to look at her or answer her, or even return her handshake. You felt her gaze on your profile, full of concern, as if it pulsed out of her to you.

“I hope I didn’t overstep,” she admitted, just like you had a few days ago regarding the gift for Nyx.

But you weren't able to reassure her the same way she had done with you, because she had crossed a line—one you had blocked years ago when you decided to fight for your freedom in the volcanoes, ignoring the emptiness that weighed down and bled in your heart.

You ripped the canvas off the top of the painting's frame with one pull, like tearing off a band-aid while holding your breath, and you couldn't breathe again when you looked at the painting in front of you.

The scene depicted a winter afternoon, with the forest covered in white. Rue, dressed in her clothes to accompany you on hunts when you deemed it safe for her, was half-turned, facing forward, as if watching you as she walked in front of you in the snow. Her hair, a massive, curly mass just like your mother’s, was tied into a makeshift braid. You had never been able to style it the way your mother knew how, so it was loose and low, with many strands flying in the wind around her face as she stood halfway into the forest, looking at you as if you had called out to her not to go ahead on the walk.

You stood there, frozen, feeling the pain in your throat as the lump that had formed there became unbearable, and the burning in your eyes as you refused to cry, despite your body begging for it. You stared at the painting for a long moment while Feyre looked at you, still feeling her concern against your cheek.

Finally, you set your jaw and stared at the floor, blinking rapidly. Feyre rested her hand on your cheek, her thumb caressing your hand, and you were able to squeeze back, turning your knuckles white, but she didn’t complain.

“She looks like she’s saying goodbye,” she finally said, looking back at the painting, and Feyre looked at it too, admiring for the first time the depth of her own act. “Since she left, I haven’t been able to remember her any other way. But I like the ability to remember her this way.”

You didn’t explain to her that the way you remembered her was covered in blood, terrified, and with the feeling of helplessness tearing through your chest. There was no reason to put that on her, but you wanted her to know that the line she had crossed was significant. You might now think that she had left you like that—smiling, with her hair free in the wind, in the middle of the snow that she loved to play in so much and that she missed during her years on the pirate islands. You could imagine that those were her last moments, going into the forest you had accustomed her to so much, where she felt safe, never to return again, becoming part of the nature and the snow of the place.

“Thank you,” you managed to say over the tightness in your throat.

Feyre smiled softly. You felt her warmth as she rested her head on your shoulder, and you stayed like that for a while before going back to the celebration.

You left the painting leaning against the wall next to the bathroom door in your room so that you could see it from your place, sitting in the middle of the bed. You couldn't sleep and had resigned yourself to waking up and asking for some tea.

You didn't notice Mayhem in the room until she was sitting next to you on the bed, the hot cup of tea in her hands. It was only then that you realized she had even come in. You silently thanked her and took the cup from her hands, but she didn't move. She just sat there, and you looked at the cup, your hands, and the painting, constantly shifting your focus among them, but never looking back at her.

A silent understanding formed between the two of you, and Mayhem stayed with you as you drank all your tea. It worked; whether it was the tea or her reassuring presence, when you finished your cup, your eyes closed, and you fell asleep as soon as you laid your head on the pillow.

You dreamed of Rue. You always dreamed of her being scared in her final moments, but that night, for the first time since you lost her, you dreamed of her happiness. You saw her answering you in the forest, playing with the snow. You woke up with the certainty that she had stayed there, happily making snowmen, and also knowing that Feyre knew what she would do here, happy for the rest of the eternity that the Mother had granted her for her sacrifices.

It was time for you to go to your war; the illusions ended here.

*kovesh: It means conqueror in Hebrew, which is the language I have decided to use as a representation of the first language of mortals, without any particular reason other than I do not have the mind to invent a language for this story. All words in this language will be translated by me as best as possible, but if anyone knows the language that I do and sees any flaws in my translations in the future feel free to point it out in the comments.

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