#five hargreeves centric

[itstheghostofmypast]

*At Luther's wedding*

Y/N: Bet you three shots he'll cry.

Five: I bet you four he'll throw up.

Y/N: I bet you two shots we'll pull through this too.

Five: seven that we'll all die, love.

Lila: Do they realise this is called alcoholism?

Diego: Shhh...just watch

Y/N: Two shots say you'll be kissing me tonight.

*Five takes two shots, smirks at her blushing face*

Lila: wtf?

Diego: It's giving love.

#five hargreeves centric #five x reader #five x y/n #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #tua x reader #five hargreaves x reader #vanya #allison hargreeves #tua imagine #tua incorrect quotes #lila tua #vanya hargreeves #victor hargreeves #luther hargreeves

[fiveapocalypse]

You ever think about how five doesn’t think his siblings care much for him. Like they’ll say “we love you” and “we’ll be here” but five doesn’t believe them for a number of reasons but the main one was that—if they did care, if they did, they would have helped him. They would have listened. No one bothered until it was too late. They found him annoying, delusional, etc, and after seventeen years of being gone, no one hugs him, no one cries, no one does anything. They say they care, but Five isn’t too sure they do, so he thinks it’s fine to hurt himself, to not care about his well being, because it’s not like they cared that he was gone for years.

What he doesn’t know is that they came to his room every day for seventeen years. That Diego snuck in through the fire escape and made sure to leave whatever trinkets he found. That Allison fixed up his wardrobe, that Luther would sleep in his room and pretend he was talking to him. That Klaus would sit on his rug and try to summon him, sober and crying because there’s so much fucking ghosts but he has to see Five. That Ben gives over his old books, that Grace often said good night, dear to an empty room that never responded back.

Anyways, how are ya’ll.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #five hargreeves the boy #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #luther hargreeves #monday posts

[zoey-withay]

petition for s4 of TUA to add an epic Five montage in the finale with Run Boy Run playing over it

#i mean it's his theme song #we gotta come full circle #the umbrella academy #tua #tua five #tua s4 #five hargreeves centric #five hargreeves

[your-favorite-bean]

Fic Recs

UMBRELLA ACADEMY

(Most are five-centric. Gee I wonder who my favorite character is)

Also some quick notes about these:

As I said before, these are basically five centric. I do however read a lot of other stuff for other characters that I’m willing to share, so ask and ye shall receive!!! That being said, I don’t read a lot of oc fics and character x reader, so I don’t have a lot of recommendations for that.

Many of these fics were written before season three, before Viktor’s transition, which means that his deadname will be used. If you don’t want to read it, that’s totally okay, but just a forewarning!!!

Most of these fics have some dark and mature themes. And it may not seem like a serious thing, but sometimes you need to take a break from that kind of thing. This goes for any piece of media really that deals with these kinds of things. It doesn’t make you less of a person for taking care of yourself. There is no pressure to finish any of these or to even click on it. So if you read the tags (which you always should), and you think it’s not something that would be good for your mental health, don’t be afraid to tap out.

Oh and some of These have word counts but I got tired so I only did some. So pretty much All of these are multi chapter fics

Again major credit to these writers. Thank you for sharing your stories with us!!! I’m so proud of all of you guys!!! Happy Reading!!!

echoes by chiiyo86 | set in season two, allison finds Five in the alleyway and they have a lovely dynamic. Also rays there and he’s cool.

Get your hands dirty by conch_shell | outsider pov, lots of comic book elements in it, mostly about fives time in the commission

Lay all your love on me by MYSTERYstew | lots of hurt/comfort, time doesn’t heal all wounds (see what I did there??)

I kept running (for a soft place to fall) by chromaticality | Five, Allison, and Luther get kidnapped from the commission

Ive got a nasty new compulsion by chaoticgaysex | Diego gets recruited by the commission. Five has some words to say about that. Comic elements

It’s the end of the world as we know it (and I feel fine) by chaoticgaysex | Five has a breakdown, and he snaps big time. If you want to see more about fives powers, check it out

Run (because you know you cannot hide) by e_va | fives family gets kidnapped by the commission. what ever will he do (rescue his family of course, it’s five come on) also this is incomplete (at least I think it Is I don’t fucking know anymore words are hard)

Defective weaponry by printlno | five and Klaus track down a bad guy, but it doesn’t go as well as planned. Also this is based on the comics, not the show. The characters will only make sense if you’ve read the comics (well they’ll make sense, but they might seem a bit ooc sometimes)

I’ve come to talk with you again by in-a-slanted-outhouse | incomplete, but it’s really good. lots of five and Allison bonding. super sweet

All walls fall by I_Logophile | five gets kidnapped by the sparrows, and it does not end well for him. Also this is the first in a series called his walls

Ashes and Dust by Devilbaby | I honestly can’t say too much because there is so much wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff that I don’t want to give away but it’s really well done. It’s in a series called the chronos saga and I would totally recommend the whole series but the third (and final) part is incomplete

The Secret inside of you (run boy run) by Utukki | Reginald knows what Five is capable of. And he can never let him reach that potential. So he outs in a little safety measure. Incomplete

But for now it’s time to run by Ford_Ye_Fiji | ever wondered what would happens if The Doctor and number five from umbrella academy met? Boom. Here’s the fic. There’s also some plot and a whole series too, called run, boy, run, (the umbrella effect)

So be it by bobee | a series of unfortunate events, starring five. lots of hurt, but it is incomplete so there’s not a lot of comfort yet

Howling at the moon by assaily | five gets sent to Hotel Oblivion, and has to confront his inner demons. This is a great fic for those who were kind of disappointed by the hotel oblivion storyline (like myself) but it is incomplete

Intelligent conversation by Soulykins | five has a habit of talking to himself. Might have something to do with, gee I dunno 45 years in the apocalypse. This is the first in a series called old dog, old tricks and the whole series is really good if you want five angst and sibling bonding.

This is a gift, it comes with a price by rebel_by_default | set in season two, where time travel has even more consequences than in canon oh also this is a series called a beast of a burden

Monster that I despise by pinetreedeath | comic book elements, which I feel like is just code for serial killer DNA at this point (oh yeah that’s basically what it’s about). Really cool how the author writes it, however, incomplete

TUA one shots I write at 3am by pinetreedeath | they have different plots for each one but each one is incredible. You’ve got feral five, you’ve got soft five. Any five you want just pick a chapter and you’ll have it (jeez I feel like a salesman or something) also incomplete

Dealing with doppelgängers by I_Logophile | we’ve all made our assumptions about five if he didn’t get adopted by Reginald and lived a relatively normal life. Well this author wrote about it!! A round of applause. also WHUMP

The boy of Time: Come Home by JBD302020

uneasy lies the head that wears the crown by MYSTERYstew

Can you hug me as I go? by MYSTERYstew | the inevitable moment where five has to confront with the fact that he is not doing okay. angst angst angst. However incomplete

Time is a storm by Shyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy | Five gets kidnapped by the sparrows, and the siblings try to rescue him, but Reginald puts a big old wrench in their plans (I am so sorry I am terrible at short summaries). Really, really good, but incomplete and there’s a major cliffhanger

The five whistle by I_Logophile | the handler sucks, we all know that, but what if she sucked just a bit more? Five whump to the max .

Here, beneath my lungs by beastboy12 | five tries to play detective, but curiosity killed the cat, or at least inflicted a lot of pain that made the cat wish it were dead. Klaus, Diego, and Five bonding

Warming up by ClaraCivry (Kat_Of_Dresden) | if an assassin and the assassin who killed the first assassins parents got stuck in a freezer with the chance of death, what are they going to do? Bond of course!!

You can always come home by Wayward_Unicorn (42k words) | five doesn’t exist. He never has. Or is that really all there is too it? Incomplete

A closure problem by sandausdenurnen (21.9k words) | okay this is honestly hands down such a good crossover, and I don’t give that title away easily. The dynamic between Tony stark and number five (oh yeah that’s the crossover) is so good, so if you want two traumatized geniuses snarking at each other, this is perfect!!! Incomplete

Identity theft is not a joke by Ford_ye_Fiji (1.5k words) | ahhh the classic who’s the clone and who’s the real character. except fives siblings are (affectionately) idiots so it doesn’t go so well

About a boy by pistachioinfernal (25k words) | Russian gangster meets rude boy. Russian gangster feels bad for rude boy. Russian gangster bonds with rude boy. Boy is still rude this whole time | Also part of a series called Russian swears and coffee spoons (28k words) | the second and final part is incomplete

The moon laughs by Lady_Origami (96k words) | a trope we all know and love, time loop. This is great | incomplete | This is also the second part in a series called the sky weeps (106k words). The first one isn’t really related to the second one, but it’s really sweet, Klaus, Ben, and Five bonding.

Creeping towards extinction by VIKAN (62k words) holy shit this one is so good like omg I’m in love with this. This is my favorite angst fic wow. Chefs kiss

The shifting mirrors by orsumfenix (192k words) | what if five never traveled to the future? Well you saw the other hargreeves, hes still an asshole. | incomplete

Holding it together by sharkneto (91k words) | actually inspired by shifting mirrors. And oh my god I loved reading every word of this | First of a series called shifting together (251k words). Series is incomplete but definitely worth the read!!!

How the fabrics of the universe will fuck you up by fandomsandshit (4K words) | this is sort of an AU where fives abilities go a little bit further than teleporting. This is such a cool take I wish that five had these powers in the show!!!

An eye for an eye by dgalerab (80k words) | really cool series, lots of twists and turns and angst and timelines (so many timelines) and it’s just really fun. Also season two and three do not exist | Part of a series called timelines 1-2.1 (250k words) | the last fic in the series is incomplete

This world is not made for you by umbrellas out (1719) (2k words) | okay I can’t exactly summaraize this but there is a lot 567 bonding so if you like that here you go!!! | Also part of a series called the boy who ran. Also there is a slight chance that none of these links work so if they don’t I apologize.

This one’s for the lonely, the ones who seek and find by hujwernoo (2k words) | Klaus dies in the apocalypse, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be there for five | The First in a series called it comes and goes in Waves (258k words) which is INCREDIBLE so yeah Go and check it out

Sorrows like thunder clouds by Emotionally_Detached (7k words) | this is part of a series called mellow rays of the departing sun (24k words) |Five time travels to when they were Kids, but only hin. Now it’s up to him to change the past.

Time is what we Need but don’t have by Achlyz (21k words) | it’s really cute, makes me feel good by I also cried during this, but it’s mostly just family bonding with a hint of angst | Part of a series called dysfunctional family (225k words) |the final fic is incomplete

Faded by tenacioussurrender (35k words) | Lots of dad Diego, and hurt five, but it’s very Sweet and there’s a lot of wholesome pieces in it | part of a series called a ripple in time and space (145k words)

Bolt from the blue by TheArchaeologist (85k words) | this time it’s dad Klaus, and omg there is a lot of hurt but a lot of comfort, but then hurt again! That joke is Season one about Klaus Meeting fives mom at the Disco isn’t a joke anymore | Part of a series called apple of my eye (141k words), Part Four is incomplete but you can still read a lot of it.

Out of the dead land by tomorrowsrain (60k words) | five time travels to the apocalypse, but to spice it up, you have Zombies!!!! Oh and Klaus is there too, to add a dash of brotherly bonding and a whole lot of angst | incomplete

So you got to the bottom of the list, good for you!!! Treat your self, you deserve it. I’m proud of you.

Also (minor rant alert) this was HARD. Thank literally everything that I can use ao3 search filters because that was ahhhhhhhhh. Do you know how difficult it is to find a fic that you read 2 years ago and the only thing you can remember from it is the word pumpkin????? Like oh my god. Then I wrote all of this down and it mysteriously disappeared so I had to make a whole new list, which was very frustrating. But this was also fun so if you have any new requests, lmk!!!

Oh and another thing. You might’ve noticed that some of these authors names were repeated. Well turns out these incredible talented people have written a lot of other stuff, so don’t forget to explore the other stuff they’ve written. Check out the bookmarks, then check the bookmarks of those authors, and so on. Happy reading!!!

#five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #allison hargreeves #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #tua #ao3 fic rec #ao3

[umbrella-academy-hcs]

The siblings end up on a roadtrip and they start pissing off Five so he threatens to walk himself there and when his siblings don't believe him he blinks out of the car so Allison slams on the brakes, finds Five walking on the side of the road and slowly drives beside him yelling at him to get back in while he's just going on about its such a nice day for a walk and that when he was a kid he didn't have such modern technology as cars because they were all destroyed by the fucking apocalypse until the siblings give in and tell him fine yes we can stop by ONE of your old man roadside attractions just get in the damn car and he giddily gets back in the passenger seat and immediately pulls out his big ass map to debate which attraction he wants to go to while everyone groans

#the brainrot is strong today #I need more content of the siblings #I miss them #I miss Five #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #tua netflix #tua hcs #tua headcanon #five hargreeves #number five #tua five #number five centric #five centric #five hargreeves the boy #hargreeves siblings

[birdmentality]

im late! HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ALL THE HARGREEVES SIBLINGS!!!!

#five centric again u know me #the umbrella academy #my art #five hargreeves #<3 hi fandom #tua

[hargreef]

for my readers, i really think you’ll like the next chapter. i’m excited about it—it’s a really important one, and i hope you feel as fulfilled as i do finally wrapping up the story as it comes a full circle. thank you again as always — it’ll be out tomorrow <3

#the umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves #number five #number five the boy #so be it #five fanfiction #the hargreeves siblings #number five fanfic #umbrella academy #five hargreeves fic #the hargreeves #five centric #tua fics #tua s3 #tua fic #bobee writes

[thebitterflamingo]

Five was really starting to feel all of the years this body had yet to experience. To be honest, he was surprised he hadn’t aged them in the two weeks he’d been running —literally and figuratively— nonstop. It wasn’t a suicide wish like some of his siblings seemed to assume, if their judgemental gazes were anything to go by.

To be honest, Five just didn’t really expect to make it this far.

They were back, in the academy. They were home, as messed up and dysfunctional as it had been.

“Home sweet fucking home!” Klaus declared from somewhere behind him, spinning in a circle with his arms flung wide.

Diego smacked him while Allison collapsed in a nearby chair. Luther tried the same thing, nearly breaking the damn thing, but after an ominous squeal, it supported his weight.

Vanya took a settling breath, looking around, before settling beside them. She hadn’t exactly left on the best of terms.

Five physically restrained himself for running over to check for injuries, but he settled for a mental catalogue. Everyone seemed fine, aside from Klaus, who was holding his cheek and glaring balefully at Diego.

Fine. Fine.

The realization should’ve been reassuring but Five found himself wrestling with it, examining it from every angle in his head, like a Rubix Cube he could solve.

Five could do emergency. He could fight and claw and generally fuck up anyone who tried to mess with his family.

But fine? What was he supposed to do with that. He couldn’t solve a problem that didn’t exist.

When evil Ben showed up, Five almost sighed in relief.

While the rest of his siblings scrambled back to their feet, Five settled into a familiar fighting stance.

He was the only one who hadn’t sat down.

#have a random Umbrella Academy short fic in honor of season 3! #yeah idk why I wrote this either #i wrote this instead of sleeping #between s2 and s3 (obv) #five centric #umbrella academy #fanfic #number five #klaus hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #ben hargreeves #sparrow academy #five has a very specific set of skills that is good for conflict #I’m not sure what he’d do if he no longer had to fight #five was this close to self reflection and he didn’t like it

[andtheny]

Chapters: 79/80 Fandom: The Umbrella Academy (TV) Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy) & Everyone, Number Five | The Boy & The Hargreeves | Umbrella Academy Characters: Number Five | The Boy (Umbrella Academy), Number Six | Ben Hargreeves, Vanya Hargreeves | Viktor Hargreeves, Luther Hargreeves, Allison Hargreeves, Diego Hargreeves, Klaus Hargreeves Additional Tags: Pre-Transition Vanya Hargreeves | Viktor Hargreeves, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Timeline What Timeline, Mental Health Issues, Jealousy, Dysfunctional Relationships, Number Five | The Boy-centric, Marvel Cameos, Loki cameo at the end Summary:

Five Hargreeves loves his family. He's the Daddy here.

#fiveinsidejokes #five hargreeves #fivemoreinsidejokes #tua fanfic #umbrella academy #the umbrella academy #number five the boy #five centric #fanfiction #umbrella academy fanfic #time travel shenanigans #don't give out on me now AO3!

[ash-overthinking]

In Defiance {Chapter 1}

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Main Characters/Pairing(s): Hargreeves-Family centric; Number Five centric (ish). Canon Pairings.

Chapter: 1/11

Fic Summary:

Five took a day to recalibrate after he and his family parted ways on the hallowed grounds where the Obsidian had once stood. Then, he got back to work.

Unfortunately, the Hargreeves family is more divided than ever, the clock is ticking in more ways than one, and Reginald has more power up his sleeve than any of them could have guessed. When the status quo is shattered and their respective realities become bleaker than ever before, will they be forged anew or irreparably broken?

Read it on AO3

Listen to the Playlist

#tua #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #number five hargreeves #tua fic #writing #hargreeves siblings #i say five-centric but it's really sibling centric and he's just kind of the lynchpin of it all #alternating pov #fanfic #tua s3 #angst #timeline shenanigans #number five the boy #oh look i'm out of hibernation and writing again #wasn't going to share here until I had more than the first chapter sooo ch2 is now up and here we are #number five #Spotify

[fiveapocalypse]

Five after getting punched in the face, thrown into a wall, smacked with a frying pan, buried under bricks, and then nearly killed repeatedly: wow! *unhinged smile* you’re a fucking ASSHOLE.

#the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #five hargreeves the boy

[zoey-withay]

thought someone on here might like these character playlists i made for Five and Delores

if you do, cool!

if you don't, cool!

#the idea for the delores one came to me while listening to traitor by olivia rodrigo #like imagine five moves on to someone else and someone makes a tiktok edit of delores calling five a traitor #yeah i was sleep deprived but thats not the point #anyways five is a swiftie and you cant prove me wrong #my guy lost his shit when midnights came out #you can reblog or comment if youve got other ideas for songs to add #i dont really mind #tua #tua five #five hargreeves #five hargreeves centric #the umbrella academy #delores tua #spotify

[your-favorite-bean]

Okay I’ve been working on a umbrella academy (mostly five centric) fic rec list and it keeps on getting bigger and bigger but it’s gonna be good, so stay tuned. And if there’s a long ass post with a shit ton of links, it’s probably me

#five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #tua #ben hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #fic rec #ao3 #get ready #it’s gonna be a doosie #or is it doozy #okay pretty sure it’s doozy forget the first time #yeah it’s doozy #five hargreeves centric

[ariaachillesaphrodisia]

Did Somebody Say Just Eat?

Character: Five Hargreeves

Fandom: The Umbrella Academy

Rating: Mature

Content Warnings: Food Issues, Food Trauma, Past Trauma, PTSD, Eating Disorder, Starvation, Eating Urine/Excrement, Discussion of Murder, Discussion of Corpses, Rotting Food, Bugs and Insects, Discussion of Death, and Loss of Loved Ones

______________________________________________________________

His breathing is unsteady. Heartbeat racing to match. His mouth is so dry that he doesn’t have any saliva to wash down the already-rising bile. He tries to hide his rage, but the shaking of his hands and burning anger within his eyes betray him. He curses his body for this. Curses himself for this. He asks himself how he got here. How he let himself get here.

But he knows exactly how he got here.

Given the nature of his job and of the place he worked, one would likely have assumed that Five’s life was filled with chaos and uncertainty. This would not be an unreasonable assumption by any means; however, it would be an incorrect one, nevertheless. Partly incorrect, at least. When Five had started at The Commission, things had indeed been rather hectic. He did not know where anything was; where the various departments were located; or how The Commission functioned. In truth, he did not know anything about this new place he found himself in and employed at. But the man had always been a quick study (after all, it was not as though Reginald would have accepted anything less) and so within a month of working there, he had already become one of the most effective “employees” at The Commission.

It perhaps should have been alarming to Five how quickly he mastered the “skills of the trade”. Things such as how to track someone, or how to kill someone and utilize his powers to do it. How to manipulate a target, or how to terrify them. Which weapons were best to use in which circumstances, depending on if you were hoping to end it quickly and without drawing attention to yourself, or whether the goal was to draw out the target’s suffering.

Death wasn’t something that was unknown to Five before his time at The Commission. Death was something he knew very well thanks to the apocalypse, but his relationship with it had begun before even that. During his time as part of the Umbrella Academy, there have been instances where missions would go south, or where the team would require some “extra force” AKA Ben’s powers. But those instances were the exception and not the norm. This was the rule set in place by Reginald, who surely understood that people were more likely to support a group of Batman-esque teenage vigilantes who occasionally had to get their hands dirty than a group of murderous teenage vigilantes whose missions always ended with some sort of bloodshed and death toll. So, Reginald’s general rule had been “no killing unless it was absolutely necessary… or would be accepted by the news outlets and the general public”.

Therefore, it was The Commission where Five was actually able to take full advantage not only of the lethal training that he and his siblings had received but also of the many ways his powers could be useful for his new line of work. And yes, sometimes Five did wonder whether he should be more concerned about the fact that he took to killing like a duck to water, but like he did with many things in his life, Five chose to archive this as something he would process at a later time. When things were less… well… something.

The important thing was that since Five did take to killing and to his new job terrifyingly well, it meant that he was very quickly able to adjust to his new life. He settled into his new routine and got used to the ins and outs of The Commission. His days were pretty much the same repetition of only a handful of activities: drink coffee; eat; do his job; drink coffee; read the case briefs for the new cases; drink coffee;  complete his new “orders”; file reports; drink coffee; practice using his powers to try and get home; sleep (or try to); repeat. And while this might have caused some people to grow restless or agitated, or while some might hate the repetition and the seemingly endless nature of such a life, Five found it oddly comforting. It gave him a sense of control over things, and this was not at all unwelcomed for reasons that Five would (just like with his fast adjustment to becoming a professional assassin), certainly visit at a later date.

Yes, this sense of control was something that Five valued quite highly, and so too did he value and admire anything which added to it. And fittingly so, conversely did he dislike that which deviated from it. that which was outside of his predictable and malleable world. That which was out of his control… or worst of all… that which exerted control over him. Yes, he disliked the former very much, and frankly, he despised the latter.

Thus the reason (well, one of the many reasons, actually) The Handler was the bane of Five’s existence.

There were some days when Five thought he might actually hate The Handler more than he hated the apocalypse itself. At least with the apocalypse, you knew where you stood: either you were alive, or you weren’t. At least with the apocalypse, you didn’t have to deal with it veiling its dangers underneath smiles, false promises, and threats laced with sugar-sweet tones. At least the apocalypse didn’t drop in on you sporadically and expect you to drop everything you are doing and humor it with whatever new plan it had concocted for no other reason than being bored and getting a kick out of the torment of others. The apocalypse hit you suddenly and ended it all there and then, and if you did survive, then you had to deal with the end of the world. And that sucked. Five knew this all too well, but at least you go used to the dangers you were facing. With The Handler though, there was no such certainty. The only thing predictable about the dangers surrounding her was that they were most certainly there, that they were unpredictable in the way she would carry them out, and that she took unspeakable delight in the dread and terror she instilled in others.  

Five wasn’t quite sure what exactly it had been that had sparked the power struggle between himself and The Handler. When she’d first approached him, he sensed none of that, although admittedly, his mind had been elsewhere, focused on assessing the new arrival’s threat level and then later, considering her offer. And for the first little while during his time at The Commission, this had remained the same. He had either not sensed it, or, he supposed, he’d been trying to learn the ropes. But after that point, when he began to get the hang of things… then it had begun. Had it been because she had felt threatened by him? Because he was excelling at his job? Had she feared that he would take her position? Was that it? Or perhaps it had been that she had simply enjoyed holding power over the new recruit, and then, when he was starting to learn to walk on his own two feet, she’d decided to take a new approach to holding her power over him – through subtle threats, isolation, and emotional manipulation. Either, Five thought, was possible. It was also possible that this was just something she did with everyone. That she just got a rise out of doing little things to show other people who was in charge. Perhaps it was simply a part of her nature even – she fancied herself a scorpion, and everyone else a frog.

Whatever the reason was, and whenever specifically it had begun, the thing which mattered was that the power struggle existed, and it caused Five an endless amount of grief. At best, The Handler was a nuisance, and at worst, an enemy. And there was no telling which it would be on any given day. whether he’d be subjected to simply some passive-aggressive comments regarding his work, or whether she would decide to do something to really cross a line. He did his best to prepare for either but there was only so much he could do. As much as he despised her, at the end of the day, she was one of the higher-ups. And he… he was just another cog in the machine. He had to do as she said, lest he be branded as a traitor to The Commission and either be executed or suffer a fate worse than death – and when it came to traitors against The Commission, it was normally the latter. And if he was dead, then who would be there to save his family?

So, as much as Five dreaded any sort of interaction with The Handler, he forced himself through it. Forced himself to play along so that one day, he might be able to go back and stop the apocalypse from ever happening. That is what he told himself every time and though it never really made things easier, it was at least a nice thought, so he kept up this habit.

It was what he’d told himself today too, when The Handler had approached him with her latest “offer”.

The day had started off so well. He had completed a number of jobs, had filed all his paperwork, and had made it to 10 minutes to lunch without any sign of The Handler. This was a new record, he believed. He had chalked it up to her being off base – likely hunting down new recruits or something – and was prepared to steal away to his usual lunch spot (an abandoned corner of one of the less frequently used rooms) when he heard a familiar clacking of heels on the file floor. He let out a groan when the footsteps stopped outside the tiny space he called an office, and the imposing outline of The Handler filled the glass of the door.

“Knock knock,” she practically sang, and Five fought the urge to gag. Without even waiting for his response, The Handler flung the door open. She was dressed in a 50’s style teal dress and donned red heels that Five could not imagine were any sort of comfortable when one was on their feet as much as a job – even a management one – at The Commission required them to be. Her hair was poofy and curled, and resting atop it was an extravagantly large hat which matched in color to her dress. Five always did wonder how it was she got away with her wardrobe, considering how blatantly it went against company policy, but he supposed the other higher-ups likely thought it was not worth the effort to attempt to force her to adhere to the dress code. Personally, Five thought it set a bad example, and an even worse precedent.

“Ah, Handler, pleasure to see you,” he greeted, his voice laced with obvious sarcasm, “what can I do for you?”

“Well, a little birdie told me that you were just flying through your cases today. Said you nearly finished your entire to-do list before mid-day! Impressive as always, Five!” she grinned, and Five faked a smile, mentally promising to find out who this “little birdie” was and avoid them as much as possible.

“Yes, it’s been a considerably productive day today,” responded Five.

“And I would like it to stay that way, so if you could just exit right back the way you came from, that’d be great. Oh, and don’t forget the door,” he wanted to add but didn’t.

“That’s what we like to see here!” exclaimed The Handler with a clap of her hands. “Anywho, I was just about to have lunch when that tidbit of information crossed my way, and I thought to myself ‘Look at him – working hard, putting in the hours and the effort. Going above and beyond. A real go-getter, that one!’ and then I had a grand idea, if I do say so myself. See, I know you normally like to take your lunch breaks on your own. Well, spend all your time on your own, really. Regular old Batman over here with your Mr. Dark, Brooding, ‘I don’t need anyone’ thing you have going there,” she teased. Five couldn’t help but grimace at this. Batman?! Him?! If anyone in his family was Batman, he thought, it’d be Diego. Diego is always… was… always…

“…sometimes we all do, but I just thought that, after all the consistent hard work you’ve been doing, and the determination, well, I thought that it was hardly right to let that all go unrecognized!” she said, and Five blinked a few times. He had missed part of what she had said, and supposed he must have tuned her out for a moment. Not that he was too bothered by this. If Five had had his way, he’d tune her out every single time she spoke to him. “So, I arranged a special little lunch for you!” she told him, and then came the bit he knew was going to follow, yet hoped it wouldn’t all the same, “well, us, technically, but don’t get it mixed up, Five! This is really all for you! I’m just sitting in for company! Little wine and dine between colleagues!

“No! Absolutely not! In no way. If I need something to kill my appetite, then sure, I’d agree to have you watch me like a hawk as I eat, but I’m not really feeling it today. So, thanks, but hard pass,” a less calculated or a more emotionally driven person might have cried out. But Five was nothing if not calculated and composed, and so instead he gave the biggest fake smile he could muster.

“Sounds great. I’ll just go grab my lunch and…” he began, but she swiftly cut him off.

“No, no, no! You don’t have to bring anything but yourself! I’ve got the rest covered, so all you need to do is follow me,” she informed him, though despite the airiness of her voice, he already knew it was a command, not an invitation.

The Handler left the room without another word, only pausing until she heard Five’s footsteps following after her, then continuing on. It occurred to Five while they walked that he had no idea where their little “celebratory” lunch was being held. He also did not know what was being served. He hoped it was something simple like sandwiches or pizza. Something he could quickly scoff down, chase with a coffee or something stronger, and then excuse himself back to work. He voiced his aloud to The Handler – the question as to the lunch, not his exit strategy – and she merely turned her head to face back at him – down at him – and smiled.

“All in good time, Five. All in good time,” was all the response he got before she began humming away to herself.

It was only when they turned the final corner before their destination that Five realized their lunch spot was The Handler’s very own office. He was thankful that his training with The Commission, along with at The Umbrella Academy, had taught him how to mask his feelings, because he was sure his disgust otherwise would have been very evident. However, a chuckle from The Handler indicated that he still hadn’t quite mastered the art of fooling her. She opened the door and stepped to the side, holding it for him.

“Make yourself at home,” she invited, and Five was reminded of that childhood story about the spider inviting the fly into his parlor. And like the doomed fly in that tale… Five found himself walking right in, aware of the danger facing him, yet entering that damned place all the same.

The Handler’s office was an expectedly grand place. There was a huge gold and burgundy desk and chairs which matched perfectly. The walls were a shade of red that reminded Five of blood. There were pillars of silver and fold that sparkled when the light from the oval window on the far side of the room struck them. The room, like its owner, stood out in stark contrast to the bland grey of the rest of The Commission.

“It is quite an office, isn’t it?” The Handler whispered into Five’s ear, and despite himself, he shuddered. She stepped back, and though her expression was one of nothing other than pride for her workspace, he could feel the smirk boring into him. “It has served me well for a long time. Lots of great memories in this room,” she continued on, “but, management is moving me to a new office space soon. Something about turning this into another storage room or something. Politics, you know? Anyhow, they promised me the other office will be even better, and I’m holding them to it,” she said with a wink, and he was certain that she would. Was certain that she wouldn’t hesitate to resort to some of the same tactics he used while interrogating Commission marks in order to get that office.

“Fascinating,” murmured Five, and if The Handler realized the sarcasm lacing his voice, she gave no indication. He watched as she took a seat behind the lavish desk, and when she motioned for him to take a seat across from her, he did so.

An awkward silence filled the room then, and Five shifted impatiently in his seat. He’d been hoping the food would already be in the room so that they could just get it over with quick as possible, but either the food was late, or The Handler had purposely ordered for it to come after they’d arrived at the office. Judging by the look of satisfaction on her face, Five suspected it was the latter. The silence filling the room was making Five more and more restless – and frankly quite frustrated – and he was very sure she was finding that absolutely delightful. This silence, he knew, was a crafted and calculated one. Five wasn’t one for small talk, and this was a fact that was well-known throughout The Commission. But something else that was equally well known was The Handler’s great adoration for the sound of her own voice. She’d fill a room with it whenever she got the chance, directing as many eyes toward herself as possible in the process. The exception to this, of course, was when she had some scheme in mind which required silence.

Normally she did it when she wanted to see if anyone in the room dared speak with her present before being addressed to do so. She’d stand or sit in a room for the better part of an hour sometimes, just to see if anyone broke this unspoken rule. She wouldn’t do anything, per se, if they did, but that look she’d give… well… that did the trick all on its own. She didn’t do it to test obedience or loyalty, Five knew. No… the only reasons she did it was to show everyone the power she demanded just with her presence alone and to revel in their fear. And though the tactic she was using now was slightly different, Five suspected its intentions were very much the same.

“So, busy week so far?” Five questioned loudly, his voice a harsh sound in comparison to the rested silence. For a moment, which lasted no more than half a second, Five saw a look of surprise cross The Handler’s face. It looked to Five how a child’s face might look when their favorite toy had failed to function as it should. As though this look had vanished almost as quickly as it had appeared, Five delighted in that glorious half-second.

“Oh Five! You know The Commission. When isn’t it a busy week?” she laughed, the mask now perfectly back on. “But that’s what keeps it exciting, isn’t it?” she added, and just as Five was about to speak, the doors of the office were flung open.

If Five had had any remaining hopes that this meal would go by quickly, or that he would be lucky enough to have the lunch be just a sandwich or some other type of finger food, those hopes were crushed upon viewing the sight which greeted him when those magnificent doors opened.

There were four individuals wheeling in carts filled with fancy serving containers. Thankfully for Five, each cart only held what looked to be four dishes on the toy lawyer of the cart, with the second being empty save for the final cart. On this one, the second lawyer contained a vast assortment of drinks: juices, smoothies, lemonade, and other extremely sweet drinks. Five noticed after a quick inspection that both coffee and any sort of alcoholic beverages were suspiciously absent from this bevy of beverages.

The figures who had delivered these carts did not look familiar to Five. He thought that they must be Commission personnel – after all, they didn’t usually allow people from within the normal timeline to just wander about the building – yet they did not don the usual Commission outfits. They were all dressed in the same deep purple suits, with hats of a matching color that reminded Five of something you’d see in an old ice cream parlor. Their movements were… too in-sync, Five thought. Too robotic. Their eyes were empty and hollow. Were they under some sort of mind control? Or hypnosis perhaps?

“I wasn’t aware The Commission had its own catering company,” Five spoke, hoping to glean some information about the situation. The Handler grinned.

“Oh, they certainly do,” she said, and Five raised an eyebrow at this.

“But they aren’t it?” he questioned, and she nodded.

“Sharp as ever, Five. No, these darling folks here are not from The Commission’s usual catering group. They are some not-so-clever people who had been traitors to The Commission. They were given to me so that I could… decide on a fitting punishment. And after a long time of working with each individual, I decided to keep them around for a bit. Have them help out a bit with some odd things here and there… at least until I feel they’ve paid off their debts to The Commission. Then, well, I can terminate their contracts,” she explained, and Five blinked a few times. She was just… keeping them around as her errand people or toys, ready to dispose of them the minute they either cease to be useful, or she finds another pet project that she wished to devote her attention to.

He thought back to the looks and movements of the figures and suddenly understood the vacant expressions and robotic movements. It wasn’t mind control, hypnosis, or any other mental persuasion. It wasn’t “magic” or powers.

It was hopelessness. 

It was a look he was familiar with. The look that his targets sometimes gave right before he… finished a job. Five was the kind of man who took pride in a job well done, and in accomplishing his goals. The sort of man who didn’t give 50% or 75%, but 200% when it came to the things he did. And he was, he knew, good at his job. But when that job was over… and the rush of it gone too… he saw that look when he closed his eyes, and it stuck with him. There was no hope in that look that he might let them live. No pleading for mercy. Not even the last little blip of desperation for a miracle. It was just complete and utter despair. And even after he’d walked away from a job… that look wasn’t something he could just walk away from. Yet…

Yet he knew just from the proudness in her voice and that Cheshire cat grin she’d given him that she felt none of that. She’d see that downhearted look on their faces… and he knew she’d feel nothing but pride at how effectively she’d broken them.

The loud echoing of shutting doors snapped Five back to the present moment. He turned and noticed that all of the figures had left the room. Not only this, but all of the carts that they had wheeled in had been pushed to the left of the desk he and The Handler were sitting at. He hadn’t noticed them moving the carts so close, nor had he noticed them all moving to leave – it only being brought to his attention when the doors had shut. He gritted his teeth, cursing The Handler in his mind. He was more vigilant than this. he knew he was. Any other time it would have been second nature for him to notice such things but her… her trouble presence and existence (not to mention the disturbing information he had just learned about her… latest project) was throwing him off his guard, and he hated her for it.

“Well, feel free to dig in! I’m not sure about you, but I am absolutely famished!” The Handler exclaimed, yet despite this statement, she made no effort to remove any of the lids from the serving dishes. Already knowing where this game would lead, and not wanting to spend any more time humoring her than was necessary, Five reached for the dish closest to him and pulled off the lid. Upon seeing what was inside, Five froze.

Tuna Salad.

Five’s stomach immediately flipped when he saw the dish, and when the smell of the fish hit his nostrils, he had to fight back the urge to vomit. He tried to hide this from his face and swiftly moved to open the next dish…

Spam and potato soup.

He placed the lid of this one down, the same horrid feelings washing over him. He moved on to the next dish.

A stew with baked beans and corned beef.

The lid went back on, and off came the lid of the next dish…

Vegetable soup with corn, green beans, carrots, and tomato broth.

On and on the cycle went, with Five ripping off a lid, seeing the dish, feeling as though he was about to pass out or be violently sick or kill someone, putting the lid on the ground, and moving to the next dish. By the time he’d moved onto the third cart, he felt as though he wanted to throw the tray lids as hard as he could right at The Handler’s face.

Because this… what lay in front of him on those carts… it was Hell. It was torture. It was a special kind of cruelty that only she was capable of…

Sixteen dishes.

Sixteen different dishes.

Some breakfast. Some lunch. Some dinner, and a few dessert ones. All with one thing in common…

Each and every dish in front of him contained some ingredient he had eaten while trapped in the apocalypse…

Canned items such as tuna, spam, potatoes, baked beans, corned beef, tomato broth, an assortment of canned vegetables, etc.

But that wasn’t the worst part of it… no… no, the worst part was…

That every single dish contained something which, during Five’s time in the apocalypse, had made Five greatly ill.

Five remember each incident as though it happened yesterday… or, as the feeling of nausea grew within him, as though it were happening now.

At the start of the apocalypse, the incidents happened out of naivety. He had thought that surely if something was in a can, it must still be good. After all, it had only been a few months since he had run out of the packaged goods that he had managed to find – well, those that weren’t destroyed or damaged, and those that hadn’t had any clear signs of rot or mold – and so surely the canned items he was stumbling across here and there should still be good. And most were, in his defense… but not all. Canned fish had been the first which Five had learned the hard way did not survive well in high temperatures or regular exposure to sunlight and the elements. No matter what the expiry date was.

Canned meats had lasted him a little while longer, but not much. He had tried to gather and consume as much of the canned fish and meats he’d come across, mixing them with the canned vegetables as much as he could. At the early part of his first year, this only resulted in him feeling ill or nauseous, with some instances of him actually vomiting a little bit. However, by the end of his first year in the apocalypse, any canned seafood or meats were deemed practically inedible… after much trial and much, much, much more error. Still, he found himself collecting any undamaged canned fish or meat items… just in case there came a time when he was desperate enough to need to eat them.

Five stock-piled the canned goods which he would come across in the wreckage of houses or buildings, and occasionally he hit the jackpot by coming across a grocery store or bunker that had a bountiful supply of canned goods. He brought as many as he could carry with him, and if he was somewhere that had a decent supply, he’d eat his fill there so there was less to carry. However, as the years went on, it became rare to find canned goods. Five tried to ration his supplies, only eating a little each day. This lack of nutrients along with the heat he often trekked in made him feel weak and light-headed, but it was that or starve to death, and so Five pushed through the pain.

In regular situations, low-acid canned foods have a shelf life of two to five years. Some have a shelf life of two to three years after the expiry date, and others can last a bit longer. Which meant that, in a normal situation, the canned goods that Five had saved up should have lasted him two years on the lower end, and five years on the higher. But those guidelines were for normal circumstances… and the apocalypse was the furthest thing Five could think of from normal.

Firstly, there was the issue of damage. Any damaged canned, even if they were just a little dented, were immediately riskier because they were more likely to be impacted by the elements and the heat. Not to mention bacteria that got in through small holes or cracks. In pre-apocalypse days, if you grabbed a dented or damaged can, you could just put it back on the shelf and grab a new, undamaged one. But when your food supply was rapidly dwindling, that wasn’t an option – you had to grab whatever you had access to, no matter how risky that food was to eat. And because of… well, the end of the world, most of the canned Five came across were damaged, meaning that most of the time, especially during his fourth and fifth year in the apocalypse, the food was very risky. He tried to only eat from the undamaged ones, telling himself that he was only taking the damaged ones in case of emergency. In hindsight, it would likely have been smarter for Five to have eaten from the damaged ones first, so that any bacteria in there didn’t proceed to grow and he could limit the amount he ingested… but after the first few times that Five had become so ill that he had thrown up everything in his stomach… he didn’t exactly love the idea of re-living that unless he absolutely had to.

The second issue was that the longer the items sat in the heat, the higher the likelihood that they would make Five sick. And… again, because of the apocalypse, most items were left to the mercy of the sun. Five found very few bunkers that were intact enough to provide shade for the food, and any grocery stores he stumbled upon were so destroyed there was nothing at all to protect the canned goods. Sometimes, when he popped open a can, he could already smell the rot or mold. A lot of times he would open a can to see green or white spots on it, and as time went on, this became a more and more common occurrence. During the early days, Five would have discarded these items immediately, but by his second and third year… he hardly had the resources to afford to do that. So, he would eat around those parts, leaving the molding bits for whatever crawling creatures would follow him.

Then… by year four… he began eating these parts too.

Rots and mold became regular parts of Five’s diet because it became increasingly rare not only to find canned items, but to find anything that wasn’t decaying. Five was honestly surprised that it had taken up to that point, having suspected at the start that this would happen within the first year. But any gratefulness of how long things had managed to last was quickly diminished by the reality of his situation. What began as a slow, constant hunger due to only eating a little bit every day became an unbearable, devasting sinking feeling that nagged at him as he would go several days in a row without eating. Years four and five were when Five began to realize that he likely wasn’t going to be able to find more canned items – at least not on a regular basis. It felt like a miracle any time he saw the shimmer of a tin can, and by years seven to ten, Five honestly did not care about the state of the food within it, just grateful that it was something to eat.

Illness became a routine part of Five’s life. He would eat something, whether it was a little bit of food from a can he had managed to find or one of the ones he had been saving, either of which would be covered in fuzzy white mold that tickled his tongue when he ate it. He swore he could feel things squirming around when he ate it too, though whether this was actually happening or whether it was a trick of his mind he did not know. After eating it, he would try to keep the food down as long as he could, only to vomit the majority of it up later on. He raided pharmacies when he could find them, looking for anti-nausea pills or anything else which would help him keep the substance down so his body could at least retain some nutrients, but pharmacies were even rarer than grocery stores, and most people who had built bunkers had stored food, not medical supplies. This made matters even worse when Five caught an infection because this meant that keeping food down was even more difficult. During these times, Five took to hibernating. He wouldn’t eat for nearly a week, drinking what little liquids he had. He pushed food from his mind during these bouts, knowing that an empty stomach didn’t help matter but feeling too tired and weak to deal with the vomiting he knew would come if he ate the spoiled foods he had gathered. He’d build himself a little shelter and stay there until he felt better, or until he decided that he wasn’t going to feel better unless he managed to find either more food or medication. Then he’d push forward, stomach complaining all the way through.

Somewhere along the line (time stopped mattering as much to Five after the tenth year), Five had pretty much all but given up on finding anything that resembled food. He’d take it where he would find it, but he stopped looking for it. Before when he walked, he would be doing it in search of new stores or bunkers that had managed to survive the end of the world. He’d allowed himself a glimmer of hope that as he went into new territory, he’d be able to find things that had survived. But that was before he’d left the major cities… and after that… well, there really was nothing out there. Farmlands didn’t have much in the way of food. Most animal corpses were non-existent, and the few that were there were reduced to skeletons. Five figured that they must have decayed pretty quickly after the initial event. He wondered at times if he should have headed straight for the farmlands and country areas, eating the corpses first before going for the canned goods. He had seen quite a few corpses along his travels, and while the states of them were questionable, they weren’t much more questionable than the canned goods. Still… what was done was done, and there was no point dwelling on what could have been.

Now when Five walked… it was only because he could think of nothing else to do. He was thankful when he did manage to find something that he could consume, but the gnawing hunger was just something he’d gotten so used to at this point. His diet now consisted of pretty much only the occasional scraps he had left in his cans (though Five wondered how much of what he ate he was hallucinating, and how much was real), as well as the occasional cockroach. When he returned to the cityscapes, he began finding more and more roaches, and these became his primary food source. They made him sick as they squirmed in his mouth, wriggling about on his tongue. He felt their little legs as they kicked around the sides of his mouth, and because he hated how they burst when he bit into them, he often swallowed them whole, leaving them to struggle about as they passed through his throat. He tried not to think about what it was those roaches had been feasting upon, especially those that were plumper and juicier. Still… they were preferable to the maggots that he had occasionally eaten. The ones he sometimes found within the canned goods… yellowish or silver things which crunched when he would bite them… and which he swore he could still feel wriggling about his stomach after he had finished eating.

He wished the maggots and roaches had been the worst things he had been subjected to eating. Someday he even wishes it had been something such as corpses. But no… no, because when Five reached areas where the roaches had become scarce or undiscoverable… Five did something he never thought he would have to do in his life… he sustained himself on his own urine and excrement.

He had a pot. He had found it during the early days and used to use it to make soups or stews when he still had the resources to do so. At times he used it to cook the roaches when he wasn’t so starved that he would just eat them raw. But during those dark times… he would use it to make meals out of his own waste. Often his meals consisted of the few roaches he could find mixed with his excrement and urine. He told himself at first that he was heating it so that he could try and make it any sort of less likely to make him ill… but he soon abandoned his line. He was doing it, in reality, to try and trick himself into thinking it was anything other than what it really was.

Five had tried to eat his own vomit. He was sick enough that he thought that it was a waste not to try it. When he knew he was going to be sick, he would bring out the pot and vomit into it, cooking it later when he had the resources to make a fire. He would add water to it from whatever water source was closest (something he did with all his “meals” when he had water nearby that was drinkable), and he tried to eat it. He quickly learned that he could not sustain himself on this. Acids, he would learn later. That was what did it. The high acid content would cause his mouth to decay, the teeth slowly eroding and the gums becoming so diseased that he was sure his teeth would drop out one by one… or that he would look to find those horrible writhing maggots worming their way between his teeth. So… whatever he vomited was lost, he reasoned. And with this in mind… he began forcing the sick back down his throat whenever he felt it coming up.

When the vegetation began to grow back, he started eating this and slowly, bit by bit, he began to regain some of his strength. The more vegetation there was, the more bugs there were, and he moved steadily from his lowest dietary point to one that consisted of bugs and plants. He never thought that he would cherish a diet of beetles, roaches, and crickets, but after surviving off his own waste for so long, he was just grateful to eat something that hadn’t come from inside himself.

But even as he pushed forward… even as he began to return to a steadier diet, and later, even something that resembled a healthy one… even as the meat returned to his bones, the strength to his muscles, life to his body… he’d find himself having nightmares of the dark days. He never quite got the scent of the “meals” he had to eat out of his mind. The image of those concoctions in that pot… and taste of it… it had never left. Every time he put food into his mouth after that… for just a second… he swore that that was what he tasted. No matter what it was… no matter how flavoury or distinct the taste of the meal was… he still tasted for just a second the flavor of his urine and excrement.

Five’s body was shaking like a leaf in a hurricane. His lips were quivering and his vision blurring, and despite himself, he wanted so badly to cry. He could feel himself swaying back and forth. He could feel a stabbing pain in his mouth as his teeth cut into his tongue. Could taste the metallic tang of his own blood. But despite all this, he felt miles away from his own body. Felt miles away from the room he was standing in. Miles away from everything. He just stared at the trays of food in front of him, unable to move. Unable to think. Unable to stop himself from shaking. Unable to do anything.

“Oh dear!” broke The Handler’s voice through the stillness. Five made no effort to turn to face her – he couldn’t even if he had wanted to. “You know what? I just remembered I have a pressing engagement today! I really am sorry, Five, but unfortunately, I am going to have to cut out little lunch short. And we didn’t even get to eat!” she continued on. He heard her stand up and then a few seconds later, felt it as she placed a hand on his shoulder. Still, he made no effort to move. “But don’t let my leaving early ruin your lunch, alright? Feel free to stay here and eat, or you can take some of it to go. Whatever strikes your fancy,” she purred into his ear. She then patted his head like he was a puppy and walked off. “Bon appetite~” she called before shutting the door and leaving Five alone in the office, surrounded by the antagonizing food trays.

The realization struck Five as he watched her leave that this had been her plan all along. She’d never intended to make him eat the food. He thought that was her plan… was dreading that that was her plan… but this was almost worse… because it showed that she knew the depth of the impact the food’s simple existence had on Five… and knew the power she held over him with that and that alone. She didn’t need to force him to eat it. Just by having it there… just by having him see it… she not only told him that she’d been keeping a very close, personal eye on him throughout his entire time in the apocalypse but also cemented quite clearly who was in charge in this situation.

The second Five heard the door shut, his legs gave way and he crashed to the floor. He hugged his knees close to himself and began rocking forwards and backward uncontrollably. He shut his eyes, trying to block out the smells and images of the food in the office, but then the images of those dark days in the apocalypse… the images he had tried for so, so long to block from his mind… they came back to him as they so often did during his sleeping hours, and his eyes flew open. He stared at the carpet instead. He could hear his own breathing, but like before, it sounded so far away. He felt so far away from himself. He tried to will himself back into control over his body, but it was no use. He tried to force himself to be rid of those pesky memories that were pushing their way back into his mind, but it was no use. The smell of the food in the room was so pungent and overwhelming that it was inescapable. Five abandoned the notion of trying to force the horrid memories away and instead tried to focus on thinking of something else. Something pleasant. Something that could take away the horrible things.

He tried to think of The Umbrella Academy… but then thought that there really weren’t many memories of that place that he could think fondly of.

He tried to think of his family… but then saw their mangled corpses and felt unspeakable grief consume him.

Then it came to him…

Dolores.

Dolores was someone who had good memories associated with her. Not only that, but she understood. She’d been there during those dark days, and she understood. How many times he had spoken with her about those times? How many times had he confided in her about them? Even during those times… she’d been his rock. She’d gotten him through it. When he screamed that he couldn’t do it anymore, she’d sat him down and told him he was strong enough to do it. That he not only had to do it to survive, but that he could do it.

“You have survived so much, Five. Been so strong in the face of things that others would have immediately caved at. You know you can pull through this. I know you can pull through this. We just have to be strong, as we’ve been throughout all this time,” she would tell him. Five could almost hear her voice now, speaking to him in the present. “You just have to be strong and fight through this. It is going to be alright. We just have to fight through for tomorrow. Just keep thinking about tomorrow, and we will get through this.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it. It won’t… it doesn’t go away…” he whispered.

“You are strong, Five. You can survive those memories. You’ve gotten through so much. Beaten the odds more times than you can count. Survived so much more than anyone could have expected one man to survive. You can get through this too,” she replied, and this time, when Five shut his eyes, he could see only her. She was sitting across from him on the other side of the room, donning the camo shirt and lace undershirt that she’d been wearing when he last saw her. A smile appeared on Five’s face, and he felt a tear slide down his cheek.

“You always know just what to say,” he told her, and he heard her chuckle.

“Well, I’ve known you for a very long time, so that does help,” she responded, and this time it was Five’s turn to chuckle.

“Just as spirited as always, Dolores,” he teased, and she rolled her eyes.

“Could you really see us being partners for so long if I couldn’t at least match you in wit and spirit?” she retorted, and he gave a shrug of agreeance. Then there was silence between them as neither was sure what to say or do. Finally, Five spoke.

“It won’t go away,” he repeated, and she gave him a sympathetic expression.

“I know. But you have to believe me when I tell you that you are strong, Five. I know it is hard. Especially in moments like this. I know it can feel like there is no coming out of this. Like you are right back in those dark days, and you can’t escape them. Like you are drowning in tar and no matter how hard you fight to get out, it only seems to drag you further down. But you are a fighter, Five. You always have been. You fought to make a name for yourself during your time with The Umbrella Academy. You fought against the expectations of your father and of the world. And when things went… well, really south, you fought your way through the apocalypse. You survived the end of the world, Five. Then, when you got a ticket out of there, you fought your way to the top of your new workplace. Despite starting out with no clue how things worked there, you fought to show them that you weren’t someone who just rolled over or played nice. No, you were a force to be reckoned with, and you fought like mad to show them that. And even though that… that witch tries to break you down, you fight against her. She takes shots at you, and she hits hard, but you stand your ground. You get through it. And you can get through this too. I know you can, Five. Because I know you. I do. Perhaps even better than you know yourself,” she softly spoke.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves there,” he replied, but there was a thankful smile on his face, and he knew Dolores would understand his unspoken gratitude.

“The point is… you will get through this. We will get through this. We’ve gotten through so much, Five. Faced bigger threats than her, and we won. Just like we will win here. As long as we are together, we can get through anything. It’s like we’ve always said. Together…” she began.

“Forever,” he finished like clockwork, and a few more tears fell. Tears of relief and hope and appreciation and emotions Five could not even begin to put a name to. The panic and horror that had been surging within him had begun to fade at her words. No… not only that. Her presence alone. She was just like that though, he knew. She needn’t say anything, and already he would feel as though things might just look up. All she had to do was look at him with that beautiful expression that he adored, and all which plagued his heart and mind would begin to dissipate. She really did always know what to say. What to do. How to make him feel as though it might be alright. He took a few deep breaths and then smiled over at her.

“I… you are right. We can get through this. I… I think we will be ok,” he told her in a hushed voice, and she nodded in agreement. “Together… yes… we can get through this together. Just like all those times in the apocalypse. You and me against the world. Together forever,” he rambled, “we can do it, can’t we? As long as we stick together, we can get through anything. I know we can, as long as we have each other,” he reiterated, and he saw her smile grow at this. She said nothing, and he knew it was because she knew she needn’t say anything more than what she’d already said. She was there for him, and he knew she knew he needed nothing more than that.

His heart rate was much lower now. The shaking of his hands had nearly stopped. He felt himself returning to himself. He focused on keeping his breathing slow and steady, and bit by bit, he regained control of his body. Was back in that moment. The tears had stopped flowing, but he knew that even if they hadn’t… it was ok. He could let them fall if it was with her because she would understand. Because she knew him. Because she wanted to know him.

It would be ok. She’d be his rock, and he’d be hers. They’d help each other through it as they had helped each other through so many other things. He didn’t have to do it alone. He’d thought… he’d thought he’d have to do it alone. But now she was here, and he had someone he could confide in. Someone he could turn to. It would be alright. Even in the darkness… when he had times when he struggled to find his way back to the light… she would be his guide, and she’d helped him find the way. She’d help him find his inner strength until the times when he saw it again, and it would be ok. As long as they had each other… they would find a way to be ok.

It would be ok.

“Dolores… thank you. For… everything. I’m so happy that you are here…” he had started to say, moving towards her so that he could hold her and she him. But then his hand bumped into something hard and relatively sharp, and he jumped. As he did so, his eyes flew open…

He had been huddled by The Handler’s desk, the corner of which was what his hand had made contact with. He saw the food trays and the carts. Saw the extravagant décor. And…

Saw that he was alone.

Dolores wasn’t there. She’d never been there. He’d had to leave her behind when he joined The Commission, he remembered now. She was gone…

She was gone and he was alone…

The reality of this hit Five like a freight truck and he sunk back down. He wasn’t shaking. He wasn’t trembling. He wasn’t rocking or swaying like before. He just sat there as loneliness filled him and as he felt the hope which had previously built within him being torn out of him. He caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection of one of the tray lids that he had flung to the floor and could have let out a sad laugh if he had had the strength to.

That look… the same one he had seen on those figures who had delivered those damned carts and trays… the same one he had seen on the faces of those whose lives he had ended… it was now reflected back at him.

He wasn’t scared.

He wasn’t angry.

He wasn’t upset.

What he was…

Was completely, utterly, and entirely in all-consuming despair.

He was lost…

He was empty…

He was tired…

He was hopeless…

He was alone…

And it would not be ok.

#fanfiction #fanfic #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #ao3 fanfic #the handler #Dolores and Number Five #Pre-Series/Season One #Hurt No Comfort #Adult Number Five #Number Five/The Boy-centric

[umbrella-academy-hcs]

"Why Don't You Hate Me?"

Summary: Five and Klaus have a short conversation sometime toward the end of season 3

Klaus wandered over to where he saw Five sitting on the edge of what remained of the world, bottle in hand.

"Heyyy! Mi hermano! Numero Cinco! How are you doing on this fine apocalyptic day?" Klaus said as he moved to sit beside Five.

"Don't save the world", that's what he said to me, "don't save the world"," Five muttered more to himself than to Klaus, who decided to change tactics.

"So what's todays poison of choice" he asked, gesturing to the bottle Five had by his side.

"Just something I nicked from the kitchen while I was in there," Five picked up the bottle and handed it to Klaus, who took a sip. It was shit.

"God,"

"Yep,"

A silence befell the two of them, gazing at the void that surrounded them, the void that would soon consume them if they did nothing. Klaus opened his mouth to speak but Five spoke first,

"Why don't you hate me?" The question threw Klaus off-guard, who turned toward Five. Five was staring at him intently, his face lined with desperation, his hands gripping the edge of the ground as if it was the only thing keeping him from falling.

"Hate you? Why would I hate you?"

"Everyone's lost something and I'm always the center of blame,"

As Klaus stayed silent Five continued, "Allison blames me for Ray and Claire, Viktor blames me for Sissy, Ben hates everyone, Luther is still upset about the years I put him through in the 60's, as is Diego. So, why don't you hate me? You went through the same shit as everyone else, you lost someone in Vietnam, you lost Ben for a second time. How can you not hate me?"

"None of that is your fault! You saved our life, Five! I mean, yeah, you left us in the 1960s which wasn't great but hey! I got to see the world, met a lot of people-"

"-Who you don't remember"

"Who I don't remember, yeah, but still! You couldn't have know about any of that. And I think Ben's warming up to me, I can put in a good word," Klaus nudged Five as he spoke about putting in a good word for him, hoping for some kind of smile, anything that suggested Five truly believed him. Instead, Five stared ahead into the void.

"Thank you, Klaus"

"No problemo, mi hermano, anything for a brother,"

"You really need to stop speaking spanish, you're shit at it," Five took a swig of his bottle, but a tinge of a smile played at his lips.

"But, really, it's not over Five,"

"How do you mean?"

"Dad! He's got a plan!"

"Alright, this is my cue to leave, nice speaking with you, Klaus," Five stood up and began walking back to the hotel.

"Five! Fiiive!" Klaus called after him, but he was already gone. He sighed dramatically, muttered something about having just sat down, and got up to follow Five back into the hotel.

#first time writing in a bit #this was better in my head but I can't remember exactly how I originally planned it so #oh well hope you enjoy #the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #tua #tua netflix #five hargreeves #number five #klaus hargreeves #tua five #five hargreeves the boy #tua klaus #tua one shot #one shot #five centric #klaus centric

[badkitty3000]

Addicted

Sometimes our bodies get a taste of something so good that it's nearly impossible to quit. No matter how bad it is for us. And right now that something is Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This is a short one shot I decided to write on a whim. I am new to posting on Tumblr, but you can check out my full works here on AO3. This one is also a bit different than my other works, as it's more abstract.

I am open to requests, so if you have any Five-centric one shots you'd like me to write, please feel free to ask under the Ask Me Anything button on my profile. I've also never asked for requests before, but I will do my best to fulfill them!

Addicted:

You can’t stop looking at the clock. An hour must have gone by, but when you check it again, it’s only been a few minutes. The night is going by at a crawling pace and as the seconds tick by, the more your anxiety is growing.

Don’t do it

You’re better than this

You’ve been doing so well

You don’t need him

Don’t do it

It doesn’t matter, though. You can tell yourself a thousand times to stop thinking about him, but it’s not going to stop. It doesn’t matter how many times you’ve cursed yourself for caving in and calling him. It’s an endless loop of want and regret.

You know how it’s going to go, that’s the pathetic part. You know you’re going to feel like shit the next day, and the day after that, and for another week after that. That’s how it always goes. And yet, you keep giving in. You keep punishing yourself.

Because, god damn it, he makes you feel good.

He’s your addiction. Your drug. And you’re constantly chasing that high.

Just thinking about it, about him, makes your skin hot and you can’t sit still. You’re jittery and pacing, and it’s all-consuming. The more you try to push it from your mind, the harder it comes crashing back. Second by second, minute by minute; he’s creeping into your brain, moving in, and taking up residence.

You’re sitting at home with nothing for company except some bourbon. Bourbon that reminds you of him. And you know you’re going to do it. It’s after one in the morning but you know he’s awake. Just one phone call and he’ll be there. No matter what you said to him the last time, he’ll pretend nothing is wrong and he’ll come anyway.

You know how it’s going to go, too. It’s the same every time. You’ll talk a little, have a drink or two, and wait until the tension eases. Then you’ll start to notice all of the little things that drive you crazy. The casual way he leans back, crossing one leg over the other. The way he looks at you, with that stupid self-satisfied smirk, and that fucking dimple in his cheek. And his hands. His hands doing anything, really. God, you love his hands.

Then you’ll look at him in some way; you’re not sure how, but he’ll know. He’ll lean in towards you, close enough that you can feel the warmth of his body and smell the faded scent of after shave that was put on much earlier in the day. He’ll lean in with that intense gaze of his, scanning your body and then your face; green eyes flashing and dark brows furrowing. He’ll reach out and touch you in some way. Maybe your hand, or your cheek; it doesn’t matter. One touch and you’re fucking toast.

The next few hours will go by in a blur. Skin slicked with sweat, lungs gasping for air, bodies tangled together. It will be everything you need and want, and fuck, it will feel so good. Until it doesn’t.

But right now, as you check the clock for what has to be the twentieth time in the last five minutes, you’ve convinced yourself that you don’t care. And you pick up your phone.

You could text, but he hates texting and it’s just easier to call. You want to hear his voice, anyway. Like some weird little mental appetizer before the main course. You take a sip from your glass, the condensation dripping onto your phone screen.

“You know it’s the middle of the night,” he says as a way of a greeting, and you can hear the smug smile forming on his face.

“Is it? Oh, sorry, I hadn’t noticed,” you reply, trying to match his usual snark.

There’s a slight pause. “I thought you said you were done with me.”

You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or if he’s genuinely confused. “Yeah, I did say that.”

“You said I was an insensitive asshole,” he reminds you.

“And I stand by that statement.”

There’s another pause and you can hear the phone shifting a bit. “So, were you just calling to remind me of that, or was there something else I can do for you?”

Of course, he’s teasing you now. He knows damn well why you’re calling. But he’s going to make you say it.

You clear your throat a bit. “Yeah well…I can’t sleep and I don’t know anyone else that stays up this late so…”

“So, you thought maybe I could help you sleep?”

Fuck, you really hate him right now! But, sure, why not? This little charade of yours isn’t going to last much longer anyway.

“Yes, actually, that’s exactly what I thought.”

There’s a second of silence and you know he’s thinking about whether or not to continue to draw this out and really make you sweat, or to put you out of your misery.

“I did just get back from a job. I haven’t showered yet.”

Dammit, you’re already feeling the dampness between your legs at that little visual. Which is exactly why he said it.  

“I don’t mind. You can shower here.”

There’s a low, quiet laugh on the other end and you roll your eyes at your desperateness.

“Alright. Be there soon.”

After you hang up, the only thing you can do is wait. And torture yourself even more by running through some very graphic scenarios in your mind. You pour another drink for yourself, and one for him, too. Then you wait some more.

You know it won’t take him long to get there. You also know he won’t bother to knock or use the door. He’ll just appear, like some magical fuck genie, ready to grant you three earth shattering orgasms in the position of your choice.

You’re sitting there on your couch, with the only light coming from a small lamp on one of the side tables, when he warps in; a nanosecond of blue before it’s gone and it’s just him standing there. You sit up straighter when you see him, glass in hand. He gives you that knowing smirk and you give him one right back.

In the dim light, you can make out the lines of his body; the sharp angles of his face. You can see he really did just get back from a job, because he hasn’t bothered to change out of his suit. The jacket is unbuttoned and his tie is loosened. But otherwise, he’s the perfect picture of a suave executive or maybe a cologne model. Or an assassin.

When you stand up, you bring him the glass of bourbon you had poured, and he takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours in the transfer. After he takes a sip, he looks at you with that same infuriating expression that makes you want to punch him right in his gorgeous face.

“Did you miss me?” he asks with a grin.

You smile and shake your head. “Not in the slightest. Did you miss me?”

“Nope. Not one bit.”

You’ve already decided you’re not going to draw this out. Why prolong the misery? The more time you take in trying to pretend this is something else, the more time it’s going to take for you to move on the next day. So, you’re going to cut straight to the chase this time. You take another step forward until you’re close enough to see the dark green of his eyes and the soft shadow of stubble on his face. Leaning in, you brush your body against his, tipping your face up, while at the same time hooking a finger into one of his belt loops, giving it a sharp tug. He makes a quiet grunting noise, his eyes meeting yours.

One corner of your mouth turns up. “Is that a gun in your pants or are you just extremely happy to see me again?”

He raises one eyebrow, not moving. “Why don’t you find out.”

Without taking your eyes off of his, you move a hand to the front of his black fitted slacks and run a finger into the inside of the waistband. When you feel it, your smile grows bigger. As you pull out the pistol, you hold it in the palm of your hand, liking the weight of it and the sleek, simple design.

“I guess I was hoping for something else, but this is pretty fucking sexy, too.”

He only smiles and takes the gun from you, setting it on the coffee table, along with his drink.

“What? Don’t trust me?” you ask slyly.

When he grabs you around the waist and pulls you closer, the movement is swift and forceful.

“Absolutely not,” he answers before leaning down slowly, a few strands of hair falling forward and over his eye in the process.

His kisses start out soft, testing the waters, then gradually intensify. First a gentle brush against your mouth, then a playful bite on your lower lip. Soon he is slipping his tongue inside, breathing hard through his nose, and moving a hand to the back of your head.

If there had been even a tiny speck of resolve left in you before, it’s gone now. As soon as his lips are against yours, you give in. You will let him do anything to you without protest, you’re certain of that. And not just physically. You’re going to let him burrow into your brain again, pump your body full of dopamine and oxytocin, and start your addiction anew. You’re going to relapse hard and the withdrawal is going to suck.

But right before that…it’s going to feel so fucking good.

As he strips you of your clothes and your will power, you stand back and let him look at you. You know he likes this. He likes looking at your naked body, fully exposed for him and vulnerable. So, you’ll give it to him.

“Fuck…maybe I did miss you,” he says quietly as he takes you all in.

He starts to take off his jacket and pull his tie off, all while still looking you over. You can see what you couldn’t before; a splatter of blood on his white shirt. It’s not a lot, but it’s noticeable, and you know that it doesn’t belong to him. A normal person would be turned off by this. Sickened at the thought. But not you.

He sees you noticing, and he glances down at his shirt, and then back up at you. This isn’t the first time he’s shown up like this, wearing the evidence. And so, he knows. He knows your twisted little fantasies.

With his mouth twitching with arrogance, he steps closer to you again. His hands trail down your sides, and they are warm and familiar. He looks down at you while you bring your hands up to the spot on his shirt. It’s dried and has probably been there for a couple of hours now, having already turned a dark maroon color. With your bottom lip caught between your teeth, you start to unbutton his shirt.

“Blew his fucking head right off,” he says darkly, in the most fucked-up pre-game dirty talk in the history of the universe.

You let out a small whine, still working at his shirt. Your hands push greedily inside of it, pressing your palms onto the hard curves of his pecs, then running them over his tight shoulders.

“With that same gun?” you ask without looking up.

“Yes.”

“Mmm…” you muse, resuming your undoing of buttons. “Did he beg for his life first?”

“Crying on his knees,” he tells you, and you’re not even sure if he’s telling the truth. He just knows what you want to hear.

His shirt is fully open now and you look up at him while your hands find his flat abdomen and his waistband again. You feel him grip harder into your sides and his breath is coming faster. You know what you’re feeling now isn’t the gun, and you press your palm over the front of his pants, watching his eyes close shut for a moment in response.

It didn’t take much for you to go from want to need to desperation, and you’re already dripping wet for him. You unbuckle his belt and open his pants much faster than you did his shirt. He’s fully hard and when your hand grazes over his cock he groans, digging his fingers even harder into your waist.

“How many shots?”

You’re already pulling him by his shirt collar with both hands, walking backwards and taking him with you as you ask. When you fall onto the couch, he answers while he positions himself over you.

“Two. Right to the fucking head.”

You free his cock from his pants in one quick movement, and then he’s pushing himself inside you as you cry out, clutching at his arms and throwing your head back.

You’ll never get tired of this euphoria. Of the sudden rush of endorphins when his dick slides in and he’s pumping into you. No one else does this to you. No one else makes you feel like you’re going insane. Like you’re shifting into another reality. He gives your outer thigh a swift smack and you raise your legs up higher, spreading them wide, just like he wants.

He’s holding himself up with his hands on the armrest behind your head, the muscles in his arms flexed and hard as he pounds into you. He’s not saying anything, not yet anyway, but the loud panting of his breath and rhythmic clinking of his belt buckle fills your ears. Your own moans grow louder by the second and you can see that smug look cross his face, because he knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

But, fuck, if that look doesn’t make him even hotter. Bastard.

You spy that dark red stain on his shirt again, and you picture the scene he described to you. When you turn your head, you can see the black pistol lying on the table, just a few feet from you. The same one that was used to splatter a man’s head all over the walls and the floor, and onto its owner.

You’re gasping his name and frantically grabbing at his body when he gives one more punishing thrust, making you come hard and loudly underneath him. The waves spread over your body and they don’t seem to stop; one after another as you buck into him. He’s soon to follow, stiffening against you with a low groan, emptying himself and filling you up until his body starts to relax. He tucks his face into the crook of your neck for just a moment and you feel his lips graze your skin before he moves off of you.

As you both lie sprawled on opposite ends of the couch, trying to slow your breathing, he eventually looks over. He smiles in that way that is somehow already resetting and rewetting your aching groin. You return it with your own hazy smile; too high and fucked-out to pretend not to care.

He pushes his hair off his face with his hand, shoving his dick back in his pants, and leans toward you, kissing you with a gentle hand on your cheek. You hate when he’s soft like this. It fucks with your mind even more than he already does. But your lips respond without hesitation and you melt into his hand.

“I really did miss you,” he tells you, pressing his forehead against yours.

You want to cry and push him away. It’s not fair! He’s enabling you and playing into your weakness. And even if you’re the one that had broken down and called, it’s still not fair. He knows it’s a sickness.

“I missed you, too,” you whisper, because you can’t self-sabotage yourself enough.

After another kiss, he pulls back and takes his unfinished drink off the table, settling into the couch while you get up to throw your panties back on. You tip back your own glass and empty the contents in one swallow, taking in the absurdly sexy image in front of you. He’s leaning casually back into the cushions, his pants still unbuttoned and unzipped; white dress shirt fully open and untucked; messy dark hair falling across his forehead.

It would be so satisfying to kick him out right now. But Jesus fucking Christ, just look at him!

Instead, you give in like you always do and join him, resting your head on his chest with one hand on his bare stomach, your legs curled up next to you. He strokes your hair and kisses the top of your head while you sigh, letting your body relax into his.

He won’t be leaving yet, that’s not his game. He likes the companionship and your adoration. He’ll stay through most of the night, while you both talk and have a few more drinks. He’ll fuck you again in the shower, while you cling to his body and he pounds you into the cold, slippery tiles. He’ll fuck you in your bed, slowly and lazily, covering your body in soft kisses that will make you weak and forgetful.

He’ll make you come a few more times, leaving you gasping for air with his cum dripping out of you and your thighs burning. Your sheets will smell like him for days because you won’t be able to bring yourself to change them.

In the dark, he'll tell you more things you want to hear. I missed you. You’re so beautiful. I want you. I need you. He’s not cruel and he’s not a liar. He means the things he says. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stay. He never will, and you know it. The full reason for it, you’re not sure. Insecurities, trauma, secrets…so many secrets. No matter how many times you’ve poured your heart out, bathed him in reassurances, and cursed him until you were red in the face and crying. He will never stay.

You know what tomorrow and the next week or more will bring. The withdrawal symptoms will kick in and it will be hell. This won’t be cold sweats, shakes, and waves of nausea. It will be tears, self-hatred, and all-encompassing shame.

But he’s here now. And you drink in the scent of him. Sweat, sex, bourbon. All mixed together and highlighted with a slight twinge of copper. It’s better than any upper or downer or anything else that can be cooked up in a lab. It’s fucking maddening and you can’t get enough.

“Thanks for coming over,” you say as you rub your cheek over his chest.

“Thanks for calling.”

“This is the last time, though, I mean it. I can’t keep doing this,” you lie.

“I know. This is the last time,” he lies in return.

He places another soft kiss to your temple, reaffirming what you already know. That he will be your ultimate down fall. Your rock bottom.

But damn, it’s going to feel so fucking good on the way down.

Link to my Master List

#five hargreeves x you #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves smut #umbrella academy fanfiction #five hargreeves #number five #number five fanfic #umbrella academy #tua #five hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy #five x reader #reader insert #number five x reader #female reader #five hargreeves fanfiction #smut