Merthosus

Summary: Rick had a long day and, everybody knew, if his day was bad, he will do everything, that yours will be too. But making fun of your body was just too much.

I am back again on track guys!So send me things I can write, COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN AGAIN!!!

"Walk faster fatty, I don't want to look at you that long"

Rick paid you as much as a senior doctor in Switzerland, but despite the high salary, it wasn't enough to compensate for his constant insults. You put up with them, day after day, but today you were more sensitive than usual.

You didn't know why yourself, maybe it was the weather. Every time something wasn't right, you blamed it on the weather, Rick didn't like that at all, he would explain to you for hours how the weather couldn't affect people's emotions.

“Rick?” you ask, looking at him. He's sitting on the sofa, both his arms wide open and his upper body pressed into the couch. “Yessss…” he groans when he hears your voice.

He lets his head fall back. “I'm done with the brain cell decelerator, can you take a look at it?” you ask him. His head bobs up. Sometimes you ask me why you took the job in the first place. But the five-digit number that appeared on your bank account at the end of each month told me why.

“You can see I'm busy right now, can't you?” he asks me. You look at him and then at the TV, which is enjoying his full attention. “Please Rick, I've been watching it all day…” I try to explain. “Get away from the tv, now. You're getting on my nerves!” says Rick, annoyed.

I look out of the window and see nothing but darkness, I try to distract myself with something so I don't shout at him. “It would be really nice if you could just find two minutes for me to finish my…”; before I can finish my sentence, he interrupts me.

“Walk faster fatty, I don't want to look at you that long,” he says.

Your breath catches, and for a moment, you think you must have misheard him. But there he is, sprawled out on the couch, that arrogant smirk on his face, not even sparing you a glance as his eyes stay glued to the damned TV. His words echo in your head, heavy as lead, and you feel the familiar wave of insecurity crashing over you.

You’ve always felt uncomfortable in your body. You’d learned to fake the smiles, to use humor as armor, to brush off the small stings of insensitive remarks like they didn’t bother you. But this… this wasn’t small. This was Rick, the man you spent countless hours working for, tolerating his abuse, trying to impress despite knowing it was probably futile. And now, he’d said the one thing he knew would cut the deepest.

You swallow hard, the lump in your throat burning. Your hands curl into fists at your sides, but your voice comes out quiet, trembling. “You didn’t need to say that.”

Rick finally looks at you, tilting his head as if you’re some fascinating, irritating puzzle he can’t quite figure out. “Oh, what? Did I hurt your feelings? Geez, I thought you science types were supposed to have thick skin.” He chuckles at his own awful pun, his lack of self-awareness somehow making it worse.

The ache in your chest twists into something sharper—anger. “You knew exactly what you were doing, Rick,” you say, louder this time, your voice firm despite the sting in your eyes. “You know how I feel about my body, and you said it anyway. Why? Just get me off your view?”

He scoffs, waving his hand dismissively. “Oh, come on, don’t be so dramatic. I’m not your therapist, alright? I’m your boss. You think I have time to tiptoe around your feelings when we’re dealing with the universe here? Get over it.”

You stare at him, your heart sinking further with every word. His dismissive tone, his refusal to acknowledge how much his comment hurt—it’s like a punch to the gut. Without another word, you turn on your heel and head out of the living room. Rick doesn’t stop you, doesn’t call after you. It’s like you don’t even exist to him unless you’re useful.

The garage is cold, cluttered, and familiar. It’s where you’ve spent countless hours working on Rick’s insane inventions, deciphering his erratic notes, and trying to prove your worth to someone who never seems to care. You sit at the workbench and stare at the brain cell decelerator, your vision blurring with tears you refuse to let fall.

Why do you stay? You know the answer. The money, sure—but it’s not just that. There’s something about Rick, some spark of brilliance buried beneath the insults and the chaos, that makes you want to stick around. Maybe you’re a fool for thinking he sees anything in you beyond a tool to get his work done. Maybe that’s all you’ll ever be.

As you tighten a loose wire on the device, you hear the creak of the garage door opening behind you. You don’t look up. The last thing you want is to see his smug face.

“Hey,” Rick says, his voice uncharacteristically soft.

You don’t answer. Instead, you focus on the decelerator, twisting a screw into place with more force than necessary.

He sighs, a long, exaggerated sound like this is somehow hard for him. “Look, I didn’t mean to—ugh, shit—hurt your feelings or whatever.”

You pause, your hand stilling over the screwdriver. That’s the closest thing to an apology you’ve ever gotten from him. Slowly, you turn to face him. “You think that’s enough, Rick? After what you said?”

He winces, scratching the back of his neck. “No, it’s not enough. But, uh... I’m not great at this whole ‘feelings’ thing, alright? I say dumb crap sometimes. Most of the time.” His gaze darts to the floor, then back to you, and for once, there’s no smugness, no condescension. Just... Rick.

“You’re not just some—you know—assistant or whatever to me,” he continues, his words halting and awkward. “You’re... important. To me. And not just ‘cause you’re good at fixing my shit. I mean, you are, but that’s not the point.”

Your heart twists painfully at his stumbling attempt to make things right. “Then why did you say it? You know how I feel about... me.”

He steps closer, his hands shoved deep into his lab coat pockets. “Because I’m an asshole, alright? That’s my default setting. But I didn’t mean it. I don’t see you like that. Hell, if anything, you’re—you’re better than me. Smarter, kinder, less of a jackass. I don’t deserve you hanging around me all the time.”

You blink at him, stunned. Rick Sanchez, the self-proclaimed smartest man in the universe, admitting he’s wrong? Saying he doesn’t deserve you?

Rick shifts uncomfortably, his gaze flickering from the floor to your eyes. There's an edge of vulnerability in his voice, something that doesn't quite fit with the persona he usually wears so proudly. “And, uh... I guess I don’t always know how to say the right thing, but, you know... your body—” He hesitates, as if the words are foreign to him, like they don’t quite belong in his vocabulary.

You raise an eyebrow, unsure of where this is going, but curious nonetheless. “What about it?” you ask, trying to mask the uncertainty in your voice.

He bites his lip, running a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing. “I’ve—look, I’ve noticed, alright? You’ve got this... this perfect, goddamn body. Every time I look at you, it’s like... I don’t know, it’s like I can’t even concentrate. But I mess it up, I know. I always do. I just... don’t always know how to... handle it.”

You can’t help the surprise that flashes across your face, his words so unlike the insults he’s always thrown your way. The way he speaks now, almost like he's struggling with some unfamiliar emotion, it catches you off guard.

"Rick, you're... you're not serious," you murmur, still processing what he’s said. "You’ve always... always put me down."

Rick looks at you, frustration mixed with something deeper flickering in his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m trying to fix that, alright? It’s just... I can’t keep pretending like you’re not... perfect. I don’t know why I keep doing it, but I guess it’s because I don’t know what to do with someone like you.” His words are laced with an honesty that makes your heart race, something raw that you’ve never heard from him before.

You take a step closer, suddenly feeling the air between you crackle with tension. It’s so strange, this shift in him, this softness you never expected from someone like Rick Sanchez.

He exhales sharply, his voice growing quieter. “You’re everything I could ever want, you know? But you’re also the last person I’d expect to be interested in someone like me. So, I get defensive... I act like an idiot. I try to keep you at arm's length.”

Before you can respond, Rick moves toward you, closing the distance in a few short steps. His hands, trembling slightly, reach out to gently cup your face, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “I don’t want to hurt you. But I think you deserve to know that... you’re perfect. Your body... the way you move, the way you look at me... it drives me crazy. But in a good way. It always has.”

The words hang in the air, heavy and vulnerable, and for the first time, you see him—really see him—as someone who’s just as imperfect, just as flawed, as you are.

Without thinking, you lean into him, your lips brushing against his in a soft, tentative kiss. The world fades around you, and in that moment, it’s just the two of you—finally connecting in a way that feels honest, without the layers of sarcasm, without the walls he’s always built around himself.

Rick pulls back slightly, his breathing ragged, as he looks into your eyes with something almost tender in his gaze. His lips curl into something resembling a smile, but it's filled with an emotion you’ve never seen before. “Yeah... that’s what I wanted to say,” he mutters, his voice low and husky.

Summary: Fives comes in after a mission late at night. You were getting ready for bed but your hair wasn't braided yet, so you kindly ask him to do it.

This got into my mind right before sleeping hope you enjoy it!

"I am full of blood and you are asking me, if I could braid your hair?"

You were sitting on the floor at your room in the umbrella academy. Outside, it's slowly becoming fall and wet leaves are collecting on the windowsill. The walk to the bathroom was clearly too far for you, so you sat cross-legged in front of your large body mirror and embalmed your lips. It was already dark and you were getting ready for bed. Your skin had already been washed, your teeth brushed and you had changed into your best pajamas.

“You scared me, you tramp!” you say angrily as you pick up the balm again and screw it shut. As you look up at Five, your eyes widen a little when you see his bloodstained shirt. “Can you braid my hair?” you ask. Five puts his head to one side as he closes the door behind him. “I am full of blood and you are asking me, if I could braid your hair?” he asks you incredulously.

“Is that your blood?” you ask, pointing to his shirt. He just shakes his head and sits down on your bed. “Well then,” you say as you slide backwards between his legs.

Five sighs heavily as he looks down at you, still in disbelief. “You’re ridiculous,” he mutters under his breath, but his hands are already reaching for the hair tie that’s resting on your wrist.

You lean back slightly, enjoying the feeling of someone else taking over for a change. Five’s hands, though still smeared with dried blood, are surprisingly gentle as he starts dividing your hair into two sections. “You’re going to ruin my pajamas, you know,” you say softly, your eyes fluttering shut. The warmth of his presence feels oddly comforting, despite the unsettling state he’s in.

“I’ve been through worse,” he replies, his voice gruff but less sharp than usual. His fingers move deftly, and you realize he must have done this before. It strikes you, briefly, that Five’s life has been so much more complicated than any of yours.

“So… who’s blood is that?” you ask casually, not quite ready to face the full weight of the situation. It’s easier to talk while his hands are braiding your hair. There’s a lull in the air, as if the night itself is holding its breath.

“Do you really want to know?” he says, finishing the first braid with a quiet snap of the hair tie. You feel his fingers move to the next section of hair, his touch steady, unfazed by the topic. “Maybe not,” you admit, shivering slightly as the cool night air filters in through the window. Fives knee shivers a little bit as you let your head roll back on his thigh to look up at him.

Fives eyes do a little wider, as your head touched his inner thigh. "What?", you ask him confused ´, tilting your head a little bit. "N...nothing..", he shudders. You look deep into his eyes, trim to find an explanation for his odd behavior. "I know you had a bad day, can I help you in any way?", you ask him, laying your hand onto his thigh.

Five's gaze flickers as your hand rests gently on his thigh. He swallows hard, clearly not used to this kind of tenderness. His eyes, usually sharp and calculating, soften for a brief moment before he quickly masks it behind his usual stoic demeanor.

"You don't need to worry about me," he mutters, his voice a little gruffer than before. "I've been through worse." His hands, which were so deft and confident when braiding your hair, now fidget slightly, unsure what to do.

You can sense that there's more going on than he’s letting on, but pressing him might push him away. Five is used to carrying his burdens alone, and you're not sure how much he’ll let you in. But you're here now, and you want to help.

“You’re always saying that,” you reply softly, your thumb unconsciously tracing a small circle on his thigh. “But you don’t have to deal with everything by yourself.”

Five glances down at your hand on his leg, as if contemplating whether to pull away or allow it. There’s a long pause, the room growing still as the air between you feels heavy with unspoken words. He closes his eyes briefly, as if waging some internal battle.

"Maybe not," he finally admits, his voice almost too quiet to hear. It’s the closest he’s ever come to admitting vulnerability. He looks away, his jaw tightening as if the admission alone was too much.

You nod, understanding the gravity of his words. You shift slightly so you’re sitting closer to him, the warmth of your presence offering him comfort, even if he won’t say it out loud.

"Let me help, just this once," you say gently. "You don’t have to say anything. Just let me be here."

Five doesn’t respond immediately, but his shoulders seem to relax, if only a little. His hand moves hesitantly, hovering over yours for a moment before resting on top of it. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes.

reveal. The vulnerability in his touch is a stark contrast to the bloodstained chaos he’s been through. It’s quiet, the room filled with the soft rustling of leaves outside and the steady beat of your heart against the tension in the air.

For a long moment, neither of you speaks. The weight of unspoken words lingers, but it doesn’t feel uncomfortable. Instead, it feels like a kind of peace—fragile and rare, but present nonetheless.

"You don't have to fix everything, you know," you whisper, your voice barely above a breath. Your thumb continues its soft pattern on his thigh, grounding both of you in the simplicity of the moment.

Five lets out a small huff of laughter, but there's no humor in it—more like disbelief. "It's not that simple," he mutters, eyes still avoiding yours as if he's afraid to be seen.

"I know," you reply softly, leaning back slightly against him, feeling the warmth of his body behind you. "But you're not alone, Five. Not tonight."

His grip tightens briefly, and his fingers twitch as if he’s fighting the urge to pull away again. But instead, he stays still, his jaw clenched as if holding back something he can’t quite articulate.

The silence stretches once more before Five lets out a shaky breath. His eyes finally meet yours, a storm of emotions swirling beneath the surface—frustration, weariness, and something else, something softer.

Without saying a word, he leans forward, his forehead pressing gently against yours. The world around you seems to fade, the night drawing closer as you’re wrapped in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Then, with a tenderness that surprises both of you, Five dips his head slightly, brushing his lips softly against yours. The kiss is slow, tentative, as if he’s testing the waters of something unfamiliar. You return the kiss just as gently, your hands moving to the back of his neck, fingers slipping through his hair as you pull him a little closer.

It’s not rushed or desperate, but rather a quiet understanding—a shared moment between two people who have seen too much of the world but have found solace, if only for tonight, in each other.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes stay on yours, softer now, but still guarded. He rests his forehead against yours again, his breath steady but slightly unsteady, as if letting go of this much was harder than he expected.

"Thank you," he whispers, so softly you almost don’t catch it. But the weight of those two words hangs in the air, and you know it’s more than just gratitude—it’s trust.

Cried so much because someone betrayed me.

It hurt's, doesn't it? Part 2

Summary: Diego caught you and Five kiss, after you both watched him and Five's girlfriend cheating. Diego insults you out of anger, will Five step in for you?

Of course my dear, take a cup of coffee and a warm blanket, Five will heal all of your wounds!

"Did you really… like me all this time?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?!", Diego screamed.

You had expected Five to jump up from you, push you away or even ram you to the side, but no. His body only pressed harder against your own. You swallowed, getting caught felt worse than you expected. Your stomach tightened and your hands clawed into the seat of the van. You put a hand around the back of Five's neck to pull yourself up and support yourself by your arm.

When Diego, after several moments, angrily yanked the door open, you felt mortal fear. “You fucking whore…” he whispers to you as he captures you with his eyes. Five's grip on your waist tightened. “Watch how you talk to her,” Five mutters angrily. "I talk to my girlfriend how I want to, brother", he says.

The tension in the van was palpable, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what would happen next. Diego's glare felt like a sharp blade cutting through the air, and you could feel the heat of it burning into your skin. His words echoed in your mind—girlfriend. The weight of the accusation hung heavy between you, Five, and Diego, creating a suffocating silence.

Five’s grip on your waist was firm, protective even, and you could sense the quiet storm brewing in him. His jaw clenched as his eyes flicked toward his brother, not backing down. He was always calm under pressure, but you could tell that Diego’s words had struck a nerve. The van’s confined space only added to the suffocating tension.

"Diego, this isn’t the way," you said softly, trying to de-escalate, but your voice trembled with the weight of the situation. You weren’t sure what Diego had seen, or what he thought he saw, but this was spiraling out of control.

“Whore?” Five growled, his voice low but dangerous, his gaze locking onto Diego. His body shifted slightly, as though he was ready to throw himself between you and his brother at a moment’s notice. "She was not the one flirting with my girlfriend in there", Five arguments, whipping his head to the side of the restaurant.

Diego’s eyes narrowed, his face twisting in anger. "That’s not the point, Five," he spat, his voice laced with frustration. "You don’t get to play the hero here. You were all over her," he gestured wildly at you, his hand trembling with rage. "What the hell are you thinking?"

Five shifted slightly, his body still shielding you from Diego’s intense gaze. His voice was low and cold when he spoke, but there was an undeniable fire behind his words. "I’m thinking that I’m tired of all of this. Tired of pretending like nothing’s wrong while you’re in there playing happy with someone else." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the anger and pain he was holding back. "I gave everything, Diego, and you threw it away. So don’t you dare act like you’re the victim here."

Diego’s hands clenched into fists at his sides, the veins in his neck straining. His eyes darted between you and Five, as if searching for something—some explanation, some way to make sense of the mess unraveling in front of him.

"You don’t understand," Diego muttered, his voice barely audible now, as if he was losing control of his own emotions. He took a step back, his eyes flicking to you, and for a brief moment, you saw something other than anger in his gaze—regret, maybe even guilt. "There is nothing to understand Diego, she gave you everything and you threw it away like it was nothing. She doesn't deserve you", Five says with a lower tone.

Your hand travels up his waist, you hid your hand into his shirt, hoping Diego wouldn't see it. "You always had an eye on her Five, don't you dare to play the victim!"; he screams angrily.

Five’s eyes darkened as Diego's accusation cut through the air. He stood still for a moment before letting out a low sigh, his voice unusually soft. “You’re not entirely wrong, Diego. I liked her before. Long before you two were together.”

Diego’s face twisted in disbelief, rage boiling up. “You’ve had your eye on her this whole time? Waiting for me to mess up?”

Five’s grip on you tightened slightly, but his tone remained calm, steady. “No. I never wanted it to be this way. But I watched you throw her away, over and over again. I buried my feelings, out of respect for you. But then you left her.”

Diego’s fists clenched as he stepped forward. “So now you think you can just step in?”Five shook his head, glancing at you briefly. “No, Diego. I didn’t plan any of this. But I couldn’t watch you hurt her anymore.”Diego’s jaw clenched, and without another word, he turned away and stormed off, leaving the two of you standing in the thick silence.Five turned to you, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want this to happen.”

Five’s confession hung in the air, the weight of his words pressing against you. Diego's retreating footsteps echoed in the silence as he left the two of you alone in the van.

You turned to Five, your heart pounding. "Did you really… like me all this time?"

Five hesitated, searching your eyes before answering. “Yes,” he admitted, his voice low and honest. “But I never acted on it. You were with Diego, and I respected that. I kept my distance because… it wasn’t my place.”

You swallowed, your emotions a tangled mess. “And now?” Five looked at you, his eyes softening. “Now, everything’s different. I didn’t plan this, but… I care about you. More than I should’ve allowed myself to.” Your breath caught, unsure of what to say. But deep down, a part of you knew that things between you and Five had always been different—always deeper than friendship. In that moment, you realized that maybe, just maybe, you had always felt it too.

Okay so uh I have this convo with a Five Hargreeves C.ai bot it went on like uh Five and reader are arguing with each other and Five said 'I hope you died in the apocalypse' which end up reader got upset and taking it seriously.

This take place around season 2 before The Handler sent Five to kill board members(?), I forgot what they called, so Y/N went to the Commission and snatch a brief case but got caught and uh got killed.

You can decide what power Y/N have but it should have a connection to teleportation since I was thinking that it's how Y/N managed to sneak into the Commission, again my apology if it's hard to understand (⁠•⁠ ⁠▽⁠ ⁠•⁠;⁠) and uh if you want I can send my convo with the bot to you if it's going to help (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

The argument

Summary: After Five telling you horrible things about what he thinks about you, you make his dreams true Involuntarily you get hurt by the handler and five finally sees the truth worth of you being by his side, alive...

Thank you for your request, loved the idea behind that!! Loving the angsty trope :)

"I wish you had died in the apocalypse"

The argument started like most of them did—stress, frustration, and Five’s single-minded obsession with the mission. But tonight, something felt different. The air between you and Five was heavy, thicker than usual, and the words you were hurling at each other were sharper, more hurtful.

“I’m tired of this, Five! You treat me like I’m just another one of your problems to solve!” you shouted, hands trembling with anger. "You don't care about anyone except yourself!" Five stood rigid, his jaw clenched as he glared at you. “You think I have time to care about your feelings right now? We’re trying to stop the goddamn apocalypse!"

"And what if I didn’t want to help you anymore?" you fired back, heart pounding. "What if I just disappeared?" "Maybe that would be better,” he snapped, his voice cold and unforgiving. “Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep cleaning up after you! You’ve been nothing but a distraction!"

The words hit you like a slap, but you stood your ground, refusing to let him see the pain behind your eyes. “Is that what you really think?” Five’s expression darkened. “I wish you had died in the apocalypse.” The room went silent. His words echoed between you like a death sentence. Your breath caught in your throat, and you felt the sting of tears welling up, but you swallowed them down. “Fine,” you whispered, voice trembling. “If that’s how you feel, then I’m done.”

Before he could say another word, you disappeared—teleporting away, leaving him alone in the echo of his own cruelty.

Anger still roiled in your chest as you phased into the Commission, your teleportation power allowing you to slip past their security systems without a trace. You weren’t thinking straight, but you had a plan—a reckless one. If Five didn’t care, then what was stopping you from taking matters into your own hands?

You crept through the labyrinth of the Commission’s corridors, your goal clear: grab a briefcase and get out. Maybe you could fix things on your own, or maybe… you didn’t know anymore. All you wanted was to escape the pain, to make Five regret pushing you away. But just as your hand touched a briefcase, a voice cut through the air. “Well, well, well,” the Handler’s cold, saccharine voice echoed through the room. “Isn’t this a surprise?”

You froze. Before you could react, Commission agents swarmed you, guns raised and aimed at your head. Your powers flickered, but something was wrong—you couldn’t teleport out. The Handler stepped forward, a wicked smile on her face. “Teleporters like you really should know better than to try this here.” You tried to fight back, but it was no use. A single gunshot rang out, and pain exploded through your chest.

You collapsed, the briefcase slipping from your grasp as darkness closed in.

As your vision blurred and the icy grip of pain tightened around your chest, you heard the Handler’s heels clicking closer. The sharp scent of gunpowder filled the air, mingling with the metallic taste of blood rising in your throat.

“Well, isn’t this poetic,” she said, her voice dripping with mock sympathy. “You were always too ambitious for your own good.”

Your body screamed in agony, but you forced yourself to stay conscious, the adrenaline barely keeping you tethered to reality. Gasping for air, you managed to lift your head enough to meet her gaze, defiance flickering in your eyes.

"I—I won’t let you win,” you choked out, your voice ragged and weak, but the fire in your heart still burning despite the looming darkness.

The Handler tilted her head, her smile widening. “Oh, sweetheart. You’ve already lost.” She crouched down beside you, reaching out to tap a perfectly manicured nail against the briefcase you’d almost claimed. “But don’t worry, you’ve served your purpose.”

As the edges of your vision darkened, a strange calm settled over you. Maybe it was the shock, or maybe it was the thought of Five—of the cold words he had thrown at you, pushing you to this point. You had come here, driven by anger and pain, but now that your life was slipping away, all you could think of was him. How much you had cared for him. How much it hurt that he didn’t feel the same.

But just as the world began to fade, something shifted. The air in the room crackled with a familiar energy, one that you knew all too well. Time itself seemed to warp, bending unnaturally, and you realized with a jolt that someone had followed you here.

A moment later, the Handler’s satisfied smirk twisted into surprise as the familiar blue flash of teleportation split the room. And there he was—Five, standing in the middle of the chaos, his face pale and eyes wide with something that looked far too much like regret.

“You,” he growled, his gaze locking onto the Handler as he took in the scene—the blood pooling around you, the briefcase abandoned at your side, and your body crumpled on the floor. “What the hell did you do?” The Handler stood up, her cool demeanor still intact despite Five’s obvious fury. “You should be thanking me, Five. She was just a distraction, wasn’t she? Isn’t that what you said?”

Five’s eyes flickered with something raw, something haunted. His jaw clenched as he slowly turned toward you, kneeling beside your body. His hands were shaking, uncharacteristically so, as he pressed them to your wound, trying to stem the flow of blood. "You're not dying," he muttered, almost as if saying it aloud would make it true. “Don’t you dare die on me.”

You could barely keep your eyes open, your breathing shallow and labored, but the sound of his voice—desperate, breaking—kept you anchored. For a second, you wondered if you were hallucinating, if this was some fevered dream brought on by blood loss. But the pain was too real, the cold creeping into your limbs too sharp to be anything but reality. "No... no..", he muttered, as the handler left the room. "I didn't mean to..."; he whispers.

Five’s voice trembled, a sound so foreign to you that it barely registered at first. You blinked through the haze of pain, forcing yourself to focus on him, on the boy—no, the man—who always seemed so invincible, so sure of himself. But now, here he was, on his knees beside you, his mask of indifference shattered.

“I didn’t mean it,” Five whispered again, his voice breaking as his hands pressed harder against your wound. “You weren’t supposed to get hurt. You weren’t supposed to—" He swallowed, his throat constricting as the weight of his own words seemed to crash down on him.

A bitter taste filled your mouth as you tried to speak, but the blood loss made your words slur, your body too weak to move. Even so, you managed to meet his eyes—those piercing blue eyes that had always been so cold, now filled with a desperation you had never seen before.

“Why… did you… follow me?” you rasped, your voice barely a whisper, each word taking more effort than the last.

Five’s eyes flickered with guilt, shame, and something else—something softer, deeper, that made your chest tighten for reasons other than the gunshot wound.

“Because I couldn’t let you go,” he murmured, his voice raw. “Not like this. Not ever.” His hand tightened around yours, his grip trembling as though you might slip away from him at any second. “I thought I could push you away… that I could keep you safe by making you hate me. But all I did was drive you straight into danger. I was wrong. I was so wrong.”

A weak laugh escaped your lips, but it was more of a cough, and it sent a fresh wave of pain through your chest. "Took you… long enough," you muttered, your voice barely audible, but Five heard you. His lips twitched into a sad, bitter smile. “I know,” he said, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, his touch surprisingly gentle despite the blood staining his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

The room around you felt colder, the edges of your vision beginning to blur again as the blood loss took its toll. You felt yourself slipping further away, but Five’s voice kept pulling you back—like a tether to the world you were on the verge of leaving.

"Stay with me," he urged, his voice barely above a whisper but filled with a desperation that you had never heard from him before. "I can fix this. I will fix this. I just need you to hold on a little longer."

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to trust that he could make everything right, that the pain you were feeling wasn’t permanent. But as your body grew colder, it became harder and harder to fight the darkness that was creeping in. “Five…” you whispered, your voice barely a breath, “I don’t… want to leave… you.”

Five’s expression twisted in pain, his eyes burning with unshed tears. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said fiercely, as if sheer force of will could keep you tethered to life. “You’re staying right here with me.”

Five’s hand tightened around yours, as if his sheer grip could tether you to the world and keep the darkness at bay. His usual confidence was gone, replaced by raw desperation that sent a shiver through you, despite the numbness creeping in. You could feel his pulse racing through his fingertips—steady, alive, unlike the faint, weakening beat of your own.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I’m so sorry for everything I said.” His eyes bore into yours, pleading, the cold blue of them softened by the wet sheen of tears he refused to let fall. “You were never a distraction. You were the only thing keeping me sane in all of this chaos.”

His words, laced with guilt and something like fear, hit you harder than the gunshot. You had always known Five cared in his own way, but hearing him say it now, when it might be too late, was like a bittersweet echo in the hollow space between life and death.

You tried to speak, but the pain was too much, your breath too shallow. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy with exhaustion and the creeping cold. The world around you began to blur again, slipping away despite Five’s grip. “No,” he muttered, his voice fierce now. “Stay with me. You’re not going anywhere.” He leaned closer, his forehead nearly touching yours. “I won’t let you go.”

You wanted to stay, wanted to fight, but the pull of the darkness was so strong, and the pain so overwhelming. You could feel your consciousness slipping, the world fading away in pieces. But before you could fall into that abyss completely, something shifted—a familiar hum of energy rippled through the air.

Five stiffened beside you, his head snapping up, eyes widening as the blue glow of the briefcase intensified. The air around you crackled with power, time itself seeming to bend and twist as if reality were being rewritten. “I’m going to fix this,” Five murmured, his voice filled with a renewed sense of urgency. “I’ll fix everything. I promise.”

Your vision wavered as you watched him frantically adjust the dials on the briefcase, his fingers moving with a precision only he possessed. The hum grew louder, the light brighter, and then, with a sudden jolt, everything around you warped. Your whole body was sucking up the pain.

The world twisted and bent, the crackling energy from the briefcase tearing at the edges of reality, until suddenly everything snapped back into place. The cold, sterile halls of the Commission vanished, replaced by something softer, warmer. You blinked, your mind disoriented, the sharp, unbearable pain that had gripped your body dulling into an almost distant ache.

Slowly, you became aware of your surroundings. You weren’t lying on the cold floor of the Commission anymore. The familiar scent of old books, faint cologne, and wood polish filled your senses. You were in Five’s room, lying in his bed, the heavy blankets tucked around you. For a moment, you weren’t sure if this was real, or if you were simply dreaming, caught in some strange limbo between life and death. But the warmth was too real, the sound of your own ragged breathing too loud in your ears.

You shifted slightly, the movement sending a wave of soreness through your body. A soft groan escaped your lips as your hand instinctively went to your chest, where the bullet had struck you. But instead of the expected searing pain, your fingers found smooth bandages tightly wrapped around the wound. It was tender, but healing. You were alive.

The realization hit you like a shock, and just as you were about to sit up, you felt a weight beside you on the bed. Turning your head, you saw Five, slumped in a chair pulled up next to the bed, his head resting in his hands, elbows on his knees. His clothes were rumpled, dark circles etched beneath his eyes, and for the first time, he looked… vulnerable. Exhausted.

The tension in his posture, the way his shoulders sagged, told you more than any words ever could. He had saved you—brought you back from the brink of death—and now, after everything, he was sitting there, waiting for you to wake up.

You shifted again, trying to adjust your position, and the small movement made Five glance up. His sharp blue eyes met yours instantly, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The relief that washed over his face was so raw, so palpable, it took your breath away.

“You’re awake,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper, but laced with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine.

You swallowed, your throat dry. “Am I... really here?”

Five stood abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping against the floor. He moved closer to the bed, his expression still guarded but softer, more open than you had ever seen it. "Yes. You're safe. I told you I'd fix it." His voice cracked slightly, betraying the storm of emotions simmering just beneath the surface.

You wanted to say something, anything, but the weight of what had happened hung between you. The argument. The gunshot. The way he had followed you despite everything.

"Five," you began, your voice weak, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

"Don’t," he said quietly, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to control himself. "Just... don’t. I don't want to hear an apology, or a thank you. Not after what I did. What I said."

You stared at him, unsure of what to say. The pain of his earlier words still lingered, but seeing him like this—so raw and human—made it hard to hold onto the anger.

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he continued, his voice tight. “I thought if I pushed you away, if I made you hate me, it would be easier to protect you. To keep you out of danger. But I was wrong. I’m always wrong about these things.”

You could hear the guilt, the self-loathing, threaded through his words. And in that moment, it was clear that this was more than just about the argument. This was about everything—about how Five had always carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, how he had never known how to let anyone in, how he was terrified of losing the few people he actually cared about.

With effort, you lifted your hand and reached out, fingers brushing against his. "You saved me," you whispered, your voice still weak but steady. "That's all that matters now."

Five stared down at your hand, his lips pressing into a thin line. For a moment, you thought he might pull away, retreat back into his usual cold, calculating self. But then, slowly, he entwined his fingers with yours, gripping your hand tightly.

“I almost didn’t,” he admitted, his voice so quiet it was almost a whisper. “I almost lost you. And I—" He cut himself off, his jaw clenching as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. But you could see it in his eyes, the way they glistened in the dim light. He cared. More than you had ever realized. “You didn’t lose me,” you said, squeezing his hand as best as you could. "I'm right here."

Five’s gaze softened, his thumb brushing over your knuckles in a tender, almost absentminded gesture. He stood there for a long moment, just holding your hand, as if he was afraid that if he let go, you might disappear again.

“I’m not going to push you away anymore,” he said finally, his voice thick with emotion. “I can’t. Not after this.”

There was a vulnerability in his words that made your chest tighten, but this time it wasn’t from the wound. It was from something deeper, something that had been buried beneath all the anger and fear. You nodded slowly, exhaustion pulling at the edges of your consciousness again, but you fought to stay awake, to hold onto this moment.

“Good,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Because I’m not going anywhere.” Five’s lips quirked into the faintest hint of a smile, though his eyes were still shadowed with worry. "Get some rest," he murmured, his thumb brushing lightly over your hand once more before he reluctantly let go. "You need it."

You wanted to protest, to stay awake and talk more, but the warmth of the bed and the comfort of knowing you were safe, that Five was there, watching over you, was too much to resist. Your eyelids grew heavy, and before you knew it, sleep was pulling you under. As you drifted off, you felt the lightest pressure of his hand returning to yours, as if silently promising that he wouldn’t leave your side—not this time.

Hi yes I do! If you don't want to be tagged you can change the request to anonymous. And If I tagged you from a comment I can change it of course! So if you don't want to be tagged, please tell me :)

And if you want to be you can change the request the same way, or write me a direct message!

Summary: After going through heaven and hell with your boyfriend Diego, you couldn't trust your eyes as you saw him an fives girlfriend going in a date with each other. Five told you he had a bad feeling about this so you both followed them in Diegos Van. Watching them cheating on you both, made you feel things you never knew you could.

This Story was inspired by this TikTok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeKLJqmX/ (But I changed the roles a little bit)

"I understand you, down to your bones"

With each passing minute, you sink more and more into the seat of the old SUV that belonged to Diego. Just like your heart, your body slid further and further down to make what you saw unseen. “I can't believe it Five,” you mumble to yourself. Five is sitting next to you, his hands clenched into fists, eyes fixed on what is happening in front of him. He didn't answer you at first, too busy banging his leg uncontrollably on the floor. “I knocked the stars out of the sky for her and this is the thanks you get?” he says angrily.

You are watching two people eating in a restaurant. You've noticed for a few weeks that Diego has been behaving strangely and it was only when Five approached you to tell you that something wasn't going right with his girlfriend that you realized it.

You sit in silence for a moment, the disbelief weighing heavily in your chest as you glance between Five and the scene unfolding in front of you. Diego and Five's girlfriend were laughing, their body language too comfortable, too intimate. It felt like a betrayal too big to comprehend. The man you’d trusted, the one who had fought for you time and time again, was sitting across from another woman, completely at ease with someone else.

"How long do you think this has been going on?" you whisper, your voice barely audible, as if speaking too loudly would make the scene more real. Five’s jaw tightens, his eyes still glued to the two of them. "Too long," he spits bitterly. His leg continues to bounce with agitation, and his fists only seem to clench tighter. "I should have known. I could feel something was off, but I didn’t want to believe it."

You nod, understanding the sting of that realization all too well. You had brushed off Diego’s odd behavior at first, convincing yourself it was stress, maybe something work-related. You’d tried to ignore the little signs, dismissing the growing distance between you as temporary. But now, seeing them together, it all made sense.

Your breath catches as Diego reaches across the table to brush a strand of hair from the woman’s face. The tenderness in his touch, the smile that followed, it was too familiar. Too painful. You bite down hard on your lip, willing yourself not to break down completely.

"I just...I don’t get it," you manage, feeling the weight of the betrayal sink deeper. "We went through so much. How could he throw it all away like this?"

Five finally turns to you, his eyes softening for just a moment as he takes in your hurt. "Some people aren’t who we think they are," he says, his voice low and bitter. "No matter what we’ve been through with them." You swallow hard, feeling the sting of his words, because they were true. It hurt like hell to realize Diego might not have been the person you thought he was. The person who stood by you through thick and thin, who promised you the world, could betray you like this.

Five turns his gaze back toward the window, his voice suddenly cold and determined. "We have to confront them. I can't sit here and watch this any longer." You hesitate, your heart racing. The thought of walking into that restaurant, of facing Diego and seeing the truth in his eyes—it feels like too much. But as you watch Diego lean in closer to her, your anger flares. As he takes one hand up, to reach the door handle, you grasp his hand with a quick movement. "Don't", you say, stopping him from getting out.

Your hand lingers onto his. Five glances down at your hand gripping his, his sharp, icy gaze softening just a fraction. His leg stops its relentless bouncing, but you can still feel the tension radiating from him. For a moment, you sit in silence, neither of you knowing what to say. The world outside the car seems to blur into the background as the weight of the situation settles over you both. “Why not?” Five’s voice is low but laced with frustration. “Why are we just sitting here, letting them get away with this?”

You tighten your grip on his hand, your fingers trembling slightly. “Because I’m not ready,” you admit, the words barely audible. "I don’t know if I can face him right now. If I see him, see them together like this... I don’t know what I’ll do." Five’s eyes remain fixed on yours, searching for something—maybe reassurance, maybe strength. The pain in his gaze mirrors your own, a shared agony of betrayal that cuts deeper than either of you expected.

"I’m furious too," you continue, your voice thick with emotion. "But confronting them right now… It feels too raw, too soon. I need a moment to think before I... before we do something we can’t take back." Five exhales, the sound heavy with disappointment, but he nods. "I get it," he murmurs, his voice slightly softer now. "I just don’t know how much longer I can sit here and watch them act like none of it matters. Like we don’t matter."

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. "We do matter. We’re worth more than this. But if we go in there now, we might make things worse." You glance over at Diego and Five’s girlfriend, your heart twisting at the sight of Diego smiling, his eyes crinkling at the edges the way they used to when he looked at you. Five shifts in his seat beside you, his hand finally relaxing in your grasp. "So what do we do?" he asks, his voice hoarse.

"I don't know five", you whisper. Five heard all of the hurt in your whispering and his heart arches worse than before. You can feel how his fingers slowly start gliding into yours. "It feels like someone ripped my heart out", you describe it to him, still knowing that he must feel exactly the same right now. "Hurts, doesn't it?", he asks you. You were kind of happy that he was here with you. You don't even want to imagine what it would be like to catch them like this and sit in the Van alone.

"Might sound pretty dumb but I am very happy that you are here with me", you tell him, hoping he would get what you meant.

Five's grip tightens around your hand, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin as if grounding both of you in this moment. For the first time since you got in the van, he looks away from the betrayal unfolding in front of you and focuses on you. His sharp, cold demeanor softens, and for a moment, you see past the anger, past the pain. There’s something raw and real beneath it all—something only the two of you could understand right now.

"It doesn’t sound dumb," Five replies, his voice quiet but steady. "I’m glad you’re here too. I don’t think I could handle this alone." The weight of his words hits you, and you realize how much the two of you are holding each other up in this nightmare. It’s an odd, tragic comfort—knowing that someone else feels the same pain, the same betrayal. But there’s also a strange sense of strength in that shared sorrow. "I don't know how to handle this five, I feel so empty", you try to describe what you are feeling.

"I understand you, down to your bones", he says. The words made your eyes tear, you didn't want to cry. You always wanted to appear hard and unbreakable, that was what Diego gave you. A safe space, where you could let all your emotion out, but now the first man you ever felt safe with, shattered you more than anything. As soon as Five noticed you, breaking apart, he climbed over the clutch and sat beside you. "Don't cry please I can't look at this...", he mumbled as he hugged you. Now that he also was cheated on, he hadn't had the strength to contain his wall to cover his own emotions.

His arms glide around you, like a cloth trying to protect you from the outer world. As Five’s arms wrapped around you, it felt like the dam finally broke. You had been holding back, trying to stay strong, trying to process the betrayal in front of you without falling apart, but his embrace shattered that fragile resolve. You buried your face into his chest, letting the tears fall, the ache in your heart too heavy to carry alone.

“I’m sorry,” Five whispered, his voice rough and low, but full of sincerity. He wasn’t apologizing for the situation—he couldn’t control what Diego or his girlfriend did—but for the pain you were both feeling, the weight of betrayal that neither of you deserved. His hand moved up, gently cradling the back of your head as he pulled you closer.

The tension in your body slowly began to melt, your grief finding an outlet in the comfort of his embrace. You hadn’t realized how much you needed this—how much you needed someone to simply be there, to hold you in the middle of the chaos. And somehow, Five’s presence made everything a little more bearable. It didn’t take the pain away, but it made it feel less suffocating, less isolating.

“I don’t know what to do,” you whispered against his chest, your voice trembling. “It hurts too much, Five. How are we supposed to move forward after this?”

Five’s hold on you tightened slightly, his chin resting on top of your head. He was silent for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I don’t know either,” he admitted softly, his voice wavering in a way that made you realize just how much this had affected him too. He pushed himself a little bit away from you, so you both were looking at each other. You look at his tear streamed face, imitating yours. "I don't get what I did wrong that he had the demand to cheat", you say with a broken voice.

"Don't... don't do this please", he grabbed your cheek, covering your face. He wiped away a tear with his thumb. Five’s hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away your tears, the warmth of his touch contrasting with the coldness of your emotions. His eyes, usually sharp and full of wit, now brimmed with a pain that mirrored your own. "You didn’t do anything wrong," he said, his voice raw and steady, though it cracked at the edges. "Don’t blame yourself for their choices. This... this is on them."

You stared at him, seeing the reflection of your own heartbreak in his face, the weight of his words trying to sink in. But the doubt, the sense of not being enough, gnawed at you. "Then why does it feel like I wasn’t enough?" you whispered, your voice barely holding together. "Like if I had just... done something differently, maybe he wouldn’t have—"

Five shook his head, cutting you off gently. "Stop," he said, his voice firmer now. "People like them... they make their choices. It’s not about what we did or didn’t do. We gave everything, and they chose to throw it away. That’s on them, not on us."

His words, spoken with conviction, made your heart twist. You wanted to believe him, but the hurt was so deep, the betrayal so fresh. How could you not question everything about yourself when the person you trusted the most shattered that trust?

Five’s grip on your cheek tightened slightly, grounding you in the present. "You are enough," he said, his tone unwavering. "More than enough. And if Diego couldn’t see that, then he doesn’t deserve you." You blinked, more tears spilling over despite your efforts to hold them back. "But it still hurts," you confessed, your voice barely a whisper. Five’s expression softened, the fire in his eyes dimming as he pulled you closer once more. "I know," he murmured, his voice low and comforting.

"It hurts so damn bad five", you say while laying your face more into his hand. Five’s thumb gently traced the curve of your cheek, his touch soft yet steady, grounding you in the swirl of emotions consuming you both. His breath hitched as your words echoed between you, the rawness of your shared pain palpable in the small space between your faces. "It hurts so damn bad, Five," you whispered again, leaning into his hand, letting the warmth of his touch soothe the ache inside.

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the weight of the emotions swirling around you—the betrayal, the anger, the heartbreak. But there was something else too, something that had been bubbling beneath the surface ever since this nightmare began. The way he had been there for you, how his presence was the only thing that made this unbearable situation just a little less suffocating.

Five's gaze softened as he watched you, his eyes still shining with unshed tears. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he leaned in, his face inches from yours, as if testing the waters, searching for any sign that you didn't want this—didn't need this. But you did. In that moment, with everything crumbling around you, the only thing you wanted was him.

You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting in a kiss that was soft at first, tentative, like two broken souls finding solace in the only place that felt safe. Five's hands slid around you, holding you closer as the kiss deepened, the intensity of your shared pain spilling into the tenderness of the moment.

It wasn’t just a kiss. It was a release, a way to channel everything you had been holding in—the heartbreak, the betrayal, the feeling of not being enough. And in that kiss, it was like you both found a way to remind each other that you were more than enough. You had each other, and in that moment, that was all that mattered.

You let yourself fall back, with him following you. you both melt into each other, something you never felt before, Diego couldn't give you before. His kisses get harsher, finding an output for his anger, as you did the same.

The kiss deepened, growing fiercer as the tangled emotions of anger, pain, and longing poured into it. You clung to each other as if you were the only thing keeping the other from unraveling completely. Five’s hands traced down your sides, holding onto you as if he needed the connection to stay grounded, to stay sane amidst the chaos.

Your heart raced as you felt the fire in his touch, each kiss pulling you deeper into a world where the pain seemed to fade, even if just for a moment. There was a sense of desperation in it—both of you trying to drown out the betrayal, to find comfort in something, anything, that felt real. His kisses grew more urgent, more passionate, as if he was trying to pour all his frustration and hurt into each touch, needing to feel something other than the overwhelming sense of loss.

And you met him, kiss for kiss, letting go of everything but the present moment. The SUV, Diego, his girlfriend—it all faded into the background. For once, you let yourself feel without thinking, without analyzing what any of it meant. It was messy, raw, and full of the unresolved emotions that had been tearing both of you apart. But it was also a release, a brief escape from the reality that had shattered around you.

Five pulled back, breathing heavily, his forehead resting against yours. His breath was warm and uneven, and you could feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest as he tried to steady himself. "This…" he began, his voice hoarse, but he couldn’t finish the sentence. Neither of you knew what to say, because words couldn’t capture what you were feeling.

You met his gaze, eyes still glassy with tears, and for the first time, you didn’t feel alone in your heartbreak. His thumb brushed over your cheek again, but this time, it wasn’t just to wipe away tears. It was something more—something that told you, in this shattered mess of your lives, you weren’t facing it alone.

But your bodies, pressed together, shuddered at the same time as a loud thud emerged onto the Car window. Five's head flew up and yours did too. Diegos eyes were watching you two, your hands still clinging onto five and his hand resting on your cheek.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!", Diego screamed.

Summary: After Diego sees you at the Obsidian hotel he thinks he lost his mind. You should be buried deep into the ground, but you were standing right before him.

Writing this broke my heart fr

"You killed me. Don't do it again"

“You’re supposed to be dead.” His voice is flat as he stares at you. You’re his little sibling, and they’d been forced to leave you behind back in the original timeline, before they’d traveled to 1963. You’d been left behind to die in the apocalypse. So how were you here? In the Hotel Obsidian? "Don't you see me breathing silly?", you ask him as he adored you. Diego’s lip almost quirks up at that, but he catches himself. He stands there, his arms crossed and trying to keep his face serious.

“Yes, but you’re supposed to be in the future. In a ruined world. Not…” Not here. Alive. With him. You smirk, you are not supposed to be in this timeline, don't you remember love?", you ask him in an almost angelic voice. He does love that voice. He adores it, he missed it so, so much, hearing it again makes a shiver run down his spine. He tries to stay stoic, but he feels as though you’re seeing right through him, and it seems as though he’ll break at any second. He just needed to make sure this was real… even if it was just to make sure it wasn’t some sick joke.

“…Prove it’s you.” "Ask me something then, something only I would know", you smile at him. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine.. What nickname did I call you when we were kids?”. "My beautiful little angelito", you answered and tilted your head. Seeing him again did something to you too. That does it. He can’t fight the smile that breaks out on his face as he steps forward and suddenly wraps you in a tight hug. It’s like all his walls come crashing down in that moment, and he clings to you and holds you as close as he could, afraid that if he let go it truly would have been a dream.

You slowly caress the back of his head. "Diego you are not supposed to be here", you whisper in his ear. You can sense that he was holding back tears. He swallows hard as you speak, holding you just a little tighter. He never would have admitted this to the others, but he cried for you, many, many times. It kills him. How are you here? Alive? It makes absolutely no sense. And yet he can hear your heartbeat, he could feel you and you were right here. And, you were still calling him “Angelito”, like you’d use to when you were kids.

He pulls back enough that he can look down at you, still refusing to let go of your hips. He takes in every part of your face, as though trying to commit it to memory. “How? I don’t understand how you’re even here…”. "Diego you need to go", you mumble and look deep in his eyes. He shakes his head. No. He just found you again, and you think he’s just going to leave? He tightens his grip on you, practically pulling you into a possessive embrace again.

"Diego", you stop him from shaking his head, by holding the sides of his face. "Go", you whisper. “No.” He looks down at you and almost refuses to tear his eyes away from yours. He takes a breath and shakes his head. “I’m not leaving you again. Not now that I have you back.” You didn't leave me Diego...", you begin. "You killed me. Don't do it again", you whisper in his face. He suppressed it, you know and he knows.

His breath hitches and his eyes widen as he hears that. Killed. It was like a kick to the gut and he can feel the guilt rise up in his chest again, and he swallows hard. He grips one of your wrists in his hand, his fingers wrapping around it like he was afraid that if he didn’t hold you close enough, you’d disappear again. “…I wouldn’t… I won’t… Not again…”.

"If you and the others stay here you will kill me and everybody else". He’s silent for a moment, swallowing hard as he digests that information. It makes sense to him, and he knows that you’re right… But at the same time, he doesn’t think he could bring himself to leave again. After years without you, to have you back just like this… “I don’t want to leave you. I refuse.” "Don't be so selfish my love", you say and stroke his cheek with your thumb.

He leans into your touch, his eyes falling shut as he takes another shaky breath. The pet name has his heart soaring, and at the same time it makes the guilt come back even stronger. You had called him that many times as kids, and yet now he had to hear it again while knowing what he had done to you. He’s silent for a moment, just taking in the feel of your hand on his cheek as he opens his eyes and looks down at you. He brings a hand up to hold the back of your neck, his eyes darkening slightly as he stares down at you.

He brings a hand up to hold the back of your neck, his eyes darkening slightly as he stares down at you. His grip on you is gentle, but there’s an almost desperate feeling to it. “Please… don’t make me leave you again.” "I will come back to you, but not in this timeline", you say wiping the tear away, which landed on your finger. His throat constricts as you speak, swallowing hard as he listens to what you’re saying and letting it sink in. He lets out a shaky breath before pulling you close again, his arms wrapping around you in a tight hold. “Promise me… promise me you’ll come back. Don’t make me lose you again…”.

"I will Diego", you say. You press your lips onto his, not wanting him to not swallow the lie. He practically melts against you, his eyes slipping closed and his arms wrapping tighter around you as he pulls you even closer. One of his hands slides up to the back of your head, his fingers burying in your hair as he returned the kiss just as desperately. There was a slight, almost painful, edge to it, as though he was afraid you’d disappear as they kiss.

He only broke the kiss to breathe, resting his forehead against yours and taking in ragged breaths. His eyes stay shut for a moment, and he’s silent as they do. He’s taking in this moment, wanting to commit every emotion, every detail, to memory right down to the way being close to you like this makes his heart pound as though it were trying to jump out of his chest. "I love you Diego, I always will", you say.

Hearing that gets a small shudder out of him, a shudder of something deep and strong. He swallows hard, and his head lowers so he could bury his face in the crook of your neck. “I love you too. So much. More than you will ever know… I’m so sorry-”. His voice cracks as he speaks, and he has to stop himself from saying anything more or he knew he’d break.

He doesn’t say anything more. Just lets himself fall silent and relishing the feeling of having you in his arms again. He wasn’t going to lose you. Not this time. His fingers in your hair curl slightly and he buries his face in your neck, taking a deep breath and letting your scent wash over him. He’ll have to let you go… one more time. To keep you safe. But he still couldn’t keep himself from clinging to you like his life depended on it.

Jealousy destroys

Summary: After being split from your family for almost 2 Years, you found someone, he was now a big part of your life. You knew, deep down in your heart, you were imagining someone different in him, but you pushed it away.

Thanks for you request love!! I am a Diego Girly myself so writing for him is making me very happy :) (Btw this picture I can't-)

“Only I get to call you that...but only when we’re alone”

“NO LISTEN TO ME!”, you say in a squeaky high voice. You point your finger at the tube TV in front of you. Although you liked the OLED TV with integrated LED, which projected the displayed color of the movie onto the wall, you adapted. No more flat-screen TVs, no more cell phones and no more ceramic hobs. It had been a big change to travel back to a time when industrialization was still in its infancy.

But Pietro helped you to find your way again, to forget. He was tall, very tall, every girl who looked at him threatened to faint. You met him in a disco. After a little number in the disco toilet, you were hooked. His smell, his eyes and his wonderfully soft hair made you kneel on the floor like a nun. But you still knew that he could never replace Diego. Every night before you fell asleep, you saw him in front of you, following your every thought like a ghost.

2 years were much, but not enough to forget him. "Babe, I need it, please", you beg him. You knew that the puppy eyes always worked at him. He glares at you, trying nit to fall for the little trick you were doing. He was aware of the little manipulation, but as soon as he saw your big eyes he couldn't stop imagining how your eyes would tear of happiness, as soon as he would yes. Apart from that he also couldn't get the picture out his head of those beautiful eyes filled with tears when his cock will enter your mouth after he plugged the new tv in.

"Alrighht", he says, watching your expression change. "I will buy it", he smiles I your direction. You stumble forward and climb onto his big torso. "I love you so much", you say as you hug him as tight as you could. Pietro’s deep chuckle rumbles in his chest as you cling to him, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck. You can feel the warmth of his body through his shirt, the steady beat of his heart against your own. His large hands settle on your waist, holding you securely as you press your cheek against his broad shoulder.

“I know you do,” he murmurs, his voice filled with affection. He leans down slightly, his lips brushing the top of your head. “But you know this is just an excuse to get what you want, right?”. You pull back just enough to look up at him, your big eyes still wide with excitement and maybe a hint of mischief. “Of course it is,” you admit with a grin. Pietro held the door open for you, like the gentleman he was. The bell on the door rang, as you both entered. "Closed", a few voices from the railing above screamed down on you.

You were steadfast, very steadfast, nothing could possibly dissuade you from buying this tv. As you went up the stairs, you excused your rude behavior. "... so please let me buy the...", your voice stopped working, the same as your legs were, as you saw your whole family standing before you. The same as your eyes were wide open, theirs was too. "I said we are closed...", said the one unknowingly man beside Diego. As he tried stepping forward, Diegos arm stopped him. "Y/n?", Diego asks bewildered, he stepped forward himself but as soon as Pietro's big shadow appeared behind me he stopped.

Pietro puts his arm around your shoulders. "Listen man, she wants that tv, so she gets that tv", he arguments with him. Diego tilts his head as he saw him touching you. "Who are you?", he asks. The tension in the room grew thick, almost palpable, as Diego’s sharp gaze focused on Pietro. You could feel Pietro’s grip on your shoulder tighten, his protective instinct kicking in. He wasn’t one to back down from a challenge, especially not when it involved you.

“I’m Pietro,” he replied, his voice calm but firm, meeting Diego’s glare with one of his own. “And I’m her boyfriend. We’re just here to buy a TV, so if you could back off, that would be great.” Diego’s eyes narrowed, his expression hardening. “Boyfriend?” The word seemed to hang in the air, heavy and suffocating. He took a step closer, his posture tense, as if he was ready to confront Pietro right then and there. “You’ve been gone for two years, Y/N, and now you show up with this parasite?” His tone was laced with disbelief and something that almost sounded like hurt.

"Watch your words, amigo", Pietro says. "I...I", you stumbled over your words. Diego's eyes burned with intensity as he glared at Pietro, the jealousy and anger swirling in his chest almost too much to contain. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, knuckles turning white, as he took another step forward, closing the distance between them. “Watch my words?” Diego repeated, his voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, especially not when it comes to her.” He pointed at you, his gaze flicking to yours briefly before returning to Pietro with renewed fury.

Pietro’s grip on your shoulder tightened, and you could feel the tension radiating from him, his muscles coiled and ready for a fight. But despite the growing hostility between the two men, you knew you had to intervene before things got out of hand. The air between the three of you was thick with tension, so much so that it felt like you could slice through it with a knife. Diego's dark eyes bore into Pietro, who stood his ground with a calm but defiant expression. You could feel Pietro’s protectiveness radiating off him, his grip on your shoulder firm as if silently promising he wouldn’t let anything happen to you.

But you knew Diego well enough to see the storm brewing beneath his tough exterior. His chest rose and fell with deep, controlled breaths, a clear sign that he was struggling to keep his emotions in check. Pietro, who had been silent, finally spoke up, his tone cool and collected. “She’s moved on, man. You need to respect that. She’s with me now.”

Diego’s eyes narrowed at Pietro’s words, his jaw clenching so hard you were sure he’d break a tooth. “Respect? You’re talking to me about respect?” He let out a bitter laugh, one devoid of any real amusement. “I don’t think you understand, amigo. Respect is earned, and you haven’t earned a damn thing.” Pietro smirked, clearly unfazed by Diego’s hostility. “I think you’re just mad because you couldn’t give her what she needed. She needed someone strong enough to help her move on, and that wasn’t you”, you could hear out his words, that he assumed that he was your ex.

Diego’s face contorted with rage at Pietro’s words, and before you could even react, he lunged forward, fist flying towards Pietro. The sound of the punch landing echoed through the room, and you gasped as Pietro stumbled back, his hand immediately going to his jaw. “Diego, stop!” you cried out, stepping between the two men before the situation could escalate further. Your hands pressed against Diego’s chest, trying to create some distance between him and Pietro. Diego’s eyes, dark with anger, met yours, and you could see the conflict warring within him wanting to hurt the man who had taken his place, but not wanting to hurt you.

Pietro straightened up, wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. He let out a low chuckle, shaking his head as he looked at Diego with a mix of pity and disdain. “See, this is why she left. You’re too wrapped up in your own anger to see what she really needs.” “Pietro, don’t,” you warned, your voice firm. The last thing you wanted was for him to provoke Diego further.

But Pietro wasn’t backing down. “She needs someone who can be there for her, not someone who’s stuck in the past.” Diego’s fists clenched again, and you could feel the tension radiating off him like a live wire. “You don’t know a damn thing about what she needs,” he spat, his voice laced with venom. “Stop it, both of you!” you shouted, your voice cracking under the strain of the situation. “This isn’t helping anyone!”, you said angrily. Diego looks down on you, your hands still lingering in his chest. "I missed you so fucking much", he whispers as he lays one hand on your cheek.

"I thought I would never see you again", he mumbles as he looked you deep into your eyes. The intensity in Diego's voice caught you off guard, making your breath hitch in your throat. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, as his thumb brushed lightly across your cheek. You could see the raw emotion in his eyes, a mixture of longing, pain, and something deeper that you couldn't quite name. It was as if the two years of distance and silence had all melted away in this moment, leaving only the unspoken feelings between you.

“I missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice trembling. The truth was, despite everything, you had missed him more than you wanted to admit. No matter how much you tried to move on, there was always a part of you that longed for the connection you once shared. "Bitch", you heard Pietro mumble almost silent behind you. But you heard it, meaning Diego did too. His loving expression faded and his head swung up in his direction again.

With a light twist in his shoulder, you heard a knife fly in Pietro's direction. You didn't needed to turn around to register what just happened. Seeing Five groan with annoyance behind Diegos shoulder, Allison slapping her hand on her forehead and Luther looking shocked, you knew exactly what he did.

“You know,” Diego said softly, his voice low and rough with emotion, “only I get to call you that.” A small, almost teasing smile tugged at his lips as he added, “But only when we’re alone.” Before you could respond, Diego’s lips met yours in a kiss that was fierce and possessive, yet filled with a deep, undeniable affection. It was a kiss that spoke of everything you both had been through, the years of longing, the pain of separation, and the fire that still burned between you.

When he finally pulled back, you were breathless, your heart pounding in your chest. Diego’s dark eyes bore into yours, his expression a mixture of love and determination. “No one disrespects you. Ever,” he murmured, his voice firm. “Not while I’m around.”

Summary: The Dark Lord has returned. The situation is getting darker and Hogwarts is in danger. Draco has been ordered to train with you. Your goal is to keep him out of your head, but you didn't realize how much he already was.

🌶️SMUT WARNING: If you don't like it, don't read it

'Is it over? Has he done it? Am I finally dead?'

“You're weak,” Draco says snidely in your direction. The sound of your fingernails tapping nervously on the wood beneath you fills the basement room with tension. Your body has never been so weak. Every nerve in your body is tense, waiting for another shot of pain. “I can't believe I'm doing this to you… traitor,” your gasping voice says to Draco. Dombledore has ordered Draco to train with you. Training not to let him into your head.

Things are not good for Hogwarts and the magical world. The whole of Hogwarts is in ruins. Only a few remaining wizards can change the fate of the castle, which now looks more like a ruin than a castle. Suddenly Draco steps closer to you. The rickety chair you are huddled on begins to shake slightly with your movements. He places the tip of his wand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “You have no idea what I could do to you… Every little injury I can blame on the curse,” he smiles down at you.

A bitter tear lands on your black velvet skirt. “Be careful what you say Mudblood, who would believe a bitch like you?” he asks me, and as he finishes his sentence, I ask myself the same question. 'It's all lost, what am I doing this for?' Draco's wand digs further and further into your lower jaw. You groan briefly in pain and weakness before staring into his eyes, exhausted. No compassion at all.

Only pure hatred shimmers from his piercing green eyes in your direction. “You're the worst person I've ever met in my life,” you whisper with the last of your strength. Draco lets go of you again. “We'll see if that's true in a moment,” he smirks before pointing his wand in my direction again. “Please Draco,” you whisper to him, but before the words reached his ears, he was already in your head. Darkness and pitch-black emptiness, which brings peace directly into your soul through the cruel silence. 'Is it over? Has he done it? Am I finally dead?' you ask yourself skeptically.

You lie curled up on the floor. A suffocating vacuum in every direction around you. “Unfortunately not,” Draco's voice echoes around you like a storm. His words sting you like hornets into your thin skin. “Why are you doing this?” you gulp. The silence in the void is suffocating, and the cold seeps into your bones as Draco’s presence surrounds you. You’re trapped within your own mind, with nowhere to hide, nowhere to escape. His voice, cold and venomous, echoes through the darkness like a cruel reminder of your reality.

"Why am I doing this?" Draco finally responds, his voice laced with bitterness. "Because I have no choice. Because we don’t have a choice, thanks to the war, thanks to you and your kind." He steps closer in the mental landscape, his figure appearing in the darkness like a looming shadow. The emptiness around you only amplifies his presence, making him seem larger, more intimidating. You try to stand, to muster the strength to fight back, but your body remains weak, paralyzed by the overwhelming sense of dread. The mental landscape mirrors your physical state—broken, fragile, on the brink of collapse. Draco’s eyes, once filled with something softer, are now hard as steel, betraying no emotion other than anger and contempt.

"I never wanted any of this," you manage to whisper, your voice trembling with fear and exhaustion. "None of us did." "Save your breath," Draco snaps, his words cutting through the darkness like a blade. "This isn’t about what we want. It’s about survival. You and your kind have already lost—can’t you see that? You’re just too stubborn to accept it." His words sting, each one sinking deep into your chest like a dagger. The urge to fight back, to push him out of your mind, flares within you, but it’s quickly extinguished by the crushing weight of reality. You’re too weak, too drained, and Draco is relentless. “You think I don’t know what’s happening?” Draco continues, his voice now dripping with frustration. “You think I don’t understand the stakes? Dumbledore put us in this position—he put me in this position! And now, I have to do whatever it takes to survive, even if it means—”

He cuts himself off, his gaze faltering for a brief moment as if he’s suddenly aware of what he’s saying. There’s a flicker of something—regret, maybe, or doubt—but it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by the hardened mask he wears so well. “Even if it means breaking you,” he finishes coldly, his voice like ice. A shiver runs down your spine, but it’s not just from his words. It’s from the realization that beneath his harsh exterior, Draco is as much a prisoner of this war as you are. He’s caught in a web of circumstances beyond his control, forced into a role he never wanted. The war has twisted him, turned him into something he despises, and in some twisted way, you understand his pain. But understanding doesn’t lessen the terror of the situation. It doesn’t change the fact that he’s in your mind, violating the very essence of who you are. The memories he’s rifling through, the thoughts he’s uncovering—these are things no one else should ever see, especially not him.

His slender fingers clasp his wand tightly. “Your worst memory!” he says, waving his wand at the same time. The memory of your mother sticking her bloody hand out at you shows in your mind. You knew Draco could see it. As he draws his wand back again, he clears his throat briefly.

You briefly think about seeing some remorse in his eyes but quickly dismiss the thought when he darkens his gaze again. “Your best,” he says, a memory of your father reading something to you and your mother stroking the hair out of your face pops up. It goes on like this for a few minutes. The stupidest, the most embarrassing, the most important… You kept trying to push him out of your head but he was like a settler in your brain. “Try harder,” he ordered you. He had an idea how to tease out your strength.

“Your dirtiest idea,” he says with a mischievous smile on his face. When you heard him finish the sentence, you pulled your drooping head up to stop him, but it was already too late. he was back in your head. A image popped up, it showed Draco and you. He was standing behind you, your body were rhythmically bouncing together. His ring-covered fingers slowly creep along your neck before squeezing tightly and rolling your eyes back. Before Draco could continue to watch the idea and notice the missing clothes, you gather all your strength and close your mind.

Draco’s breath hitches as the image blazes into his mind, more vivid and raw than anything he’s ever seen. The sight of you, your bodies entwined in a rhythm of need and desire, his hands gripping your neck with a possessiveness that shocks him—it’s too much. The sensation is so real, so powerful, that it feels like he’s living it, every touch, every gasp echoing in his mind.

He stumbles back, his wand slipping from his fingers, clattering against the cold stone floor. His heart pounds in his chest, a wild, erratic beat that he can’t control. For a moment, he’s utterly lost, drowning in the intensity of the fantasy that isn’t just yours but now somehow his too.

Draco’s grey eyes are wide, flickering with a mixture of confusion, anger, and something darker, something he doesn’t want to name. His usual mask of cold indifference has shattered, leaving him exposed in a way he’s never been before. He’s always prided himself on his control, on keeping his emotions locked away where no one could touch them. But now, with this image burning in his mind, that control is slipping through his fingers like sand.

“What… what the hell was that?” His voice trembles as he finally manages to speak, his words a mix of accusation and bewilderment. He stares at you as if seeing you for the first time, as if you’re some enigma he can’t quite figure out. The image has shaken him to his core, and he can’t deny the surge of something primal, something he’s never allowed himself to feel before.

Draco’s confusion quickly morphs into anger, his face contorting as he tries to wrestle back control of the situation. His heart still pounds in his chest, the echo of that vivid, intimate image reverberating through his mind, making it difficult to focus. He’s never felt this way before—so off-balance, so vulnerable. And it terrifies him. His hands tremble as he picks up his wand, gripping it tightly as if the familiar weight could anchor him in reality. He glares at you, fury boiling in his veins, trying to mask the deeper, more unsettling feelings that are clawing their way to the surface.

“You… you think this is funny?” he spits, his voice shaking with a mix of rage and something else—something he can’t quite name. “You think you can get inside my head? Twist my mind with… with that?” You remain silent, your breath still ragged, your body aching from the mental and physical strain. You can see the conflict in Draco’s eyes, the way he’s grappling with what he’s just seen, how it’s shaken him to his core. You hadn’t intended to affect him so deeply, but now that you have, you realize just how powerful the connection between you both might be.

Draco takes a step forward, his wand pointed directly at you, his knuckles white from the force of his grip. “I’m not some toy for you to manipulate,” he snarls, his voice low and dangerous. “You think you can play these games with me and get away with it? I’ll show you just how wrong you are.” Before you can react, Draco’s mind reaches out, latching onto the image you had tried to hide, the one that had brought him to his knees moments before. But this time, he doesn’t just see it—he pulls you both into it, recreating the scene with startling clarity.

The cold, dark basement vanishes, replaced by a different kind of darkness—one filled with heat, tension, and a dangerous mix of emotions. You find yourself standing in the middle of the recreated memory, your body once again intertwined with Draco’s in that forbidden, intoxicating rhythm. But this time, it’s not just a memory. It feels real, too real, as Draco’s hands find your neck, just as they had in the vision. His fingers press against your skin, not with the tenderness of a lover, but with the frustration of a man desperately trying to regain control.

“Is this what you wanted?” Draco hisses in your ear, his breath hot against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. With every thrust he grunts "Fuck". The sensation is overwhelming, every touch, every movement so intense it blurs the line between reality and fantasy. “Is this what you were thinking about, traitor?”, he asks. "Me fucking you?".

Draco's words sear into your mind, each syllable dripping with venom. The raw intensity of the situation overwhelms your senses, blurring the line between the memory and the present. You can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, the pressure of his hands around your neck, and the desperate rhythm of your bodies moving together. It's too real, too much, and yet you can't pull yourself out of it.

"Is this what you wanted?" he repeats, his voice a dangerous whisper in your ear, every word laced with anger and something darker, something primal. His grip tightens slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make you fully aware of the power he holds over you in this moment. "Is this what you were thinking about, traitor? Me fucking you?"

The words cut deep, sending a shudder through you that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with the twisted connection that has somehow formed between you both. You should be terrified, disgusted even, but instead, a different emotion begins to creep up from the depths of your being—one that you don't dare to name.

Your breath hitches as he pulls you closer, his body pressing against yours with a force that leaves you gasping. The sensation of his fingers on your neck, the possessive way he holds you, it's all too overwhelming, too intoxicating. You can feel his heart pounding against your back, the tension in his muscles as he tries to maintain control, and it only drives home how real this is—how impossible it is to separate the memory from the present.

"Answer me," he demands, his voice harsher now, as if your silence is driving him mad. "Tell me this isn't what you wanted. Tell me I'm wrong." But you can't. The words stick in your throat, trapped between the truth and the fear of what admitting it would mean. You struggle to find something, anything, to say that might break the spell, but nothing comes.

Instead, you’re drawn deeper into the dark, twisted reality he’s created. Draco’s hands trail down your body, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He’s still angry, still fighting to regain control, but there’s a desperation to his movements now, as if he’s as lost in this as you are. The lines between hate and desire blur, the intensity of the moment swallowing up everything else until all that’s left is the two of you, bound together in this dangerous dance.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" he asks again, his voice softer now, but no less intense. His lips brush against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that you can’t suppress. "Do you want me to stop?" The question hangs in the air, heavy with implications. He’s giving you a choice, a way out if you want it, but the way his body is pressed against yours, the way his voice trembles slightly, you know he doesn’t really want to stop. And the terrifying part is—you don’t either.

Before you can answer, Draco moves, his hand sliding from your neck to your jaw, tilting your head back so you have no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes, once so cold and filled with hate, now burn with something else—something that scares you even more because it reflects the same conflict raging inside you. He leans in, his breath hot against your lips, the tension between you palpable. He’s daring you to make the next move, to either end this or take it to the point of no return.

The world outside this moment ceases to exist. All that matters is the way his body presses against yours, the way his breath hitches with every movement, the way his eyes burn into yours as if searching for answers he’s too afraid to ask. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the unspoken tension between you."Tell me," he murmurs, his voice barely more than a whisper now, his lips hovering just inches from yours. "Tell me what you want."

But you can't. The words are trapped in your throat, tangled up in the confusion, the desire, the fear. All you can do is close your eyes and let the darkness take over, surrendering to the storm that Draco has unleashed within you both. "Fuck me", you whisper barely hearable. Draco waists no time, he grabs your waist harshly and turns you around. He takes your thigh up and puts it on his waist. As your eyes meet, you can't control yourself and smash your lips onto his.

As his tongue enters your mouth, his member also enters you.

The moment Draco enters you, the intensity of it all overwhelms your senses. Every nerve in your body is on fire, responding to his touch, his presence, in a way that blurs the lines between pain and pleasure. The cold, dark reality of the basement fades into the background, replaced by the raw, all-consuming heat that pulses between you. Your bodies move together in a rhythm that’s primal, desperate, driven by a need that neither of you fully understands but neither can deny.

Draco’s grip on your thigh tightens as he pulls you closer, his movements becoming more urgent, more demanding. The initial shock of it all begins to ebb, replaced by a fierce, almost uncontrollable hunger. Each thrust sends shockwaves through your body, every movement so perfectly aligned that it feels like he’s unlocking something deep within you, something you didn’t even know was there. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, clutching at him as if he’s the only thing grounding you in this overwhelming moment. The taste of his lips, the feel of his skin against yours—it’s intoxicating, drowning out any remnants of fear or hesitation. There’s nothing but this moment, nothing but the two of you lost in a storm of emotion and desire.

Draco’s breath is hot against your neck as he buries his face there, his voice ragged and filled with something dark and desperate. “You shouldn’t have made me do this,” he growls, though the anger in his voice is undercut by the way his body shudders against yours, the way he seems as lost in this as you are. “You shouldn’t have—” His words cut off as he bites down lightly on your shoulder, the sensation sending another jolt of pleasure through you. You can feel his control slipping, his movements becoming less measured, more frantic, as if he’s fighting a battle within himself. The tension between you both is unbearable, a volatile mix of hate, lust, and something that neither of you can quite name but that binds you together in this moment.

Your body responds to his every touch, every thrust, the pleasure building to a crescendo that’s as terrifying as it is exhilarating. It’s a spiral of sensations—his hands gripping your waist, his breath hot and ragged in your ear, the overwhelming heat between your bodies. Every movement, every touch feels like it’s driving you closer to the edge, closer to something that you’re not sure you can handle but that you can’t resist either. “Draco…” you manage to gasp out, your voice trembling with the intensity of it all. His name is the only coherent thought you can muster as the pleasure builds, threatening to consume you entirely. He responds with a guttural sound, his grip on you tightening, pulling you impossibly closer as if he needs you just as much as you need him in this moment.

There’s no room for anything else—no thoughts, no fears, no past or future—just the raw, unfiltered connection between you both. It’s a dangerous, heady mix of emotions, each one feeding into the next, driving you both to the brink. Finally, the tension reaches its breaking point, and you can feel the wave of pleasure crashing over you, pulling you under in a way that’s both terrifying and liberating. Every muscle in your body tenses, your mind going blank as the world around you fades to nothing but the overwhelming sensation of release.

Draco follows seconds later, his body trembling against yours as he loses himself in the moment, a low, primal sound escaping his lips. The intensity of it all leaves you both breathless, clinging to each other as the waves of pleasure slowly ebb, leaving a raw, vulnerable silence in their wake. You can feel yourself falling back, like you stumbled but you were not ending up on the ground, you were sitting in the chair again, like nothing happened. You are back in reality.

Single Mom Problems

Summary: You are being sightly overworked, having a job and a baby at once was hard, especially being a single mom. It has become a habit, that Five sometimes showed up to help you, but what he does is way more than helping.

Thank you for your request, I never wrote something like this so I hope you are happy with it :)

“You’re doing an incredible job.”

You were at your wit’s end, balancing a baby on your hip while trying to make something resembling dinner out of the sparse ingredients in your kitchen. The day had been long, and you hadn’t had more than a few minutes to yourself. Being a young single mom was no joke, and while you loved your child more than anything, there were moments when you felt like you were drowning.

A knock on your door startled you, and you sighed, knowing it could only be one person. “Come in,” you called, too tired to even move. The door creaked open, and Five stepped inside, his expression softening when he saw you.

“Rough day?” he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle for someone so typically gruff. He took in the sight of you—frazzled, exhausted, and still trying to do everything on your own.

“You could say that,” you replied with a weary smile. The baby in your arms began to fuss, and you shifted your weight, trying to soothe them with soft shushing noises. Five stepped closer, reaching out his arms.

“Here, let me,” he offered. You hesitated for a moment, but the exhaustion won out, and you handed the baby over to him. Five took the child with a surprising amount of care, settling them against his chest. Almost instantly, your baby calmed down, their tiny fingers clutching onto the fabric of his shirt.

“You’ve got the magic touch,” you said, half-joking, but there was genuine appreciation in your voice. Five shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve had some experience,” he replied, though you couldn’t imagine where or how. Still, you weren’t about to question it, especially not when it gave you a moment to breathe.

“Why don’t you sit down?” Five suggested, nodding towards the worn-out couch in the corner of your living room. “I’ll handle this.”

“Are you sure?” you asked, but the idea of sitting down, even for a moment, was too tempting to resist.

“Absolutely,” he said firmly. “You need a break.”

You didn’t argue any further, sinking into the couch with a heavy sigh. Five moved around the small kitchen with a surprising amount of ease, rocking your baby gently as he checked on the pot on the stove. The smell of something burning filled the air, and he quickly turned off the heat, scraping the bottom of the pan.

“It’s… salvageable,” he said after a moment, glancing over at you with a wry grin.

“Maybe I’m not cut out for this,” you murmured, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You hadn’t meant to say it, but now that it was out there, you couldn’t take it back. You felt your chest tighten, the weight of everything pressing down on you.

Five turned to face you, his expression serious. “Don’t say that,” he told you, his voice steady. “You’re doing an incredible job.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you looked away, embarrassed. “It doesn’t feel like it,” you admitted. “I’m just… so tired.”

Five walked over to you, still holding your now-sleeping baby in his arms. He crouched down in front of you, his gaze unwavering. “You’re allowed to be tired,” he said softly. “You’re doing this on your own, and that’s not easy. But you’re here. You’re showing up every day, taking care of your child, doing the best you can. That’s more than enough.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, and you blinked back tears. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice shaky.

Five reached out, gently brushing a stray tear from your cheek. “You’re stronger than you think,” he said, his tone almost reverent. “But you don’t have to do this alone. I’m here. We’ll figure it out together.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean on someone else. Five stayed by your side, helping you with the baby, making sure you had time to rest. And as the days went by, you started to believe him—you were doing a good job, and you didn’t have to do it alone.

Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be okay.

Meeting again Part 2

Summary: After discovering Diego's bond with Lila, you feel hurt and distant. One night, Diego admits his fear of losing you, and you both begin to rebuild your relationship, though it's fragile. Over time, he makes an effort to reconnect, and in a quiet moment, he confesses his love. You assure him that despite the challenges, you'll face them together.

I am very happy about that request, because personally I don't like if a story doesn't have a happy ending. Thanks also to @shylahstarzz who also wanted a second part of meeting again!

"I know. I promise, I’ll do better. I just…need time”

After Diego and Lila leave, you stand there, feeling the weight of the moment settle in your chest like a stone. The world around you seems muted, the vibrant colors of the 60s dulled by the ache in your heart. Elliot’s place, usually a chaotic mess of conspiracy theories and strange gadgets, now feels unbearably quiet. You’re left alone with your thoughts, the reality of the situation pressing down on you.

You had spent so long searching for Diego, desperate to find him, to reunite with him. The image of how it would be when you finally found him had kept you going through all the frustrations and challenges. But this—seeing him with someone else, seeing the way he looked at her—was never part of the picture.

The days that follow are a blur. You try to focus on the mission, the bigger picture, but your mind keeps drifting back to Diego. You watch him from a distance, interacting with Lila, the two of them moving in sync like they’ve been doing this for years. It’s like they have their own rhythm, and you feel like an outsider, left to figure out where you fit into his life now.

Every time you try to talk to him, something seems to come up. Lila pulls him away, or the moment slips through your fingers, leaving you with nothing but the lingering feeling that things are different now. And Diego—he’s trying, you can tell. He throws you small smiles, reaches out to you in those rare quiet moments, but it’s like there’s a wall between you that neither of you knows how to break down.

One night, you find yourself on the roof of Elliot’s place, staring out at the city skyline. The cool breeze does little to ease the turmoil inside you. You’ve never felt so lost, so uncertain about where you stand. The door behind you creaks open, and you turn to see Diego stepping out, his expression unreadable. He walks over to you, standing beside you in silence for a long moment before he finally speaks.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you,” he says, his voice quiet, almost hesitant. You don’t look at him, keeping your eyes on the distant lights. “But you haven’t,” you reply, and there’s no hiding the hurt in your voice. Diego sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I know. It’s just…everything’s so messed up right now.”

Finally, you turn to face him, needing to see his eyes. “Messed up how, Diego? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’ve got it all figured out.” He flinches at your words, a pained look crossing his face. “That’s not fair,” he mutters, but you can hear the uncertainty in his tone. “Nothing about this is fair,” you shoot back, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I searched for you, Diego. I fought through hell to find you, and when I do, you’re…with her.”

He looks away, his jaw clenched, as if he’s struggling to find the right words. “Lila…she helped me. I was in a bad place, Y/N. She pulled me out of it.” His voice softens, and when he finally meets your gaze again, you see the raw vulnerability in his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I’ve forgotten about us. I haven’t.”

The confession hangs in the air, and you feel your heart skip a beat. You take a step closer, the tension between you palpable. “Then why does it feel like you have?” you whisper, the fear of his answer clawing at you. Diego reaches out, hesitating for just a moment before his fingers brush against yours. “Because I’m scared,” he admits, his voice trembling. “I’m scared of losing you, of screwing this up even more. I don’t know how to fix this, Y/N. I don’t know how to fix us.”

The raw honesty in his words cuts through the walls you’ve built around your heart, and for the first time in days, you see the Diego you’ve always known—the man who fights for what he believes in, who would do anything for the people he loves. You take his hand, holding it tightly, grounding yourself in this moment. “We’ll figure it out,” you say, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside you. “But you have to be honest with me, Diego. We can’t keep going like this.”

He nods, squeezing your hand as if he’s afraid to let go. “I know. I promise, I’ll do better. I just…need time.” You can hear the sincerity in his voice, the determination to make things right. It’s enough to give you hope, even though the road ahead is still uncertain.

The next few weeks are a whirlwind. You and Diego start to find your way back to each other, piece by piece. It’s not easy, and there are moments where the distance between you feels like it’s too much to overcome. But every time, Diego pulls you back, reminding you that he’s still here, that he’s still fighting for you.

Lila’s presence remains a constant reminder of the fragility of your relationship, but you try to push those thoughts aside, focusing on what’s in front of you. Diego is making an effort, showing you that he hasn’t forgotten about you, about what you’ve shared. And slowly, you start to believe him.

One night, after a particularly rough day, you find yourselves alone again, this time in your room. Diego’s sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. You sit beside him, the silence between you heavy but not uncomfortable. “I missed this,” he says suddenly, his voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his expression. “Missed what?” you ask softly. He turns to you, his eyes filled with a mixture of longing and regret. “Missed us. Being with you like this, just…being close.”

You reach out, resting your hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble beneath your fingertips. “We’re still here, Diego,” you remind him, your voice gentle. “We’re still us.” He leans into your touch, closing his eyes as if savoring the moment. “I don’t want to lose you,” he murmurs, and you can hear the fear in his voice, the fear of everything slipping away. “You won’t,” you assure him, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “We’ll get through this, Diego. Together.”

The kiss deepens, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you feel like you’re home. His arms wrap around you, pulling you closer, and the distance that had grown between you starts to fade away. It’s not perfect, and there are still scars that need to heal, but in this moment, it’s enough.

Diego pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “I love you,” he whispers, the words heavy with emotion. “I’ve always loved you.” A tear slips down your cheek, but it’s not from sadness. It’s from the overwhelming relief of finally hearing those words, of knowing that despite everything, he’s still yours. “I love you too, Diego,” you whisper back, your voice thick with emotion. “I never stopped.”

As you hold each other, you realize that no matter what happens, no matter how difficult the journey ahead may be, you’ll face it together. The love you share is stronger than the obstacles in your path, and with that love, you know you can find your way back to each other.

Summary: After your fingers slip and you drop Grace Cake, your boyfriend yells at you and takes his anger out on you. After you had scraped up the cake, you were on your way out to your car. But someone was already waiting for you with a new cake in their hand.

This Story is inspired by this Tic Tok: https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGeTPh561/

“You don’t need to apologize for his behavior”

Tentatively, you looked around for your boyfriend to see if he had seen it. But before you could even turn your head in his direction, you felt his hand on your cheek. You recoiled and sat on the floor in front of him. No one had noticed, everyone was watching Grace trying to smash the piñata. You now felt like the piñata too, only less colorful. However, you were very glad that the attention of the others wasn't on you at the moment.

“How can you be so useless?” he asked you as he took a few steps towards you. The loud children's music drowned out his shouting in the crowd. With every step he took towards you, you slipped back a little, until at some point you felt the wall behind you. That he reacted like this was nothing new to you. You knew he had an anger problem, but you always tried to look on the bright side. He just didn't want you to fail. Several nights went by as he knelt at your feet and cried. He said he'd never do it again and you couldn't help but look into his tear-filled eyes and believe him.

“Get another one! Everyone will hate you. How can you be so stupid and clumsy?” he yells at you. Before you even realized it, tears were streaming down your cheek. "The whole evening is ruined because of you!", he yells. Your heart was arching, like someone took it out, squeezed it and rammed it in again.

The sting of his words cut deeper than you could have ever imagined. You had felt small before, but now you felt insignificant, like a shadow of yourself, barely holding onto the edges of who you used to be. The tears kept coming, unbidden, each one a silent cry for help that you knew would go unanswered. You had seen this side of him before, the anger, the cruelty, but each time it reared its head, it still managed to catch you off guard, leaving you defenseless and hollowed out.

You wanted to say something, anything, to defend yourself, to make him see that it was just an accident, that you hadn’t meant to mess things up. But the words were trapped in your throat, choked off by the fear and the heartbreak. The only thing that came out was a small "I am sorry". “Get up!”, he hissed, his voice low and venomous. “Get up and go get another one. Fix this!”. Your legs felt like they were made of lead, too heavy to move, but you forced yourself to stand, your body shaking as you did. You wanted to disappear, to melt into the wall and never have to face him again, but you knew that wasn’t an option. Not now, not ever. You had learned long ago that running from his anger only made it worse.

As you stumbled toward your car, your keys jingling in your trembling hand, you felt the weight of everything crashing down on you. The second your hand touched the handle, you collapsed, all the fear, frustration, and oppression pouring out of you. You were no stranger to this feeling, after bottling it all up, it always found a way to break free. But this had never happened in public before. Usually, it was in the privacy of your bed, next to him, the very source of your pain.

Your sobs were quiet but intense, shaking your entire body. "Everything alright?" A soft voice suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts, startling you. You looked up, wiping at your tear-streaked face in a futile attempt to hide the evidence of your breakdown.

“Five?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper, cracked and raw. “I… I’m fine. I just...” You tried to smile, but it wavered, crumbling under the weight of everything you were trying to hold back. Your fingers are still clutching the keys in your hand to stop them from rattling constantly, but your mounting trembling made that an unfinishable task. “I saw it,” he says without batting an eyelid.

Five’s eyes were steady and serious as he looked at you, not buying your attempt to downplay what had happened. His voice was soft but firm, cutting through the pretense you had tried to maintain. “I saw it,” he repeated without batting an eyelid, his gaze piercing through the façade you’d constructed. You looked away, feeling a rush of shame and helplessness. The truth was too raw, too vulnerable to confront head on. “I’m sorry,” you murmured, the words feeling inadequate and hollow. “I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”

Five stepped closer, his presence a steadying force amidst your chaos. He walks closer to you, his expression a mix of concern and resolve. “You don’t need to apologize for his behavior,” he said, his voice gentle but unwavering. “You’re not at fault here. You deserve to be treated with respect, not anger and blame.” You could hardly process his words through the fog of your distress, but something about his unflinching support made you feel seen in a way you hadn’t been in a long time. For the first time, someone was standing up for you, not just against your boyfriend, but for your own sense of self-worth.

As Five reached out, his hand brushed away the tears on your cheek with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the cruelty you’d just experienced. His touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it brought a fresh wave of tears to your eyes, not just from sadness, but from a kind of relief you hadn’t allowed yourself to feel. Your breath hitched as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his with a mixture of hope and fear. The vulnerability you felt was overwhelming, but Five’s gaze was soft, reassuring, and unwavering. “You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’m here. And I care.”

Five’s words wrapped around you like a warm blanket in the midst of a storm. The compassion in his eyes, so genuine and unwavering, offered a refuge from the harshness you had just endured. The tears you had been holding back continued to fall, but now they were mingled with the relief of someone truly understanding your pain.

He gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch surprisingly soothing. You leaned into his palms, finding comfort in his proximity. His thumb brushed away the remnants of your tears, and his gaze never wavered from yours. The intensity of his eyes made it clear that he wasn’t just offering sympathy, he was offering support, something you desperately needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your voice quivering. The gratitude in your heart was immense, but words seemed inadequate. Five simply nodded, his expression softening even more. Without another word, he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and reassuring. The kiss was gentle at first, a sweet promise of understanding and care. But as you both sank into the moment, the kiss deepened, fueled by the raw emotions that had been building up inside you. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency, as if trying to convey all the feelings that words couldn’t express. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the warmth of his embrace.

You responded with equal fervor, your hands finding their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer. The kiss became more fervent, an exploration of comfort and connection that transcended the pain you had just experienced. It was a moment of shared solace, a physical manifestation of the support he had offered with his words. Eventually, the kiss softened, but neither of you wanted to let go. Five’s arms wrapped around you, holding you securely as you rested your forehead against his.

But both of you, so tangled in the moment, didn't see the two eyes, sharply watching you two.

Summary: As you finally get yourself comfortable after a long day, you were smoking a cigarette out of the window. Even though you Five scared you to death suddenly appearing behind you, the conversation between you two gets very intense.

Thank you for your lovely request! Also, here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

“You know those things are going to kill you one day, don't you?”

Your arms are covered in goose bumps, but you didn't mind. You were clearly too lazy to get yourself a sweater. You wouldn't stay at the window for more than two minutes anyway. You pull your long-sleeved T-shirt further down your arms in order to save every spark of warmth. The long drag on the cigarette makes your upper body rise up. You knew it wasn't good for you, but it had long since become a habit.

Each puff also brought a sense of security, the smell reminded you of your parents. Every time your lips touched the orange filter, your brain remembered a long hug from your mother. How comfortingly warm her closeness was, as a child you hated the smell of cigarettes. But now you miss it more than anything. No white walls are white anymore, no curtains are free of nicotine stains and no ashtray is empty. But you were different like them, you were very careful not to let a bit of smoke into the house.

It no longer mattered if Reginald found out you smoked, you were old enough and he was dead. None of the siblings thought it was great that you got your satisfaction that way, but they didn't judge you. Everyone took Klaus as a bad example and was glad that it was only cigarettes and not other things that Klaus offered you from time to time. But watching Klaus destroy himself piece by piece always made you turn down his offers.

Another strong puff made your cough seem all the louder when you were suddenly startled by the hand lying on top of you. It had been placed gently on your shoulder, with no intention of alarming you. As you turn around, coughing, you see Five standing in front of you, his face covered in a scowl. You try to hide the cigarette behind your back, as best you can without setting yourself on fire. “What are you doing here? It's pretty late, isn't it?” you ask him as you try to swallow the last few coughs. “You know those things are going to kill you one day, don't you?” Five asks you.

“If the apocalypse isn't quicker,” you smile a little and take the cigarette from your back again. “How did you know I was here?” you ask him, confused. “You can see the clouds of smoke from below,” he says as he tilts his head a little. When there is a brief but pleasant silence, he stands next to you and looks out of the window. “Could I steal one for you?” he asks. You weren't prepared for this question at all, your mouth opens slightly only to close again immediately afterwards.

“You smoke?” you ask him, perplexed. “Being stuck in the apocalypse for 45 years changes you. I found a few packs of Marlboro in an abandoned grocery store,” he tells you, before stealing one from your golden pack. You had no aider wall than to giggle. Five looks at you in confusion, trying to find a hold in your eyes. “What?” he asks, stunned. “I don't know, you're the last person I'd expect that from,” you smirk as you look at him with wide eyes.

Five lights the cigarette with a practiced flick of his wrist, the small flame briefly illuminating his face before he inhales deeply, the glow from the tip casting a faint red hue on his sharp features. The sight of him smoking is jarring, a reminder of just how much he’s changed—how much you’ve all changed. But there’s something oddly comforting in the shared habit, a small connection in the midst of all the chaos.

“Guess the apocalypse has a way of bringing out the worst in people”, Five says, exhaling a plume of smoke that mingles with the cold night air. He turns to you, his gaze softer than usual, the scowl that usually defines his expression replaced by something more contemplative. “Or maybe it just strips us down to who we really are". You lean against the windowsill, taking another drag from your cigarette as you let his words sink in. “And who are we really, Five? A bunch of broken kids trying to survive in a world that keeps falling apart?”.

He huffs out a bitter laugh, the sound tinged with a trace of sadness. “Maybe. But we’re still here, aren’t we? Still fighting, still trying to hold it all together. That’s got to count for something”. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the only sound the quiet hiss of burning tobacco and the distant hum of the city below. It’s strange, being here with Five like this—no time travel, no saving the world, just two people sharing a quiet moment. It feels almost normal, a fleeting glimpse of what life might have been like if things had been different.

The silence between you and Five stretches on, comfortable yet charged with something unspoken. The night air is crisp, carrying the distant sounds of a city that seems almost peaceful in its slumber. You take another slow drag from your cigarette, watching as the smoke curls into the darkness, and for a moment, you allow yourself to imagine that this is what normal feels like—a quiet night, shared between two people who understand each other in ways no one else ever could.

Five’s presence beside you is steady, grounding, but there’s an intensity in the way he looks at you now, as if he’s searching for something, maybe even a sign. You glance at him, catching his eye just as he turns to look at you, and for a brief moment, the world outside fades into nothingness. It’s just the two of you, suspended in time. “Do you ever wonder…” you begin, your voice barely above a whisper, “what it would have been like if none of this had happened? If we’d just been... normal?”

Five takes a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes never leaving yours. When he exhales, the smoke drifts lazily between you, but his gaze remains sharp, unwavering. “All the time,” he admits, his voice rough but honest. “But normal was never in the cards for us, was it?". You shake your head, a sad smile tugging at your lips. “No, I guess not". Your mind wanders to what it would have been like without all the superhero stuff. “Do you think we would have got on well without the circumstances?” you ask him. Imagining what it would have been like makes you happy.

Five takes a moment to consider your question, his eyes narrowing slightly as he contemplates the idea. The cigarette dangles loosely between his fingers, forgotten for the moment as his thoughts drift. “Honestly?” he finally says, his voice low and thoughtful. “I don’t know. Maybe we would have been just like any other siblings—fighting over the TV remote, complaining about chores. Or maybe we’d still be this…complicated.”

The way he says “complicated” makes you chuckle, and you’re surprised at how light it sounds, even in the midst of such a heavy conversation. “Yeah, complicated seems to follow us around,” you agree, flicking the ash from your cigarette out the window. “But I think we would have been alright. Maybe even better friends than we are now”. Five raises an eyebrow at that, a hint of amusement in his expression. “You think so? You’re forgetting that we’re all a little messed up, even without the superhero baggage.”

“True,” you concede with a shrug, “but I think there’s more to us than just the mess. Maybe without all the pressure, we’d have found a way to be close. Or maybe…” You trail off, suddenly unsure if you should finish that thought. “Maybe what?” Five presses, his curiosity piqued. You hesitate, chewing on your bottom lip as you try to decide whether or not to say it. Finally, you decide to take a chance. “Maybe we’d have found something even better than friendship,” you say quietly, not quite meeting his eyes.

You feel your heart skip a beat, your breath catching in your throat as your words sink in. The cigarette in your hand burns down to the filter, forgotten, as you meet his gaze—those sharp, piercing eyes softened now with an emotion that feels almost vulnerable. Five doesn’t respond right away, and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake by saying it. But then, out of the corner of your eye, you see him turn to face you fully, his gaze intent and searching. “Something better?” he echoes, his voice tinged with an emotion you can’t quite place.

You nod, still not quite able to look at him. “Yeah. I mean, I’ve always felt… I don’t know, like there was something between us. Even with everything else going on. Something that might have been different if things hadn’t been so complicated". There’s a long silence, during which you can feel your heart beating in your chest, loud and fast. You’re not sure what you expect him to say—or if he’ll say anything at all—but the anticipation is almost unbearable.

Then, slowly, you feel Five’s hand on your chin, gently turning your face towards him. When you finally meet his eyes, you see a softness there that takes you by surprise. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Maybe we would have found something…better". Your heart races as Five's hand lingers on your chin, his touch both gentle and deliberate. The intensity in his eyes holds you captive, and for a moment, the world outside fades into irrelevance. It's just you and him, standing together in this quiet moment that feels suspended in time.

Five's gaze flickers to your lips, and you can see the internal struggle in his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty, and something deeper, something he’s never allowed himself to acknowledge before. You realize that, like you, he’s been holding back, keeping walls up to protect himself from the complexities of your lives. But now, in this fleeting moment, those walls seem to be crumbling. “Maybe,” he repeats, his voice softening further, “maybe we’ve been running from this—whatever this is—for too long.”

You barely manage to nod, your breath catching in your throat as his words sink in. You’ve always known there was something between you, something unspoken but powerful, simmering beneath the surface. And now, it feels like you’re both on the edge of something new, something that could change everything. Five’s thumb gently strokes your chin, his eyes never leaving yours. The cigarette between his fingers burns down to ash, forgotten as he leans in, closing the small distance between you. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your lips, and your heart pounds in your chest, anticipation swirling in your veins.

Then, with a tenderness you never expected, Five presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft at first, almost tentative, as if he’s still unsure if this is real, if this is something he can allow himself to want. But as your lips move together, the hesitation melts away, replaced by a flood of emotion that neither of you can hold back any longer. You respond in kind, your hand sliding up to the back of his neck, pulling him closer as the kiss deepens. There’s a desperation to it, as if you’re both trying to make up for lost time, for all the moments you could have had if things had been different. The world around you blurs into insignificance—there’s only the two of you, here and now, in this shared moment that feels like both a beginning and an end.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. Five’s eyes are closed, his expression a mix of relief and something else—something that looks like hope, like he’s finally found a piece of himself that he didn’t know was missing. “Maybe complicated isn’t so bad after all,” you whisper, your voice shaky but filled with a newfound certainty.

🌶️SMUT WARNING: If you don't like it, don't read it!

Summary: After being found sleeping in each other's arms, by the whole family, you and five speak about what exactly happened. How the conversation with you two ended, none of you would have expected...

For @groovydazephantom,@taygrls,@selfishlittlebeing and all the other people, who wished for part 2 of wounded nights! And especially for

Here to Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/merthosus/759567714952019968/wounded-nights-summary-after-having-to-do-a-very?source=share

“I hate how you make me feel…these goddamn feelings…”

You both sleep though in each other's arms till the morning. Klaus saw you while wanting to get out and meet his drug dealer, not believing himself. He got all of his siblings surrounding you. You were still sleep as they all watched you. "Someone should take a photo", Allison whispers. "How did this happen? I thought they hate each other?", Diego asks also whispering. "You think they dead? Do they even breathe? Maybe they stabbed each other", Klaus suspects. Everybody signed and shaking their head.

Luther and the rest of the siblings stood there, still trying to comprehend the sight in front of them. The sight of Five, the most stoic and coldest member of the Umbrella Academy, holding you tightly in his arms, both of you asleep. It was such a stark contrast from their usual interactions, constantly bickering and arguing, that it was almost surreal. Everyone stared in disbelief at the two of you.

“I don’t believe it…” Diego says, staring at the scene before him. Alison looked just as shocked as the others, a small smile on her face. “I never thought I’d see Five so…soft.” Luther crossed his arms, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion “It’s bizarre….they’ve always hated each other. It doesn’t make any sense.” Klaus let out a snort of laughter, a mischievous smile on his face

“Oh my God, I’m never letting Five hear the end of this” Diego rolls his eyes at Klaus’ statement. “Don’t be a dick, Klaus”. “It’s almost like a paradox…or a glitch in the universe.” Diego then spoke up, a small grin on his face. “Or maybe they were just secretly in love the whole time, and we idiots just never noticed.” Five slowly stirred awake, groggily opening his eyes.

The first thing he felt, was you. The feeling of you in his arms, your body against his, it was overwhelming. For a moment he just stayed there, his eyes half-lidded, his mind still trying to process what was happening. Then, he realized that everyone was there, watching him and he stiffened, eyes widening in realization and a hint of embarrassment. He slowly uncurled his arms from around you.

He gently disentangled himself from you, his cheeks starting to flush red. He glanced up and saw the collective look of shock on his siblings’ faces. Klaus had an amused look on his face, Diego had a small smirk, Allison looked delighted, Vanja had a slight expression of surprise, and Luther looked confused. “…what?” five said, still slightly groggy. Klaus was the first to speak up, a mischievous grin on his face. “Well, good morning sleeping beauty. You two looked so cozy together, we couldn’t help but watch.”

Diego chuckled, a smirk on his face. “You two looked pretty cute together. I never knew you had it in you, little bro.” Allison had an amused expression on her face. ”You two looked so peaceful, we didn’t have the heart to wake you up.”

As you stir awake, Five’s gaze flickers down to you. He quickly glances away, a hint of embarrassment still on his face. The others notice you waking up and suddenly start grinning Klaus gives you a cheeky smile. “Good morning, sunshine. Had a good sleep?”. You turn around, looking at them not really realizing what's happening. "W..what?", I ask while rubbing my eyes. Klaus chuckles softly, still looking amused by the situation. "I'll repeat myself, good morning, sleepyhead. You and little Five there looked awfully cozy together, we were just ogling you two lovebirds."

You look down confused not realizing You am still sitting on Fives lap. You look in his eyes. He meets your gaze, a faint hint of embarrassment on his face. The sight of you sitting on his lap, still tired and slightly confused, it’s doing something to him. He can feel the weight of your body, your thighs resting against his, your hand loosely intertwined with his…it’s driving him wild and he swallows hard. Oh god", you say embarrased. "Fuck off, all of you creeps!", you say.

Everyone just grins at your reaction, clearly enjoying getting on your and Five’s nerves. Klaus: “Aww, come on, don’t be so embarrassed. You two looked absolutely adorable together". “It was a pretty cute sight, have to say.”, Allison said with a smile in her face.

"Fuckkk", you say to yourself looking at five slowly getting up from his lap. You sightly shudder at the sudden loose of warmness and contact. The whole night your body's held the body warmth of each other. As you get up, Five instantly misses the feel of you against him. He almost wishes you wouldn’t move, he wants to pull you back and keep you in his arms again, but he’s still hyper-aware of his siblings’ presence. He silently curses to himself, knowing that the others are still here, still watching the whole thing with way too much interest.

"I wanted to get a cup of tea and we tripped, getting into a paralysis", you lie already knowing they won't believe it. Klaus lets out a snort of laughter. "Ah, you "tripped. I'm sure you did." he says in a sarcastic tone. "And then you fell asleep…perfectly molded against each other. That was a result of tripping, too, nein?". Five slowly gets up, groaning softly, still reeling from the embarrassment of the whole situation. He glances back over at you, a hint of redness still on his cheeks, silently admiring how cute and disheveled you looked at this moment. With the thought of finally getting out this awkward situation, you get to your room.

As you train for the next mission, the day passes and it's getting dark. You stand in your room still thinking about the past mission you did. To get the horrible memories out of your head, you begin to tidy up a bit. Five, meanwhile, was in his room, his mind occupied with thoughts of you. He couldn’t seem to get the image of you and him cuddling together out of his head. It was driving him insane, the memory of how you felt against him, how warm and soft you were, the feeling of your arm around his neck…he was going to go mad if he continued to mull over it any further.

As you tidy up, you hear a soft knock at your door. Five’s voice comes from the other side. “Hey, you in there?”. "Come in", you say.

With a familiar blue flash, Five appears in your room. He looks like he’s been running his fingers through his hair, the locks looking unruly and messy. He gives you a slight nod in greeting. “Hey.” "Hi" you say awkward. He shoves his hands in his pockets, the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks. “Uh…can I talk to you? About something?”. "To be honest I know what you want to say. I am sorry. I shouldn't have done this, let's just forget about it", you mumble concentrating on tiding up.

His expression shifts slightly, an almost hurt look in his eyes. “But do you regret it?”. He swallows hard, trying to fight back the emotions bubbling up inside him. You suddently come to a halt, your back turned to him. "I...I", you stutter. He takes a small step forward, seeing you stop abruptly, your back to him. You dont want to turn yourself around, you can't look into his eyes. "Five, we hate each other since the day we strated to think", you explain to him. He takes another step closer, his voice is slightly strained, but there’s a hint of pain in it.

“Right…we hate each other. Then why did you sleep in my arms last night?”. "Because I felt lost five", you answer only saying half of the truth. He’s standing right next to you, his voice quiet but filled with emotion. “So you’re saying you only used me to make yourself feel better?”. "No i... Five don't say that", you say. He swallows hard, his emotions growing stronger with each passing moment. “Then what am I supposed to think? We hate each other, that’s all we ever feel for each other…and then you suddenly come and cuddle up next to me?!”

"Do you reget it?", you ask him balling all of your braveness together. He lets out a long breath, he can’t look at your face, he can’t bare to see the expression on your face. “Yes, and no…I don’t regret the fact that we cuddled together, it felt…good, to have you so close. But I do regret knowing you that you only did it because you were feeling lost and confused.” "I didn't mean it like that", you stutter.

He finally turns to look at you, his expression slightly distraught. “Then why did you do it? If the only reason you cuddles up against me was because you “felt lost” and “needed comfort”, why didn’t you just go to Klaus or Allison?”. "Because.... You know what fuck you", you say while turning into his direction and walking fast to him. He backs a little up, thinking you are about to punch him. But suddently you grab his cheek and smash your lips onto his.

He makes a noise of surprise against your lips, his eyes widening in shock, but only for a moment. In a flash, he melts into the kiss, his hands instinctively moving to your hips, pulling you closer, crushing your body to his. He deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping between the parting of your lips to tangle with yours. He suddenly pushes you back against the wall, pinning you against the cold surface, his lips leaving yours to kiss fervently down your neck, licking and sucking, leaving a trail of love bites in his wake. Feeling his lips on your throat, makes you moan out your words. "I hate you", you moan.

He nips a sensitive spot on your neck, his mouth still working on marking your skin. “I hate you too…”. he growls against your skin, his hands slipping under the edge of your shirt to feel your skin under his touch. He moves his lips back to your own, kissing you deeply, his body pressing into yours, pinning you against the wall as his hands roam your body under your shirt, tracing your curves, tracing over all the new marks left on your skin from his eager mouth.

His hands move with urgency, exploring the soft contours of your body as he presses you harder against the wall, his lips devouring yours with a hunger that’s been building for far too long. Every touch, every kiss is filled with a fierce intensity, a desperate need that neither of you can ignore any longer. Your hands find their way into his hair, tugging him closer as you deepen the kiss, your bodies molding perfectly together again. The heat between you is overwhelming, a fire that has been simmering beneath the surface finally erupting into flames. The tension that once defined your relationship has transformed into something else entirely—something passionate, raw, and undeniable.

You grip his shoulders, pulling him closer as his hands roam lower, finding the waistband of your pants. He hesitates for a brief moment, searching your eyes for any sign of hesitation, but all he finds is the same burning desire that he feels. Without another word, his hands dip beneath the fabric, and a gasp escapes your lips as his fingers find the most sensitive part of you. “Fuck, Five…” you moan, your head falling back against the wall as he works you with skilled precision, each touch sending waves of pleasure through your body. He swallows your moans with his mouth, kissing you deeply, passionately, as his fingers sweep over your clit.

Your hands aren't idle as Five continues to work his magic on you. Even as you lose yourself in the sensation of his touch, your fingers find their way to the hem of his shirt, sliding beneath the fabric to feel the warmth of his skin. The muscles of his abdomen tense under your touch, a sharp intake of breath escaping him as your nails lightly graze over his skin. You trace the lines of his body, your touch both gentle and firm, exploring every inch of him that you can reach. You can feel his heartbeat, fast and strong, just like your own, and it only spurs you on. The sense of power you have in this moment—knowing that you’re affecting him just as much as he’s affecting you—is intoxicating.

As your hands travel up his chest, you feel him shiver beneath your touch. His breath hitches when your fingers find the sensitive skin along his collarbone, and you take advantage of the reaction, leaning in to press your lips against the spot where your fingers had just been. You kiss your way up his neck, feeling his pulse quicken under your lips, leaving a trail of soft bites and gentle nips as you go. “Fuck…” Five breathes out, his voice rough with arousal. His grip on you tightens, his fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you closer, his own control slipping as your hands continue their exploration.

One of your hands moves lower, skimming over his belt and finding the growing hardness beneath. You palm him through his pants, the fabric doing little to hide his arousal, and the groan that escapes him at your touch sends a thrill through you. He’s hard, straining against the confines of his clothes, and the feeling of him in your hand only adds to your own desire. “You like that, huh?” you murmur against his ear, your voice teasing as you continue to rub him, applying just enough pressure to drive him wild.

Five’s response is a low growl, his hips involuntarily bucking against your hand. He captures your lips in a fierce kiss, his hands moving up your back to pull you even closer, as if he can't get enough of you. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his pants, finding his heated skin, and he curses under his breath, his head falling back as he surrenders to your touch. You wrap your fingers around him, feeling the heat and hardness in your hand, and you start to stroke him, slow and deliberate, savoring every gasp and moan that escapes his lips.

Five’s breath is ragged, his control slipping with every movement of your hand. He’s always been the one in control, always the one calling the shots, but now, in this moment, you have him completely at your mercy—and it’s a heady feeling. He groans your name, his voice raw and needy, and the sound sends a shiver down your spine. His hands move to your hips, gripping you tightly as if to ground himself, but his movements are growing erratic, his body trembling with the need that’s consuming him.

You continue to stroke him, your pace increasing as you feel him getting closer to the edge. His breathing is labored, his eyes half-lidded with lust as he looks at you, and the sight of him, so undone and vulnerable in front of you, only makes you want him more. But before he can reach his peak, he pulls you away, his hands firm on your wrists as he steps back, his chest heaving. There’s a wild, almost desperate look in his eyes, and he’s shaking his head, as if trying to regain control.

“Not like this,” he says, his voice strained. He leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both passionate and tender. “If I’m going to come, I want it to be with you. I want to be inside you.” His words send a rush of heat through your body, and you nod, your own desire mirroring his. Without another word, you start to undress, your clothes falling to the floor as he does the same. When you’re both bare, he steps closer, his hands caressing your skin as he pulls you into another deep kiss.

The sensation of his body against yours, skin to skin, is overwhelming, and you can feel the heat radiating off him as he guides you toward the bed. You fall onto the mattress together, his body covering yours, and for a moment, there’s nothing but the feel of him, the weight of him pressing you into the sheets. He hovers over you, his eyes locked onto yours, and there’s a moment of silence, a moment of connection, before he finally enters you. The sensation is electric, a rush of pleasure that has you arching into him, your nails digging into his back as he moves within you, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more urgent.

Your bodies move in sync, each thrust sending waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your hands roam over his back, gripping him, pulling him closer as he drives you both higher, the tension building between you until it’s almost too much to bear. He leans down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that’s almost bruising in its intensity, his hips snapping against yours with a force that leaves you breathless. You can feel the pleasure coiling in your belly, tight and ready to snap, and when he angles his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot, you’re lost.

Your orgasm rips through you, your entire body tensing as you cry out his name, your nails raking down his back. The sensation pulls him over the edge with you, and you feel him shudder, his release following yours as he groans into your neck, his entire body trembling with the force of it. For a long moment, you both just lie there, tangled together, your breathing heavy and your bodies slick with sweat. The intensity of what just happened lingers in the air, and as Five finally pulls back to look at you, there’s a softness in his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“I still hate you”, you whisper, a small, teasing smile playing on your lips.

Five chuckles, brushing a strand of hair away from your face as he leans in to kiss you softly. “I hate you too”.

But the way he kisses you, the way he holds you close afterward, tells a different story entirely...

@selfishlittlebeing asked:

Hi! So basically I just read every single one shot on this blog. And I am obsessed with your work. And I gotta admit that, “Wounded nights” did things to me.🧍🏼‍♀️

I’m not sure if I am requesting or smth (if you’d like to write this I wouldn’t protest, but feel free to just ponder on this with me). But like… I can’t get the image of touch starved Five out of my head. Bcs…damn. Him holding the reader in his arms like that (WN)… but can you imagine HIM having a vulnerable moment because of all that stuff with the Commission and apocalypses, just the trauma package yk. And after all those years…just Five being vulnerable with someone and touch starved.🥲 I am making myself feel depressed with all this. Wanna be depressed with me?🎀

Summary: After Luthers wedding, most of the siblings already gone to bed. You didn't feel like drinking, but loved to watch the others drown their sorrows into liquor and just have fun. Just as you were about to fall into a deep sleep, a knock on your door pulls you out of your slumber.

Thank you for your lovely request! Also, here a sexy poster from Five I fell in love with! With every purchase you automatically support me :) https://amzn.to/3yGK6Fm

“Since everything will be dust soon anyway, you won't mind if I just lie down here for a while, will you?”

You're up to your nose under your eiderdown, with only the sound of collapsing buildings coming through your window. It may sound crazy to others, but for you, it's been part of everyday life for a week. Counting every second, spending the last time with your family and savoring it. There is nothing more precious than time. Money has no value anymore, but the ticking hands of the grandfather clock do have.

Your thoughts hover over your head like gray clouds. Since the first day you slept in that hotel bed, falling asleep felt like hell. You tried a lot to finally fall asleep normally again. But every time you closed your eyes, you were met with nightmares, worse than you could ever have imagined. You were sure that this couldn't be the end, it simply couldn't be.

Like every night, you try to push the thoughts aside, to repress them as if they had never been there. But a loud and uneven knocking jolts you out of your sleep like a thunderstorm. You startle awake and clutch at the sheets of your bed. “Yes!” you shout, but it sounded more like a question than an encouragement. You watch every movement, sharper than Diego's blades. As Five stumbles in, you let out a breath you didn't even released you were holding. 

“You scared me,” you mumble. "I scared you, so please, why should anyone be scared of me?" he says to himself. Any blind person would have recognized that Five had probably had a little too much to drink at Luther's wedding. Five doesn't finish the sentence and drops his head down as he continues to mumble to himself. After he fell back against the door, you gave him a worried look. “Thanks for closing the door, but I think you have a concussion now,” I smirk to myself. Five starts to giggle. “The world is coming to an end,” he says, and pushes away from the door again.

You look out of the window that separated you from the crumbling outside world. Instead of bright sunshine, dark red fire dazzles your eyes, bricks fly off buildings and trees uproot themselves. “No, really?” you ask him sarcastically as you turn back to him. You suppress your horror as he suddenly stands right in front of you. He holds on to the edge of your bed. You think about how he managed to approach you so quietly, the alcohol in his blood must be enough to put a chimpanzee down.

“Since everything will be dust soon anyway, you won't mind if I just lie down here for a while, will you?” he asks as he tries to climb onto the bed. “Five, eh?” you ask as you hold him down so he doesn't slide off. He awkwardly pushes himself over your legs, which elicits a small squeak from your mouth. “You're really rough, Five,” you complain, but you just couldn't help the smile on your face.

You had never seen Five so shameless. Five, who is usually so strong and independent, asks you if he can lie down with you for a moment. As you think about it for a moment, you briefly doubt your sanity. Was this a fever dream? But Five's careless hand movement presses your torso so hard into the mattress beneath you that you're sure it would have shaken you awake. “I've never seen you so awkward,” you squeeze your words out of the pain. “I'm sorry, but your bed is sooo soft,” he lulls to himself. You shake your head and stifle the comment that the beds here were all the same.

“Five, why are you really here?” you ask him. He lies down on his stomach and presses his head into your pillow. He mumbles his words into the fabric so that you can only guess what he's saying. “I don't understand a word, you stupid…” you grumble to yourself as you grab a tuft of his hair and push his head to the side. 

Five groans softly as you move his head, his eyes half-lidded and unfocused. You wait for him to speak, but it seems like he’s struggling to find the right words. He’s always been the one with the sharp tongue, the quick wit, and seeing him like this—vulnerable and slightly lost—pulls at something deep inside you.

“I didn’t want to be alone,” he finally mutters, his voice slurred but honest. “I’ve been alone for so long... and I guess I’m tired of it.” His words are a confession, raw and unguarded, much like the state he's in now. You’ve seen Five in many situations—fighting, strategizing, leading—but this is different. This is Five without his armor, without the walls he usually keeps so firmly in place.

You feel a pang in your chest, a mix of sadness and empathy. You’ve always known there was more to him than the ruthless time-traveling assassin he often portrayed himself to be. But hearing him admit his loneliness is something else entirely. "I understand you, Five," you say. He smiles and sightly closes his eyes. "I didn't want to be alone too, so I am happy that you are here now, I would've preferred sober Five, but this is also ok", you smile at him. 

You let your body fall back into your pillows, Five, who was still lying on his stomach, watching you. You put your head to one side and just look at him motionlessly. “Promise you won't tell anyone about the following?” he asks you. You don't understand exactly what he means. “I hardly think I have enough time left to tell anyone anything,” you say, with an unintentional sweep of sadness. “Promise” he whispers to you, while looking at you with begging eyes. Not only the pungent smell of alcohol, but also his seriousness to fly in your face. “I won't tell anyone,” you promise. Without warning, Five starts to move again. He pushed your arm up and curled up on your chest, like a cat looking for warmth.

Seeing five like this was new and made you very afraid to admit it to yourself. He cared so much about maintaining his strong, unbreakable personality that his current behavior frightened you. Despite the unfamiliar feeling of five so close to you, you almost automatically put your arms around his slender torso. His fingers slide onto the sides of your torso, clutching on it as if it was a matter of life or death.

"Five, what's wrong?", you ask him. "I am fucking scared", he lulls. His confession hangs in the air, heavy with the weight of his vulnerability. You can feel your heart rate quicken, the tension in the room shifting as you process his words. It’s a rare glimpse into the inner workings of Five’s mind, and the openness is both unsettling and intimate.

“Scared of what exactly?” you ask gently. “Everything,” he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. “The end of it all… the not knowing". The tremor in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but tighten your hold on him. You want to reassure him, to tell him that everything will be okay, but the truth is you’re scared too. The world outside is crumbling, and the future feels uncertain for both of you. 

He shifts slightly, looking up at you with his tired eyes. “I don’t want to let anyone down. Not you, not the others. I’ve messed up so many times already.” His voice is tinged with a mix of regret and fear, and you can see the conflict waging within him. “If we lose, at least we'll lose together,” you say. It didn't really sound encouraging, but you couldn't think of anything better. “Do you think you'll regret this tomorrow?” you whisper without looking at him. 

Five’s grip on your chest tightens just a little, and you can feel the slight shivering in his body as he processes your words. The silence that follows feels heavy, filled with the weight of the world outside and the vulnerability between you. “No,” he finally murmurs, his voice soft but resolute. “I won’t regret this. I might not remember every detail of tonight, but I’ll remember the way it felt to finally....", you wait for him to end his sentence. 

"feel you", he says, so quietly that you almost missed it.. There is a silence in the room, your body is no longer able to move. Your brain needs some time to process his words. “I went too far, I'm sorry I…” he tries to apologize. He pushes away from your body and leans on his arms. But before he can finish his sentence and move away from you completely, you put your hands around his face and crash your lips into his. 

The moment your lips meet Five’s, time seems to suspend itself. The world outside, with its crumbling chaos, fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this small, intimate bubble. His initial shock quickly melts away, and he responds with a tentative but heartfelt kiss. His lips are soft and warm, and the urgency in his movements gradually transforms into something more tender and searching.

As you pull away slightly, you can see the surprise in his eyes, mingled with a hint of relief and something deeper that he might not fully understand himself. You’re both breathing heavily, the gravity of the moment settling in. “I didn’t want to...,” Five starts to say, but you place a finger gently over his lips, silencing him. “Don’t,” you whisper, your voice barely more than a breath.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not now. Not ever.” Five’s expression softens, and he looks at you with a mixture of awe and vulnerability. “I’ve been so caught up in trying to control everything, in fighting against the end, that I forgot about what really matters. I didn’t realize... I didn’t realize how much I needed this, how much I needed you.”