#number five imagines | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

badkitty3000 · 2 months

Text

Weak

Even Five Hargreeves is no stranger to temptation. He tries so hard to stay away. He wants to do the right thing for once in his life. If not for himself, then for her. But every man has his breaking point.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

This one shot is an accompaniment to my other work "Addicted". This can be read on its own, but is a different side of the story, as told from Five's point of view.

As always, I am open to requests. Thank you!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Weak:

I never meant to take it this far. I never meant to be cruel. That’s not who I am, or at least I didn’t think I was. I also thought I was strong and had will power. But I guess I was wrong about that, too. Because as much as I try to stay away, I don’t.

I know who I am and what I’m made of. The terrible things I’ve done. That’s not a secret and I’ve never lied to myself about that. My morals can’t even be called a gray area anymore; they’re more like an indistinct blur. But in this one tiny part of my soul, I was trying to be better. For her, at least.

I have failed miserably.

She knows what I am. When things got too comfortable and too familiar, I told her as a way to push her away and to scare her. It didn’t work, though. In fact, it had the opposite effect. She fucking loved it…and I didn’t know how to say no to that.

How could I say no when she was tearing at my clothes, practically panting with desire, and shoving her hand down my pants? All over a bloody stain on a shirt collar and the feel of my Glock against her skin. I’m sure there’s a way to resist that, but fuck if I know what it is. I’m not smart enough or strong enough to figure that one out.

I don’t particularly like all of the killing. But I’m pretty fucking good at it and someone has to do it, I suppose. I certainly never considered it sexy in any way. Then, after that first time, when she begged me to tell her all of the gruesome details, and I watched her skin start to flush and her pupils dilate…well, fuck, that put a new spin on everything.

I still don’t like it, that part hasn’t changed. I get no pleasure from pulling that trigger and watching their skull break open like a fucking pinata, spraying the contents of their brains all over the floor like the world’s worst party game. Now, however, there is a sick little spark that will ignite in me after it’s done. Because I know how it will turn her on.

And, fuck, I am weak.

That’s what this all boils down to. Weakness. For most people that meet me or know me in any way, weak is probably the last word they would use to describe me. Cold; bitter; sarcastic; asshole. Those adjectives are much more likely to be used. But weak? Doubtful.

I know the truth, though. Deep down, that is what I am. Because when you continue to break someone’s heart time and time again, just because you can’t control your own basic urges…that’s weakness. Pure and simple.

She has told me how much I’ve hurt her, and how much I am ruining her life. She has screamed and cried and told me all of the things I know I deserve to hear. She has called me an asshole more times than I can remember, and I have never disputed it. So, I stay away, like I know I should. Until she inevitably calls again. And I slip right back into it without another thought. Like the absolute fucking bastard that I am.

Weak.

Because even though I know it’s wrong and I’m slowly poisoning her with my selfishness, each time I think maybe it will be different. Maybe this time will be the time when I stay. When I will finally be the person I should be and really want to be.

All the way up until the early morning, I will convince myself that this is it. I’ve finally seen the light and I can be the man she deserves; it will be so easy. Because when it’s just the two of us, in our own little cocoon, hidden away from the outside world, the idea is magical. I would give anything to stay there, tucked away, fucking like animals until we’re both too exhausted to talk anymore. I want to stay there and listen to her voice, and her laugh, and feel her hands on my touch-starved body. And I think, yes, this is it. This is what I want.

Then morning comes and the spell is broken.

Once that first peek of dawn starts to light up the sky, all of my anxieties come rushing back, and I remember why I can’t stay. Morning brings back the real world, and with it all of its problems.

I will freeze up, practically paralyzed with fear, as she sleeps next to me, an arm draped over my chest. I will remember what kind of person I really am, and how that just doesn’t translate to boyfriend material. And it’s not just the little fact that I am a hired assassin, although that does put a slight snag in any future meetings with parents and the like.

It’s the mixing bowl of fucked up thoughts and feelings and history that lives inside my brain. Guilt. Regret. Sadness. Rage. Take your pick, none of them are great. And I can mask them for a night or two, while I’m pretending to be someone I’m not. But they will come back again, and that’s just not something anyone needs. Especially someone you care about.

So, I do the worst, shittiest thing in the world, and leave while she’s asleep. No kiss goodbye. No note. Not even a quick morning fuck. I grab my shit and leave in a flash of blue light, like the weak coward I am. Can’t even bother to use the god damn door.

I will stay away after that. At least for a while. I will ignore the incoming texts and voice mails that sometimes will follow, and sometimes don’t. I’ll pretend I don’t care about the lectures and pleas and rightly-deserved insults. But I do care. And that’s why I won’t answer.

A month might go past, maybe more. Just enough time for me to start thinking she really is done with me. Then the call will come through, late at night, and I won’t ignore it. Because, as we’ve determined…I am weak.

She is the only one, although I’ve never told her that and I bet she thinks she’s not. I’m not interested in anyone else. I don’t need anyone else. And when she stops calling for good, which one day I know will happen, that will be it. It’s either her or nobody. And it’s barely even her.

Our paths almost never cross outside of our little midnight meetings. After that first night when all of this started, I’ve never seen her anywhere else besides her apartment. I assume it’s because the types of bars and clubs I frequent are not anywhere a normal, sane person would want to spend their free evenings. But tonight, as fate would have it, I do see her. After I grab my drink off the cracked and peeling bar top and turn to look at the room behind me, I see her. And she’s not alone.

With my glass half way to my mouth, our eyes meet, and for a second neither of us move. It’s not a big place, so we aren’t that far away from one another. But it’s loud and crowded, and the guy is leaning in close to her ear, talking loudly to be heard over the constant bass thumping through the shitty speakers on the walls. Who the fuck is this guy?

It’s not fair, I know that. Believe me, I know that. And I try to give myself a stern talking-to inside my head. She is not yours. Not even remotely. You are an asshole and she deserves better. Leave her the fuck alone.

I take a drink. And then I see his hand disappear under the table, and I can see everything from where I’m standing. He’s squeezing her thigh, leaving his hand there to rest on her leg, rubbing his thumb across the bare skin that isn’t covered by her short skirt. A skirt I know I’ve had my face under before.

Fuck. I hate this guy.

In the thirty seconds that it takes for all of this to happen, she is watching me. Reading me. A faint smile plays on her lips and I know I’m caught. My thoughts must be written all over my face like a fucking billboard, and it’s too late to pretend I haven’t seen or that I don’t care. She’s got me.

If I were stronger, or a better person, I would leave. Pay my tab, collect my coat, and get the fuck out of there without another glance in her direction. Leave her be. Let her live her fucking life. But I am not. And I’m pissed.

My first instinct is to reach behind me, grab the Glock that’s hidden in the waistband of my pants and covered up by my suit jacket, and take care of this asshole right then and there. That would probably be the nicer thing to do, honestly. Then she’d finally see what a fucking psycho I am and that would end things once and for all. But I’m also not that stupid. Or that nice.

Instead, I stay and watch. I let her see me watching, too. I lean with my back against the bar, casually sipping my drink, and my eyes never leave her. I want her to know, even if it makes me more of a giant dick than I already am. I want her to know I am not pleased.

I have no idea who this guy is, and I don’t care. Maybe it’s their first date; maybe it’s their tenth. It doesn’t matter, I want him dead. And now that she knows that, because it’s pretty fucking obvious by the way I’m coiled like a cobra ready to strike right now, it’s quickly become a game. If she had feelings for him before, that seems to have been forgotten now. Because everything she is doing is for me.

Her eyes leave mine and she returns to what I can only imagine is a very dull conversation with the Neanderthal sitting next to her. She smiles and laughs, and moves her leg closer to his so that they are touching. She reaches up and fixes his hair, tucking a stray piece of it over his ear. She rests her chin on her hand and stares at him like he’s the most interesting person she’s ever encountered. And he’s eating this shit up; kicking his game up a notch with even more inane talk and rubbing her thigh up and down with his whole hand. He thinks she’s into him. Fucking dumbass.

That’s the only thing keeping me slightly calm at the moment. Knowing it’s all a play. She is a really good actress, I’ll give her that, but I’ve paid more attention to her than she realizes. I know her tells. I know the difference between her fake laugh and her real one. I can tell when she’s actively engaged in the conversation or she is just waiting for you to shut up. I know how she touches her face when she’s nervous and I know what she looks like when she wants to fuck you.

And, buddy…I got bad news for you.

The corner of my mouth lifts in an arrogant smirk as I take another drink. I shouldn’t be proud of this; I should be appalled. How dare I think I have any right to any of her little traits and quirks? I haven’t earned that. That kind of thing is reserved for boyfriends and husbands and people that can stand to stick around for more than a few hours.

When she runs her tongue over her lips in an obvious gesture meant only for me, I actually laugh out loud. Fuck, she knows what she’s doing. And it’s one hundred percent working.

As I order my second drink, feeling the calming buzz of the booze fill my brain, I start to care less and less. I don’t care if this is not fair. I don’t care that I’m being a complete and utter shit head. I don’t care if I’m weak. I’ll deal with all of that later.

I take out my phone and type out a quick text.

Enjoying yourself?

I watch as she glances to her phone on the table as it lights up. She picks it up, angling it away from Caveman Cliff, and reads it. It’s subtle, but I saw it. A brief twitch of her mouth and a quick flit of her eyes in my direction. I see her type out a quick reply and then she is back to him, completely enrapt in his droning.

Immensely, thank you

Not able to resist, I counter with:

Even I can tell from way over here that your panties are as dry as the desert

She holds in a smile as she responds back.

Too bad you’re not going to find out

Honey, if that pussy of yours is even slightly wet, it’s only because you’re thinking of me bending you over that table you’re sitting at right now

I see her legs shift and she crosses one over the other, squeezing them together as a faint blush covers her cheeks.

And why would I be thinking that?

Because that dipshit you’re with isn’t going to give you what I know you want

I watch as she swallows and then glances at the idiot to her left that is oblivious to all of this, the poor bastard. Her response is short.

Fuck you

She puts her phone away to end this exchange, but I see the small smile she is trying to hide and the way she touches her hand to her face. I can see her chest expand as she sucks in a deep breath, biting at the inside of her cheek.

I give a short snort of satisfaction and put my phone back in my inside jacket pocket. I got what I wanted. I throw back the rest of my drink, leave a few dollars for a tip, and head for the door without another look in her direction. But I know she saw me leave.

As I wait there in the dark, I think about how awful I’m being; what a shit bag move this is. I’m using her, that’s what it boils down to. Using her for her warmth and her openness, and to temporarily calm my mind. Also, for her body and her touch. She sees something in me that isn’t there; or at least something I can’t see. But I can’t or won’t give her what she needs, and I’m also not letting her move on.

Fuck, I’m an asshole.

I hear their voices coming down the hall, the rattle of keys in her hand. As they near the door, I can hear her made up excuses. She’s tired; she had too much to drink; she has a headache. Maybe next time. She’ll call him tomorrow. Then she slips inside her darkened apartment and the door closes behind her.

I’m on her before she has a chance to turn the light on, pressing her against the door as she drops her keys on the floor. Since I’ve been waiting, the anticipation has already made me fully hard and I push my groin into her while I circle my hand lightly around her neck.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? No love connection tonight?” I growl next to her ear.

She never even screams or fights back. She knew I would be there. But her hands grab my forearm and I hear her suck in a loud breath.

“I never knew you were the jealous type,” she smarts back.

“Only when I see someone try to take what’s mine,” I hiss hotly against her neck, drawing my lips and then my tongue across her skin.

“I’m not your fucking property,” she snarls, but I can hear the break in her voice and she swallows hard against my hand.

I laugh cynically. “Well, then I can go and you can let him fuck you instead. Is that what you want?”

There’s a long pause and it’s just our loud breathing in the dark of the room. Then I feel her head move slowly from side to side.

“No,” she whispers.

As I crash my mouth onto hers, my hands in her hair and on her face, and down to her tits, she is reaching for the front of my pants. I had already removed my jacket and belt when I got there, as well as the pistol that I always carry with me. Our little act back at the bar was already enough foreplay and our bodies are screaming for each other.

Our hands can’t work fast enough as she is shoving my pants down my legs and tearing my shirt open while I rip her top off and yank her skirt up. My fingers are already pushing her panties to the side and entering her, sliding right in with no resistance.

I smile proudly against her neck. “I knew you were wet for me.”

As she moans and throws her head back, she is reaching down to stroke my cock, her warm hand tight and firm as she drags it slowly over my shaft.

My hips are already jerking into her and I want to be inside of her so badly I can’t think straight.

“Get these panties off so I can fuck you,” I snarl.

I pull my fingers out, pushing her underwear down roughly and she quickly steps out of them. With one pull of her hips into me, her arms clutching tightly to my shoulders, I lift her up and start fucking her against the door.

I tip my head back and groan loudly as she whines and pulls her legs tighter around my waist.

“Can he make you feel this good?” I ask between clenched teeth as I ram into her harder and the door rattles in its frame.

“No!” she cries out.

“Do you think about him when you’re alone and fingering yourself?”

Her moans are punctuated by the slamming of my body against hers and her fingers press deeper into my skin.

“No,” she breathes out. “No.”

“You think about me, don’t you?” I say with a sneer. When she doesn’t answer fast enough, I ask again, louder. “Don’t you?”

“Yes,” she whimpers pitifully, her nails digging sharply into my shoulder blades.

I can’t believe what I’m saying and what I’m doing. But she’s loving it and so I continue.

“I’m going to fuck you until you forget all about him, and then I’m going to fuck you some more. And if I ever see you with him again, I will kill him.”

“You wanted to kill him, didn’t you?” she asks, and that knowing smile starts to form as she closes her eyes and bites her lip. “When you saw him with me?”

“Fuck yes I did,” I groan loudly into her neck.

She’s almost there, I can tell. So am I, but I’m going to make her finish first. I pick up the pace, thrusting into her as hard as I can, her back and head slamming against the door, my fingers digging deeper into the flesh of her thighs and ass. I’m practically ripping into the side of her neck, latching on with my mouth and teeth, desperate to mark her as my own.

I listen as she repeats my name over and over in gasps and moans and I can’t hold back anymore.

“That’s it, sweetheart. You are all mine.”

She is falling apart in my arms, violently shaking against me as I penetrate her one last time, letting out a loud, guttural moan. I’m as deep inside of her as I can be, and I fill her up with so much cum, I know it will start sliding out; dripping down her legs and onto the floor. Somewhere deep inside, in the primordial part of my brain, I take satisfaction in knowing that it’s my seed, and only mine, that is coating her insides.

Once the last spasm has left my body, I let her down and she falls back against the door, breathing hard. Her bra is still on, but the straps have fallen down, and her skirt is bunched up around her waist. I look at the painful looking purple bruise I left on her neck, which is large enough and obvious enough that she won’t be able to cover it. Her eye makeup is smeared and her lips are swollen and red. She looks completely ravished. And then she starts to cry.

It’s because of me, I know it is. Because of the things I said and the things I did, and the way I needed her so desperately. She had been trying to break away from me and I reeled her back in. And I did it knowingly and deliberately, just to feed my ego and maybe not feel so alone. I could have found anyone for that. But, like the prick I am, I only wanted her.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my lungs still working hard to get air in and out.

She just nods silently, wiping her face with her hand, and pulls down her skirt. She picks her shirt and underwear off the floor and heads to the bathroom without a word. I’m left standing there with a softening dick and my pants around my ankles.

Fuck.

I could leave now, while she’s in there, and maybe I should. That feels wrong, though. But then again, so does staying. I feel like shit and I’m so full of shame that I want to punch my fist through the wall. Instead, I zip my pants back up and walk over to her couch to wait. I turn on the table lamp and even though it’s dim, it feels blaringly bright and I have to squint my eyes.

When she comes out, she has changed into some soft shorts and a t-shirt. Her face is cleaned up and I assume her thighs and the area between them are too. She is no longer crying, but I can still see the tell-tale signs of red-rimmed eyes and flushed cheeks. I’m surprised when she comes and sits down next to me, laying her head on my shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” I say again, because I can’t think of anything better to say.

“I know. Me too,” she says and she leans her body against mine.

She has nothing to be sorry for and I’m not sure what to do, so I put my arm around her and hug her to me. I kiss her forehead and she closes her eyes. I don’t know why she’s letting me do this, but it feels good and I like it. Just like every other time, I tell myself that maybe this time will be different. I can do this; I can be that person. I don’t want to be that other jealous, callous, hurtful person. I don’t want to be the asshole.

“Just don’t go yet, ok?” she says quietly with her cheek resting against my chest.

I smooth her hair and run my hand down her back. I don’t want to go. She feels good and warm and soft against my tension-filled body. She feels right. I want to tell her all of that, too. I want to say I’m sorry a million times over and beg for her forgiveness. I want to wake up with her next to me every day.

“You’re so beautiful, you know that?” I murmur into her hair as I brush my chin across the top of her head.

“Don’t do that,” she pleads, her voice soft. “Please.”

I decide I’m going to tell her how I really feel. Before the night is over, I’ll come clean. And then I’ll stay. If she’ll still have me.

“You are, though. I mean it.”

She doesn’t respond, but sighs and nestles in, holding me around my waist. Fuck, I have craved this. More than the dirty talk and the biting and the ferocious fucking. I want this. I want her. And I’m going to tell her.

The rest of the night goes by in a blur. It’s there, on the tip of my tongue the whole time. All I have to do is say it. But I don’t.

We fuck again, rough and hard, on the couch and on the floor. I leave more marks on her chest, branding her as my own. I tell her she’s mine, and I make her scream my name again, but I don’t say what I really mean.

We fuck in her bed, while we’re both tired and slightly drunk. I pump lazily into her while she lies underneath me and moans softly. I kiss her lips and tell her how gorgeous she is, and it’s not a lie because she is. I worship her body, running my tongue over every part of it, tasting her skin and her delicious arousal. I can taste my own cum as I lick into her soft folds and inside her pussy that’s been stretched and abused by my cock several times over.

There are so many opportunities and I don’t take any of them. I let her fold her body into mine as I hold her in the dark and I can say it right now. It would be easy and it would be the truth.

I want to be with you.

I want to be yours.

I want you to be mine and mine alone.

I want to stay.

But I am weak, and so I don’t.

She sleeps against me and I listen to her rhythmic breathing while I lie there wide awake. I think about all of the things I should have said. Everything I should have done and should not have done. I hate myself for all of it.

When the sun creeps in, and the faintest light is leaking through the curtains and cutting through the safety of the darkness, it all comes crashing back. I remember why I can’t stay and why those words just wouldn’t come out. The reality of the real world is glaringly obvious in the light of day and I remember all of it.

The real world is filled with everyday things like jobs and homes and bills to pay. Coworkers and families that want to meet you. Graduation and birthday parties. Movie and dinner dates, holidays and vacations. Marriage. Children. Normalcy.

There’s just no way any of that would work. I can’t fit into that life, even though I want to. I think of all of the things holding me back and they keep piling up until they are crushing me and I feel like I can’t breathe.

I am an assassin. A killer. A murderer. I have seen the end of the world and survived the most horrific things. I have PTSD and crippling anxiety. There are nightmares and paranoia and episodes of manic rage. I am old and I am tired. There is nothing left of me and nothing left to give. I am not meant for normalcy.

As I slowly remove her arm from across my chest, she stirs but she doesn’t wake. I take a moment to look at her. Her mind isn’t betraying her with vivid dreams of the world collapsing around her in a fiery blaze or sprays of bullets piercing her body. She is at peace and I am envious of that.

I am not good for her, I know that. I need to go and stay gone. She deserves stability and happiness and a million other things I cannot give her. So, I will be the asshole that leaves in the morning before she wakes, just like I always do. She will hate me and curse me and cry for me. And I will stay away this time. I have to.

I chance it by leaning in and brushing my lips across her forehead. Her face wrinkles up and then relaxes again, but she doesn’t wake. I slip out of the bed and out of the room, following the trail of discarded clothes and put them back on one by one. Then I am gone in the same flash of light that allowed me to enter there in the first place. A convenient exit that I have misused way too many times.

Outside, the sun is bright and the world is waking up. I can feel my resolve growing stronger as the new day builds. That was it, I am done. It was awful and I shouldn’t have done it, but it’s over now and I will not be repeating it. I am a pillar of inner strength. That was the last time and she is finally free of me. I am doing the right thing.

My strength is impressive, both inside and out. But it is not impenetrable, especially when darkness falls and the world around me grows quiet. When I am alone with nothing but my thoughts, and I just need to feel something good again.

Everyone has a weakness.

208 notes · View notes

thebearmage · 1 year

Text

One Mistake (is all it takes)

Five Hargreeves x GN!Reader

Summary: When Five's harsh words and temper causes Y/N to run head-first into danger, the man learns the hard way that words can sometimes be more deadly than actions.

Warnings: Angst, HEAVY angst, blood, violence, Five being sad

MASTERLIST

It had been a hard day.

You and Five were working hard, trying to think of any and everything that could stop the apocalypse.

Five was standing on his, scribbling numbers onto the walls messily. You sat at his desk chair, reading over a few papers.

You are smarter than most, which is something Five admired, so, even though he's only explained the math a few times, you mostly understood what he was trying to do.

"What about this equation?" you say, gesturing to a line on the page you were holding, "It doesn't look right,"

"No, that one's fine," Five says, scratching his neck.

You sigh, "Sorry, I'm still wrapping my mind around all this. I honestly think we're going about this in the wrong way,"

Five stops and slowly turns to you with an incredulous look, "Wrong way?" he hisses, "We're trying to save the world, Y/N! What don't you understand?"

"I understand your reasoning, Five, I really do. But I fail to see how killing this random ass person might stop the apocalypse!"

Five blinks, before scoffing, "I really thought you understood this! That you were smarter than this!"

You sigh, trying to ignore Five's heated tone, "I do understand, I'm just trying to help,"

"Well, you're doing a lousy job!" Five snaps, "I only ask one thing of you, Y/N! Did I ask you to battle a monster? No! Climb a mountain? No! I only ask one simple thing and you can't even do that!"

Your eyes widen and fill with tears. Five doesn't seem to notice, he turns away and throws his hands into the air, "Of course, what did I expect! Messing up is all you can do! I mean, honestly, how can you possibly be this useless!?"

You gasp softly, tears finally running down your face. Five doesn't turn to look at you, shaking his head and mumbling angrily.

You put the papers down and leave, not bothering to look behind you. You rush down the steps of the Academy, ignoring the way Allison calls out for you, or how Luther asks what's wrong. You flee the building, out into the cold pouring rain and you start to run home.

You fail to notice the two assassins following you.

Cha-Cha and Hazel had failed to kill Five, so they were given a new objective; Kill Y/N L/N. You were special, even if you didn't know it yet. You were a key factor in stopping doomsday.

Five spent the rest of the day rattling his brain for any ideas. Luther had convinced blackmailed him into not killing anyone, so he had to come up with a new plan.

He had seen you storm off. He knew his words were harsh and maybe unnecessary but his frustration was getting the better of him. He also knew he needed your help. None of his siblings seemed to understand, but you did. You always did.

Sighing, he blinks to your apartment building. Putting a hand into his pocket, he knocks on the door.

"Hey! Anyone there? It's Five! I need to speak with Y/N!"

Nothing. Five blinks, eyebrows furrowed. He clicks a few buttons to be buzzed in, "Hello!?"

Nothing again. Five runs a hand through his hair and curses under his breath, "Fuck it,"

He smashes the window and unlocks the door from the inside, "Hel--"

His greeting dies in his throat. All over the lobby was blood. On the floors and walls, everywhere. All he could see was blood.

Five gasps, horrified. There were clear signs of a struggle; dents in the wall, broken decorations, pictures scattered on the floor. There was even a body in the hallway.

"H-Hello?" Five slowly takes a step inside, body slightly shaking. He's felt fear before. He's lost people before. But this...this terror...this was pure raw panic, overwhelming his body and mind. He wanted...no needed you to be okay. His voice shakes, "Y-Y/N!? I'm here! Are you there!?"

Suddenly, there's a shadow behind Five and he whips around. It's Cha-Cha, with a knife.

"No!" Five thinks, panic turning into fury as he ready for the fight, "Not until I find them!!!!"

———————❖———————

Cha-Cha lies dead on the ground. Her own knife plunged deep into her chest. Five pants heavily, eyes wild as he slowly gets up off the body.

He turns and runs deeper into the building. There was no sign of Hazel or the team's briefcase.

"Coward must've taken it and run off," Five spits, before turning back to the task at hand.

Five climbs the steps to your floor, counting the bodies as he goes.

...9

...12

...17

Second floor, more bodies.

...23

...25

...32

He finally reaches your floor, feet pounding down the hallway to your door.

"32 people dead. They didn't want any witnesses, they wanted them all gone!"

He finally reaches your door, dread pooling into his already queasy gut when he sees it open...kicked open.

"Y/N? Answer me!" He calls, running to the doorway. He freezes when he sees your apartment. It's worse than the lobby.

"Y/N!! I chased them away!" Five calls desperately, "So please answer me!"

He rushes into the room, looking around wildly. When he finally rounded a corner to the hallway, his heart stops.

"N-no,"

You were lying on the floor, covered in blood, a pool of it under your prone body.

"Y/N!!!"

Five runs over to you, dropping to his knees next to you, "Hey! Hey! You're okay! It's me! It's Five, hey!"

You slowly blink open your heavy eyelids, "...Five?"

"Yes, it's me!" Five gasps as he pulls your body into his arms, blood soaking his clothes.

You were bleeding out, he needed to get you to a hospital, or the Academy.

"Hold on!" he tucks you into his arms and goes to blink.

Nothing happens.

Five's eyes widen in horror, "No..." he tries again, "No, no, no!"

The fight. It had drained him too much. He was already stressed and that messed with his powers too.

"Nonononononono!"

Five presses his hands to the wound, "Come on! Please!"

Someone from the upper level hears his cries and comes down, gasping in horror when they see you.

"Call 911!" Five screeches at them, "Call anyone! Please!"

The person rushes away, and Five turns back to you. You cough weakly and grab his arm.

"...Five..."

"Save your strength!" Five barks, "Stay with me!"

"...Five..." you try again, "...hey..."

Five turns to you, and you are shocked to see tears running down his face, "What?"

"...don't blame yourself..." you whisper, "...okay? For me?"

Five sobs, "No! Don't say that! You're going to live!"

You smile brokenly, "And here I thought you were smarter than that,"

Five turns his head as he hears sirens, and he smiles hopefully.

"They're coming!" he shouts, "They're coming! You're going to be okay! You're going to be-"

He cuts himself off when he looks down at you. Your eyes are closed and your hand has gone limp on his arm.

"Y/N?" He shakes you slightly, then harder when you don't respond, "Y/N!"

You don't move. Five's breathing becomes ragged as more tears spring to his eyes.

"...No..." he chokes out. A shaking hand slowly pushes some hair away from your face, "No, please,"

Five pulls you to him, tucking you under his chin as he rocks back and forth, "My...baby...my...my..." Five buries his face into your hair. His entire body shook with his sobs. His wails of agony could be heard floors both above and below.

"Don't leave!!!" He howls, "Don't leave me alone!!! Don't leave me alone!" he turns to the doorway, "Someone help!!!"

Five lets your body drop to the floor so he can bury his face in your chest, holding you close, "Don't leave me!! I can't lose you!! Please! Open your eyes! Stay with me!!!"

Five could hear footsteps. He looks at you, his face twisted, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!"

Hands grab onto Five and start to pull him away from you, he kicks and screams.

"NO! NO! LET ME GO!"

Paramedics rush over to you as the person drags Five further away,

"NO! I CAN'T LEAVE THEM! LET ME GO!"

"Shhhh," A voice gently shushes Five, it's Diego, "It's okay, it's okay! The paramedics are going to help Y/N, it's going to be okay,"

Five could hear the pain in Diego's voice, and Five can only watch as your limp form is carried away.

———————❖———————

Is everyone okay? Here! *Hands you all a box of tissues* There will be a part two, I promise! Also, requests are open! So if you have a request, you can send 'em to me!

1K notes · View notes

nickeverdeen · 3 months

Note

how about five x reader when the reader accidently confesses feelings? Please and thank you!

Acidentally confessing your feelings to Five Hargreeves

TW: gunshot injury, mention of getting shot, reader taking care of a gunshot wound

————————————————————

The aftermath of the mission cast a subdued ambiance over the Umbrella Academy. Five Hargreeves, despite his usual uncanny ability to navigate danger unscathed, bore a minor wound—a gunshot graze on his shoulder. The living room, once a battleground, now transformed into a makeshift infirmary.

Y/N, a mixture of relief and worry evident in their eyes, found themselves tending to Five's injury. The air held a tangible tension, the near miss of danger lingering in the room.

As they delicately cleaned the wound, Y/N couldn't help but let their guard down, "You know, Five, for someone who can time travel, you sure have a knack for attracting trouble in the present."

Five, typically stoic, winced at the sting of disinfectant but couldn't suppress a smirk. "I like to keep things interesting."

With the task at hand, the Y/N's thoughts became a tempest of emotions. The sight of Five, vulnerable yet resilient, stirred something profound within them. It was in that charged moment, amid the quiet echoes of the mission's aftermath, that words slipped out before they could be reined in.

"You're infuriating, you know that?" Y/N muttered, their tone a blend of exasperation and affection. "Getting yourself shot and making me worry like that."

Five, more accustomed to trading barbs than receiving concern, raised an eyebrow. "I assure you, it's not on my list of preferred activities."

As Y/N carefully bandaged the wound, they sighed, their gaze meeting Five's. "You have this way of making me care, Five. More than I ever planned to. I mean, who would've thought?"

The admission hung in the air, laden with a vulnerability that transcended the typical banter between the Hargreeves siblings. Five, though adept at masking his emotions, seemed momentarily caught off guard.

A beat of silence passed before Five quipped, "Well, it seems I'm not the only one who can make things interesting."

The room, steeped in a quiet understanding, bore witness to a confession that wasn't grandiose or cliché but was instead woven into the fabric of their shared moments—a revelation that unfolded amidst the aftermath of danger, a gunshot graze, and the quiet acknowledgment of something deeper.

#request #imagine #the umbrella academy #five hargreeves #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #five tua #five x reader #five hargreeves x reader #number five x reader

189 notes · View notes

rcksmith · 1 year

Text

Untouchable - Five Hargreeves

You can find the 2 request here: anonymous 1, anonymous 2.

Resume: The villain falls in love with the girl.

Trope: “ Who did this to you?” “Touch her and you are dead.” “i´ll find you in every lifetime”

Couple: Five Hargreeves /Fem!Reader.

Warnings: A LOT OF ANGST, swearing, mention of death, blood, fight between the Hargreeves and the Sparrows,a little enemies to lovers in the end, fluff, SMUT, degrading talk.

Word count: 15k.

A/N: Spoiler from season 3.

OMG THIS IS HUGE JAHHSHDAHSDJAHDHND it turned out bigger than i expected.

Because I have a lot of requests in my box, I compile orders that are similar and put together, but I took care to added all the elements that were asked for individually, and made sure that all ideas were respected and written down.

We not tolerate any pedophilia here!! I write about Five with their 20s. I write the same about the characters of Harry Potter, MHA and others fandoms.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are OPEN. Love you ❤️

-----------

Honor comes from the Latin honoris. Indicating a person who lives with honesty and probity, basing their way of life on the dictates of morality. A principle that leads someone to have a righteous, virtuous conduct, which allows to enjoy a good reputation in society.

Five Hargreeves thought of himself as a callous man with no honor and, somehow, able to drown out the voice of morality in his head. He was very knowledgeable about literature and history, and his physics and math skills could surpass Tesla's, but philosophy for him was a bunch of weak principles and dictated by people who didn't really know the world, who didn't pass 1% of what he passed by, who did not see what he saw. Not even Socrates, Plato or Machiavelli had known the worst of humanity like him, the truth about realities. A big part of his existence came down to surviving, fighting, winning, crushing everything that threatened his life.

His cynical outlook on life led him to pragmatism, and he knows that if he wants something done, he will have to do it himself.

His actions were more about getting things done than about displaying a display of rebellion or power. However, Five was not afraid of pain or even killing. He didn't mind being the author of the worst massacres if it meant going back to his family.

Five Hargreeves don't give a damn about being the villain of the story. He did what had to be done.

It was why, when The Handle ordered him to carry out the death sentence of a Duke and Duchess in 1730, Five did not question or hesitate.

Even though in the back of his mind, in a very small part of his brain, the question arose as to why people from such an old and outdated date, he did nothing about it, much less pulled the thread from the ball of yarn that would trigger a series of questions in a row. His job was not to ask why, to investigate step by step, to go through file by file. Five wasn't on The Commission to know the reason for each death, he was on the execution.

So he went, letting the suitcase unfold before his eyes an ancient era, from a faraway time, introducing him to carriages, flowing dresses, gigantic balls. And, as much as some people considered that era poetic, Five never liked lack of practicality.

So he killed the couple as quickly as possible, determined to escape from the need to spend more hours in that old-fashioned place.

It was like any other murder he had committed over the years on The Commission; he came, killed, and left. No looking back, no questions, no hesitation. Drowning in the deepest wave any second feelings that might have submerged, ensuring his emotions were chained very well at the bottom of the ocean.

It was easy, normal, routine. He was once again the villain, and could sleep very well the night with that.

But something began to change gradually in the atmosphere, in the air.

On some mornings, it was as if Five's hands were tingling for no apparent reason, eager to catch up something he had no idea what it was. On some afternoons, his heart vibrated in his chest, like a ground being punished by an earthquake, shaking his balanced state of mind. And, on some dawns, Five's mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert, thirsty for something that not even the coldest water could appease.

Wherever he was the air stayed suddenly thin, stuffy. And sometimes, in the middle of a mission, the wind seemed to blow in only one direction, hitting Hargreeves' back as if pushing him to go in a path. At those moments, his heart returned fluttered in his chest, as if he knew that one north was calling him and was that where he needed to go.

Everything inside Hargreeves began to be affected by strange reactions, spurred by banal, mundane events.

An in a few seconds, if Five stood completely still, silencing his thoughts and hollowing out any inner voices, he could hear something in the wind calling for him. Small seconds that swept away any balance that one day he ever had.

Five Hargreeves was going through a peripeteia, and he had no idea what was causing it.

What hell is going on?

It was wen, on an afternoon where the sun hid with shame among the dark gray clouds, The Handler gave him another murder.

In 1750.

His soul shuddered inside him in that second, echoing through his bones, keeping Five's egyptian green eyes fixed on the paper in his hands, unable to look away from the bold numbers that indicated the date of his next mission.

The icy breeze ruffled his dark hair, but he didn't move. There seemed to be something important and unspoken in the air, and this time, the voice calling his name on the wind grew softly louder. Now, it didn't seem to come from the back of his mind anymore, but from a place far away.

Five looked around, in an instinctive movement in the pathetic and vain attempt to find the source of that voice.

Nothing. As always.

“Five.” The Handler snapped her fingers in front of his face “May I have your precious attention?" The irony didn't go unnoticed, but his eyes flickered to hers. “As I was saying, the time and place of this mission is strictly important. Viscount Sebastian needs to be killed in his office at midnight, in the middle of his daughter's debut ball, not a minute less and nowhere else.”

Hargreeves gave a nod. Not because he had devoted all of his attention to her, just because he wanted her to stop talking. Much of his concentration was still on the way his body and the hemisphere around him behaved. Mission times and places were standard, no need to focus on this nonsense and listen to someone reiterate the rules as if Five were a child. He was 26 years old, a child was the last thing he was.

Something seemed to be happening, occult like a current that rattles under the sea. And the knowledge that he couldn't see the bottom of the ocean unnerved every cell in his body. Hargreeves couldn't stand things he couldn't perceive, understand how it works, take it apart and put it back together again.

This time, when Five returned to the eighteenth century, with 20 years having passed in that time after his visit and only 2 weeks for him, what hit him first was not the impracticality, the carriages, the big dresses. But the wind. Strong, cold, bringing with it the voice who called his name for weeks, now loud and clear.

The dark strands of his body prickled, and he could feel his heartbeat in his throat. Suddenly, anxiety snaked through his body like venom, stirring every fiber in his body, pumping something into his veins that made his blood heat like lava. An emotion he couldn't name what it was.

In the last mission, Five had a string of complaints about the way the black waistcoat squeezed the white linen shirt over his abdomen, and how heavy the straight-cut coat felt heavy under his shoulders. But in this time, he wasn't bothered with the clothes he had to wear so as not to attract attention and go unnoticed. Now, with his heart pounding in his chest, his throat dry and the constant feeling that he had to be somewhere urgently, his clothes were the last things on his mind.

It was an emotion that squeezed the pit of his stomach, made his hands itch and his body shot with an adrenaline that screamed that he needed to move. That he had a more important place to be. All the sensations he'd felt leisurely over the weeks now came back with absurd force, as if he were getting close to the source of it all.

What was happening?

The moon in that far away era shone sovereignly in the sky, blessing the houses, carriages and large mansions with cascades of distilled light in the purest color of silver.

Las time, the feeling that came over Five was to get out of there as quickly as possible. But now, looking around in search of the source of the voice calling him in the wind, the last thing on his mind was leaving.

His watch still read eight o'clock, but the sensation was like he was already late.

The most practical plan was to stay hidden somewhere near the mansion where the ball was being held. Avoiding crowds, witnesses, minimizing risk and being a shadow. As always did. The most rational thing to do was to stay away from that place at all costs, until the inevitable arrived and he was forced to enter through one of the windows.

He should have done it. But he didn't.

Just as a sailor follows a siren's song on the high seas, Five followed that voice on the wind. His brain screamed for him to seek a hiding place, but his soul rebelled with an absurd ferocity, ricocheting tremors through all his bones and ordering his legs to follow a path his conscious did not know. His whole mind was confused, but his soul carried a certainty that no other living being had ever had in they life.

With no other option, stunned by the sensations in his own body, he found himself walking towards the front door of the only place he was supposed to avoid until midnight.

If Five Hargreeves had to describe what was happening to his five senses, he would say that his vision was mildly blurred, as if were searching for focus. The smell was of climax and the ambient sounds were drowned out by his own heartbeat. It was like being there in flesh and blood, but not in soul.

He didn't focus on the details of the world around him, but he knew when he finished climbing the front steps. He couldn't focus on the conversation around him, but he knew that a few people were walking beside him.

His mind saw everything, but processed nothing.

It was a mistake not to be 100% aware of the environment, not to study each individual's body language, not to constantly calculate the odds of a move going wrong. But... it was as if something prevented him from emerging to the surface.

Five didn't respond when the butler greeted him at the entrance to the great hall, but looked around as the wind from outside hit his back and his name rang in his ears once more.

It was a female voice. Now he could tell.

Going deeper into the hall, the melody of the orchestra invaded his ears while thousands of people, talking, dancing and drinking, took his view. Everything resembled a blur on a painting, the sounds were still muffled as if Five were at the bottom of the sea, and the smell transitioned between flowers, feminine perfume and poetry.

Five Hargreeves was a pragmatic, cynical and austere man. Everything that made up his being was based on rationality, laws of physics and mathematical concepts, he wasn't oscillated by tender things and he certainly wasn't carried away by things of the heart or soul. He always followed what rationality dictated. Until now.

Until now.

Like a violin string that ruptured, Hargreeves was gripped by the feeling that something very important was about to happen. Something that would not only change his existence forever, but change him for eternity. This fact stared him at back, bold, warm and as inevitable as the setting sun. And very hair on his body stood on end at once while everything inside him pulsed with a brutality that could shake his bones.

Now, the sound of the orchestra was drowned out by the soundtrack of his life, which was coming closer to apex by the second. It was like being submerged in a slow-motion, in a moment that preceded an momentous event.

As magnets are pulled one by the other in an impassable way, his eyes, as if they already knew where to look, were drawn to a figure among the others who danced in the middle of the hall.

You.

Was like an explosion. Loud and brutal. He suddenly submerged from the bottom of the sea, bewildered, desperate, out of breath. The stupor released itself all at once, bringing his mind back to the reality. Instantaneously, nothing was blurred anymore, sounds weren't muffled, and he abruptly returned to his conscious state. But his soul was not so lucky. Like being whipped by live eels, his heart pounded in his chest with such fury that he leaned over forward millimeters, his throat was drier than the Egyptian desert and now his hands itched in a hellish, bestial, uncontrollable way.

Five Hargreeves has released himself from a wave of numbness only to be hit by a tsunami of sensation.

His eyes were seeing everything clearly now, but he couldn't take his attention away from the female figure dancing in the middle of the room, her bouffant gown swirling gracefully across the floor as if deities were blowing the fabrics.

There were a lot of people around him, in front of him, behind him, but Five Hargreeves only had eyes for you.

In an insane, magical and inexplicable logic, Five had the purest certainty that it was your voice that called him in the wind, that was by the desire to touch your skin that his hands itched. Five would never be able to explain it to other people, but at that moment, there was nothing more concrete on Earth, in physics and science, than the certainty that was because of you that his soul felt, so many times, that he should be somewhere else.

Like the indubitability that you need oxygen to breathe, touching your skin has become just as indispensable. It was a matter of needing, something that now not only itched his hands, but corroded the bones in his fingers.

There was no reason for all those absurd feelings, Five had never even seen you before. But rationality had no space in that moment.

There, in that rift between the past, future and parallel realities, there was no discernment, lucidity, judgment. It was a hideaway free of any cohesiveness, with the smell of romance, an atmosphere full of emotion, passion and poetry. A distant era that allowed, for the first time in many years, that the soul of Five Hargreeves to take control of his body.

He moved, one step after another, his focus petrified on you. With each centimeter closer to your body, the more he felt able to breathe again, relieving the brutal anxiety that had been beating him for weeks, giving a truce to the martyrdom that lacerate him day after day without even him even knowing why.

You had finished your dance, clapping along with the other guests for the orchestra that started the new melody, this time more lyrical.

Your hair, the tone of which seemed to be the personification of poetry, of art, was tied in a bun that allowed a few strands to fall under your neck, the skin of your bust was speckled with a few little droplets of sweat, the perfect amount to glisten under the yellowish light of the candles in the chandelier, making a divine, almost celestial aurora radiate from you. The dark blue gown referred back to the night sky in its greatest splendor, highlight your full breasts at the straight neckline and opening at the hips in a skirt that preached the illusion of you being floating across the hall. Your lips were a red that Five had never seen in his life. A red that seemed to exist only to serve you, enhancing the color of your eyes.

You were like a mirage. An oasis in the farthest desert. One of those paintings that people come from all over the world to see in person, capable of sweeping, taking they breath away, making they cry for having to live with the burden of never having the possibility of knowing you in life.

The romantic period was going on in that century, society was tired of trends in intellectual thinking, rationalization, industrialization and the veneration of science. People longed for an escape into emotionally charged images and fantastical fiction in the visual arts and literature. And Five Hargreeves was certain that you were one of the greatest inspirations of this movement. It was so clear that you were the influence of John Waterhouse's paintings, sweeping the hearts of artists and illuminating poets. Lord Byron was thinking of you when he created the short lyric poem “She Walks in Beauty”, completely fascinated by you.

That thought shuddered Five's soul even more. And an acidic emotion rose in his throat and burned his eyes. In his chest was injected the feeling that he was facing one of the greatest beauties in history, the person the poems and paintings were based on, the inspiration for so many names of literature and art that would become renowned.

There, in front of him, was more than a person. It was a piece of history, art, literature, a beauty that was immortalized and that would be admired even after centuries. Five had already gone to different times in the past, but nothing touched his soul as much as now. As much as you.

Five Hargreeves went in your direction like a sailor following a siren's song across the seven seas.

You were relatively distracted when he got to you. Lungs catching breath from the last dance, body preparing for the next, your mind was on that ballroom but your heart was far away. It was universally true that girls your age should revel in balls like this one. Full of potential husbands, dancing and music, governed by a perfect night for falling in love. You came to like it in the past, but now, after so many similar events, everything didn't have the same magic anymore.

You've heard enough stories - filled with adrenaline, pirate ships and dangerous waters - to crave adventure in your life. It was also noticed that you spent too much time with your books, and that the consequence of spending so many hours in the fictional world brought you very high standards for men and love. The whispers through the darkened streets were that you would end up a spinster. Since you took no interest in any gentleman who courted your hand.

In your defense, it wasn't your fault. The men in your reality were terribly...tasteless.

That was until he showed up.

You don't know where he emerged, or what lineage he was from, much less his name. But he came towards you like that was more important than breathing. In a virile, perfect posture. As if he knew all the secrets of the world and was able to show you them.

One of the first things you noticed were the eyes. The room was partially dark, lit only by the flickering candles in the candelabra, but the darkness only made his eyes clearer. Intense greens. Of such a pure emerald tone that it shone like a mystical cat, calling you to sink in his greenish sea. The stranger had hair as black as midnight, which fell softly and romantically over a face with firm features; jaw as sharp as a razor and a nose full of masculine personality. Although was well dressed, all his clothes, with the exception of the white linen shirt, were as dark as the strands of his hair, something unusual among the sophisticated gentlemen who were invited.

Looking at that gorgeous face, you were left speechless. The deities had been generous to this man, gifting him with bold, aristocratic features and iris as green as Egypt's most precious jewels. The mystery and secrets contained within in those eyes were a fascinating contrast.

“Can I have this dance?” Just a sentence.

He didn't introduce himself, he didn't say who he was. He just dropped that sentence as if it was the only thing he really cared to say.

The gravity of his words made your heart flutter. What a beautiful voice that man had. With a provocative huskiness, a touch of superb, as if he were an oracle at his peak in ancient Greece. The sound seemed to seep into your body and run through you like warm honey.

The truth was, you had reserved the dance for another gentleman, but in that second, you couldn't care less.

“Of course, milord.” That's what you said, accepting the hand he extended to you.

Never taking his eyes off yours, an unfamiliar sensation washed over your mortal body and engulfed everyone around you. You wondered if it was just the stuff of your imagination or if he too felt the electricity whip through his body as he positioned you closer to dance.

Single women weren't allowed to touch men's hands if you weren't wearing gloves, and that rule had never bothered you. Until now.

Until be affected by an insane, visceral desire to feel that man's skin. Of experiencing the heat radiating from his hand against yours, of feeling those white fingers, slender and pale, holding your denude skin. You've never been touched by a man without a layer of clothing intervening. No brushing of elbows, no bumped of fingers, no errant caresses. And you wondered what it was about that man that made you aware of this deprivation. That stranger radiated secrets in an inexplicable but extremely palpable way in the air and you wanted to feel the touch of mystery on your skin more than you wanted to breathe. A will as strong as fear, as intense as hunger.

Your soul screamed in frustration because of the dress when his hand cupped your cover waist. In a touch so firm it only existed in the romance novels you read. Your heart raced, your breath disappeared, and you didn't notice when you rested your hand on his shoulder and your feet began to follow the rhythm of the waltz.

It was pathetic the intensity of your emotions for a man you had just met and didn't even know his name. But, it was like you'd found something didn't even know you'd lost.

Well… if it was the lack of knowledge of his name that was making things a little difficult…

“Aren't you going to tell me your name? Mine is Y/n”

Your voice, sweet as molasses, velvety as suede, made the hairs on the back of Five's neck stand on end. He recognized the timbre now, he had already heard you calling for him in the wind, but nothing surpassed hearing you from inches away.

This was one of those moments where, if you asked Five why he was doing this, he couldn't answer. He couldn't find any logical answers to his actions, reactions, thoughts. But, once again, this rift in space and time was an environment free of rationality. He didn't need this here. He felt he didn't need to. Not when had you in his arms.

A name…

Five Hargreeves was the name of a villain. Someone who would carry on his shoulders to the grave the weight of the thousands of souls he killed. Someone whose hands were marked, eternally, with thick, hot blood. A proof that his destiny was traced directly to hell. His name was the personification of a freak created to be a hero, an orphan in the apocalypse, a man who belonged nowhere in the timeline, someone without family for many decades.

He looked at the hands that held you. The hands of a serial killer. And then he looked at you, full of beauty, life, happiness and innocence. It was like committing a crime against nature to hold something so pure in such infamous, disgraced, death-scarred hands. And something inside he twisted with something like pain…disgust, for the fist time.

His soul didn't want to hold you in the hands of Five Hargreeves.

Five Hargreeves was the villain. And he didn't want to be that man right there.

His mouth, which looked so beautiful yet so dangerous, softly approached the foot of your ear, while the body of you two continued to follow the steps of the waltz. "We don't need names here."

A current of electricity slammed into your body like a whiplash from a live eel, raising goose bumps on parts of your skin you didn't even know you had. My goodness, it was a sin for a single man to have that much charm.

Sensible young women would have turned away at once. Practical girls who appreciated rationality, sincerity and transparency, who had no estimate for games, mystery and sensuality, would have rolled their eyes. But you were not sensible, practical or appreciative of the good customs of the epoch.

You were romantic, hungry for a good charade, adventure. And that man seemed to be built by those two things.

The world was just a shapeless blur, other people were no more than wandering silhouettes, and the atmosphere was enraptured by the flickering orange light of the candles in the candelabra. The smell was of poetry, romance and freedom, which intoxicated the brain and alcoholize any common sense. Was like a magical place in the middle of space and time, a rift that allowed just being. Time passed slowly, as if dancing together with you two.

‘One second can change many things...’

Just as Five could hear his father's voice saying 'I told you so' during his years in the apocalypse, he could hear his words now.

‘you can crumble empires, win battles...’

Five swirled you around before pulling you into his arms once more, his heart pounding with each passing moment. Neither of you realized it, but every second you spent together, every step, more messed up the timeline.

You smiled full of romance and magic as he leaned you back, his hand firm on your spine, bringing you to the surface and returning to dance around the hall with the waltz that dandle yours bodies.

‘you can fall in love.’

With every strong step the two of you took on the floor, in an apocalypse dance, realities were immediately misaligned. With each spin, lines of events were exploded into other universes. With each look shared, with each smile, with each heartbeat full of romance, people were erased, born, disappeared.

An apocalypse was brewing somewhere because of his hands on your body. A mystical waltz that brought the ascension of chaos in other timelines.

Neither of you two knew about it. But if Five knew, he wouldn't keep his hands off you anyway. Five Hargreeves was the villain in many realities. And he would accept the burden of being in a few more if it meant having you in his arms.

In an inexplicable and irrational way, what was happening now had more importance than everything he had ever lived and would live through in his entire life.

"You dance very well." You praised him, and his hands on you tighten a little more.

"No more than you". Then he gave that smile.

The half smile that lifted only one corner of his mouth. Malicious, sagacious, sphinx. Who promised to know all the mysteries of the world and show you all the sins of life. What man was that? So full of charm, sensuality, beauty. He seemed out of this world and you found yourself wishing that time would freeze in that moment, that you could hold onto your chest and live in that dance for the rest of your life.

There was something different in the air. A soul-deep feeling that whispered that your life would never be the same again.

Not after this man.

“It is not difficult to find women who dance.” You joked. "You've certainly danced with others to know."

Yes, with his mother and Allison.

But even if he had been dancing with all the women in the world, they would have disappeared in that moment. No memories memory experiences with other women could stand out at that moment.

"If I danced, they all disappeared the moment I waltzed with you." He realized he might have said the right thing, because he could see the breath go out of your lungs and cheekbones flush deliciously.

God in heaven… this girl was breathtakingly beautiful.

Five led you around the hall masterfully, committing your features to his mind like the tattoo on his wrist. Permanently, eternally. Suddenly, he was struck down by the insane desire to know more about you. To hear more of your voice, to taste the way the words flowed from your lips like the purest honey.

You were like a drug, an obsession. An addiction that had stuck with him since the first time he came into that century, since he breathed the same air as you, since he coexisted under the same night sky as you. There was insane logic in the fact that his soul felt your presence without even seeing you on that first mission. He would never be able to explain it, but somehow it made sense inside in him.

Five Hargreeves didn't think about what would happen when he had to leave. He didn't think about the withdrawal his body would suffer when he was away from you. Much less noticed the way there seemed to be something important in the air. If he had been in full intellectual faculties and grounded in rationality, he would have managed to understand that that something was the temporal lines collapsing, an apocalypse forming elsewhere, pure and perfect chaos destroying parallel realities.

But he was not being led by rationality. And even if he was, he wouldn't have minded a few worlds burning if it meant having you next to his body. He didn't care. But The Commission was a different case.

But Five Hargreeves wasn't thinking about any of that.

He conducted a conversation with you the way he conducted that waltz. He discovered that you liked the high seas even though you were never allowed to be on a ship. You loved nature and enjoyed good books. He heard your eagerness to know the world and learn about different cultures, that you wanted to unravel the mysteries of Egypt, see the architecture of Greece, visit Spain and wanted to go swim in the beaches of Brazil. You were an adventurer, and Five's heart skipped a beat for it.

But in a corner of his soul, deep down, he felt an ache reverberate through his bones. The urge to tell you about the world came with overwhelming force, and something inside him died when he realized he could never tell you the truth about the subjects you cared about.

He could never tell all that the world already knew about Egypt, about its tombs and its pharaohs. He could never be able to show the beauty of Brazil's beaches that become famous tourist spots, and he reserved a note in his brain that you would have loved to visit Genipabu in Brazil, a beach with huge sand dunes that seemed to be the junction of a huge desert whit a beach. He could not tell you what science, oceanography and marine biologists already knew about the oceans. He could never say about the cruises that roamed the seas in all the luxury and comfort, much less about the planes.

Five Hargreeves would never be able to show you the world. And his soul decided to torture itself even more thinking about what it would be like if you were from his time. The things you would do, the freedom you could enjoy.

He could show you anything you wanted, tell you the secrets of the universe…His secrets.

When the waltz was over, on a note as dramatic as the situation, you couldn't say goodbye to him. Your soul, enchanted and completely enraptured by the man in front of you, vehemently refused to remove your hand over his. It seemed that every molecule in your body, every corner of your spirit, every fiber of your being, had defined that it was with that man that they wanted to stay. Forever.

What was foolish.

The truth was that the sensation of poetry, romance and magic that surrounded you two throughout the dance, had evaporated from the air like mist in the sun. Now the sure that you two weren't meant to be together hung in the air like a black cloud, thundering and flashing. This feeling oppressed you with an overwhelming force, so tangible it was possible to cut it with a razor.

No words needed to be said, but it was stamped into the environment, filling every millimeter and gap, putting that magical dance into a category that would never go beyond that: a dance.

A feeling of melancholy jabbed your throat like a scorpion's sting, injecting an emotion of sadness and helplessness into your blood like distilled poison. You didn't want that to be the end. You didn't want to say goodbye. Even with everything in the air indicating that whatever existed between the two of you, ended here, now.

Five's eyes seemed to exude the same as you. Feeling the end heavy and resounding in the air, reverberating like thunder, as every corner of his soul roared the opposite. The green sea of his irises looked like it was in the middle of a storm. Full of pain, anger. With colossal waves and revolts, which promised to destroy everything they saw ahead. Just like the oceans did in the apocalyptic events in the era of Younger Dryas.

Somehow, without having to utter a single sentence, you both knew you were feeling the same thing. Wishing, with all their might, that this wasn't the end, that they were able to hold time against their chest in a tight, desperate embrace, an attempt to freeze the pointers.

At that moment, Five clamored, to any god who would listen, that you not be taken from his arms.

However, like the evil joke that was his life, his thoughts were cut short by the chiming of the clock. 11 chimes. That echoed in his soul like the trumpets of hell, laughing at him, mocking him, making fun of a murderer thinking he would be graced with something like you.

Five Hargreeves was a villain. And he was destined to have the things villains deserve. And none of this things included someone like you.

In that sadistic moment, Five finally understood a sentence from one of the books Grace read to them at night; ‘If I were to kiss you then go to hell, I would. So then I can brag with the devils I saw heaven without ever entering it.’

Yes. Now he understood. Five Hargreeves leaned in, bringing the back of your hand to his lips, laying a kiss that, however much it was impeded by the muslin layer of your glove, he prayed that this kiss could transmit all the feelings he could never say. This are the only kiss he could give you. That sentence echoed in his head like a fact, as sure as the sky is blue, as true as the salt in the oceans.

And when he went to the core of hell, paying for all his sins, he would brag to the other demons that he had been to heaven without ever having entered it.

You wish you'd said something, asked where he was from, stopped him from going. But none of that happened. This was one of those moments that we regret forever, that are branded in a red-hot iron in the soul, in the mind, in the body. Everything inside you was screaming to go after him when Five turned arund and walked into the sea of guests. But he disappeared in the waves before you could even move your feet.

No one had to tell you, but you knew you'd never see him again. And your heart would never beat for another.

-----------

Five Hargreeves has had to do a lot of horrible things over the years. Actions he wasn't proud of but he knew needed to be done, nights awash in blood and the smell of death.

But nothing has wobble him as much as you have.

His soul, body and mind, trained since he was a child not to develop any weakness that would prevent him from being a perfect hero, then perfected and aggravated by the Commission to be the unbeatable assassin, were rarely stirred by feelings.

He was cynical, hard-nosed, crotchety and arrogant. He never got carried away by emotions and, as much as his desire to save his family is pure, he will cross any ethical lines for the greater good. And all of that made him the Commission's best weapon.

Until now.

Until his emotions messed up not just one, but thousands of timelines. Created catastrophes, formed apocalypses, killed people. Hargreeves meeting you was something that could never have happened. Repudiated not just by nature but by the gods. Having you in his arms was like a crime against the timeline, against the balance of the world.

And heavens and hells would make him pay. With work, blood, or his heart. Promising to take not only the soul, but any hope of laying eyes on you once again. As Icarus had his downfall for the sun, so Hargreeves had for you. In a triumphal ruin.

“Do you have any idea what you caused ?!” It was the first thing The Handler said as soon as Five returned from his mission, seconds after he had killed his target.

Her voice was loud, suffused with anger and rage and… despair. Five frowned, soul still aching from having to leave you, your warmth still in his arms. He didn't have the head to deal with her right now. Not when he had so much to process.

“A death.”

“Don't play smart on me!” Her roar was loud enough for Hargreeves to realize that something really serious was going on. The Handler was many things, but she never got worked up without good reason.

The clatter of her heels echoed through the room as she walked towards him, her eyes full of fierce emotion.

“You had only one job to do! One! Kill the man and get out of there. Like always!" Her voice was as rough as desert sand. “But not only did you mess up entire timelines, but created apocalypses on thousands of worlds that were to happen only thousands of years later!"

Five's mind was racing like a Catarina wheel, spinning at full throttle as it tried to put the pieces together. He blinked once, twice, his heart starting to race with the feeling that something devastating was about to be revealed.

He looked at The Handler, who understood his look. "That's right! Your little feat of dancing with that girl shattered thousands of timelines! People were killed, disappeared, events took a completely different course because of your little impertinence!"

She pulled his arm towards the thousands of screens that monitored infinite realities. And what he saw was chaos. Pure and perfect. Some worlds succumbed to fire, others to water, others to war. But they had devastation as a resemblance.

Five can hear the voices of other Commission workers in the background, in another corridor, other rooms. Some sounded desperate, others irritated, and others helpless, but all seemed concerned. He couldn't even say that he didn't know that little things had chain reactions. Because he knew. There was nothing to justify his actions, for he didn't even have a good reason for himself.

But the truth was, even staring the apocalypse in the face across nine different monitors, he felt no…remorse. There wasn't a part of him that would have done differently, that wouldn't have touched you, that wouldn't have known you. Deep in his soul Hargreeves knew he didn't care how many worlds he had destroyed just by touching you. He was going to hell anyway, it was better to have a memory of you to remember for eternity.

"...we'll have to kill her." It was just that sentence that Five's messed up mind paid attention to.

Then everything stopped.

The weather, the conversations. The world seemed to have held their breath, suspended, staring at Five. Everything inside him fell silent into scary silence, and he turned slowly toward The Handler, all his senses heightened, heart still, mind clear.

She seemed to notice his state. "What did you expect?! You know how things work. Causers of apocalypse get killed, that's our job! And because of that dance of yours, this girl has caused nine different apocalypses.”

There was a kind of insane, evil logic to the situation. The last riddle of gods and life to see Five Hargreeves on his knees. Broken, empty. To punish his sins, taking from him what he took from so many people. They engineered his downfall perfectly, writing with a red-hot iron on his soul the sentence that he could never be happy. His curse, the price to pay. Cosmic fit.

What the fucking hell.

“I'll send some agent to kill her immediately and...”

But Five Hargreeves has never been one to accept sentences imposed on him with his head down. Limitations, rules. He made his own destiny, no matter what he told him, and lived with the consequences. No god, destiny or universe dictated his life.

Everything inside him roared like a beast. Exploding, bursting, sending any control flying away. In an action without any hesitation, delicacy or ambiguities, his hand closed on The Handler's arm. In a firm, strong, tense grip that started hurt her very soon.

She looked at him in a mixture of shock and annoyance. There were very few people in the world willing to face a woman on her level, some too fearful, others who value life too much. But Five Hargreeves was none of those things. He'd never known any predator he should fear, everyone knew he was capable of anything and everything. Maybe there was no line he was able from crossing, or plan he wasn't capable of executing.

Five Hargreeves was the predator she should fear.

And The Handler realized that. For in that pair of eyes she saw danger, rage, pure and perfect hate. His sea of green gave way to red, glittering waves, shining with all the blood he had already spilled. And with a warning that he wouldn't mind spilling more.

“Stay. away. from. her. ” he guided each word with a tighter grip on her delicate arm, sure to leave marks that won't go away anytime soon.

Bewildered, she looked at him like a man possessed, filled with a rage that could fuel hell all by itself. The Handler had never seen him in that state, he was always angry, annoyed, acidic, but that… that was hatred, a bloodthirsty hate.

Five Hargreeves promised to go to hell and drag anyone with him without saying a word.

For the first time in her life, The Handler was afraid.

“Five...you know her need to die...”

"Listen to me" He vociferate, shaking her by the arm. “I don't give a fuck what you have to say. I swear, for all that exists in this world, that if you lay one finger on her, there will be nowhere on earth you can fuck hide from me.”

Five Hargreeves was a tall, masculine man, wrapped in a macabre and sinister aura when he wanted to. He pulled The Handler closer, his face filled with colossal rage being etched like a tattoo into her soul.

“I don't give a fuck about how many worlds are ending, I don't give a fuck if fucking people are dying! You won't touch her until the day I'm dead! And you can bet that, even seven feet under the ground, I'll find a way to take you with me to hell if you do fucking something to her."

You were untouchable.

All of his work on The Commission was about killing a number of people to save even more. But he would never, ever, sacrifice you for the greater good. Not even if it meant millions of dead people.

It didn't matter as long as you weren't one of the dead.

Without waiting for further discussion, he led The Handler towards the exit door, leading her out of the room and locking the door when he returned. Five wasn't stupid or naive to think that she would follow his orders. The handler might be afraid of him, but she knew how to get what she wanted, no matter how long it took. And now that he'd bruised her ego, Five knew she'd make it her primary mission to kill you.

Something he would never let happen.

If someone asked where so much anger, so much sense of protection came from, Five Hargreeves couldn't say. Because he didn't even know. In the same way that he still didn't understand everything that had happened, everything that he had been feeling, he still hadn't reasoned where such primitive, territorialist impulses came from. He had no idea where it all came from, but he was sure he could never let anything bad happen to you.

In a twisted and somewhat obscure way, you had gained a villain as a protector. A fallen angel who didn't promise to do good to people, but only to you. Who swore allegiance not to humanity, but solemnly, exclusively, to you.

It was a sensation that filled his entire body like boiling lava. And Five put his hand in the fire for the certainty that he would never be able to get rid of his feelings for you again.

His soul said that, as long as he was alive, he would be yours.

Making his mind work faster than it ever had before, Five Hargreeves concluded that every record of you had to go. There could no longer be documents proving that you were part of humanity. That once you had a name, a house, a reality. Five would have to erase you from any and all records. Forever. The only way to keep you out of the hands of the people who had access to every form of terrestrial existence, was to erase you from the world. Only then, hidden from the Commission, could you live happily. Fully.

But throwing all your documents away was signing the sentence that he was took the risk of never getting to see you again. Without them, finding someone was nearly impossible, much less accessing their reality. Five could start a calculation to find you one day, but that could take years, ages, and even if he memorized your documents number by number, did the calculations and managed to get to you without any side effects, The Commission could follow him and find you.

And finding a civilian's documents was much easier than finding a special agent like him and throwing them away too.

Once again, his life was a cruel joke of the gods, which served as entertainment for any higher power. Five strongly believed that, if there was anything above or below him, they designed his life for they own amusement.

Five Hargreeves spent hours in the file room, locked in that cubicle, not letting anyone in, not getting out. Once he disappeared with your documents, he would be declared a traitor and deserter, where his punishment would not only be more years of work, but death.

The world was spinning. Head ached. A sound gnawed at his mind, a scratch without melody, like a rustle of paper. Someone had taken a scream, a memory and a fear, crumpled it into a jagged ball, and used it to stuff Five's skull. He need to think of a plan that covered all the rough edges, but his eyes were bombarded with futures he didn't want to think about. Every time he blinked he felt the tragedy lurking in a dark and dismal corner, ready to catch him in their sharp mouths and take him somewhere he feared to go.

A place where the worst had happened to you.

Suddenly, the world was filled with secrets, fears and terror. Just as his soul took control of him in that night, it was the same in this moment. Five Hargreeves wasn't someone to get carried away by anything, but the feeling that something very bad was about to happen to you haunted him to the bone. That would be the perfect ending to his sinful life story; having the one person who touched his feelings so powerfully killed in the same way he killed so many other people.

Life was taking its toll on all the things he had done. For a second, he was afraid of that reckoning. Because the worst is not the bullet hitting yourself, but someone you like.

The feeling outside of being torn apart. All the patches and pieces of what it was to be Five Hargreeves - which he had been painstakingly piecing together throughout his life - were coming loose again, all at once. The clock was ticking, the hours were ticking, and he knew that just as he was coming up with a plan, so was The Handler.

It was a macabre race against time, in which if he lost, he had the feeling he would never fully recover. Not without a part of his soul dying along with you.

When he found your documents, the photo they had of you was a portrait made in that last century, a small painting of your face, eternalizing your smile. Suddenly, the memory of how you'd smiled at him like that gripped him like a demon. And when the memories of you intensified, they brought no comfort, just only fear and dread. Five Hargreeves could not live with himself if those memories were tainted by the knowledge that he was the cause of his tragedy. He would never be able to remember those tender moments again if memories of you were vandalized by images of how you were killed.

It was too late to remedy the consequences of what he had unleashed. The macabre possibilities of what The Handler could do to you were there, tattooed on his brain, as if they would snap open and bolt to reality at any moment. So, as panic rose, Five Hargreeves' mind slammed shut like a heavy book. He wouldn't let any of that happen. Never.

After scheming and checking all the plans in his mind, Five decided that he had already orchestrated the almost perfect scheme. He would destroy all of your documents and, when he had done that, he could no longer remain on the Commission. Thus, he would steal the mission from one of the agents about killing John F. Kennedy, the time that most closely matched his calculations to return to the family in 2019. Then Five Hargreeves would evade The Commission and deal with them without being an employee anymore. And even if they went after him, they would never find you.

Not even Five.

And so it was done.

-----------

Five Hargreeves went through the reunion with his family, faced the commission agents coming after him to kill him, dealt with The Handler and put up with his siblings drama.

In a matter of weeks, he had already gotten himself into so much trouble and confusion that sometimes he didn't even have time to breathe. Processing events and digesting them had become a luxury he no longer had, and saving the world from one apocalypse and falling into another had seemed to become a family pastime.

But there were nights. Cold, when the moon reached its apex in the sky and the rain poured down on the ground, when he was finally able to be alone and clear his mind. In those rare moments, the only thing on his mind was you.

Always you.

His point of peace, his refuge from his constant stress and pressure was in the images of you. In the way your body fit perfectly in his hands, in the way your gaze, enchanted and completely shining, did not leave his. Five Hargreeves felt that, like him at that moment, there was no other place you would rather be.

Twenty years could go by, but he would still feel what it was like to have your warmth in his arms, in the smell that your perfume exhaled and in the way the candles in the candelabra glowed on your skin. You were like a goddess, dancing at that ball as if the world would never be graced with such beauty again.

When Five Hargreeves closed his eyes, he could see you perfectly. Swirling around as if the ground were your clouds and everyone there were mere mortals, watching what the angels in heaven looked like.

It was like a dark paradise. He managed to slake some of that suffocating tightness in his chest whenever he returned to those memories, but it resulted in more flagellations in his poor, tortured soul. The notion that he would never have anything but memories, dreams, and mowed wishes, would skin him alive until his last days. Five would forever be haunted by the notion that, even when he died, you wouldn't be waiting on the other side.

You would be in heaven. And he belonged in hell.

But, it was worth it.

All the pain, all the desperation his soul struggled with, all the shortness of breath that coiled in his lungs, all the feeling of being stabbed with a dagger knowing his would never lay hands on you again, it was all worth it when he reviewed your face in his memories.

Five Hargreeves didn't clamored for relief from his pain, balm for the cuts deep in his soul, a minute's mercy. No, he accepted all of his fate with his head held high. He clamored for you to be okay. Safe, happy. Free from any worries or tribulations. He wished you had forgotten about him, erased that night from your blood, because it would be impossible to live if he knew you were suffering just like him.

Five Hargreeves had never given you a single kiss, tucked your hair in his fingers and tasted your tongue, but he didn't need it. His soul didn't need that to fall madly in love with you.

Yes, pure and perfect passion. It was the only logical explanation for how he felt about you.

Even though he never tasted your skin in his mouth, or touched you without the interference of a piece of clothing, Five Hargreeves was in love with you.

And it would be for the rest of his life.

-----------

All the Hargreeves siblings thought all was well when the Commission was defeated and they got a briefcase to take them back at home. The nightmare of the second apocalypse had already passed and now the feeling that invaded their bodies was one of relief. For a second, Klaus thought that everything would now be back on track; with the family together, stronger ties and improved relationships.

Everyone thought so, actually.

The shimmering blue flash engulfed all the brothers, passing through the barriers of space and time, leaving the Hargreeves in the mansion where they grew up and spent most of their lives. Everyone looked happy, relaxed. And Five also shared the same relief.

Until that fateful moment.

Until a draft of wind enter through the window behind him and hitting his back, bringing a feeling that immediately made every hair on his body stand on end. In a matter of seconds, all sense of relief, calm, and peace were shattered, exploding one by one with the same aggressiveness of a nuclear bomb. The world seemed to stumble and stoped, the colors of the hemisphere fluidized into a vintage orange, flickering, almost as if the lighting came from candles.

As much as his siblings were laughing and making noises, everything for Five was quiet, in a tacit silence. The sound of cars on the streets did not exist anymore, the conversations disappeared, and, little by little, the only thing he could hear was his own heartbeat. Increasing in tempo gradually, like a soundtrack.

Then, in the apex of silence, when Five could already hear the blood rushing through his veins, he listened.

Five.

Your voice in the wind, almost like a whisper. Calling for him. Just like you did a long time ago.

His soul gave a scream that shook him to the very bones, and he didn't notice when his eyes widened and his breath hitched. Suddenly, his whole body came back to life, being pulled sharply from the bottom of the ocean, submerging, desperately, breathless, astonished. Abruptly, the heat returned to his hands, to his cheeks, to his heart. Five could feel warmth coursing through his body as if they had rekindled the flame of his soul.

Was like resurrect.

He looked back in one jerk, spinning in place, heart pounding in his ribcage, his frantic, frantic eyes darting around every corner.

Nothing.

“Hey, are you okay?” Klaus looked back, focusing on his brother, but Five didn't respond.

He walked past Klaus as if he couldn't hear him, his eyes and hands trembling visibly, his step tight. Five chased the wind current as if he were chased his life, oblivious to anything or anyone.

His siblings, finding the situation strange, followed him without hesitation, accompanying the owner with green eyes entering more in the house. They had no idea what to expect, or what to think, but they stopped behind Five as he froze in the middle of the living room, eyes petrified, wide, fixed on a very specific spot at the top of the stairs.

But nobody noticed what he saw.

While all the Hargreeves were taken aback by Reginald's appearance in the outer corner of the room, stunned and petrified, growing more and more stunned as their father went on to explain the situation, Five couldn't take his eyes off the top of the stairs. Nothing in the world would have made him look elsewhere.

You.

Fucking hell...you.

There, standing next to people he didn't care to find out who they were, looking down, observing at the people who had just entered.

Suddenly, everything inside him was whipped by currents of electricity, as if he'd been struck by lightning. An argument seemed to be brewing in the background, but Five Hargreeves didn't fucking care. May the world explode, may everything end up in dust, fire or water. He didn't want to know.

You were there. With the sunlight coming through the large windows behind your back, and illuminating your silhouette as if you were a deity, a goddess, a muse. You shone. Like the gates of heaven. At that moment, the soul of Five Hargreeves fell to his knees in front of you. For you.

An extremely strong emotion invaded him without asking permission, destroying everything he once was. Five felt like crying.

As a war in the background unfolded, the people who were beside you started to descend the stairs one by one. But he couldn't take his eyes off you.

“Five. Five.” Luther seemed to call out to him in the background, but he didn't care.

You walked down the steps the same way you glided through that ballroom, as if the floor were your clouds. Yours robes were uniform this time, but Five was pretty sure that behind that high collar, your skin harbored a birthmark on your collarbone. Your hair was down, but he knew how you looked with your strands tied up.

With each step you took, more his pulse quickened. It was like a dream, a mirage, his oasis in the scorching desert. At some point in the battle against the Commission he had died, and that was his dream.

However, Luther's hand gripped his arm, forcing his green eyes to meet his brother's.

“Dude, what's wrong with you? Didn't you hear dad saying that we're in another reality?”

“I am not your father.” Reginald countered. “Not in this reality.”

Five frowned, rationality slowly returning to his body, his brain taking over once more. A parallel reality. That explained a lot. A reality where…you existed.

Holy shit.

Someone said the Hargreeves had better go, and Five would have laughed out loud if he hadn't submerged in thoughts. If they really was in a parallel reality, that meant you didn't remember him. You didn't even know him. The version who have danced with him was still in another century, in a timeline far, far away.

But…Five looked up. You radiated the same beauty of the romantic period as before, your skin still looked feather soft, your lips still where able to take away his complete self-control, your eyes still have… the same glow that he remembered so many times during so many nights.

You didn't know him, but that didn't matter. Because Five knew you.

He suffered the worst of martyrdoms all this time, and now that he'd finally, finally found you once more, he wasn't going to leave. Even if it meant having to make you fall in love with him all over again. In fact, Five Hargreeves would dedicate his entire lives to making you fall in love with him all over again in every reality there is. He would have as many times as necessary a first dance with you.

He didn't realize it, but his lips lifted in a smile. In a snap of fingers, everything reached a apex, higher than the buildings, higher even to the clouds. All the problems evaporated like mist in the sun, and being in a parallel reality, with a father that wasn't his, in a house that wasn't the one he grew up in, seemed to be extremely insignificant.

For the first time in a long time, Five Hargreeves was happy. And nothing would change that.

That's when, amidst all the arguing the Hargreeves and Sparrows were having around, your eyes met his. And for him it was like coming home after an excruciating winter.

You cocked your head slightly to the side, intrigued by the way that man was looking at you so…surrendered. You understood the gravity of the situation, of those strangers breaking into your home and trying to claim everything as theirs. You were also irritated just like your siblings.

But... when you looked at that man… with eyes so green and hair so dark, something inside you caught your breath. A shiver went up your spine. And maybe you were crazy, but you can swear that felt your soul heave a sigh of…relief. A strange, emotional feeling reverberated through your spirit as if…somehow you'd just found what you've spent so long waiting to met again.

It don’t make sense.

As the confrontation unfolded between the two families, you couldn't help but notice that, minute by minute, you found yourself wanting to look at this man more. As if it were never going to be enough, as if the second you turned your head, you were overcome with an insane urge to see more. You should be focused on trying to get those strangers out of your house, not admiring one of them.

But Five realized that. A spark inside him vibrated with hope, and he delighted in being able to relive the feeling of what it was like to be looked at by you again.

But before he or you could even do anything, the physical feud between the two families broke out with astonishing speed, spreading like the plague. Diego, as usual, was the first to go into battle, followed by Luther and Allison.

See, you didn't consider yourself a confrontational person. Your peculiarity was to manipulate the natural elements and, although that made you one of the strongest figures among your siblings, you had a more adventurous spirit than a fighter. There was no such homeric thirst in your blood to be the best, the strongest, the most brutal. Ben said that was the most unattractive thing about you, but Sloane saw this feature with good eyes. Like you, she wasn't much inclined to brutality.

The fight drove you and Five away from each other, separated by rooms, siblings and war. You saw your family appeal to brute aggression very quickly, while, if you're honest, you didn't want to hurt anyone. Is trut that you were irritated by the way they claimed your house as theirs, but you didn't think they were bad people.

Or all this bland resolutions were for the fact that you didn't want to hurt him. Because, in some way you couldn't explain, you knew he wouldn't hurt you.

But that's when Alphonso yelled at you from upstairs. “Y/N! Do fucking something too!”

Everyone was scattered around the house, but you still remained downstairs, in the living room, arranging a way to help without being very aggressive like your siblings were being. You had no intention of killing or seriously injuring them, but you also weren't willing to put up with the scolding your brothers would give you if you continued to be omitte.

So, when one of the strangers came running to get away from something, the tail of his dark overcoat dancing in the air and his black hat toppling along the path, your reaction was to do the one thing that couldn't seem to do any real damage. In a wave of the hand, the windows were shattered by large, sprawling tree roots, that came out of the garden earth like thick snakes and entered the house in a steady stream.

The man gave a high-pitched scream, but his feet were already entwined by the roots and he was knocked to the ground. The roots, which spilled earth over the floor and exhaled a forest smell, wrapped themselves around the man's body up to his chest, with the only purpose of immobilizing him.

You weren't putting force or brutality, and you were sure the roots were just putting considerable pressure on, like a bandage around an injured arm. But the man didn't seem to notice this, because he kept screaming.

The fear should still be clouding his senses, and you revealed the situation. For it wasn't often that someone was wrapped around by giant roots that moved of their own accord. In your place, you would have reacted that way too.

“Hey, hey” you tried to get closer “It's ok, they won't hurt you and…”

But your speech was interrupted by shrill hum, which cut through the air with force and passed like a bullet in front of your face, shaking a few locks of your hair. The speed were frightening, and for a second your heart stopped in your chest. The fright made you take two steps back immediately, but in a matter of seconds any feeling was replaced by a very strong burning in your left cheek. In the same second, a hot liquid began to ooze from your injured skin like water in a current, spreading pain wherever went.

Two seconds that were able to put you face to face with death. Because that attack was not joking.

The bearded man ran to help the one who was lying on the ground, forcing his freedom between the roots that were now weak due to your distraction.

Unlike you, Diego didn't care about the things he had to do to save his family. He was willing to injure, inflict permanent damage, even killing if that was the only way out. He would have a guilty conscience later, but in the heat of the moment, he wouldn't hesitate. Diego did this to the Commission agents hours ago, and he would do this to you if he had to. As sure as the sky was blue, the Sparrows were the enemy. And he was the hero. Thats it. Two polar opposites, destined to face each other into the death.

And that was why he didn't hesitate to attack when he saw Klaus lying on the floor, screaming as if he were being killed. After getting a small taste of the kind of things your powers were capable of doing, it was pretty clear that you were one of the first ones that needed to go down. So Diego didn't hesitate either when he pulled Klaus off the ground, and wielded yet another dagger. Aiming not to hurt, but to kill.

But love could drive even the smartest minds crazy.

Because when the dagger was thrown in the air, a blue flash invaded the scene and a male body enveloped yours, pushing both of you aside in a rough, protective, intense gesture.

Five Hargreeves was on the stair railing, fighting Jayme, when Klaus's screams grab his attention. He didn't have much time to process what he was seeing, but the moment one of Diego's daggers slashed across your cheek, the primal, visceral instinct he'd felt so long ago, with The Handler on The Commission, roared through him like an angry beast. So when another dagger was wielded and thrown into the air, he didn't think twice, didn't hesitate, didn't blink.

Dropping everything behind, Five Hargreeves dove into the blue flash, having you as the only focus in mind.

As soon as the crash of his body with yours caused you both to leave the deadly path, the arms, masculine and wide, wrapped around your back as if he were holding the only anchorage on the high seas in the middle of a storm. His heart was pounding in his chest, and as much that adrenaline, primal instinct and rage were bubbling through his body, he still managed to feel his soul sighing in deep relief when felt your warmth again in his arms.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?"

Diego's angry roar seemed to shake the walls, but didn't stop the obstinate, angry look that swallowed Five's expression.

“Diego…” his voice didn't match the situation the Hargreeves found themselves in. His tone was serious, steady, so calm it was terrifying, like the warning of darkness to the light. “Stay away from her.”

His brother's confused and perplexed look couldn't have been more accentuated. And even Klaus, known for being the least serious about situations, looked completely astonished. Five Hargreeves didn't held you like he was preventing a murder. No. He held you like Cerberus should have held the only person he was ever loyal to.

"You are fucking crazy?!" Diego gestured with his hands “Let go the enemy now!”

The Hargreeves have been through a lot, seen a lot. Many of them being absurd, beyond any rationality or law of physics, moments in which they had to deal with situations that were not possible to be of this world. But nothing, and no one, could have prepared Diego and Klaus for what they heard from Five;

"Never."

The moment was dispersed when Viktor appeared in the room, shaking, hurt, out of his mind. His head fell back in a single gesture, his arms opened up and the fists closed, as white lights began to shoot out from within his eyes and chest.

Five Hargreeves knew what that meant.

He didn't think twice before running to the side, hiding you behind the bar counter and lowering you two bodies to the floor. His body in front of yours, blocking access to the roughest impact in you.

You two had three seconds, three seconds to look into each other's eyes before the flash explodes. And in that three seconds, the only thing that passed in the soul of both of you was the feeling of finally being where should be.

-----------

"They're stupid villains who think they're smart!" Ben was furious in the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

The last few days had passed like this. With Ben angry about the invasion, Ben angry about the fight, Ben angry about Marcus disappearing, Ben angry about... well... he was always angry.

Of all your siblings, he had the worst temper. Fei and Christopher were practically his dogs, going along with all of Ben's stupid plans just because... you really didn't know why they followed him so fervently, but had a theory that it was because they both thought they would have more power when Ben's plans came to fruition.

A hierarchical system that filled the family with toxicity.

On the other hand, there were Jayme and Alphonso. You never really understood the two, but you described them as bullies. A duo who liked the power they had and how they managed to exert it over people.

The only one you could relate to more deeply was Sloane.

"It would have been better if Y/n had made an attack." Alphonso brought your name up in conversation, his gaze full of rancor.

"Fuck off, asshole" It was the only thing you deigned to say, because you didn't have the patience to deal with his comments at the time.

The truth is, since the invasion, you couldn't get him out of your mind.

It was like a drug, an addiction, that had seeped into your blood from the first time you laid eyes on him. There was something there, something you could never explain. He should be the enemy. Your enemy. But…

The way he saved you from the knives, the way his arms wrapped around you. Almost like he already knows how to hold you. How to protect you.

Your heart couldn't slow down whenever your thoughts returned to that man. From the memory of him placing his body in front of you, standing at the forefront of the explosion.

He saved you. Everytime. And there was something that told you he would save you every chance he got.

The truth was…you wanted to see him. Know his name. Talk with him. There was no longer a fiber of your being that saw the situation as your siblingsdid, your body was facing the complete opposite north.

You wanted to touch him, not fight with him.

When time passed, and Luther showed up at the mansion as someone who was kidnapped, you, again, did not see the situation as a beneficial opportunity for your family. But for you.

Suddenly, your entire soul was gripped by a completely unsettling anxiety that made your hands itch, stomach churn, and your legs unable to stay still. Then you were swept by a feeling of deep sadness, as if you'd already experienced what it was like to spend your whole life wanting to see that man and never getting.

There was no more logic, rationality or coherence to what you were feeling, but finding him was as indispensable as breathing.

That's why you volunteered - more like an imposition - that you would be the one to escort Luther home the moment Ben said he could leave.

“It was kind of you to accompany me” The blond man smiled at you, as the two of you walked through the night streets.

"It was nothing." You tried to sound casual, but with every step toward your destination, the more your hands itched, the more your heart was racing, and in a moment, you found yourself picking up the pace to get there faster.

“I have to confess that you were a topic of discussion between my brothers.” Luther laughed, his odd way of bringing up the subject and not mincing words.

But that got your attention. "What do you mean?"

“A-ahem…well…from what I understand, Diego wanted to kill you, but Five stopped him and…”

Five…Five

His name was Five.

Something inside you stirred. An unfamiliar emotion, but one that made a smile rise to yourcheeks.

“Five” you tried to say aloud, and his name just… felt right on your lips.

You went the rest of the way not being able to pay attention to a single syllable Luther was saying. You don't wanted to be rude, but you just… couldn't stop thinking about Five.

“How long before we get there?” you cut off something Luther was saying about Sloane, and the blond eyebrows drawing together in strangeness.

“Actually” he looked at the big hotel in front of him “We already arrived and…”

But you couldn't stop yourself. All of your muscles felt like they had undergone countless electrical discharges, your heart was faster than any living soul has ever been, and your blood was rushing through your veins like marathon runners. You increased your pace considerably, quickly climbing the steps and opening the doors of that building as if you had just walked through the gates of paradise.

You needed to see him.

Luther came up behind you, giving you a suspicious look and walking towards a bar, where the outlines of several people were talking.

-----------

"I returned." Luther's voice brought Five out of his thoughts, and a part of her brain tried to remember the time his brother had left.

And he didn't find any answers.

To his defence, Five's mind had been elsewhere these days. Moments when he rewound in his mind once, twice, three times. Not even the impending new apocalypse knocking on the door seemed to have any effect on Five. To be honest, he… saw no point in trying to save the world this time. Meeting you once was a miracle, but meeting you again, in an entirely different reality and without The Commission making things difficult, seemed like too much of a luxury for him to ignore.

The truth was that in the first attempt to escape the apocalypse he ended up sending the family to different times, with intervals of years between each one. And, deep down, he didn't know if he could handle trying to take you with him to another reality and end up losing you too.

Five had been through this once before. He knew pain too well not to be willing to risk it.

“What is the enemy doing here?!"

Diego's voice snapped Five out of his thoughts, and an electric current shot through his head and reverberated down to his toes. Immediately, without any hesitation, his eyes flew away, finding not just Luther - whit several bags in hand - but you beside him.

You.

Something inside him ignited, his heart raced and, for a moment, the whole world around him fell away.

But just for a moment, because Diego was already getting up from his seat.

“Hey. Hey!” Five teleported away, once again placing the body in front of you . “What the hell do you think you are doing?”

“What would anyone do to the enemy! What are you doing? Defending a stranger again?!"

“She is not a stranger, Diego. Now be quiet in your place before I have to do it for you.”

"She is not?" Klaus and Viktor said in unison

"I'm not?" Your voice, the only one that mattered to him, came from behind his back, quieter than the others but loud enough for him to hear.

Five turned towards you, turning his back on his siblings. Unlike how he looked at Diego, his eyes held all the softness and attention in the world when they met yours. A small smile appeared at the corner of his left mouth, a secret smile, hidden from the world but revealed only to you.

"It's a long story," he admitted, having no idea how to start. How to tell something that even to him don't make sense.

“I came to see you.” you rewarded his honesty with another truth, a gleam crossing his eyes like shooting stars. “I have time to listen.”

A smile blossomed on his lips, and Five was overcome by the purest feeling of happiness. Without saying anything, or giving anyone satisfaction, his hand laced into yours, and he disappeared with you in the blue flash.

-----------

Any sensible, practical, centered woman, would have laughed at what Five had just told you. Anyone who didn't get carried away by matters of the heart and didn't believe that two people, when destined to be together, are helped even by the wind, would have turned around and walked away.

But you weren't a sensible woman, nor practical, much less centered. Your being was composed of romance, adventure and magic. You fervently believed in destiny, soulmates and that some loves are capable of overcoming the barrier of space and time.

What's more, if all that wasn't enough, you also felt, from your soul to your bones, sensations that couldn't be explained. Feelings he was also saying he felt too. You believed in him. And that fact came as soft as the droplets of dew, as the brightness of the moon.

After his account came to end, with him letting himself be vulnerable in telling all the thoughts that ever crossed his mind about you, the urge to say just one thing screamed your blood rumbling. “You’re no the villain in my story” your words hung in the air.

“I am,” Five's voice brimmed with a liquid honesty that was able to chill your bones, but nothing in his words hinted at remorse for the things he'd already done. “But i'll be the villain for you. Not to you. I'll let worlds burn again if it means keeping you alive. In a problematic way, that I'll never be able to explain, I don't feel guilty about doing something if it means your safety.”

Five Hargreeves expected many things. Many different reactions. Many words of contradiction. But never what happened next.

Your mouth, without any hesitation, joined his in a kiss that was capable of making his world explode. His body was ignited by a fire that swallowed even his soul, washing away all his sins and giving a demon a taste of heaven.

So what was it like to kiss a goddess? An angel, a muse.

If before, without even touching your skin without the interference of clothing, Five would have happily accepted going to hell, now, with your hot mouth melting into his like warm honey, he would accept the torture of eternal fire with a smile on his face.

And when the small kiss intensified into something much bigger, his hands, warm and masculine, wrapped possessively around your waist. There was no going back. There was no turning back. Five would keep you for himself in the same selfishness that a villain steals a princess. And there was no hero in the world capable of pulling you away of his clutches.

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” He found the last bit of strength to let you know when your hands untied his tie “I could really hurt you.”

But all good intentions evaporated when your eyes, eager and full of desire, blinked at him. There was an addictive sweetness in that look. The way your lashes fluttered against your cheeks, the way your eyes held tinges of delicious submission but hid an incendiary fire behind them.

Fucking damn. He wanted you so badly.

"I don't care." Your breathless whisper invaded the room. But he didn't know if you understood the seriousness of the situation.

“Y/n.” his hands cupped your face. “I spent a lot of time contenting just for the way you looked at me. Spending sleepless nights reliving what it was like to feel the contour of your waist in my hand.” His voice was serious, deep, rough like sand scraping against stone. “Do you have any idea of the things I'm going to do to you now that I can finally, finally, have you?” his pitch lowered a few notes, like a predator talking to its prey.

You didn't know it, but only imagination made yours thighs tighten.

“I can destroy you.” his lips went to the foot of your ear, down to the curve of your neck, inhaling your scent and tasting you. “I can leave your body purple, your breasts bitten, your hips marked by the aggressiveness of mine whenever I enter on you.”

A moan escaped your mouth, fingers tightening on his arms, head lolling to the side.

Oh lord, please he do that.

Five's hands went up to your shoulders, in a touch that became more and more possessive, gluttonous, as if he wanted to swallow you.

“I can spend hours fucking you.” his fingers lowered the straps of your dress, letting the fabric fall unceremoniously to the floor. Five pulled his face away enough to be able to look at your body fully, and a husky growl followed right away. “I can kill you.”

Here, in that moment, Five Hargreeves was giving you one last chance to give up, to make him tame the villain he was and who would destroy you for any other man.

If you slept with Five Hargreeves, you would never stop being his.

"Do it." but you didn't have an ounce of self-preservation in the inner body "please."

You didn't have to beg twice. His hands pulled your legs up, making you place your feet on his hips and hug him with your legs. Your back hit the closed bedroom door as Hargreeves' mouth claimed all it could of his. Twisting your tongue around his, biting and sucking on your bottom lip, he was beginning to mark you as his in a single kiss.

“You have no idea how much I want you.” his confession was more of a hoarse groan, hands fumbling with his belt and lowering the waistband of his pants.

Under other circumstances, he would have sucked you until drive you unconscious, pushing your walls with his fingers until you begged for his cock. But he didn't have the presence of mind to do that now. Not now. Not today. He warned of the consequences of wanting to continue at that moment. But you wanted, you begged, and now he was no longer afraid of being able to fuck you with all the vehemence he needed.

Your moans invaded the room very quickly, your waist, even if limited by the door, moved in his groin, exorcising any common sense and control that Five once had.

He pushed your panties to the side impolitely and entered you in one single, glorious, primal thrust. His cock slid in with extreme ease, being completely soaked by the way your pussy was so slick.

“Oh fucking hell” his growl sent even more waves of pleasure to your uterus, and you pressed your mouth to his neck to keep from screaming.

That's when he withdrew and pushed himself into you. Strong, brute. Hitting until found the bottom of the well. His thrusts began relentlessly, thrusting in and out of you aggressively, possessively, almost animalistic. Five's hands were all over yourbody, fingerprinting every bit of your flesh. The nails digging into your waist when you contracted and squeezed him within your plush walls.

“Fuck. fuck.” his groans mingled with the attrition of the bodies of you two against the door, which sent loud, telltale noises throughout the hotel.

But you would rather die than stop.

His cock suddenly hit a place that made your moans come out too loud. Tears began to pool in the corner of your eyes, and your toes curled.

“Oh do you feel this, baby?” Five teased you, digging himself as deep as possible anatomically and rubbing the tip of his cock there, eliciting sly, desperate cries from you "That's your cervix."

Then he went back to fucking you aggressively, this time pulling his chest away from you and digging his hands hard into the flesh of your hips, pulling you towards him at a intensity that could only be described as animalistic.

This was better than anything he had ever tasted in his life. Better than any sin. Better than any whiskey.

His cock desecrated your pussy like it was the only thing that mattered in the world, pulling thick liquids out of you that enveloped him in pasty white rings. Five Hargreeves would ensure that whenever you thought of any man, your mind was invaded by the way he fucked you.

"I will… I will…" your tearful voice blended with the noise of the door slamming and your bodies bumping into each other.

“Thats right, baby” his mouth covered your “cum for me. cum so I can fill that gluttonous pussy with my cum.”

If the way he thrust in and out of you wasn't enough to make you come, his lines had done the job. You came in a glorious explosion of stars, colors and sensations. Your body contracted with absurd force and relaxed like the best of massages. Your arms went limp around his neck, and you could feel his cock tremble and the hot, thick liquid fill your entire pussy.

The noise of the door stopped, his moans calmed down and now the only thing that could be heard was the heavy breathing in the air.

You thought it was over, until Five climbs a hand to your neck and lets out a broken growl "'You look so good with my hand wrapped around your throat, baby."

His cock moved inside you, moving in and out smoothly, pushing his cum even deeper inside you. Make sure you gobble it all up.

“Did you think we were done, princess?” he chuckled evilly, his lips moving closer until they were inches from yours. "I'm just getting started. I'm going to show you how much I've wanted you this whole fucking time.”

3K notes · View notes

mysteryartisticwriter · 2 years

Text

Allison: We should have left you in the basement

Me:

5K notes · View notes

theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction · 10 months

Text

Imagine a heart-to-heart with Five at the end of the world…

“Here we are. End of the world - again.” You said dismally as the giant plume of death-smoke swirled in the air. It would have been beautiful if this wasn’t the end. Noticing the empty space beside Five, you gestured to the spot to silently inquire if you could take a seat.

“Knock yourself out.” He sighed taking another large swig of alcohol.

Planting yourself down, you hung your legs over the literal edge of the world and took a deep breath.

“You know, I figured that if I went out it would be mid-fight or old-age. But sitting and waiting for the inevitable end feels… lacklustre.” You confessed.

Five chuckled softly. “You sound like Diego.”

You smiled at the comment of likeness and bumped into his arm. “And how do you feel about all of it? I don’t think anyone would have remembered to ask.” You wondered and turned in his direction only to see Five lower the drink. He exhaled and shook his head.

“Honestly. I feel like shit. Every time I try to save the world it gets more fucked up.” He replied and glanced at you for a quick second before straightening up. “And what’s worse is that my oldest friend still thinks I’m a teenager and forgets that I’m an old man.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. He was right. You definitely treated Five more carefully than the others and often forgot that he was trapped in his young body.

Taking the bottle from his hands, you took a large swig and wiped you mouth with the back of your hand as you gave it back. “I promise I’ll be more of an asshole to you.”

Smirking, Five emptied the rest of the liquor before tossing the bottle into the void.

“Never change Y/n. You’ve been the only constant thing in this madhouse of a family. I think you’re great as is.” He offered kindly. “We all do.”

~ More imagines here ~

#theladyofmanyfandoms #theladyofmanyfandomsfanfiction #gif is not mine #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves x reader #umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy x reader

501 notes · View notes

kaybreezy3000 · 24 days

Text

He never stopped trying to get back to them... 😭

Link to all my Tumblr Posts

104 notes · View notes

i-like-writing-stuff · 2 years

Text

gentleman [five hargreeves x reader]

request: BABY, LOVEBUG, HONEYBEE, I HAVE A REQUEST.*cough* The gang has just gotten their ass kicked by the sparrows and are currently in the hotel lobby asking five what’s going on & how they’re going to fix it, something along the lines of: “Who we’re those guys?” “I don’t know”“What were they doing in our house?” “I don’t know.”“Five, come on. How do we fix this?” “I DONT KNOW”and then he gets all frustrated & is like “I just spent the last MONTH trying to save the world. TWICE” *yadda yadda goes on about his retirement* and he says “I’m going upstairs NOBODY FOLLOW ME.” and Y/N who hasn’t been saying anything up to this point is kinda sitting there minding there business and fiddling there thumbs or whatever and five comes back in and is like “Except for you, come with me” And grabs her by the wrist and leads her upstairs?? You can do whatever you want with it after that I just wanted something that starts off that way 🌝. (I WILL PAY YOU TO DO THIS PLEASE AMOUR 😭)

a/n: here it is bestie!!! hope it was what you wanted and even better!! i think it is the longest one i have written so far, but i really had fun with it!

in case it’s not clear enough down as you read after Keep Reading, five and reader are physically aged up to 30, so they are around the same age as the others, mentally theyre still 58

this one has nothing to do with sweet aidan, so here’s a gif of timothee! well get back to aidan when we got more fluff

btw, this aint smut, but it does imply nsfw, so proceed with caution <3

summary: after losing to the sparrows, y/n and the hargreeves siblings regroup at the hotel obsidian, but five seems to not be in the mood for anyone else other than y/n

You dragged your feet towards the vintage sofa of the peculiar hotel, holding unto your hurt side. These new kids Reginald Hargreeves decided to adopt over your friends had given you and the siblings a hard time, but you managed to get out alive nonetheless.

Alive with a trillion questions, but alive nonetheless.

“That was the most annoying beating I ever got,” You muttered, rubbing your side, “I spent more than half my life fighting for the Commission and none of the guys I had to take out were as arrogant and entitled as these Sparrow brats.”

“Amen,” The Hargreeves siblings nodded in agreement at your words, taking their seats on the sofas laid in the enormous lobby of the Hotel Obsidian Klaus had taken you to, saying that he ‘knows a place’.

When you turned 18, your parents decided your own future for you, so they figured following in their footsteps and joining the Commission would be the best thing for you. Forty years have passed since, and not only you became one of the best agents to walk in and out of the Commission, but fate had it so you’d be in 2019, in your 30 year old body, with your partner and his siblings, after having survived two apocalypses.

It was safe to say you learned at least two things by now; one, never complain about being 30 again, and two... Seriously, never complain about being 30 ever again.

“Luther, Diego and I scored three rooms, siblings dearest,” Klaus suddenly skipped towards you, Five, Allison and Vanya.

You watched the three men pretty impressed, considering you had just time traveled back to 2019 from 1963 and none of you had one dime on them, but you decided against questioning them any further, and instead let your head sink back into the cushions of the sofa.

“What do we do, Five?” Vanya asked her brother, so all the attention was shifted to the other 58 year old in his 30 year old body.

“I don’t know,” He sighed, rubbing his face tiredly, being the only one that was not seated.

“Well... we have to start somewhere,” Allison pointed out, “Who exactly are they?”

“I don’t know,” Five repeated his previous answer, pacing back and forth, with his hands still on his face.

“And why is Ben alive, with them, and not with us?” Klaus brought up another question, making everyone wait for an answer from Five.

“I don’t know,” He said once again, brushing his hand through his messy raven locks, “I don’t know.”

Five had an exact point in the floor he had been staring at, nothing else. You watched as he almost carved a hole through the floor with his back and forth pacing, with his mind flooded of unanswered questions. To say that Five was exhausted would be the understatement of the year, as he had spent his last 20 days successively trying to prevent the apocalypse, only to return home for good and find seven strangers.

One of which was a cube that handed you and Diego’s asses to each other.

You let out a small grunt, shifting your position for a more comfortable one, as Luther wondered, “Why would dad prefer them over us?”

“I don’t know,” Five took in a deep breath, stopping in his tracks.

It almost looked as if one more question in his direction and he’d explode. In all fairness, you couldn’t blame him. You’d known him before these past 20 days- well, 20 days for him, for you it was five months since the first impending apocalypse of 2019.

Before he dragged you alongside him to his family, you knew he spent 45 years all by himself in a post-apocalyptic timeline, before the Handler recruited him into the Commission and named him your new partner. You had known Five Hargreeves for a while, you had a brief history with him, seeing as he was your company on missions.

But never more, much to your dismay.

In spite of his sarcastic and grumpy attitude, you loved him to bits, down to each flaw in particular. He’d get easily angry, he hated to repeat himself and he had little to no patience. But you didn’t care. This same man, who had a lot of blood on his hands, the same man, who had taken numerous lives... he was the same man who’d patch up your wounds on missions, who’d listen whenever the Handler would give you a hard time, who’d asked you to come with him to 2019 to his family.

You thought he wanted you to join him back to his family because he knew you didn’t agree with Doomsday, just like him, but the truth was he wanted you to come because he loved you just as much as you loved him and he couldn’t stand the idea of losing you.

In all his life, he had never met someone as human as you. You were flawed, you had made mistakes and each life you took was marked deep into your soul, but you always tried to better yourself. You were kind and good, generous, helpful and soft, even on missions. Even on the worst part of the mission.

Five viewed you as the one good thing in his life, but he was too terrified to mess it up by being true about his feelings. And to be fair, he didn’t even think the time was right. In the beginning, he would be too occupied with Commission tasks to tell you how he felt, then it was the two apocalypses and maybe the thought that he didn’t deserve to be happy, to have a life with you. Even if he was 30 again, he still felt like he had no future.

“What’s our next move?” Diego popped the big question, so you couldn’t help but raise your head from between the cushions to watch Five explode;

“I don’t fucking know!”

There it was.

In true old Five fashion, the man eyed each and every one of his siblings, as they all frowned at his burst, “I don’t fucking know!” He repeated, “I- I have no idea who those assholes were and why Reggie would pick them over us, and I sure as fuck don’t know what to do from now on! I need one fucking day off- no! You know what? Not even one day! Half a day! Twelve fucking hours off! Twelve fucking hours where I can finally relax for once in my life! Because guess what? I spent the last fucking month of my life trying to save the fucking world! Twice! Not once, fucking twice! So, please, for the love of god, stop asking me questions! I was there with you the entire time, I don’t have any more answers than you dumbasses do! I have no idea, I have no clue, no answer! I only know that I need a fucking break and I want to fucking retire. The sun is shining outside and the birds are chirping and I am pretty sure that those Sparrow dickheads won’t bring on the end of the world. So, three conclusions,” Five finally took in a deep breath, “One, I don’t fucking know,” He counted, “Two, I want to fucking retire and three, I’m going upstairs.”

“Five...” Vanya softly called out his name, as you all watched him turn his back to you.

“Nobody fucking follow me!” Five called out once again, before snatching a key to a room from Klaus’ hand and storming off towards the elevator.

You and the siblings stood in silence for a few seconds, exchanging looks. You felt like Five’s reaction was completely reasonable, as you and his siblings had a couple of months to calm down when you made the jump from 2019 to 1963. Even though it was shattering to each and every one of you, as you were obviously a part of the family to them, being separated from each other for so long was very hard.

There were definitely ups and downs.

“I can’t believe Five said please,” You managed to say, seeing that none of the Hargreeves siblings had the courage to break the ice.

“Shut your piehole and come with me,” Five suddenly said, startling you guys.

You watched confused as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you off the sofa, dragging you with him to the elevator.

“Five!” You yelped, as the two of you entered the elevator.

Five Hargreeves had you pressed against the wall of the elevator as he pushed the button for the right floor, not once taking his eyes off you. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what caused this change of heart, since he swore to himself he’d contain himself around you, but maybe his burst made him realize what a big idiot he is for this.

He just yelled at his siblings that he wants to retire and that he needs a break, there definitely is no apocalypse happening right now, so his fear of the future was the only thing standing in his way.

“Are you okay?” You asked him with a soft smile, holding unto your side with one hand, as with the other you were holding Five’s bicep.

“My siblings are as annoying as ever,” He sighed, one hand in his pants pocket, one rested above you on the wall.

Gosh, he has to know how fucking hot and handsome he is, you couldn’t help but think to yourself, as Five stood dangerously close to you. All messy and gruffy, with his classic three piece suit and tie. Well, now he had been left with his vest, since his blazer was either lost in the Sparrow Academy or left in 1963- you couldn’t remember and you didn’t care. He looked dangerously beautiful all roughed up in his white shirt rolled up to his elbows and the black vest that was hugging him in the right places. His tattoo was more visible now, still partly covered by his watch, but you couldn’t help but notice it as his hand was so close to your face.

A soft tint of pink covered your cheeks, as you tried to brush away those sinful thoughts of what those beautiful hands could have you weak right beneath him. Suddenly, you were too shy to even look at him anymore.

“Are you okay?” Five frowned, noticing as your head fell to the ground.

“Uh- yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, really,” You shook your head, “My side, kind of hurts, that’s all.”

“Let me see,” Five said, placing his hand on top of yours to remove it, “Jesus Christ, Y/N... that does not look good.”

“I am not sure how bad it looks, but I promise it’s not that painful,” You assured him with honesty, watching as he kept your shirt up to analyze the injury further, “I just need to clean it up, bandage it and I’ll be as good as new.”

“Let me help you,” Five offered, looking back at you with a small smile, “Like the old times.”

“Uh, sure,” You nodded your head, just as the elevator beeped, informing you that you had finally reached your floor.

You and Five left the elevator quietly, as you followed him around the big floor to the room. You tried to fight back any indecent thought of the man, but you couldn’t help yourself. Not only you fell in love stupidly with his personality, but you also fell head over hills for his aspect.

Why was he so hot?

The way he carried himself, his tall and lean figure, his dark hair and emerald eyes. His dimples, his smile, his everything. Five Hargreeves was too pretty.

“Room 828,” Five muttered, as he stopped in his tracks, “Wonder what nuthouse Klaus brought us to this time.”

You scoffed, “It has a very interesting choice of interior design, but it’s not that bad.”

Five raised a brow at you amused, “Whatever floats your boat.”

“It’s not worse than the TV shop,” You pointed out.

“I happened to like the TV shop,” Five informed you with a smirk, as you two entered the room, “The only weirdos it hosted was us.”

“Fair point,” You shrugged your shoulders, examining the room.

You frowned at the green tropical wallpaper that conveyed the walls. The center piece of the dull room was one king sized bed in the middle, on each side with a nightstand and two lamps as well. The room was being lit by the two windows that showed the park, and a boring huge wardrobe took some more space of the room. The most interesting part of the room was the fireplace between the windows and the small coffee table and sofa in front of it.

“It’s really not that bad,” You said, realizing that in hindsight, the room was pretty spacious.

“Did you know the bathroom is down the hall?” Five looked down at you amused, as you quickly turned to him in shock;

“No!”

“Yup.”

“No!”

“Yup.”

“Damn it!”

Five let a small chuckle escape his lips, watching your childish side come out for the first time in a long while. It was pretty reinvigorating to him, as he watched you pout, looking around the room for the toilet that you knew you wouldn’t find.

“I’ll get some wet towels,” Five reminded himself of the task at hand, “And bandages.”

You nodded, turning to the sofa. You took a place softly, as the pain in your side was still not letting you go. You took off your leather jacket, laying it on top of the sofa neatly. You laid on your back, lifting your black shirt to take a closer look at your wound.

During your fight with the Sparrows, you learned their Number 4′s ability the hard way. Empathetic Masochism.

Not knowing that he could inflict the hit you planted on him back to you, you gave the funny looking man the harshest kick to the side you could. That only ended in you stumbling back, as a huge bruise was forming on top of your stitches from 1963, when the Swedish brothers almost got you.

So that was bleeding again.

The door opened again, but you didn’t even bother to turn, knowing already that it was Five who was back, “You wanna talk about it?” You asked, finally looking away from your wound.

“About what?” Five asked, walking towards you with the promised wet towels and bandages, placing them on the coffee table.

“Your wellbeing?” You suggested with a raised brow, “By the way, I think I am gonna need a new set of stitches.”

“Figured,” Five said, reaching in his pocket for a box of surgical needle and thread.

“Of course you were one step ahead of me,” You smirked, watching him put the box on the table and grab the towel.

“Off with it,” Five gestured towards your shirt.

“Excuse you?”

“Come on, Y/N, I was the one who sewed up that wound last time, so it wouldn’t be the first time I see you half naked,” Five rolled his eyes.

“A true gentleman,” You rolled your eyes, sitting up from the sofa, “Your ex’s must have been treated like princesses.”

Five was all in for your teasing, all the time. So, he was not mad when he heard your words, more like amused. He smirked, watching you roll your eyes this time, going in for the hem of your shirt. He stepped closer to you, almost pressing his own body to yours, grabbing your hands in a gentle move.

“Wh-What are you doing?” You asked, feeling the pink shade return to your cheeks.

“Being a gentleman,” He said, not once letting go of his infamous smirk.

Five tucked his hands beneath your shirt, pulling it over your head as slowly and gently as he could. When his fingertips brushed against your skin even for a mere second you knew you’d be ready right then and there to melt in his touch.

Five let your shirt fall somewhere around the sofa, brushing his fingers through your hair as it had been messed up in the process. You closed your eyes, unconsciously leaning into his hands, enjoying this moment maybe more than you should. In spite of Five’s confident act, his heart was beating almost out of his chest. He had taken care of your wounds before, but not like this. Clean and stitch you up, make you laugh to help you ignore the pain and take your mind off it.

But this time it was different and you both knew it.

“You’re still not off the hook, you know,” You said, re-opening your eyes to find the man looking at you with the most genuine smile he had ever given you, “Five?”

“You’re a pain in the ass, did you know that?” He shook his head turning around to grab the wet towel, “Always bothering me to talk about my feelings.”

“Well, I am sorry I don’t want you to explode because of all the emotions you bottle up,” You raised a brow at him cockily, “Oh wait, you did.”

“Like I said, my siblings are annoying,” Five lightly shrugged his shoulders, kneeling in front of you.

“Five?” You gulped, watching him on his knees in front of you, so dangerously close to your area.

“Y/N?” He looked up at you, pretending like he didn’t know what he was doing to you. He knew, he knew how hot and bothered he was getting you at the moment, and maybe that’s what he wanted.

That’s what his aim was, dragging you with him upstairs.

Now the question was, how did you feel about it?

“You have to understand they are confused,” You tried to brush off the fuzzy feelings, as Five started cleaning your wound, “I am confused, Five. You’re the man with all the answers.”

“Well, this time I am not,” Five’s voice softened, “This time, I need to lay in bed and put my thoughts in line. It’s been a while since I’ve done that,” He sighed, “I know I have superpowers and I am not a normal person, but I am still human... I still need a break... I still need to lay in bed and... breathe.”

You watched Five with a small smile. Your heart ached to see him so exhausted, even though you were happy to finally hear him open up and get to know what was going on inside that genius head of his.

“It’s alright, Five,” You said, making him look up at you, “You deserve a break,” You added, tangling your hands in his messy hair, as a feeling of safety and relaxation suddenly flooded him, “Out of all of us, you’re the one that needs it most. You tried your best to keep your family safe and the world, and you finally succeeded... well, one way or another. The Sparrows are not that big a deal, they’ll be handled.”

“You’re always such an optimist,” Five shook his head amused, returning to your wound, “Always know the right thing to tell me.”

“Always,” You smiled a soft whisper, watching Five put down the towel and reach for the needle and thread.

“You ready?” He asked you, preparing his utensils.

“This ain’t my first stitch-up, Five,” You scoffed, and maybe you would’ve also crossed your arms sassily if the man’s hair wasn’t so soft and calling you out to never let go of it.

“Still being a gentleman,” He reminded you, beginning to officially tend to your old wound.

You always loved being touched by him, whether it was a slight tap on the shoulder, knees touching by mistake, or full-on tight hugs, your head on his shoulder or even an arm linked around his. Whatever type of touch it was, it always made you feel safe. Like a guarantee that he is here and nothing could ever happen. Even though you were a strong, skilled woman by yourself, the love you carried for Five Hargreeves made you feel as if nothing could ever go wrong when you’re in his presence. Ironically enough, all that while there were two apocalypses impending and even before those the dangerous missions you were assigned to by the Commission.

In spite of all that, your mood would always change in Five’s company.

“Have I ever told you how much I appreciate you?” You spoke up, watching as Five was done with your wound, finally putting a big bandage over it.

He looked up at you, watching your serious face, “I’m guessing you will now.”

“I appreciate you, Five,” You ignored his sassy butt, “More than you could ever imagine.”

“I appreciate you too, Y/N,” He smiled softly, resting his hands on your waist, “And I’m very glad you tagged along with me to 2019.”

Before getting up to his feet, Five leaned in and placed a loving kiss on your bandage, making your stomach knot in all possible ways and your heart flutter like never before. He stood up and stepped even closer to you, cupping your face, causing your heart to beat even faster into your chest, so fast that you thought he could hear it. Five looked into your eyes, as if he was looking for something, but you were not quite sure what.

This was a new side of Five you had yet to discover. New, but familiar. It felt like you had never seen this... almost vulnerable side of him, while at the same time being sure that this was still the same sassy and cocky asshole you grew to love more than anything.

You placed your hands, on his own, encouraging him wordlessly to move further. Five picked up on your intentions, leaning in, painfully slow. On one hand, maybe he was trying to tease you, but on the other he was just as nervous and scared as you were.

“I want you,” He whispered in a low tone, millimeters away from your lips.

“I’m yours,” You declared, and that was all it took for Five to find the courage to ravish you.

He closed the distance between the two of you, crashing his lips against yours in the long awaited kiss. Your hands immediately found their way back into his hair, as the kiss was getting deepened by the second. It felt so sweet and savory at the same time, as love and lust were getting mixed. You were finally getting that kiss with Five you were so desperately aching for and it was even more perfect than you could ever imagine.

Your bodies pressed against one another, as Five grabbed your thighs, lifting you up without breaking the kiss once.

“Can you maybe not be a gentleman for the next hour?” You whispered, as Five carried you towards the bed.

He couldn’t help his smirk, as he climbed on top of you, “Gladly.”

#number five #five x reader #five hargreeves #number five x reader #number five imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves imagine #five hargreeves imagines #tua #tua x reader #tua season 3 #The Umbrella Academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy imagines #the umbrella academy x reader

242 notes · View notes

lanawinterscigarettes · 2 years

Note

Do you think five would be upset having an s/o who's taller than him. Bc I think he would be

Oh he definitely would be anon, you're absolutely right

Five Hargreeves having a s/o who's taller than him

Warnings: swearing, some lighthearted teasing, Five's anger issues lol

Five's obviously not very tall, what with the whole being stuck in his younger body thing and all that

If you're only a couple inches taller than him, he probably won't make a big deal about it

He might roll his eyes if you mention it, but other than that he wouldn't be much bothered by it

If you were a lot taller than him, however, he'd be a bit less indifferent

He'll scowl whenever it's mentioned by one of his siblings and pout until you give him attention and reassure him you don't care how short he is

He's also not afraid to get physically violent with someone who has the audacity to point out he's shorter than you, his siblings included

"Oh, you think that's funny, Diego? We'll see how funny you think it is when I shove my foot up your ass!"

You like to tease him whenever he can't reach something on a higher shelf, asking if he needs a boost or if you should get him a step stool

He's earned a lot of nicknames from you due to his short stature, including "fun size" and "short stack"

Sometimes you like to use his head as an arm rest, much to his displeasure

"You're taller than me, I get it, but that doesn't mean you get to rest your arm on my head whenever the fuck you want!"

"Mm, pretty sure it does, actually"

You're the only one who's allowed to tease him like this btw, if someone like Klaus does it he'll probably end up punching them in the stomach for it lmao

He gets pissed whenever he wants a kiss from you because he has to ask for you to lean down because you're so tall and it humiliates him

"Poor baby, you're so short you need a pair of stilts just so you can give me a kiss"

"Shut. The fuck. Up"

You give him a lot of forehead kisses to make up for it tho <3 which makes him happy, even if he won't admit it

Main masterlist || The Umbrella Academy masterlist

🏷 taglist: @anxiously-sad @iloveentrapta @ghot-girl @your-next-daydream

702 notes · View notes

mangoshorthand · 1 year

Note

Hii I'm a real sucker for your smuts and I was wondering if you could do a five one where he walks in on reader riding their pillow and thinking about him while doing it (and they haven't had intercourse in a long while because of apocalypse stuff and all that) and the aftermath where you can do anything with it after but I'd really like it if five was being gentle to the reader :<

Sorry this is a long req I hope you write it and it's okay if you dont wanna, thankiee 🫶

Your welkiee! Hope you enjoy. 😊 Lucky Fucking Pillow | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 3k words, Rated E

It had been four weeks: four fearful, lonely, miserable weeks. You felt stupid, irritated with him. You hated the fact you were waiting at home for him like the sweetheart of a world war two vet, living on the letters he sent from the front lines.

You held it together until just before he left, duffel bag over his shoulder.

“The situation’s dangerous; unpredictable. I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

On the floors below you, you could hear a bustle of activity as his siblings made similar preparations to leave.

“Why is this your responsibility?”

He looked at you, disbelievingly, the hand not supporting the bag went directly into his pocket.

“This is the world. Am I supposed to sit at home and wait to be subsumed by another apocalypse?”

You shook your head, bringing your knees up to your chest, not able to articulate what you were feeling.

“Let me come with you then.”

He let out an exasperated sigh, picked up the last of his morning coffee and knocked it back, shaking his head.

“I’m not having this discussion again. I’d want you beside me in anything else, but not in this. If anything happened to you, I’d never forgive myself. Your best chance of survival is staying well away.”

“What if you die? What am I supposed to do?”

From slight irritation, he softened further. Bending from the waist, he kissed your forehead.

“I love you, okay.”

He crossed to the door, but a strangled sob made him turn back. Your face was suddenly red, tear-streaked. When you spoke, the words tore themselves from a tight throat.

“Don’t go!”

He closed his eyes, hand still on the door handle. He let out a breath and dropped the duffel bag, turning back around, crossing the room in two strides and holding you close, your head against his chest.

“I have to, angel. I’m so sorry.”

Since then, your days had been spent scouring the horizon for impending doom and following the news incessantly for any hints of what was going on. Your nights had been spent sleepless, remembering Five’s caresses and trying to get your head around the fact that you and everyone else could die at any moment.

You at least knew he wasn’t dead. He got messages to you sporadically; short dispatches from the field. They appeared mostly via an ancient telegraph machine stowed in Reginald’s old office. The most recent of these hadn’t been very encouraging:

We’ve got a plan, but it’s tenuous. If it doesn’t work, we’ll really be fucked. If that’s the case, then I hope to see you on the other side, -F x

smut below cut

They were four sexless weeks too. You quickly discovered that it takes more than the threat of imminent death to crush the human capacity for horniness. Before that month, you would have thought it would be a deluge of cold water on your libido, but that was far from the case.

On the contrary, knowing that time could be short, all you could think about was having Five in your arms again: running your hands all over his body, the feeling of his lips on yours and the sensations of his lovemaking.

As you lay in bed, his phantom was a heavy, intoxicating presence. Your need for him was strong tonight. You rolled to look at his empty side of the bed and imagined his head on the pillow. His eyes (that fickle forest green that masqueraded as blue in some lights and brown in others), you imagined them shaded by his hair. You saw his raised eyebrow, his smile, soft and suggestive, with the dimple that only appeared on one side of his face, recessing two large freckles by his mouth.

You pulled his pillow to you and buried your face in it. It smelled of him. You inhaled it deeply: his aftershave, his antiperspirant, his shampoo, a hint of coffee and something more indefinable: a more fundamental scent that was all him.

It was this last smell that made your stomach flip, that made you breathe in the scent of the pillow again. It awakened something primal in you: ripples from your center outwards; flutters down each of your limbs.

Before you knew it, you were stripping off your panties and kneeling up in bed. One hand held his pillow to your face and the other held your own pillow between your legs. When you started to grind, it was him beneath you. In imagination, he was teasing you: not allowing you to get on his dick until you came from humping his leg.

It wasn’t enough friction, so you sped up your hips, snapping them back and forth desperately. There was a whisper of something, a tingle from your neglected pussy, so you chased it, sinking deeper into the fantasy and imagining his hands squeezing your hips, guiding you as you rode him.

“Oh, Five,” you whispered, feeling your body begin to respond, wetness gathering between your labia, “Five, fuck.”

You threw your head back and closed your eyes.

“Hm,” said an approving voice from the doorway, “that lucky fucking pillow.”

You gave a violent start, dropped his pillow and turned around. There he was, framed in the open doorway. You gave a grateful, ecstatic cry.

“Five!”

In nothing but your t-shirt, you were across the room in a leap and bound and throwing yourself against him, holding him to you with sudden, tight urgency.

He immediately stiffened and let out a sharp groan of pain. You loosened your grip

“Oh my god, what happened? You’re hurt! Are you okay? Is it over? Is everyone okay? Is the world okay?”

He was holding himself stiffly, but now his pain had faded, his face was amused. He leaned forward and kissed your lips. On your side, the kiss was desperate, joy-filled; on his, more passionate. His tongue flicked between your lips before he broke away.

“How about this? l answer each of your questions if, each time, you answer me one in return?” he said, smirking.

“I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you too,” he said, smiling gently, “but that wasn’t a question.”

You were too happy to see him to have space to be irritated by this game.

“Fine. What happened to you?”

He moved as if to put his bag down on the chair. Seeing his wince, you took it off him and placed it there yourself.

“Thanks. It’s just a wound. There was an explosion. I was hit by a piece of flying steel.”

“Shit,” you whispered, looking down at his chest and the bandages that must be underneath his shirt, “oh my god, are you okay?”

“Hey,” he admonished, “it’s your turn to answer a question now. What were you doing when I came in?”

You looked at him with annoyance.

“You know what I was doing.”

“Yes,” he smirked, “I want to hear you describe it.”

“I was masturbating.”

“How were you masturbating?” he pushed.

“It’s my turn to ask a question now,” you said, using his own tactic against him, “How long will it take to heal? Are you seriously hurt?”

“That was two questions,” he said, stepping towards you, “but I’m feeling generous: I’m not seriously hurt. It’s a flesh wound. It’ll heal nicely.”

You looked at him with concern and he shook his head with a smile.

“Now it’s my turn: what exactly were you thinking about when you were humping that pillow?”

“You,” you mumbled, “I missed you.”

“What exactly? You didn’t answer properly.”

You feel your face flush.

“I was thinking about fucking you. On top. Riding you.”

Five’s smirk grew, biting his lip and raising his eyebrows suggestively. You hurried on.

“Is the family okay?”

“All present and correct.” he said, moving even closer to you and stroking your hip in gentle circles.

It was a long, long month without you. There was barely time to think, let alone have the privacy for any ‘self care’ sessions of his own. Now that it was all over, his dick was complaining rather vocally about this neglect; insisting that if it didn’t get inside something warm and tight within the next five minutes, it would be most seriously displeased with the rest of him.

As if to punctuate the point, it was now requisitioning rather a lot of blood from his brain, leaving him rock hard and almost lightheaded with the rush.

“You’re so horny for me, aren’t you? Humping your pillow like a dirty little girl?”

“Was that a question?”

“Yes.”

You sighed as his hand snaked around to your ass. He stroked one of your buttocks up and down slowly, palm cupping the curve of your skin.

“Then yes: I’m horny for you.”

“How horny?” he said, immediately, squeezing you gently.

“Did you save the world?”

“Are you wet for me?” he said, huskily.

The fingertips of his other hand came to rest on your thigh. His eyes, dark in the low light of the bedroom, captured yours and held them firmly, authoritatively.

“If you’re not going to answer my question, I’ll have to find out for myself.”

You looked back at him and his lips twitched. Slowly, he walked his middle and index fingers between your legs and parted your labia. He let out a low ‘oh’ as he felt the sopping folds waiting for him.

A jolt twitched down the boner now pressing insistently against the crotch of his pants.

“How about you ditch the pillow and have a piece of the real thing?”

His fingers slipped slickly up and down your slit and you nodded, trying not to let your knees go weak. Your hands came to the hem of your shirt, pulled it over your head and discarded it so that you were standing naked before him.

As your breasts bounced free, his befuddled mind could only think how much he’d missed them. He bent forward eagerly to try and take a nipple into his mouth, but froze mid-stoop with a wince and harsh intake of breath.

“Ow. Shit.”

He straightened up slowly, stiffly and leaned against the door, experimentally stretching out his limbs.

“You okay?” you said, worried.

“I’m fine.” he muttered, hand over his injury, “Got a bad case of hornybrain. Made me forget I was impaled by a steel bar for a hot second there.”

You winced in sympathy and rubbed his clothed stomach in circles. When the pain had abated and he was again looking at you with lust behind his eyes, you leaned in and whispered to him.

“Looks like you’re going to have to stay still and let me do all the work.”

His lips parted but no words came out, for once unable to think of anything cocky to say. You could see the glisten of saliva on his tongue. You smirked and lowered yourself so that you were kneeling in front of him.

He laid his head against the door and exhaled as you deftly freed him of his pants and let them fall to his ankles. He squeezed his eyes closed, thoroughly undone by the mere suggestion of being sucked. He was even hornier than he realized.

He groaned in a strange mix of satisfaction and need as you licked him through his underwear, using one hand to pull the fabric taught around the thick five and a half inches imprinted there in harsh relief. The stretch and your saliva made the white material semi transparent and you felt a pleasant twist in your stomach as the hint of soft, flushed skin beneath. You lost yourself, aware of nothing but the perfect outline of his glans beneath your tongue and the heady, pheromonal smell of him.

He made another tight, needy sound as you put your lips around his still-clothed head.

“Please.”

How could you refuse him? Pulling at the elastic and reaching in, you pulled him out to twitch in the open air. It looked painfully hard, as always curving slightly to your left but otherwise sticking straight out like an exclamation point to his arousal.

Slowly, still inhaling that intoxicating scent, you took him into your mouth, slowly sucking him. You hummed appreciatively at his solid, hot skin between your lips. You were in heaven there, happy to keep sucking him as long as he’d let you.

“You don’t know how much I need this,” he said, weakly, knees buckling as you built to a steady rhythm. You paid close attention to his head, enjoying the little pop it made as it left the tight seal of your lips.

He looked down at you with hazy eyes, watching the way your lips pouted as you slid your lips up his length. When you caught his eyes, the pupils suddenly widened and he immediately looked away, head snapping straight back to look up at the ceiling.

“I can’t look at you right now,” he breathed, by way of explanation, “You’re too perfect; I’ll come too fast.”

You flushed, glowing with his praise. Though Five was a loving partner, his compliments were usually hidden beneath layers of self-consciousness and sarcasm. Him saying this now was evidence of how overwhelmed he was: inhibitions swept away in the rush of reunion.

Slowly, you withdrew and laid your head against his stomach so that his cock rested on your cheek. You looked up at him adoringly, simultaneously enjoying the intensity of his arousal and giving him time to calm down.

“I love you Five.”

“I love you too, baby.” he said, voice breathy and hoarse, “Now, please god, take me to bed and treat me like that pillow.”

You smiled, rose to your feet and led him to the bed, helping him out of the pants around his ankles. Standing by his side of the bed, you kissed his lips gently, enjoying the way his dick stabbed and pressed periodically at your thighs. When you broke apart, you looked into his eyes, at his soft look with his thick eyelashes shading his eyes.

Aware of his injury, you supported him as he lay down, helping him to ease onto the mattress with the bare minimum of pain. His solid presence in your arms as he let you assist him was bliss.

Though you were being careful not to place any weight where it would hurt him, he pulled you into his arms.

“Please,” he whispered, “I want you to fuck me. Ride me. Just use me to get off. Use me like a goddamn dildo. I don’t care. I need you.”

You smirked at this.

“Who are you and what have you done with Five?”

“Please.”

More begging. You didn’t have it in you to tease him, not when you too were desperate to feel his body against yours, to feel him inside you, to mingle your sighs and your pleasure with his.

You slipped him inside you and gasped. The resumption of this perfect coupling alone told you just how much you needed it. You knew you missed it, but now he was inside you again, you realized that it made you whole. His small keen as he slid home was enough to send a fluttering shudder from your center outwards.

“Let me take care of you,” you whispered, leaning close to him.

He nodded, biting his lower lip and caressing your hips.

Slowly, you began to grind against him, rolling your hips with him inside you, moving on top of him just as you did the pillow. This time, it really was Five beneath you, his cock twitching inside you, hitting and charging that sweet spot inside you until it felt like you were buzzing with his electricity.

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, “Five!”

“I-don’t-deserve you,” he panted, “So perfect. Perfect. Beautiful girl…so goddamn sexy. I love you. I-fucking- Ah!”

He always got more talkative yet less coherent the closer he got. He was watching your swinging breasts, hanging a few inches above his face. You leaned forwards immediately, keen to give him what he couldn’t take for himself a few minutes before.

He took the hint eagerly, taking your nipple into his mouth and groaning along with you at the change of angle. He suckled enthusiastically, hungrily; hand leaving your hip to rub your breast with his palm.

His groans now sent miniature, warm vibrations onto your nipple, creating a new center for charge to build upon. As it crackled down your limbs, stoking the heat in your stomach and groin, you moaned, wanting to ride him hard- ride him like a bike - but you were reluctant to let loose in case you hurt him.

Instead, you rolled your hips upon him desperately. Judging by the sudden shout from him and the ache from your pussy, this motion was to both of your liking. You were on the edge now, teetering.

“Gonna come. Gonna come.” he whispered, urgently, removing his mouth from your titty with a wet sound.

He meant this to warn you but, instead, his desperate voice gave you the final push.

As you came, your pussy clenched, squeezing him suddenly. His eyes shot open and he all-but squealed at the unexpected stimulation. His hips surged upwards, the pain from his chest eclipsed for the moment by this maddening, raging orgasm. It felt like your pussy was milking it from him, pulling his rapid shots of come up into itself.

At last, you came to a stop.

“Is the world safe?” you asked, after a warm breathless minute or two.

“Yes,” he said weakly, “the world’s all okay.”

You carefully climbed off him, laid beside him and held him. There was the fresh smell of his shampoo and antiperspirant. The smell of home if ever there was one. After a minute or two becoming heavier in your arms, he spoke again.

“Well, the world’s certainly all okay now.”

He stroked your stomach as if you were made of paper-thin glass, inclining his head towards yours as he spoke again.

"I meant what I said: you are perfect, you know."

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you

1K notes · View notes

parkersbliss · 2 years

Note

I'm so embarrassed but here it is! 😭 so there's y/n who is addicted to coffee flavored candies but doesn't like drinking coffee. which five finds very confusing. She's always offering five candy but ofc, five answers grumpily like "it's not the same thing as coffee"— and suddenly goes to a part where they kiss (idk how it leads to this omg) and five is absolutely ENAMORED with her lips bcs of all the coffee candy she eats..

is this too much explaining or what.. ANYWAYS THANK YOU FOR THIS I LOVE U LOTS <3

this… this is THE request. thank you for this 🙇‍♀️

Sweet Flavor | F. Hargreeves

pairing: five hargreeves x fem!reader

wc; 637

warnings: might make you blush lololol

synopsis: five refuses to try your favorite candy, so you make him

a/n: feeding yall today 🙄 you’re welcome! half way through s3 💪 also aged up five ofc!

requests: CLOSED

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt list

—

Five sighs, leaning on the table as you take a seat next to him.

“Really embracing the old man, huh?” You said, referring to his unusual outfit. Instead of the academy uniform, he’d opted for a vest, flannel, and fedora combination. You honestly wondered where he found it.

Five hums. “Yes, I am. It’s called retirement.”

You just laugh at him, unwrapping one of your Werther's caramel coffee candies. Five wrinkles his nose in disgust as you hand one towards him. “Want one?”

“I’d rather save the world again. Naked,” He sassily replied.

“I wouldn’t say that if I were you,” You tease, popping the candy into your mouth and sighing at this sweet-bitter flavor.

“Why don’t you just drink regular coffee?” He asked. “Like a sane person?”

“Because coffee is nasty,” You said, sticking your tongue out at him and displaying the small candy. “These are better.”

“They’re not even close to the same thing,” He grumbled.

You raise a brow at him. “And how would you know? You’ve never had one.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he dismisses, getting up and inspecting the hotel buffet. You follow after him, popping another candy in your mouth.

“So, what are you thinking of doing since you’re retired?”

Five grabs a cup and fills it with coffee. “I don’t know. Traveling? Isn’t that what people do nowadays?”

You scoff, “Yeah, people who don’t look barely eighteen.”

He swats at you, returning to your seats. “I’ll drive.”

He pours some syrup over his pancakes, and you pout. “If you like that much syrup, you’d love the candies just as much.”

“Coffee is supposed to taste bitter, not filled with artificial flavoring.”

“You don’t know till you try.”

“I do know, and I’m telling you now, that is shit,” He points at your mouth with his knife.

You frown, suckling on the candy and its sweet flavor. You were lucky to have found them back in 1963, and now you just kept a handful in your pocket at all times.

“You didn’t like me at first, and now…”

“That’s completely different,” He defends.

You laugh. “Really? Cause you’re a bitter old man, and I’m the sweetest person ever.”

“You are far from the sweetest person ever.”

“That’s not the point, Five,” You huff.

He smiles at you. “Isn’t it, darling?”

“Just try one,” You urged, tossing the wrapped candy at his face. “Please.”

"Try a cup of coffee, and I’ll consider it.”

“I have tried a cup of coffee.”

“When?”

You roll your eyes. “Prior to when we met.”

“Then, I tried your coffee-flavored candy… prior to when we met.”

You glare at Five, and he just smirks, taking a bite of his pancakes.

“Please,” You beg.

“No.”

“But—”

“No.”

“They’re—”

“No.”

“Five.”

“No.”

You click your tongue, still rolling the candy in your mouth when a thought occurs to you. Five notices the mischievous look on your face, and his eyebrows furrow together.

“(Y/N)—”

He’s cut off when you grab the back of his neck and smash your lips together. His hands fly to cup your cheeks as the taste of the candy invades his mouth. And holy shit, he loves it. His lips press harder against yours, almost making you fall off the seat as he chases the flavor.

And then, before you know it, he slips his tongue in and relishes the sweet flavor. His tongue explores every inch of your mouth, trying to seek the sugary treat he so desires. You let out a quiet whine, brain fuzzy at the action. Five groans as you tug on his hair, tongue invading your mouth, and then he pulls back.

You’re stunned, blinking as your lips smack together. And then you notice something missing and gasp.

Five grins, sticking his tongue to display your coffee-flavored caramel proudly on his tongue.

“You little—”

— END —

🏷 five taglist: @clearbasementvoid @halfumbrella @esmedith

7K notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 2 months

Text

Strength

Five is finally strong enough to give in to his true feelings and tell you how he feels. You are strong enough to let him.

Five Hargreeves x Reader Smut

The third one shot in this short series, following "Addicted" and "Weak". Contains points of view from both characters.

If you have any more ideas for me, let me know!

My Master List Of Number Five Fanfiction

Strength:

The position of the bed in your room has always annoyed you. For half the year, when the sunlight pours in, it slices right across your face in the most non-gentle way. One minute you’re sleeping soundly and the next you are being slapped awake by a piercing light over your eyes. It doesn’t matter how much you try to cover the window, the sun still fights its way through. Like it has a personal vendetta against your rest.

Today is no different, and you shield your eyes with your hand and blink into the light. It takes you a few seconds to clear your head, but then you remember. The happenings of last night would have felt like a vivid dream if it weren’t for the glaring evidence all around you.

Tangled, wrinkled sheets. Your body aching and throbbing in places it shouldn’t be. The lingering scent of sweat and sex in the air. But of course, the biggest piece of evidence is the empty space next to you. He’s gone.

Not that you were expecting anything less. Yet, for some reason, it still fucking hurts. You would think that you would be used to it by now; maybe even like it. Good company, good sex, no ties. What’s not to like? You’ve had this argument with yourself a thousand times. It never does any good.

You roll onto your back, staring up at the ceiling, and moving out of the direct line of sun. You’re still naked and you can feel the stickiness between your legs. Some sort of concoction of his saliva and cum, probably. You need to shower. But you lie there, staring blankly upwards.

Are you going to cry? Rip the sheets off the bed in a rage-fueled hysteria? Call and leave several consecutive voicemails listing all of the reasons you hate him? Maybe. Or you could just stay here, unmoving and unfeeling. You’re so tired and that seems like the best option. At least for now.

The thing is, it’s not fair for you to hate him. It’s not his fault. He’s never promised you anything he didn’t deliver. He’s never mistreated you or lied to you. He has never been anything except himself this whole time. If you were going to be honest, you’ve brought all of this on yourself. You created this. This fantasy world that has never existed, and will never exist.

What did you think was going to happen? You would finally get him to fall madly in love with you and you’d make some happy little home together, just the two of you? He’d kiss you goodbye in the morning, head out to blast a few unsuspecting fuckers in the face, and then come back in the evening exhausted and missing you? He would sit down and you’d crawl into his lap and lay your head on his chest while he told you about his day?

Yes. That’s exactly what you thought. Pathetic.

You’re not sure how you got like this. You used to be a normal person. You weren’t exactly planning on losing your fucking mind over this guy. During that first night, when you came stumbling into your place, both of you drunk off your asses and already trying to get the other’s clothes off, you certainly hadn’t planned on anything more than a quick fuck. He was hot. You were horny. He bought you a few drinks. You brought him home to fuck him. Not exactly a swoon-worthy meet-cute.

It wasn’t until he had you on your back, naked and panting, that something switched. There was something different about the way he started to kiss you. Something different in his touch as his hands roamed over your body and lit you up from the inside. You weren’t even sure how to describe it.

It was like a longing, or a sadness, or desperation, as he kissed down your neck and chest like he worshiped you. He fucked you hard and rough, but even that was different than anything you’d experienced before. He continued to look you in the eyes, kissing your lips and touching your face.

There was a weird contradiction between the forceful thrusts of his pelvis into yours and the gentleness of his face and hands. Something about that paradox of hard and soft that seemed to be a constant battle inside of himself had you falling apart.

And fuck, did you fall hard.

You wanted to have more of him, to see inside of him, and to give him whatever he needed. But of course, he pulled away the minute you suggested something more than what you were already getting from each other. He had made it very clear from the beginning. He wasn’t going to stay.

It had hurt, but that didn’t mean you stopped wanting him. It was too late by then. He was already inside you; in your brain and under your skin. When he wasn’t there, you could feel him and hear his voice in your head. All of those things he would tell you while his mouth roamed over your body, his eyes full of want and desire.

You feel so good

You’re stunning

Don’t stop, sweetheart, you’re doing so good for me

I need you, baby

The longer you let it drag on, the worse it got for you. He knew what you liked and how to give it to you. He knew what to say to make you forget everything else. When he was there, he made you his world; giving you everything you begged for and more.

Except for the one thing he never gave you, no matter how much you begged.

And you did beg. Shamefully and embarrassingly. You begged him to give you more of him. To know all of him. Not just the physical parts. You wanted to be in his head and in his soul. But he just gave you that look; the one that got you into this mess in the first place. And then he denied you all of it.

You knew why he had told you what he was. He was trying to scare you. Make you think he was a monster and finally give up on him. You had been asking him to stay again, questioning why he wouldn’t when he snapped. He threw you against the wall and pinned you there, teeth bared in a snarl, his face inches from yours.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to,” he had hissed.

“Try me,” you challenged.

You had seen the brief hesitation and confliction on his face, but then the anger was back and he spat it back at you.

“Fuck! Why are you so fucking stubborn? Fine, you want to know? Want to know why you’re going to regret all of this? I’m a killer. A fucking assassin and I kill people. I’ve killed hundreds and I’ll keep killing more!”

He was breathing hard as you stared at him, your eyes wide, while he still had you backed against the wall.

“So, what now, princess? Still think you want me?”

He had said it sarcastically, obviously thinking he already knew the answer. He thought you would push him away, or scream, or call him disgusting. Instead, you had looked in his eyes and you saw what he thought he had been hiding from you. The fear that was there. He was afraid you would push him away. Afraid you really would see him as a monster.

“Yes,” you had whispered with a nod.

Before he could answer, you had leaned in to kiss him, but he jerked his head back.

“Stop it,” he’d warned quietly. “You don’t want this.”

But you didn’t listen, and you leaned in again, hearing his breath catch in his throat. After he hesitated again, he gave in and let you brush your lips softly against his and he didn’t resist anymore. He let you kiss him and run your hands down his chest, until he was pressing you even harder into the wall, hands laced into your hair.

You’re not sure when it all became a turn-on. Or even why. It’s not like you’d ever thought murder or blood was sexy before.

But holy shit, when you saw that blood on him the first time, you thought you might come just from looking at him.

The only reason you can think of is that you know he is a hard, ruthless, unforgiving killer when he’s out there. But when he’s with you…you get to see a tiny part of him that very few others ever get to. When he’s soft and gentle and caressing your body with the warmest touch, it does something to you. Something weird and primal.

You like knowing what he’s capable of. You like knowing his secret. And you fucking love the fact that he can switch it off and on for you.

You want to hear the bloody details and see the gruesome evidence. You want to smell the dried sweat on him after a particularly draining day of tracking and killing. Because that means you get the other side of him. The one you can pretend is only for you.

Out of all your little fucked up fantasies, that one is probably the most delusional. You have never discussed exclusivity with each other before. There has hardly been a need to, considering how much time lapses in between meetings. It’s foolish of you to think you are the only one. Why would you be?

You know what he looks like and how he carries himself and how he fucks. To think that there are no other women out there taking advantage of his existence would be pretty fucking stupid.

But still, you let yourself fall into that trap sometimes. You imagine all of those days and weeks that will go by without him; when he won’t pick up the phone. You imagine him sitting there alone, thinking about you.

What a fucking idiot you are.

That’s why you had to tell yourself no more. You were cutting yourself off. It wasn’t good. It wasn’t healthy. You were becoming weird and obsessive and your self-confidence was shot. So, after one of those early mornings, when you caught him trying to slip out undetected, you told him you couldn’t do it anymore.

You told him to leave you alone. Told him to go fuck himself. Told him he was the worst person alive.

And he had just stood there, taking it all in, and not arguing. Then he had left, just like he was going to do anyway.

In hindsight, he didn’t deserve any of that. Or any of the times after that, when you had given in and started the whole pattern over again. It wasn’t his fault. He didn’t plant these pathetic ideas into your brain. He never promised you anything. Yet, you still blamed him.

All of these thoughts are running through your head as you haul your heavy body up, pausing to sit on the edge of the bed for a minute, before getting up and making your way to the bathroom. As you wait for the shower to warm up, you look at your reflection in the mirror and you flinch. Leaning in closer, you run a finger over the tender mark on the side of your neck. A red and purple bruise that is too high and too big to be covered by a shirt collar or hair. Then you take in the rest of your body. You look like some sort of fucked up connect-the-dots puzzle.

Marks all over your collarbone, your shoulders, and your tits. You even find a few on your stomach and thighs. You don’t even remember getting those.

You might have been happy about it, or even turned on if it were another time. But your mind goes back to last night and everything that he said and did.

He said you were his. He told you only he could have you. He marked you for himself and for anyone else that might see you. He would kill anyone else that touched you.

Then he left.

And you’re standing here with his bites and bruises all over your body, and his dried cum between your legs, and you’re trapped again.

You’re not sure who you hate more, yourself or him.

The shower feels good on your skin as it washes away some of what he left behind. The water mixes with the tears that are slowly dripping down your face and that you are trying hard to ignore. You feel like shit. Just like you knew you would.

So, this is it. You are done. And this is not like all of the other times you’ve said the same thing, knowing in the back of your mind that you really didn’t have the strength to follow through. Now you do. And you believe yourself this time. He will never be completely yours and you are finally ready to accept that.

After you clean up and get dressed, you stare once again at the disheveled bed and you turn away from it. You’ll deal with it later. Right now you need some coffee. Maybe that will help clear your mind a bit.

As you pad down the hallway, you hear a noise and you stop. You hear it again and you continue on, slowly and cautiously towards the kitchen. And then you see him. Bent over in front of your open fridge and you rub your eyes like you must be hallucinating. You look around you, check the clock on the wall, and determine that yes, it is the morning.

What the fuck is happening?

“Five?” you whisper.

Your voice sounds weird to your own ears and you half expect him to realize he made a mistake and blink away without a word. But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to you and offers you that fucking irritating smile that you both hate and love. And you don’t even know what to say.

***********************************************************************

The sun outside is blinding as I shove my hands in my pockets, hurrying along the sidewalk, my head down. I feel the worst I’ve ever felt, and that’s saying something. I fucked up big time and the shame is still lingering. I was manipulative and possessive and rough with her. And then I was gentle and loving. I told her she was beautiful and no one else could have her.

Then I left.

I can tell myself a million times over I’m doing it for her own good, and maybe that’s partially true. But really, it’s for me. Because I can’t pull my head out of my ass for long enough to acknowledge what I really want. At least outside of my own head.

As I’m silently berating myself, something has caught my eye and I stop dead in my tracks in the middle of the sidewalk. Up ahead, coming out of an apartment building is that guy. The one she was with last night. The one I wanted to murder at first glance.

He’s got his arm around a woman’s waist, and they are smiling and laughing together as they walk outside. She is pushing a stroller with a small girl sitting inside, and he is holding onto a leash with a golden retriever on the other end of it. The woman is wearing a wedding ring with a diamond so big I can see it from here, and they carry on down the street, the perfect picture of the American family.

This time, on top of wanting to blow this guy’s fucking head off his shoulders, I want to expose him for what he is. I want to confront his wife; let her know the kind of man she’s married to and what he was up to the night before. Then maybe she’ll give me the go-ahead to at least punch him in the face.

Two things stop me, though. One is that they have a kid. And growing up knowing that your dad is a complete and total dickwad is not fun. Trust me on that. I figure she’ll find out soon enough, she doesn’t need me to bring that little piece of information to light for her.

The second thing is that I realize I am just like him.

It hits me like a punch to the gut and for a brief moment it actually hurts to take a breath in. Here I am getting pissed about this random guy’s behavior when really, he’s no different than myself. We’ve both lied to her. We’ve both used her. Maybe he didn’t get to fuck her, but he would have if I hadn’t cock blocked him.

Wow, you are one giant piece of shit.

The more I think about it, the more I realize this. Instead of killing him, I should go up to him and shake his hand. Welcome him to the club of heartless assholes; maybe buy him a drink and exchange stories of how we’re the scum of the earth. Fuck, we should be best fucking friends!

Is this what I want? Do I want to spend the rest of my life in the company of these kinds of people? People who are weak and cowardly and use others for their own selfish needs? No, I do not. And I also do not want her to be subjected to more of the same. She’s already had to deal with me; she doesn’t need to go through this with someone else.

I can fix this, though. I can do what I should have done from the start. I don’t have to be like him. I have a choice.

I turn immediately and start making my way back the way I came. I have no idea what I’m going to say or how this is going to work. I don’t know how the fuck to be in a real relationship and I sure as hell don’t know how I’m going to fit into her life. I also don’t know if she’ll even want me. But I have to try this time.

I blink inside like I always do, not even thinking about it. I’m jumpy with nerves and my palms are starting to sweat. I can hear the shower running and I think about blinking in there with her, but quickly decide that I do not want to give her a heart attack or get my balls kicked in, so instead I wait.

What do normal people do in these situations? I look around me. I should do something nice, like make her breakfast. Do I even know what she likes to eat? No, because I’ve always left before I’ve needed to find out. Dick.

Eggs seem like a pretty safe bet, so I start rummaging around in her refrigerator. As I’m pulling out the carton, I hear my name and I turn to see her standing there. She is obviously confused as to why I’m here and I smile because she’s so fucking cute with that dumb look on her face.

“What are you…did you forget something?” she asks, her eyes darting nervously away from mine.

I hold out the carton of eggs I have in my hand. “Yeah, I needed to borrow a few eggs, do you mind?”

That was my lame attempt at a joke and I can see it landed so far off the mark I can’t even see it anymore. She’s staring at me with a deep crease between her eyebrows and her mouth half open like she can’t quite decide if she should say something more or hurl the nearest sharpest object at my head.

I give a short, embarrassed laugh and I set the carton on the counter and run a hand through my hair.

“Sorry. I didn’t come here for eggs.”

“Then why are you here?”

I can hear the tremble in her voice and I know it’s because she is afraid of my answer. She’s afraid I’m going to make her feel even worse than she already does. It sucks but I understand.

“I came back to tell you…” my voice trails off because I have no idea what to say. I clear my throat and try again. “I came back to tell you a lot of things, actually. But the main thing is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for everything I have done and everything I should have done but didn’t. You deserve much more than I have ever given you and I am so sorry for that.”

She is still looking at me very suspiciously and she is not saying anything, so I press on.

“I’ve been trying to stay away because I think you deserve someone better than me. Someone who can be a part of your life in all of the ways I don’t know how. I still think that, but I don’t want to keep doing this anymore. I want you.”

Her eyebrows draw together even more and she blinks a few times before speaking.

“What do you mean you want me?”

I lean up against the counter and take a deep breath. “I want you. All of you. I don’t just want the sex. I want everything and anything you want to give me.”

She swallows hard and shifts her weight from one foot to the other. “Five, I don’t really…I don’t know what to say.”

I nod and look at the floor. “I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I fully deserve for you to kick me out right now and never talk to me again.”

She shakes her head. “No, that’s not what I mean. Do you know how long I have wanted to hear something like this from you? It’s fucking pathetic how long. But now that I’m hearing it, I’m having a hard time believing you.”

I run another hand through my hair and down the back of my neck. “I understand,” I say again, fully expecting to get the lecture I have coming to me.

Instead, she’s walking over to me, eyes locked on mine. She throws her body against mine and hugs me tightly around my waist and I hear and feel her take a big breath in and let it out. I wrap my arms around her in return, but I don’t know what else to say.

“Don’t lie to me,” she says quietly but firmly. “If you’re lying and you leave again, you need to stay gone.”

“I’m not lying. I want this. I might not know what the fuck I’m doing or how to do any of this, but I’m going to try.” She looks up at me and I trace my fingers down the side of her face. “I know what I want, and it’s you.”

I barely register what is happening next as she jumps into my arms, legs wrapped around me, and she’s kissing me hard and deep. I don’t even know what this means yet, but I don’t want it to end. Her body is warm as she clings to me and I never want to let her go. I tell her that in between hungry kisses and I blink us both into the bedroom where I throw her onto the bed.

I have never seen her in the bright light of the day before, and she’s even more gorgeous this way. It makes me wonder what the hell took me so long. As I lie down next to her, I place light kisses on the mark I left on her neck.

“Does it hurt?” I whisper.

“Not anymore,” she says, before pulling me back in again, covering my mouth with her own.

We don’t feel the need to hurry things along this time, and we take the time to kiss and feel one another until the urge is too strong and we can’t wait anymore. When she’s fully naked and laid out beneath me, the morning sun still shining through the window, I see my map of possessive calling cards I left all over her body. I know I shouldn’t be, but I’m most definitely turned on by that.

“Damn it, you’re beautiful like this.”

She smiles and pulls me in again, opening her legs for me so I can be inside of her, which is what I’m dying for. I don’t want to rush it though, so I thrust into her slow and gentle, covering her neck and face in more kisses. When our eyes meet, I want to tell her so many things.

“You’re the only one, you know. There’s no one else,” I confess as I drag my lips across the shell of her ear.

I hear her whimper and when I look again, she’s crying. I stop, thinking I said something wrong, but she only smiles through her tears and pulls me closer with her legs, pushing her hips up to let me know to keep going.

I shove my cock in deeper and harder. I want to hear her moan and cry for me and only me. She is arching her back and clutching at my body like she’s afraid I’m going to leave right here and now. And I feel terrible that I made her feel that way. I only want to make her feel good.

“I’m sorry,” I moan against her skin as I drive into her even harder. “I’m sorry.”

I pick up her leg and put it on my shoulder, making her mouth fall open as she lets out a loud cry.

“Oh fuck, Five…” she screams.

Just hearing that is almost enough to make me come, but I want more and so I ram into her harder and faster until her loud moans match the rhythm of my fucking. I want to fill her up again, make her mine again, and listen to my name emanating from her mouth in long sobs.

“You’re mine,” I tell her, and I can’t even stop myself. It’s all I can think as I desperately thrust into her, as hard as I dare without hurting her.

I groan, closing my eyes, as I feel her hand in my hair, threading her fingers through it. Her touch feels so good and I let her pull my face down to hers so she can kiss me again. I love the way she kisses me.

“I’m yours,” she responds before throwing her head back, exposing her neck, and I want to leave more marks on that beautiful skin, but I resist this time.

Instead, I bury my face in between her neck and shoulder and keep fucking her. She’s writhing and clawing at my back and she’s on the edge of coming. So, I keep doing what I’ve been doing and pound into her hard and relentlessly. She reaches down between us to finger her clit and the sight and feel of that is too much, because holy fuck, is that hot.

“Oh shit, baby, I’m…” I groan loudly as I unload inside of her at the same time she is shaking and shuddering beneath me.

Afterwards, when we’re both gasping for air, I pull out but I don’t move off of her. I want to stay right here, with her legs and arms wrapped tightly around me, feeling her breath against my neck and her fingers tracing over my skin. I’m so filled with every emotion imaginable and I don’t even know what to say or do. So, I say the only thing I can think of that might somehow convey everything.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my mouth pressed against her sweat-damp shoulder. “I’m sorry,” I tell her as I move to her face, kissing her mouth, her cheeks, and her forehead. “I’m sorry,” I confess as I lay my head on her chest and close my eyes against the hot tears I can feel forming behind my eyelids.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

I’m chanting it like it’s somehow going to erase all of the things I have done. And not just to her. I’m sorry for so many things I can’t even name them all. But once I start saying it, I can’t stop and I’m just so fucking sorry for everything in my goddamn life. And I know it’s not going to change anything, or change the kind of person I was and still am. I know that. Still, it keeps rising out of me, taking on a life of its own, and I can’t seem to stop.

“I’m sorry…”

“Five, it’s ok. Five, look at me.”

I finally shut up and open my eyes to look at her.

“It’s going to be ok,” she says softly. “We’re going to be ok.”

I don’t even know what to say to that because I want to believe it so badly, but it’s just so hard to. I nod my head and kiss her lips and move off of her so I can lie next to her instead. When I pull her to me, her back to my chest, I feel the best I’ve ever felt. I still don’t know how to do this, or how to fix things, or what tomorrow is going to bring. But I’m going to stay this time, I know that much.

She is my weakness and my strength and everything that makes me whole. She is finally mine.

112 notes · View notes